Dancing Without Rhythm

7 AM

2007-05-18T06:18:00.000-06:00

I don't know if I'm sentimental, or if this is the kind of stuff that makes every mom's day complete.

Avery was sitting at the table eating cereal when Ben woke up. She heard the bedroom door open and without even seeing him she yelled, "Beeeeeean! I wuv you!" Only, he didn't hear it, because when he saw me he opened up his arms wide and yelled, "Surprise!"

Shouldn't we all be so sure of ourselves that merely waking up in the morning is the greatest gift we can think of to give? Not only did I get that from Ben, it came as a surprise as well!!

Avery's inflection was identical to mine with her emphatic and spontaneous "I love you". I can pronounce my "L's" so it was a little different, but it makes me feel like I'm doing something right when I hear her repeat something so sweet.

Also, Sketchy, anyone thoughtful enough to include a link to how to induce labor, deserves a full response to her question...

"Not Happy Bob" is from The Incredibles. Which, is just shy of worshipped in this house. Adults not excluded. Ben was getting all sorts of positive attention for answering every question with "I don't know, something amazing I guess" so Avery thought she'd up the competition.

When Bob gets pulled into his boss's office, his boss, with that really annoying voice (the Sicilian from Princess Bride) says, "Sit down Bob. I'm not happy Bob. Not happy." So, that was Avery's contribution to our incessant quoting of The Incredibles.

The funny thing is, Jay has tried to teach Ben to adapt his catch phrase to fit the situation. "What do you want for lunch Ben?" "I don't know, something delicious I guess" etc. Ben can't stray from the script. Avery, took no time changing "Bob" to "Mom" when her displeasure was aimed at me.

Ben's new quote as of yesterday, which seriously makes me guffaw every time is, "You sly dog, you got me monologuing!" Just see if you can resist the hilarity of a three year old saying the word "monologuing".

P.S. Even though Ben will be 4 in 4 days, I am not allowed to call him a 4 year old until he has a birthday. Per His Majesty's orders.

This absolutely charming pose of Ben's is reserved for special

occasions, like during Primary Sharing Time and in the middle of

the aisle at the grocery store when people innocently "try" to pass

by our cart. It's not for every day.

Open Letter Season

2007-05-17T12:53:00.000-06:00

Dear Wal-Mart Greeter,

You are very sweet. And I appreciate the stickers and attention you gave to my children. When my daughter threw the sticker back at you and yelled, "Not happy Bob!" at you, believe me when I say it's not you, it's her.

But I have to say, my son, he's not quite 4. He's very young. And yes he was wearing a Spiderman shirt and knew all the characters of Spiderman 3 and even saw the movie the day after it opened---he still doesn't get it. That blank stare he gave you when you philosophized about the dual nature of man in relation to the Sandman---it was real. I'm sorry you were disappointed that the conversation with him fell so flat so suddenly. Ask him what color Venom is, and why, and that's more likely to get results.

Also, when you suggested as we were leaving that he "web you" and then froze in place until we could no longer see you---that was "totally awesome" and had both my kids giggling all the way to the car.

Not to be rude, but as much as I loved the attention you were giving my children, at nine months pregnant, my bladder is on a limited schedule and I really needed to get those pineapples and diapers and get home. Public bathrooms are digusting.

Sincerely,
The Shopper Who's Quick Errand Turned Into Spiderman Philosophizing and Kegal Exercising

Dear Daughter,

I am on to you. I just need to verbalize it. I know you are smarter than me in so many ways, but I am on to you. When you tilt your head and reach out your arms and say, "I hug you mama, huuuuuuuug" I know darn well that you just want to get out of the boring and not as soft and squishy as me shopping cart. Sure I love your hugs, and you do follow through. But don't think I don't know what you are doing.

All My Love,
Your Mother Who's Manipulative Ways Came First

Dear Rebecca,

When I told you I had read that pineapple can induce labor and I thought I'd give it a try---naturally I assumed you would think as I had, that it was the INGESTION of pineapple that does the trick. My bad. But thanks for the hearty laugh.

Love,
Your Friend Who's Mouth Is Now Raw And None Closer To Labor

Dear Friend and/or Family Member That I Happen To Be Calling,

No, I'm not in labor. But I promise, you will be the FIRST to know when I am.

Expectantly,
She Who Wishes It Even More Than You

Dear OB/GYN That I Have Been Seeing Regularly Since December,

Isn't being an OB that isn't on-call on the weekends kind of like an oxy-moron? Or totally ridiculous if nothing else? This is the kind of information that would have been helpful to me 6 MONTHS AGO. Part of seeing you regularly is to build a rapport and to feel comfortable in your care when you deliver my baby. Had I known that you don't do weekends, I might have gone elsewhere. Now I'm going have to break in some newbie with my bad jokes and unnaturally pleasant disposition while enduring a Uterine Rave if this baby decides on a weekend arrival.

Thanks A Lot,
Your Patient Who Probably Wouldn't Care As Much If Her Baby In-Utero Didn't Already Weigh 23 Pounds

Dear Angela,

Stop being such a baby, being pregnant can be hard, but having a newborn is even harder. Also, just because you haven't gained any weight in the last 6 weeks, it doesn't mean your diet of cheeseburgers and Ben and Jerry's is the answer. You can pretend, but soon enough it's gonna come back and bite you in the butt. Your very ample butt.

Stop yelling at your kids so much. It's not their fault that bending over to pick up the banana that's been dropped 5 times in 90 seconds makes you want to fall over and sleep for 3 hours. And you're the dumbhead that bought the ridiculously hard puzzle, you can't blame your child for wanting to put it together five.times.a.day.

Stop watching The Medium. It scares you. You always think you're tougher than some fictional show, but you aren't. So just stop it. It makes Thursday mornings hard on both of us.

Your children are every bit as hilarious and adorable as you think they are. But other people don't need to be told about it constantly. When Ben says, "awwwwwwwww, it's too haaaaaaaaard" when you tell him to put on some underwear, it really is funny---but only to us. And when Avery substitutes "Not HAPPY Bob" for a simple "no" it's pretty funny, but not alert-the-press funny like you think it is.

Love,
Angela

Dear Sara,
You can't come soon enough. Even though I have my own two redhaired kissables around here, I need a chubby one that can't tell me to stop kissing them. Rebekah will do.

Plus my garden tub and non-garden toilet really need to be cleaned.

Love,
You're Non-Demanding Sister

Dear Sonic Crushed Ice,

Will You Marry Me?

Love,
Pregnant And Parched In Texas

It Was Worth It In The End

2007-05-15T15:59:00.000-06:00

I just sat on the floor for an hour putting together this puzzle with Benjamin. It was NOT an easy task. I was overly ambitious in purchasing it, but I was only thinking of Ben's future at Harvard Medical school. Every three-year-old should have a mother so conscientious.

There were at least 8 times I wanted to chuck a handful of solid blue edges across the room because none of them fit with another. The baby nailed my bladder 12 times. I turned it into a teaching moment and showed Ben exactly where the baby was nailing me. My back ached 10 minutes into it.

Avery woke up from her nap halfway through and kept kicking the puzzle because it was keeping the attention from her. Ben kept trying to shove scapulas where scapulas just
don't go and I cursed my motherly teach-my-child-in-fun-bonding-ways lapse no less than 17 times. In my head of course. It was bad enough that Ben was already repeating
everything Dr. Phil said. "Where does this go mom? Lady, you can take a hike if you don't like what I have to say! I know! I'll put it here!" His own flavor of afternoon talk-show tourette's.

Anyway, in the end, it was all worth it when Ben jumped around and clapped for what we'd accomplished and pointed at different parts on the puzzle saying, "I can totally feel that part inside me!"

But the cake for me was, "Fyoosh, I'm sho sweaty from all this puzzling!"
That's my boy.

Cleaning Habits of Jay and Angela

2007-05-12T18:17:00.000-06:00

This afternoon I was trying to bribe Ben into cleaning up some of the stuff scattered about the living room. I wasn't really invested in getting him to work, so I wasn't really deterred by his lack of response, or polite offers of, "It's okay mom, you can do it."

After 10 minutes of my hardly noteworthy efforts, Jay picked up a flashlight and said, "Here Ben, I'll shine the light on what needs to be put away and you put it away." Ben jumped to it and within 10 minutes the living room was spotless and Ben had exclaimed NO LESS than FOUR TIMES, "This is the funnest game EVOH!"

This is all well and good---Jay making chores the funnest game evoh---I'm happy to be a part of such a family. I really thought Jay was a genius for coming up with this "game". Benjamin finding joy in cleaning up and reveling in the cleanliness, he gets from Jay. I cannot lie. I'm okay with that.

However, contrast it with what I found Avery doing shortly after, it's embarrassing what I'VE contributed to the gene pool.

Avery had been trotting around with a bag of cheese puffs. They're organic, by the way, right next to the organic candy bars in our cupboard. She happened to spill about half the bag, unbeknownst to any of us. I turned a corner and found her dealing with the situation all by herself. She was standing there, cleaning them up. "What a good girl," I thought.

My pride suddenly turned to embarrassment when I saw her, still standing, grab a cheese puff WITH HER TOES and raise her leg to drop it back into the bag, all without moving her upper body one bit. She couldn't be bothered to bend the six inches it takes for her to reach the ground. I know that this takes skill for a two year old; But it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where she learned that technique.

Dr. Feel

2007-05-11T07:48:00.000-06:00

The other day Ben came up to me and asked, "What does it mean to crush all your dreams?"

Whaaaaaa!? I think to myself, I need to crack down on the cartoons he's watching---he really doesn't need to be exposed to some hybrid-monstrous character who is clothed as a super-hero, saying such things into his precious, innocent ears.

"Where did you hear that phrase Ben?"

"Oh, Dr. Feel said it."

Well, if it's a television star psychologist he overheard it from, then that's fine.

I actually wanted to jump up off the couch today and kiss Dr. Phil. I've never really thought the middle-aged, married, bald, psychotherapist kind was my type, but my love for him was real today.

As an expression of my love, I would like to write him a love letter. You can read it if you want.

Dear Dr. Phil,

Do you mind if I just call you Phil? I first fell for your wit and charm and straight shootin' ways a couple of years ago. You had a guest on your show who was LDS. She was sort of an embarrassing representative. She was abusive to her children, one more than the others even. This was particularly distressing to me. She was just in general very unkind to her husband, but she had also cheated on him more than once. She had a Masters Degree, but didn't work, claimed her religion "didn't allow it." She had run her family into debt more than $60 thousand dollars in a fairly short period of time. I kept feeling embarrassed and a little angry that she behaved the way she did and then pulled out the religion card when you pressed her for some accountability for the family's financial distress.

I didn't know how shrewd you were. I was just a beginner. Imagine my shock when you whipped out our church leaders Proclamation on the Family and quoted it. You pointed out, not only did it not say "thou shalt not work" but you quoted it saying, "We warn that individuals who violate covenants of chastity, who abuse spouse or offspring, or who fail to fulfill family responsibilities will one day stand accountable before God." You called her on the carpet about using her religion as an excuse for having no accountability for finances, but certainly didn't adhere to her religion's clearly stated position on infidelity and abuse.

Phil, I have to say, you won me over that day.

Then when I'd watch your show now and then, I always got a big kick out of how you called stupid people stupid. And half the time, they wouldn't even know it. But us smart people, we knew.

One day I heard you talk about your wife, and wives in general. You stated that you believed one of the most important things you could do for your wife, is to give her the security, that when she walked into a room with 1,000 other women she knew without a doubt, no other woman in that room was treated better or more valued than she was.

I genuinely love that philosophy. I loved then that it was a way I could gauge how I felt as a wife. I am quite confident my husband provides that security for me, and he's got great cheekbones to boot. Sometimes I wish there were a few more chocolate covered strawberries in the equation, but I know I'm a lucky girl. It made me happy that you were putting that "expectation" out there for the world. The world needs more confident women who are loved by their husbands.

I confess, I haven't been able to watch your show much. Sometimes it's a little boring, other times, just bad timing. But today I got to watch. And you had a meth user on your show. He was strung out while on your show. I kept expecting you to say, "I can't work under these conditions" or something like that, but you didn't. You plowed ahead with this man who gave completely illogical, nonsensical responses to your questions.

When his wife mentioned his paranoia, you asked the man, "How are you feeling right now, are you feeling paranoid? Do you think I'm out to get you?" And he answered not really, but sorta, he'd like to "hope" you weren't since you invited them there and all, but yes, he was feeling a little paranoid. You leaned in, gently put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Let me clear something up for ya right now, I AM out to get you."

I whooped and hollered, and all nine months pregnant of me did a little couch jig. People need to be talked to honestly. There's too much pampering of ridiculousness in this world. In my humble opinion. You took it even a step further, in a way that truly amazed me. I got tears in my eyes. Yeah, it's a little embarrassing to get teary-eyed watching your show, but it's a risk I'm willing to take for you Phil. You explained that you weren't after the strung out meth user, you were after the man inside, the healthy, responsible, productive, loving man he used to be, that is inside, trying desperately to be freed.

Seriously, I wanted to kiss you.

Later when you told the lying addict that you knew she was lying because her lips were moving, I laughed and laughed.

I have to say, I'm always amazed at the angles you take. I think you'll be rude and cut them down, and you put on kid gloves. I think you'll be patient and understanding and you threaten to give them a good ol' fashion southern arse whoopin'. And somehow it always seems to be just right.

Oh, I could go on for ages, but---you're happily married, I'm happily married---there's really no point. However, in light of your well-known philosophy "You teach people how to treat you" I'd like to teach you to treat me to a Caribbean cruise, a personal trainer, and a whole new wardrobe. Let me know.

With Love,
Angela

His Brand of Sweet Nothings

2007-05-09T09:54:00.000-06:00

Jay's in Illinois right now. We've been spoiled to have been together for 6 weeks straight, so I'm adjusting poorly to his absence. But yesterday I got to spend a good portion of the day with friends and distractions and someone else entertaining my children, so it was an easy day.

I got home last night after hanging out at my friends house and letting the kids run wild, in time to let them fall in to bed, exhausted.

I was delighted to find a message waiting for me on the phone from Jay.

It's not often I get romanced so when he leaves tender messages like this for me, I'm on top of the world for quite some time. You know the sweet things your husband can say, the kind that make your knees go weak. The kind that make you know, to the world you're just one girl, but to HIM, you are the whole world....

**"Hi Angela, this is Jay. Just callin' to say hi and check in and whatnot. I'm done for the day. You can call me anytime about anything and I'll. be. here.
I'm kind of missing you because I had a frustrating conversation dealing with _____________ and holy crap, I'm so glad I'm married to a normal person...."

Wouldn't you say he knows how to melt a girl's heart?

I think so.

**Disclaimer: Leaking his voicemail message to my blog could perhaps be a breech of some kind of marital confidence but Jay did know when he married a Smith, we will say or do anything for a laugh. It's the slogan on our family crest.

Every Vote Counts

2007-05-06T14:30:00.000-06:00

Wow, you guys are amazing! I thought having lots of great ideas would be oh-so-helpful. Turns out, it’s just as hard as having no ideas. I STILL can’t decide.

So again, I’ll pass the buck.

Now, don’t anybody get offended (Breitmama, you KNOW you weren’t going to get picked, but you just couldn’t help yourself though, could you!?) if I don’t list your suggestion---it’s all about the bottom line here.

Carrot’s probably quite busy with her NEW BABY but I just want to acknowledge that for some reason, Hot Diggity made me laugh and Que Sera Sera is good, but it’s the title of a blog I already read. So sad. And she’s a really good writer, so I don’t want that kind of pressure on me….

No Cool---Fpeck Attacks made me think about referring to us as the Fpeck Family and for some reason, I felt like I was losing brain cells when I used that phrase. Heeeeeeeey, how about Pho Family?

Red. Beautiful. Is TOTALLY up my alley, but my husband laughed when he heard it. I’m vain, he’s not.

>l< This made me laugh too, but then I’d have to be something like >l< the Artist Formerly Known as Angela.

Okay S, et al. You gave me some good'ns.

Got A Minute is good. I’m afraid I ramble too much to keep that an honest blog title.
Three Cardinals and a Bluejay got my attention. If I have another redhead, I’ll want to change it to Three Cardinals, and Bluejay, and One Cardinal Sinner. Just to be honest and stuff.
Subjects of the Queen just scares me. You know, all that stuff about saying things out loud so they can be fulfilled?
Will blog for (Insert any kind of Ben and Jerry’s here) is definitely a front runner
Go Bears REALLY made me laugh.
I like Dishes? What Dishes!? But that just says too much about me up front, don’t you think?
Real Cool Story made me laugh too, but I think someone beat me to the punch. Someone with good ideas too….

TMM-- Apply Directly To the Forehead
I have to confess, I’m slow. I didn’t get it. But Jay did. And it made him laugh. And then when he explained to me, I laughed too.

Rebecca---Brilliant. See Breitmama's answer. :)

Sketchy---Stop Bugging Avee is a great idea! I love the idea of using stuff from signs. One of my favorite signs here in Texas is: “Humps Ahead”. Who calls speed bumps humps? Seriously!?

NCS---Yay? Is that like, “Jay” in Spanish? Because, if it is, I’ll TOTALLY do it.

Millie---But, but, but I AM hot. To quote Ben “Could you please turn on that sing that makes me not feel so hot and sticky, or else let me take off my clothes?” If I had a quarter for every time I’ve had to bite my tongue when I wanted to say that in public…..

Okay, Here are the final ones I won’t mind being identified as for the rest of my blog career. Or at least until a crazy stalker finds me….

Cookie Dough for Dinner
Apply Directly To the Forehead (okay, I’m torn about this one because it’s funny now with those completely annoying commercials, but will it be in 10 years when I’m a famous blogger, paying y’all royalties for my blog title?)
Will blog for (Insert any kind of Ben and Jerry’s here)
Three Cardinals and a Bluejay
Got A Minute---I like this for it’s simplicity.

Oh yeah, and I forgot, not to influence you or anything, but I LOVE “Nobody Called Today” just for the image it conjures. I could just get on my blog and go ON and ON and ON and it will be okay because I will have WARNED you---nobody called today...

I could be persuaded by “Subjects of the Queen” but it is true, if this baby is a girl---that could be disastrous. Like a blog-coup or something equally heinous. Then again, if the baby is a boy, then it will probably be the most accurate description of our lives here.

Okay, I just got a new comment with a new idea that was too good to pass up. SPIT HAPPENS. What do you think? Showly makes me laugh! Thanks Julie!

So, give me your votes. If you don’t want to post it in comments, you can email it. Withoutrhythm@gmail.com.

After this, could you come and fold some of my laundry, and my bathrooms really need cleaning…

p.s. Suzanne, I have a sister-in-law named Suzanne. So then my baby would be cursed with the title of "Little Suzanne" or even worse, "Big Suzanne" or "Red Suzanne" or sadly, "The Boy Suzanne".

Oh, it's random all right

2007-05-02T12:00:00.000-06:00

Okay y'all, I'm ready to go public again. I'll probably switch to a new blog service or something like that, but who cares, as long as you don't have to type the word "Rhythm" anymore, right?

Since my creativity has slowly been sucked out of me for the last 8 months I can't think of a blessed blog title to get the ball rolling.

That's where you come in. Help me? Please? I'll name our third child after you if you do. Or I'll name it after your sister. Or brother. Whatever, I'm flexible.

I have to forgo the simplicity of "Angela" when talking about myself or commenting on other blogs, but I don't want some weird name like "She Who Walks Like a Duck But Looks Like A Bear" every time I comment or refer to myself. And believe me, I will be talking about myself A LOT.

And it has to be the most cleverest blog title in all the land. That's really all the expectations I have.

I have 5 zillion things I feel like I need to get in order before this baby comes and none of it seems to be getting done very quickly. After showering and laying down to recuperate from showering, half my day is gone. Throw in the regular child bum-wipings and child-feeding and my own nigh-incessant bathroom visits, you can IMAGINE how hectic my life has gotten. My point being, I might not be posting much, but I'm anxiously awaiting your ideas and suggestions.

Please remember, there are no stupid ideas, just stupid people and I won't laugh at you.
Much.

And on a side note which will also serve as a conclusion, Ben has hit the stage I have long awaited. I can remember looking down into his precious newborn face and saying to him how much I loved him and kissing him and just not being able to say it or kiss him, enough. And then realizing that one day he'd reciprocate---I couldn't wait!

Well, last night, for the first time, without my saying it first, he said "I love you mom." I am certain I left parts of my heart all over the play area of Carmax because it burst into a million little pieces from the love and the pride. I said, "Oh thank you Ben, that makes me so happy to hear." He continued, "I love dad too." I said, "I love dad also!" and Ben said, "And I bet you guys love your mom and dad like I do."

Later when he was in bed he offered a simple, "I like you mom." It was immediately followed by a threat that he wouldn't lay down to go to sleep if I didn't bring him the right kind of water bottle. But still.

Avery just told Ben, "Stop bugging AVEE!" Um, maybe I better take a different approach in breaking up their disagreements.

Round 2

2007-04-30T14:59:00.000-06:00

Ben came traipsing into the living room carrying a license plate frame that he only could have gotten to by climbing into the baby's crib.

"Did you get into the baby's crib? Were you playing in it? Is Avery in there now?"

Nothing like a barrage of questions at a small child to make him feel like communicating.

"No, I didn't get in the crib."
"Tell the truth Ben, I don't want you telling me a lie."
"I didn't get in the crib."
"Ben, that's not okay, I happen to know for a fact you got into the crib and I really don't like you not telling the truth. Now tell me, did you get into the crib?"

Silence.

"I need your answer."
"I really don't want to answer you mom."
"Well, I really need to hear you tell me the truth," I say matter-of-factly.
He replies, just as matter-of-factly, "Well, I really don't want to hear you feel mad at me."

And he won. Why does he keep doing this to me? I'm so weak.

You Can't Blame Them For Genetics

2007-04-29T17:29:00.000-06:00

This morning before church:

Avery voluntarily leaned in against Benjamin as her interpretation of "Smile!"

This sweet photo shoot was followed immediately by me griping at Benjamin about not listening and not smiling normally, and basically how acting his age is suddenly a crime. Yeah, I was at my best this morning. So on the way to church I say something about his nice smile and how it made me feel sad that he wouldn't just do what I ask and pose for the picture. From the back seat he mutters, "Yeah, well I feel pretty bad about it too."

I shut my trap.

This evening, Jay was on the phone and I was lying on the bed reading. When we both made our ways back to the living room to check on the kids, we found this:

Note the complete lack of regard for the supposedly stern parent hovering over her. Granted, I was taking pictures, but STILL.

But these are the kinds of things where I know I can't get mad because I helped make her, and in so doing, made her this way.

On a completely different note: I tried to fix the below post so you can see the handwritten note. Did it work?

Love Letter From Mom

2007-04-28T07:32:00.000-06:00

In the box I dug through the other day, unearthing all sorts of lovely reminders of my past, I found this:

This was written when I was 14 or 15 years old. It tells you everything you ever need to know about me. And my mom. I've mentioned in the past how my mom used our kitchen cupboards as her personal "1980's ghetto planner" and I just happen to have saved one of the exhibits. This actually may have been taped across the front door to greet me when I got home from school. Or taped to my bedroom door. Or taped around the phone. With duct tape.

I also can't help notice that, for a former school teacher and MAJOR stickler for proper english and grammer, this note is quite the run-on sentence. It's like she started with a simple request "immaculate room" and remembered who she was dealing with and added "permanently" and then thought, "Oh what the heck, while I'm asking for the impossible, why not throw in practicing!?"

I still can't keep anything immaculate. I still spend inordinate amounts of time on the phone. On the other hand, I don't have to practice anymore! Oh yeah, and my mom doesn't get after me about how I keep my house. She's thoughtful like that.

He's Got My Brains

2007-04-26T16:03:00.000-06:00

Benjamin is outside playing with a couple of neighbor kids. One is 8, the other 11.
Benjamin says, "Hey 8 year old friend, Spiderman 3 is coming out tomorrow!" They discuss it briefly, I stick my head out and say, "Next week Ben, it's not coming out until next Friday."
Benjamin then says, "Yeah 11 year old friend, next Friday. It goes like this, (singing) Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Friday, Thursday, Monday, Saturday, then FRIDAY! Just like that! Isn't that great!?"

Hey, 32 year old friend, isn't my boy a crack-up?

*Jay just read this post and asked "so who were the kids?" and I realized that it looks like I was trying to keep their identities secret---but no---I don't know their names, Ben called them "8 year old friend" and "11 year old friend" the entire 2 hours he played with them.

I Might Make It A Musical

2007-04-25T17:56:00.000-06:00

Last night I got to park in front of one of these:

It was every bit as thrilling as I imagined it would be. I have only ever seen these signs when I'm not pregnant. So, pulling into Kroger and seeing it, and being it and then doing it, it was all very exciting for me.

And now, I would like to share a scene with you from my appointment with the doctor this morning.

Scene: Expectant mother (see above) lying reclined on ever-so-comfortable ultrasound table.
Enter, Very Serious Doctor
(it should be noted, but is not overtly portrayed in this scene, expectant mother doesn't talk as much as she usually does or has in the past because her attempts at humor are either completely lost on or not appreciated by Very Serious Doctor. She also hates being talked to like she has a 3rd grade education when she is about to give birth to her 3rd child. However, it should also be noted, she understands most doctor's tendency to do this and is quite understanding. And beautiful.)

Doctor: Well hello there (briefly scans folder label)...Angela! How are things going?
Angela: They are going well!
Doctor: Do you have any questions for me?
Angela: (slight pause because she is a pleaser and would love nothing more than to offer a question to do her part with conversation and make the doctor feel good about having been so intuitive as to have asked, but remembers last time she asked a VERY good question, it didn't get answered, in. the. least. and really, she just can't be bothered by that kind of stuff) Nope. No questions. Things are going great.
Doctor: All right, let's check things out, see how things are going. He walks to the other side of room to retrieve ultrasound gel, with his back turned, Do you have any questions?
Angela: Nope. Meanwhile she shifts and maneuvers clothing as though she actually thinks there's any hope of decorum while lying on a table in a gynecology office. She modestly slides her maternity pants down an inch below her belly button because, well, there's still some decency in just an inch below the belly button. She knows Britney Spears didn't get in the tabloids showing her belly button. Doctor returns with gel, sees patients pathetic attempts to remain "proper", sighs and yanks waist of pants considerably lower than any ultrasound has any business being and the ultrasounding begins.
There are two minutes of complete silence and then:
Doctor: Looking good here--any questions?
Angela: (Biting tongue because she wants to say: Nope, not in the two minutes since you last asked. Or in the 30 seconds before that. Or in the 90 seconds before that...) Brightly: No, no questions here!
Doctor: (Finishing up and wiping 1 tablespoon's worth of the 4 cups of gel he has lathered on the patient's belly) All right, everything's looking good---now, do you have questions?
Angela: (Forcing herself to answer) No--but thanks!
Doctor: Okay, I want to see you in a week, take care, if you have any questions during the week, call me.
Angela: What, and miss an opportunity to actually have a question the 37 times you ask when I'm HERE?
Doctor exits, unaware that Angela has spoken. Mostly because she said it in her head, and OBVIOUSLY he ISN'T A MIND READER!!!

Mix Tape

2007-04-23T12:43:00.000-06:00

Yesterday Jay and I spent most of the afternoon sifting through boxes of books and papers trying to eliminate boxes we've been hauling around since we got married.

While Jay slimmed five boxes of books (his sentimental attachments) down to 2 or 3 boxes, I spent the entire time on one box of papers and letters. They were things I had saved since I was about 14 years old. Looking at the dates of 1990 and 1991, I hardly batted an eye. That seems like yesterday in print. Then I realized that was SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO and I almost couldn't breathe. I don't feel like I've even been on this earth long enough to have been constructing complete sentences on paper and compiling them in a book 17 years ago.

I found a few treasures in the midst of a bunch of crap. One was a snarky note I wrote to an English teacher my freshman year. I was touched, as a 31 year old reading it, by the kindness of her response. I was moved to email her and thank her. Not just for the note, but she was one of my favorite teachers ever. I'm sure she'll remember the nondescript girl she had 17 years ago who's last name was Smith. But, I felt compelled.

I found a mix tape that one of my best friends who I later developed a hopeless crush on and who even later turned into a gay guy---had made for me. I couldn't wait to hear what was on that tape. I just turned it on while I was making lunch and basically it's all those sappy songs that now they play in the dentist office while you are reclined, mouth pried open, having slobber kindly sucked out of your mouth because you can't do it yourself.

I had my back to my children as I lathered mayonnaise on bread and "our" song came on. It was Vanessa William's "Saved The Best For Last". I can remember so clearly the anguish I felt as I listened to that song when I was 16. ".....All of the nights you came to me, when some silly girl had set you free. You wondered how you'd make it through, I wondered what was wrong with you...." I closed my eyes mid-mayonnaise stroke and tried to conjure up those old feelings. They were so REAL back then. There seemed to be no relief, there seemed no other way than to feel that way.

Nothing.

I turn around and barked at Ben and Avery to get off the table, for the 4th time since I started making their lunch. They are still in their pajamas. I'm not sure if either of them ate breakfast, I can't remember that long ago.

I turn back to the sandwich and smile at my failed attempt to relive the past. I remember how desperately I wanted things to go back then, and how none of it did. And now, none of what might have been--is my history. No heartbreak of a boyfriend telling me after all, "I've decided to be gay" (he did "decide" by the way---his words, not mine). No time wasted in a town or in a relationship, hoping for something that shouldn't have been. No history of turning someone gay...:)

I smile because I've been struggling lately with feeling worthwhile. Feeling like I'm doing right by my kids---particularly when most days turning on the TV is the most I can do for them. Feeling like I'm holding up my end of the deal in marriage. Did Jay really mean to marry a smart, sassy, slender, redhead, only to end up with 3 kids and a plump, frumpy wife five years into it? Could keeping a house and finances really be this hard?

Tonight I have a husband coming home after work who is more of a friend, husband, and father than I ever dreamed I would have. I have a home I love to be in. I have friends I can call at any time for any reason. I have a blog. :) I have an almost 4 year old who's smile melts my heart, who gets my jokes, who tells me daily--things like, "I'm smiling because I was sinking about that joke dad told me about greasy chicken" and every time he has to use the bathroom, and then long monologues while he does. I have a two year old who says "I need a hug" right after I scold her and always wants "one more tiss" at nap time and night time. I have stretch marks. I have dirty dishes in my sink. I have a future I look forward to.

I hope in 17 years I can close my eyes as I lather flax seed spread for regularity on my wheat germ bread and "relive" these moments and feel the perfectly blessed way I feel now.

And Again

2007-04-19T17:43:00.000-06:00

My head is pounding. My nose is running. My throat is scratchy. My eyes are watery. I'm sick again. Just to recap my health in this here pregnancy:
Two days before I found out I was pregnant, in the throws of my children's chicken pox epidemic, I got strep throat. First time I've ever had it.
That was September.
October was good to me.
November, head cold and morning sickness.
December, head cold.
End of January, sinus infection.
Middle of February, head cold/stomach ickies combination.
March was kind.
April, it's back.

Tell me that's not fascinating information.

Tonight's dinner conversation.
Ben: So, who lives on Mars?
Me: Nobody
Ben: Who?
Me: Nobody
Ben: Who's that?
Me: Are you kidding me, nobody means---no people live on Mars.
Ben: (chuckling), I knew that. Well, then who lives on the green part of Oaf (Earth) and who lives on the blue parts?
Me: What?
Ben: Who's on the blue team of Oaf, and who's on the green team?
Me: I have no idea.
Ben: Well, I sink Aunt Sehwa lives on the green team and we live on the blue team.
(I later realized he meant water and land shown on a map)

Ben: So, Monica had a birthday yestohday, who's bowthday is next?
Me: Yours
Ben: YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS! Is it tomorrow?
Me: No, it's next month.
Ben: Is it the next day aftoh tomorrow?
Me: No, it's in a month--30 days away.
Ben: Oh, well lets go look at the number chart and see what a 30 looks like.
Me: No, I'm eating my dinner.
Ben: Whoa Mom 30 looks like a three and a zero! That's almost here!!

Ben: An upside down "Oh" is a "zero". And an upside down "7" is an "L". An upside down "M" is a "W". And upside down "H"...well, it's still just an "H".

ALL of these conversations/obvservation took place within a span of about 5 minutes. And I'm not even telling you about his philosphies on meat and playgroups for girls that were mingled in there.

Because I Thought I Could Spend Half an Hour On The Computer This Morning

2007-04-17T10:19:00.000-06:00

Due to popular demand,

Update on Naptime: Avery DID stay asleep. It was a miracle.
That part about weaning Ben from naps---just kidding. He will be napping today.

Naptime

2007-04-16T13:00:00.000-06:00

We just transitioned Avery to a toddler bed. I have heard people say things about the uselessness of toddler beds, but I LOVE ours. I love that it fits in a small space and that the kid doesn't have far to fall if he or she falls. And there's just something really cute about tucking a little petite girl into a little petite bed. She in turn, tucks a not-so-petite frog in under a petite corner of her little blanket.

The transition has been flawless. Her and Ben are in the same room and are asleep within probably 15 minutes of us putting them down. Or, they are at least quiet, and I don't really care about anything beyond that.

I have exclaimed aloud at least half a dozen times in the 4 days we've had this sleeping arrangement, "Man that went better than I thought it would!"

Today, I put Avery down for her nap, while Ben and his friend stayed up to play. I'm also transitioning Ben out of naps. He goes to bed earlier and easier without, so we're trying it.

Ben and his friend got noisey playing outside and woke up Avery. I knew she wasn't ready to be awake because she woke up crying and couldn't manuever the door handle. Two things that are very uncommon for her.

I ran into her room to lay her back down before she woke up too much. I stumbled into her darkened room and sat down on no less than 3 toys as I positioned myself to soothe her back to sleep. I didn't pay attention to the racket I was making, I had one goal, to get her back to sleep.
It worked. I stroked her hair and she fell back asleep almost immediately.

I did the waiting game every mother has done.

I decreased the number of hair strokes per minute. I lightened the pressure of the soothing hand, so it was barely noticeable. I manuevered my elbow off her pillow so the indentation it made, combined with the removal of my hand, wouldn't make her stir.

I held my breath.

I positioned my body and hands and feet to make the most graceful, noiseless exit possible. No small feat right now, I guarantee you.

I was ready, I was sure, her breathing was deep, her eyes didn't flutter, I was going to move out and wait for just the right moment to breathe again. I made my move.

SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH POP!!!!

In my rush and hurry to get to Avery, and in all my stumbling in the dark, I had rested my batootie squarely on a squeaky ball.

Apparently, it too was waiting for just the right moment to let out it's breath.

Poor Bereft Me

2007-04-15T18:02:00.000-06:00

In October of 1996 I had been on a mission for 2 months. A new set of missionaries arrived, and my group suddenly wasn't the youngest anymore. And we loved the group of girls who removed us from that lowly state by taking it over.

There was one girl in the class that I liked pretty immediately. I don't even remember our first encounter(s) but I remember always thinking she was pretty cool.

Then one day she said to me, "I think you were in my freshman Spanish class in college." And it turned out, I was. I stand out in crowds. I make people stop and notice. My Spanish-speaking skills are superb.

We became fast friends and we spent the duration of our missions together with a lot of highs and lows. A lot. And then we went our separate ways. She married soon after the mission and I showed up to her very classy and nice reception dinner, late, carrying a laundry basket with a mop and broom sticking out of it, surrounded by several other cleaning supplies. It was incredibly tacky, but she still smiled and greeted me, and we stayed friends. :)

She started the whole married and children thing long before me, but we kept in touch over the years. She was full of spit and vinegar and had a way of saying things as they were, in a way I was always envious. Spit and vinegar isn't bad, right? I mean, I think Avery's full of it and I'm her mother.

So, a year and a half ago when Jay found out he was getting the job here in Texas, I emailed and then called my friend to see just how far she was from the "Dallas Area". I knew that they had not so long ago bought a house in Tyler, and I was just hopeful that Tyler was within a couple of hours of where we were going to move.

Talk about joy of all joys when I learned that because of a sudden job change, THEY had moved to Plano, just a few months before. And they were living in an apartment, something we had planned to do while Jay was in this stage of his career, traveling all the time.

Jay was flying to Texas the next day or so to look for housing and I told him he had to check out at least 5-7 apartments before looking at the one Amy lived in because I knew I couldn't be unbiased enough to not want to live there, no matter the cost or convenience. He did just that, and was immediately most impressed with where Amy lived. So we moved in. Our doors are a football field length from each other. When Jay described it to me over the phone, I expressed dissatisfaction that it wasn't next door, with a suite-like door between our homes, so we could live more communally. Or something. I remember actually being disappointed it wasn't closer. I'm really good at finding even the greatest of circumstances disappointing.

Well, we've lived near each other since the first of January, 2006. It has been heaven. I have dumped my kids on her at times because I'm afraid I might hurt them. I've gone over to her house at dinner time and sat at the table and watched them eat, just for the company, and they've never made me feel like an intruder. Even though I was. I've spent countless hours on their gigantic bean bag (I'm sure it has a better name than that, I just don't know...) saying over and over without meaning it "Well, I really should go now."
I've borrowed eggs, flour, nutmeg, 1/4 cup of mayonnaise, dozens of cups of milk, butter, salsa, salad dressing, freshly made chocolate chip cookies, water, and at least a dozen other random things. The best part was I could send Ben over, sometimes just in his skivvies and I wouldn't have to leave my very important task of burning or completely screwing up dinner.

She would come over and hang out with me for an hour or two in the morning and give my life some semblance of sanity with adult conversation. She never once made me feel like the slob I am with laundry strewn all across my living room, a weeks worth of dishes on the table and kitchen counters, and magic marker masterpieces on my carpet.

She's taught me the therapeutic powers of late-night Target runs or getting away just for some frozen custard or Chili's dessert.

She's calmed my parenting concerns with having "been there and done that" with two very active boys.

I don't have to put on airs with her. Ever. She can see me in the completely disgusting state I often let myself get into with no husband to answer to during the week, and I never feel self-conscious. Don't get me wrong, Amy's not all fluffy and sweet like I may be making her look, but she isn't critical or judgmental. She'll be the first to compliment my snot-stained shirt or nappy hair. But some things just can't be ignored. I understand that.

Oh, and since I'm being honest---another really annoying thing about her is she doesn't gossip. Try as I may to get her to, she won't. It's really annoying. Trust me. In my defense, I don't repeat gossip. I only say it once.

Avery adores her. Ben does too, but in a different, boy kind of way. Avery thinks she's her mom. The first year we were here, Avery basically preferred Amy to me. I was usually okay with it because then it was Amy's knees she was clinging to while Amy prepared dinner. I had no problem sitting on the gigantic bean bag watching it all.

Well, Amy bought a house. A friggin beautiful, completely enviable, with a backyard and bonus room---house. You may or may not recall a post I did last July on feeling jealous. I'm not easily prone to it, but Amy was the subject of my feeling it then, and it's happened again. In combination with feeling very happy for the house they scored, I'm immensely jealous. It's the kind of house I could live in for the rest of my life. But I wasn't invited.

Most of the details of buying and negotiating and closing and all the stuff that goes with buying a house, happened as I was preparing for our trip to the Carolinas and then while were gone. It made it less threatening that I had something else going on to focus on.

Then Thursday they closed.
And Friday they moved.
And this morning when I woke up, I realized that there was no chance of her two little guys knocking on my door in pajamas to borrow some eggs. Or cheese. Or each holding the ends of a cookie sheet so that they could BOTH return it to me. Or knocking on my door to return Avery in her pajamas. She's always trying to bust out of here.

And today when I woke up from my Sunday nap, I felt so sad for the loss of that proximity. I actually thought I'd escape feeling sad. She's only moved a mile away. But that's a mile I can't send Ben in his underwear, and a mile that Avery, even on her best day, can't navigate safely.

I'm glad for the year and 3 and a half months I had. It really was heaven, and a huge blessing with this "single-parenting" stage of my life. And, on the upside, now when I go to Walmart on Sunday for an ice cream fix I didn't prepare for, I don't have to duck and run to the car in fear of her children seeing me and asking why I go to the store on Sunday but they don't.

But even if they ever did see me, I'm sure Amy would just tell them I like the heat. And I want to burn in hell.

Today

2007-04-12T16:59:00.000-06:00

I got up at 5:22 AM CST because no matter what time zone I am in, my pregnancy insomnia kicks in at 5:30ish AM. I usually don't get up. I usually lay in bed and swear at the damn insomnia. But today I had 3 suitcases to unpack. Which I didn't. And 4 loads of laundry to do. Which I didn't. And blogs to read. Which I did.

I had a regular dr's appt today and there I learned that because of a positive result on a screening they did in my first trimester, my doctor now wants to monitor the baby's heart weekly and do ultrasounds to make sure everything is going as it should. I should be grateful that modern science makes this kind of care possible. I should be grateful that after today, everything looks great and there's probably little to no chance of a problem. I should be grateful that I am in good care and can have children. But to be perfectly honest, I'm totally annoyed. I know the doctor has to do what he has to do. But I spent a total of FOUR HOURS in his office today. 3 of them were butt numbing hours spent with lube all over my girth and monitors or ultrasound wands pressed to my belly. The baby is measuring bigger than any of my babies have measured and the main thing they are looking for with all this monitoring is to make sure the baby is growing properly. He/she is doing more than properly. The end.

Avery got a birthday package from Grandma while we were gone and we opened it this morning. While pushing Ben away and yelling, "No mom, no birthday" at me over and over, she pilfered through the box of tissue paper and goodies. Tucked at the bottom was a lovely, coral scarf. For me. Since I began dressing myself, my mom has been trying to get me to wear things around my neck. I think it started with turtlenecks.

Most recently, in my adult life, she has tried at least once every time we've gotten together to get me to accessorize with a scarf. I can't do it. I feel like a big baffoon. It just don't flow, you know. They look lovely on some people. Namely, my mother. Even both my sisters can pull off scarf wearing. On me, scarves look like loose, sheer, nooses.

Well, the scarf is a beautiful color. In fact, it's MY color---and that is first and foremost why it got sent to me. In my daughter's birthday package. She can't help herself.

I know that.

Well, I can't help myself either.

Mama, I tried.

SEE: Coral Scarf-Wearin' Baffoon

Avery on the other hand had NO problem figuring out to do with her presents. A baby who came with her OWN 'night-night' and some purple bling for the baby's mama. Excellent choices Grandma!

Oh No I Dih-unt!

2007-04-11T21:22:00.000-06:00

Yes, yes I did.

I wore this shirt all day as I traveled from Charlotte, North Carolina to Dallas, Texas.

I must confess, a part of me felt like po' white trash, but the bigger part of me (which is MUCH more dominate right about now) thinks this is one of the funniest things I've seen in a long time. And I just can't help myself.

I didn't show my face in this picture not because I want to keep my identity super secret, but because I've been packing, traveling, or eating all day long and I don't really need the face confirming any suspicions of po' white trash.

And also, try not to look to closely at the fat aaaaaarms in the little sleee-eeeves.

Happy Headed

2007-04-09T20:55:00.000-06:00

I don't know who Don Imus is. I mean I've seen him on tv before, but never knew his name. Then over the weekend, Jay and I kept seeing the tail end of news reports on what he'd said, but never hearing what the hooplah was about. After like, the 6th time of seeing it in the news and not knowing what it was referring to, Jay said, "I'm gonna google it." A few minutes later Jay came back and said, "They are saying he's racist because he called the Rutgers basketball team happy-headed ho's." I screwed up my face and thought, "so since when is publicly calling someone a ho so horrible and racist? Rappers do it all the time."

We had this conversation about 36 hours ago. For the last day and a half we've been completely baffled by all the uproar. Then today as we were driving to dinner, I said it aloud again, "WHAT is such a big deal about calling someone happy headed, are we really so out of the loop that we don't know the insult behind those words!?" And as I said it, I realized how remarkably similar to "Nappy-headed" it sounded. And then realized how much an "h" can look like an "n" in the dark, on a laptop. So I say to Jay, "Are you sure it wasn't NAPPY-headed---because that's a pretty awful thing for him to have said." Jay says, "What's nappy mean, why is that racist?" I explained that the word nappy is a pretty derogatory comment usually in reference to a black person's hair, even though, I've had some pretty nappy days myself. And then it was all clear. And then I laughed and laughed and laughed that Jay, the news guru, the man who knows everything, verbatim, almost before the dadgum news anchors do, reported the phrase "happy headed ho" and stuck with it for a day and a half. Now I can't stop laughing.

Interestingly, Benjamin overhearing the conversation wanted to know if he was black. This then started a conversation about who was black and Ben wanted to know all the names of all the black people we know. I was coming up short after a few real people we know---and Ben got exasperated with my ignorance and turned to his dad. Dad triumphed by listing off every famous black person he could think of. Like Will Smith and Martin Luther King Jr were close personal friends of his.

He's such a cheater. Happy headed cheater.

To The General Public OR, Those Who Like To Stare

2007-04-08T07:45:00.000-06:00

She's two.

It's called a fit.

Yes, I see her.

No, I don't care.

I know, I know, stop blogging on vacation already!

2007-04-04T20:39:00.000-06:00

How much could one person have to say when she spends her days loitering around a hotel. Well, whatever---it's my blog. :)

Mostly I just want to document a few things, as we all know how fleeting things can be with small children. Avery talks all the time and a few of the things she says need to be recorded because she passes through her phrases and her speech impediments too quickly.

Yesterday Jay said to her, "Just a minute, it's hot!" and she replied very subdued, "oookaaaaaaaaay" and has been doing that all day in response to my "Hang on's, just a minute's, not right now's" It's totally appropriate and I wonder how much she knows that.

She also likes to rush to the hotel door to let herself out before the rest of us anytime we are headed that way. It's always locked. And she immediately informs us. Only, she hasn't quite mastered the word "locked". So every time she sounds like she's dropping the f-bomb. Which I find entirely hilarious. "Oh man, we're f-ed" she says. I tell her to go open the door regularly, just for the entertainment. "Me tan't, we're f-ed!" It reminds me of Everett on "O Brother Where Art Thou" when they are trapped in the upper part of the barn. "damn, we're in a tight spot" over and over. Yeah, good comedy.

We have Nick Jr on constantly here. Ben's in heaven. He looooooooooves Wonder Pets which seriously baffles me. It's probably the most low budget kids show I have ever seen in my life. But, to be fair, I haven't really ever watched it, just heard it. I just hear him bellowing, "What's gonna wohk, TEAM WOHK" and I am amazed at how he already knows all the words to everything they say on that show routinely.

Anyway, like, 52 years ago I turned off "Lazy Town" once, back when we had cable in our home. Something about that show really bugs me---particularly the villain. I'm not sure what it is---but I really do dislike it. Enough to put up with his contesting loudly when I put it off. Apparently this made a lasting impression. I've overheard him telling at least half a dozen people that I don't like Lazy Town. And now, since he sees commercials for it while indulging in his 6 hour marathon of tv watching, he comments on it ALL the time. "So, is it that skinny guy that you don't like on Lazy Town?" As a rule, I don't like skinny guys. Or, "Those people right there are why you don't like Lazy Town, huh mom?" There really isn't a cute punch line to this story, but it has really amazed me at how much it matters to him that I don't like this show and why.

Tonight at dinner he did ask Jay if he liked Lazy Town. Jay thought he was talking about me and told him "Don't call your mom lazy, and it's a house, not a town." Just kidding, but when Jay said he hadn't ever seen it, Ben responded, "Well, I've seen two episodes." Excuse me? What three year old uses the word "episodes" in conversation? Probably one who's mother watches too many episodes of tv. Or has episodes herself. Either one.

Just now I read a book to Ben and on one of the pages was a picture of the Humpty Dumpty character. He started reciting the nursery rhyme word for word and I just looked at him filled with pride. I'm not so great with reciting nursery rhymes or regular nursery songs with my kids. I just forget to and stuff. Plus, that's what church and preschool are for, right? Well, I know I have only said Humpty Dumpty to him maybe twice. Maybe. I am just amazed with his memory. I look on at him proudly and he finished, "...couldn't put Humpty together again...but Dora can!" So, now that I know he learned it from Dora, I know now that he's probably heard it 732 times and half of those yelled at the top of her sweet little lungs. So what, he still has a good memory.

I've been trying to get Avery to say Ben for a long time. Pretty much since she started saying anything. She never would. Until today. And it's "Bean" and she says it sort of patronizingly, like she's the adult and he's the 2 year old who still has no problem walking around with his own excrement smooshed in his pants until someone stops blogging and catches ~~her~~ him. And sometimes it's "Baby Bean" which I quickly got Benjamin to laugh at the first time so as to keep him from knocking her block off.

And last but not least---well, yeah, it's least. If you haven't seen the Alannis Morisett spoof on the totally crass song "Humps", you should. It's hilarious. But not you mom, you shouldn't watch it. And you should also know, I would never watch or listen to anything like that. Ever. Let alone promote it on my blog.

From The King-Size Hotel Bed

2007-04-02T18:38:00.000-06:00

I could really get used to this life.

We are at Residence Inn now and they serve a full breakfast and a light dinner. Room service, meals, Nick Jr, good books. What more could a girl want?

We had a fantastic time in DC with our friends. Code Yellow is the perfect hostess. She's much more of a domestic goddess than I knew. Or will ever be myself.

We rolled into town around 12:30 am and plunked Avery and Ben down on the pullout bed around 1 am. Avery's never slept "unconfined" before. Unconfined is such a joke---she hasn't been confined by anything since about 17 months old. Anyway, we rigged up some couch cushions and tables and chairs to keep her from falling off the edge----and they slept perfectly all night.

This morning I woke up to the most tender sound of Ben singing softly. He was the only one awake and just laid quietly in the bed, next to Avery, softly singing. "I'm trying to be like Jesus, I'm following in his ways...." It truly melted my heart. Avery woke up soon after and they stayed in bed whispering and giggling with each other. THAT melted my heart again. Then both of them spent the morning yelling and whining at me and I wanted to leave both of them strapped in the cart at target and just take my chocolate eggs and run.

Right now Avery is scaling every surface in this hotel room, and Jay is reading the Winston-Salem tour guide magazine to Ben. He's extolling the virtues of the Melting Pot. Which he's been to like 5 times and I've never even seen the outside of. He probably won't ever take me until I learn how to not end sentences in prepositions.

Earlier Jay was playing hide and seek with the kids. Ben has a pretty good handle on the game, but this is the first time I've seen Avery actively playing the "right" way. She hid herself in the closet while Jay was counting and from the closet she yelled along, "Eight! One! Fie!" and then lets herself out saying "Red-done!" as Jay says, "ready or not, here I come!"

Tomorrow is a long day of walking 20 yards to prepared meals and laying around reading.

While I don't miss the dishes in my sink, I do miss Texas.

Happy Birthday Stinky Pants

2007-03-27T08:17:00.000-06:00

I can say that in all sincerity because I haven't changed her diaper yet, and she's been yelling at me all morning. But OH it's a big girl yell! When I rolled over in the oh-so-comfortable hotel bed this morning, I saw her long body lying in the crib next to me and I had to blink over and over. She's two, and she looks it! I don't know when that happened.

North Carolina is BEAUTIFUL. I really really like it here and just might not come back. Except I miss my bed desperately. When we were planning this trip over a month ago, I checked about 8-10 different hotels and every single one of them was booked completely. There's some furniture showcase or something and apparently, furniture people REALLY plan in advance. So, this hotel has "spa" tagged on the end of the name, and I think that title comes from having some rocks arranged artistically in random places, you know, like a Japanese garden. Oh there's a couple of cascading fountain wall-art type things. Jay just keeps saying, "Oh, they try". We're not really hotel snobs---well, I'm not, but when we walked into the room with two full beds, that was all I needed to know about this place. Full beds? Who does that? And then later when the children were completely inaccessible to me in the bathtub, that was the second indication.

I really don't want to blog about our hotel.

I'd like to blog about something 10 times more interesting.

2 years ago today was Easter Sunday. I had gone into labor the night before. I spent most of Easter morning puttering around our neighborhood trying to encourage the contractions along. I had had great dreams of Easter morning with my husband, 22 month old, and my mom who had come to stay with us to help with the baby. My husband was busy with Ben because I was in no mood to care for him. And my mom was in the hospital recovering from a major surgery having part of her colon removed. Yeah, that was an interesting twist to our "how to smoothly transistion from one child to two" plan.

Later that day I swore at my husband, cursed the Utah hospital system, proposed to my anesthesiologist, and just before 9 pm gave birth to a tiny little redhead.

And now she is sitting on my lap, forcing cries, crocodile tears, and smacking my wrist for not letting HER do the typing. How did we get here?

We're going to celebrate by driving around WS looking for a park and a Walmart, in no particular order. Maybe later, if she's lucky, we'll have sushi again.