Like Mother, Like Daughter

It should be no surprise to those that know me well-- my daughter doesn't like to touch anything outside.

Home Repairs

We've committed ourselves to home improvements for the next couple of weeks. I will post periodically, but for now, I must concentrate on this old house.

No Way!

Is she really this big already?

Friends

Here's Lydia with her friend, Vivian. She really likes her.

Spring?

Look what we did after dinner tonight:

No-Pain Boy

I didn't know I was raising a superhero.

It appears that my boy has a very high pain tolerance. This was confirmed a few weeks ago when we visited the allergist. I assumed his allergies weren't bad because he didn't even try to scratch the large welts on his back. The doctor was amazed. That same visit, the doctor poked at least 16 needles in Jonah's upper arm. Jonah just looked at me around #13 and said, "That hurts, Mama." No tears. No screaming. No need to physically restrain him while the doctor was completing the test. The doctor shook his head in disbelief.

We went to this same doctor today for a checkup now that he's on some allergy medications. We were in the office for three minutes. He looked at his eyes, his ears, and his throat, and immediately said, "He's got strep throat...He must have a high pain tolerance." He obviously didn't remember us from before-- but that's not the point. The point is that Jonah has a pretty nasty throat right now and has acted normal-- never once complaining that his throat hurt. I know it's all part of his sensory issues that I've talked about before.

So I've nicknamed him No-Pain Boy. This "condition" does have its benefits. He rarely cries if he's hurt, and I know if he comes running to me on the playground with tears streaming down his face, it's serious. He's not afraid to try anything, and even if he falls, he stands up and keeps running. He's brave. He's a risk-taker. He's all boy.

Yet there are some problems that arise too. Yes, that's right--he could be sick and I wouldn't even know it. He'd leap tall buildings in a single bound if I'd let him. He can't really comprehend the word "gentle."

I imagine he'll be in the Guiness Book of World Records someday-- for walking a mile over cut glass or something like that.

For now, he's my little superhero.

Epiphany

So I've decided I don't like the decorating style of my home. It's not really "me." I know, I know. This is an expensive epiphany.

While looking at Pottery Barn magazines this weekend, I found myself drawn to the airy, feminine rooms. And in those rooms, I found myself looking at items that weren't being sold in the catalogue. My eye was drawn toward unique pieces that could only be found at antique stores or flea markets.

I think back to cleaning out my in-laws' home. I wanted to keep all the table linens because I love that "old look..." I've admired my grandma's quilt for years and can't wait until I can use it in my home... I'd love to display my paternal great-grandmother's china in my dining room... My favorite part about Lydia's room is an old window frame that I adorned with my great-grandmothers' handkerchiefs.

I shared this revelation with Mike. I don't think he's opposed to it. Since our house is pretty simple, it shouldn't be that difficult to change.

So after a conversation with my personal decorating consultant, a.k.a. Molly W., I'm excited. I'll start with the living room. It's where the biggest transformation will need to take place. I want to paint the fireplace, move the television armoire, distress the coffee table, paint the rocking chair, etc. I won't begin the project until June-- just to let it simmer in my mind, collect ideas, shop, etc. It's something to look forward too, though, if I'm feeling stuck in this town.

Thank You

Thank you, Pop and Grammy, for everything you do. We love you!

Are you kidding?

Yesterday, the Schwan's man came to my home. We were perusing the catalogue, and he says, "And since it looks like you're pregnant...."

I didn't hear the rest of the sentence.

"I'm not pregnant," I say, "I have a nine month old."

Now I know my stomach sticks out disproportionately to the rest of the body, but hey, I'm back to my pre-pregnancy weight and I'm back to my pre-pregnancy size-- my proportions are just a bit different. I accept it. I'm okay with it. And I know with a little running this spring, my stomach will probably be a little more normal too.

So my self-esteem was fine, but the part of myself that just wants to make everyone feel comfortable wondered what I should say next...

"Moron."

That's what I should have said.

"You're a moron."

My New Friend

While leaving Wal-Mart today the greeter says to me, "My, she's really getting big, isn't she? How old is she now?"

I see this man almost every time I'm in the store, but I've never given him more than a friendly nod. "Almost nine months," I reply.

"Oh, that's right. She was a summer baby, wasn't she?"

Wow! Either he's that good....or I shop at Wal-Mart way too much.

Snack Time!

Every evening we look forward to our nightly snack. It always, without question, includes a fruit smoothie. Mike is the expert smoothie maker. His recipe is simple:

a little orange juice
a little plain non-fat yogurt
a handful of frozen strawberries
a handful of frozen mixed fruit
a banana

Mmmmm, good!

Deep Thoughts by Jonah

Jonah decided to count freckles on my arm tonight. This is what I heard:

"...seven, eight...Mama, you're soft...Daddy's hard...you guys are bumpy."

Hmmm...perhaps he's been studying textures in school???

Mom my Ride

I've Never Laughed So Hard