Everyone Has a Twin?

I recently saw a 20/20 show about look-a-likes. The idea is that someone, somewhere looks just like you. A Canadian photographer, Francois Brunelle, has been taking pictures of these "twins" and compiling them for a book. Here's an example of his work:


I have another recommendation for his book.

Mike:

Rainn Wilson:

What do you think?

Cold #2834

Miss Lydia is terribly congested and miserable. I think she's had a cold most of the winter. My goal today was to keep her happy.

Nothing worked: rocking, walking around the house, singing, eating Cheerios, watching Jonah, listening to the vacuum, etc.

What worked? Watching Baby Einstein snuggled under her blanket. She was actually content for 20 minutes.

Perhaps I should fan our adorble Queen of Sheba while Jonah feeds her some grapes.

Just Call Me Alexander

When I got out of bed this morning I heard Jonah dumping over his basket of instruments and Lydia whining in her room and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

While attempting to get out the door, Jonah decided he didn't want any help untying his shoes. I said he needed to let me help him. I said he was a big boy. I said I could untie his shoes for him, and he threw a huge tantrum.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I could tell because the "car carts" were all being used at the grocery store, and I barely had any room in the normal cart for food since both kids were wearing their winter coats.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

That's what it was because while attepting to make dinner tonight with Lydia in the Bjorn and Jonah on the step-stool, I misread the recipe and messed up the meal. Try it again next week, Mike said.

Next week, I said, I'm going to Australia.

While eating my last-minute dinner, Jonah decided he had to sit on his jumperoo and while taking a bath he had a meltdown and we ended up with more bathwater on the floor than the tub.

I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I told everybody. No one even answered.

We pay bills every Wednesday night and I hate paying bills.

Lydia won't go to sleep, I keep stepping in pieces of my failed dinner Jonah put on the floor, and I still have laundry to fold. I hate folding laundry.

Mike says some days are like that.

Even in Australia.

Snowfight with Daddy, Second Try

For those of you who couldn't see the picture:


While walking in the door I heard Mike say, "I'm sorry, Jonah, for hitting you in the face with an ice ball."

I chose not to comment.

It Won't Be Long...

I am so looking forward to my flower garden this year. With the addition of Lydia last year, I just wasn't able to concentrate much on this new love. But the other day I heard birds singing and I instantly thought, "FLOWERS!" I am most excited to see:
- hibiscus
- hydrangea
- stargazer lilies

My 2007 gardening goals:
1. Replant coneflower and black eyed susans. They all but disintegrated by the end of the summer last year-- go figure.
2. Use annuals more effectively. Last year I tried new groupings of annuals, and I didn't think too many of them looked good. Back to the drawing board...

I'm still trying to decide on my three hanging baskets for the front porch. Should I go with ferns and chance my neighbor thinking I'm copying her, or should I use a mixture of cool colored annuals like I did last year?

Christmas in March

Thanks, Cousin Brady!

Vertigo

No, I'm not talking about U2.

I woke up at 4 a.m. with the room spinning as if I had been on a carousel for the past six hours. It was back-- the vertigo.

I can't remember ever having a normal inner ear. I was the little girl who could never roll down a grassy knoll or spin on a merry-go-round or even perform a somersault. I always got dizzy.

About seven years ago I took medication daily for this annoying ailment. I've stopped the meds, and now I never know when it's going to strike.

When Mike and I started dating I was in Lansing to meet some of his friends for the first time. I had to sleep in the car in the restaurant parking lot before joining them for dinner inside. And while shopping with friends, I remember countless times when I had to "sleep it off" in the car outside the mall. I think my Indianapolis friends got to the point where they didn't even bat an eye if I had to go sleep after being in a car. "Yeah, Traci's in the bedroom....sleeping again. She'll be out in about 20 minutes..."

But let me just say, now that I'm a mom, it's not so fun. Well, it never was fun....you know what I mean.

Mike had to take a sick day. The kids were out of their routines. And I was completely out of commission.

As Mike says, "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."

We'll hope for a better day tomorrow.

Three Year Old Theology

While making banana bread with Jonah this afternoon I was singing "This Little Light of Mine." I really didn't know I was singing until Jonah asked, "Who's satan?"

I was a shocked until I realized I was singing another verse to the song, "Don't let satan blow it out, I'm going to let it shine..."

"He's bad, " I said. I know, it was a terrible response. His question surprised me.

Jonah paused. "Where does he live?"

At this point I didn't really know what to say so I just said, "He lives in hell. "

"Help?"

"No hell." I quickly changed the subject. "Let's talk about Jesus."

He paused. "Where does Jesus live?"

"He lives in heaven."

Mike corrected me later, telling me I should have said, "inside your heart." So my theological response wasn't completely appropriate, but c'mon, I was baking bread, trying to keep Jonah from making too much of a mess with the flour, and stepping over Lydia as she was scooting herself backwards across the kitchen floor; I wasn't exactly prepared to give the best answers to my inquisitive three year old.

We immediately started singing again... saving theology for another day.

Just when I thought it was over...

We've been overwhelmed the past few days with the van-load of items Mike brought back from Indiana. We thought the house was mostly cleared, but we had forgotten about a room we filled with family heirlooms. Here are some of the items we've recently added to our basement:

- Linda's wedding dress. It's GORGEOUS.
- A steam engine
- Grandpa Keith's coat from the Navy
- A few lifesize portraits of Mike as a child
- An antique highchair
- A few large framed pictures of ancestors
- Eyeglasses, pajamas, coins, a globe, hangers...
- A garbage bag full of women's vintage clothing
- ...and a host of other things I was too overwhelmed to view

Of course, none is as interesting as the statue of Jesus that Alex brought to their house that's "good for hiding money in."

Any one have any desire for some lifesize pictures of Mike? He actually suggested using them for our next white elephant gift exchange.

Just the Boys

After two years, the house where Mike grew-up finally sold. They're closing this week so the boys (including Jonah) took a trip to get the few remaining items in the house and spend one last night reminiscing of childhood. I know it will be emotionally hard, but I think Mike was also very anxious to have fun with Jonah, allowing him to create some of his own memories of walking in the woods and playing games next to the fireplace.

In honor of their trip, we dressed Jonah in Mike's Southwood Little League t-shirt we found when cleaning out Mike's old room. It even has our last name on the back.

I trust it will be a special time for all of them.

Buddies

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The Power of Words

My brother and I have always been good friends. Although I remember being occasionally annnoyed, I can't remember a time when I was truly angry at him. Now that we're adults, we think we've discovered why:

We had no choice.

Our parents, for as long as we can remember, always told people, "Traci and Troy don't fight. They always get along." I guess we grew up believing it. And after a while, we had a reputation to uphold.

We joke about it with our parents now, but it does cause me to ponder the power my words will have on my children. Jonah is obviously difficult, but I never want him to hear me say it. I never want him to hear me say that he "drove me crazy today" or that he's a "wild man." I want him to hear me tell other people that "he was a good boy today" or that "I'm so proud of him."

I hope my words are powerful.

My parents' words were.

This Week

This week Jonah loves:
- maze books
- his Grammy (some things never change)
- chewing gum
- playing on the computer
- naked "hot laps" around the house before bathtime
- studying maps from our December vacation to Orlando


This week Lydia loves:
- her Pop
- biting on board books
- cottage cheese
- zerberts on her tummy
- watching Jonah do just about anything

A New Hobby

For the past month, I've been mildly obsessed with looking for kids' clothes on eBay. After the kids are in bed, I can't wait to get online to "shop" for good deals. The irony is that I've only won three items after spending countless hours navigating through the site.

I'm looking for truly great bargains. After placing my maximum bid, I stop if the price goes any higher. That's why I haven't won too many!

I'm trying a new technique tonight-- it's a free sniping service that will place my first bid 10-20 seconds before the auction is over. I'm hoping to win a lot of 4T shirts in EUC (that's Excellent Used Condition for those who are unfamiliar with eBay acronyms). We'll see if it works.

So pardon me...

I've got some shopping to do.

Picture This

There are two loud screams as we both duck to the ground. The evil creature circles the living room at no less than 45 mph (I never exaggerate). I dodge into the bedroom, peering through a crack in the door. Mike jousts the air with a dustpan. He hits the bat; it's still flying. Now he holds the dustpan in the air. The bat hits it during its maddening loop around the room. It's still flying... but slower. Mike fans the air with the dustpan weapon. The bat pummels to the ground, looking like a wad of wet tissue paper--lifeless and rabid, lying on my floor.

Mike, a.k.a. my hero, picks up the beast with the edges of two newspapers and tosses it in the outside garbage can. I'm repulsed but I laugh. Another one bites the dust.

Perhaps we need to try Dwight's garbage bag approach next time.

Hibernation is almost over. Scratching sounds in our ceiling will commence.

So who wants to come visit?

What's on Your iPod?

Here's what's on mine:

A Special Day

We'll always think of February 14 as more than Valentine's Day. Today is Larrie's birthday. He would be 69. We were reminiscing this morning about his last birthday party. Mike had planned a gathering at the nursing home with his best friends. He died eight days later.

My how proud, overjoyed, and ecstatic he and Linda would be with the addition of two beautiful granddaughters this year. I'm sure he'd be planning several trips to teach Jonah how to fish and probably wondering when he could get Lydia and Davy in camouflage.

So we celebrate Papa Larrie (that's how we refer to him with Jonah) today.

What Not to Wear

When I have the chance, I love to watch What Not to Wear on TLC. As I stood in front of my barren closet this morning, I wondered, what would Stacey and Clinton say about me?

"I see 6 pairs of black or grey yoga pants in this closet. This girl needs to learn that she can be comfortable and still wear tailored, stylish clothes."

"Look, Clinton, she's got a white t-shirt for every day of the month."

"While fleece is comfortable and warm, cashmere can meet her needs too."

"No, you don't have to wear your tennis shoes everyday. Try paying for a pair of comfortable shoes."

"This girl thinks jeans and a t-shirt are dress-up clothes."

I need help.

A Rare Moment, Indeed

Before school this morning...

Our Little Miss Sunshine

My Brain

I think I'm a fairly smart person; I feel I have a good mind. But when it comes to certain things, my brain just doesn't work. Let me give a few examples:

federal taxes
car parts
stocks
medical insurance

My brain can't comprehend them.

I get to a certain point and then, POOF, my mind literally goes blank. I can't make any connections and nothing makes sense.

This becomes a problem when I'm trying to talk to a mechanic or the insurance company. I told a woman today that "what you just said was Greek to me."

I actually said it. Why pretend to understand? She explained it again, and well, I still didn't understand. Of course, at that point I felt the need to say, "Oh, okay."

I have no idea what she was talking about.

I believe there are certain things that I should handle and certain things that Mike should handle. Taxes, cars, money, and insurance are four things Mike should handle.

He thinks it's a learning opportunity for me to take care of them--

Just wait until I make a mistake.

So Proud

Since 2000, Mike has poured his heart into the new student center. Many of you have been involved in the process from a distance so I thought I would post some recent pictures.


Picture 2: You can see the mezzanine in the distance. The mezzanine houses the gaming room with couches, a Nintendo Wii, and other gaming equipment that I'm too old to know anything about. You can also faintly see the light of the kitchen on the other side of the gym.


Picture 3: On the left side, there are pool tables, ping pong tables, etc. The unfinished stage is in the distance.



I am so proud of my husband. Not only did he raise the money for this 1.1 million dollar facility, but he used the money wisely and gave this community more than I think many people ever thought possible. Of course, he would be the first to tell you that God made it happen. And while that's very true, I also believe that Mike's vision and business sense were instrumental in the process.

We've already enjoyed letting Jonah run wild at "Daddy's work" on cold Sunday afternoons. He puts on his Lightning McQueen helmet and pads, and we have a little daredevil in the skatepark!

A Simple Request

This was our conversation this morning.

Me: So Jonah, you know I'll buy you a big present when you start going poop on the potty all the time. What do you want?

Jonah: A pogo stick

Me: That's what Pop and Grammy are going to buy you. What do you want from Mommy and Daddy?

Jonah: New socks

*******
Hmmmmm....
I think I can manage that.

Message

Ray

While labeling Lydia's six month pictures this morning, I became overwhelmed with her name. Lydia Ray is named after my grandpa, Raymond Edward. All of a sudden, I had tears streaming down my face with a huge grin, just thinking about how proud he would be of my kids.

Grandpa died eight years ago, and a little before that time at a point when he was "complaining" that none of his grandchildren were named after him, I promised him that one of my kids would be his namesake.

You see, there was something special about him. He was manly. He was big and strong. He was strong-willed. He was set in his ways. He was the patriarch, and he was respected as such.

Yet he was never intimidating to me. I knew he would give me the world-- which to a 10 year old that meant Lucky Charms, Pepsi, or a buck for a "Big Mac."

He was a fisherman. He wore a handkerchief behind his neck and tucked in his ears to keep the gnats from bugging him. He hated pizza. He taped Young and the Restless when his bowling league interfered with it. He constantly worked in the yard. He liked to wake us up by tickling our lips with paper. He smoked cigars. The employees at Wendy's knew his order when he walked in the door.

These are some things I remember about my grandpa.

I so wish he could put Jonah "in the vice" or Lydia could sit on his lap.

He must smile everyday just watching his family. We surely smile when we think about him.

My Dear Jonah

After two exhausting days with my dear Jonah, I've been thinking a lot about my parenting. Until Lydia was born, I think I doubted that I was a good mother. Jonah was so difficult that I often wondered if I made him that way. Did I give in? Not much. Did I baby him too much? No. Did I let him control me? Not really. It wasn't until I had Lydia that I discovered a lot of Jonah's behavior wasn't because of my parenting but because of his temperament.

As parents, I think it's really easy to judge other moms and dads. It's easy to say, "That kid needs more discipline" or "Man, that child needs some attention," or even, "Those parents need to be more strict." But I've learned that you can be a wonderful parent and still have a difficult child.

I do have an official diagnosis from therapists and psychologists (see Sensory Integration Dysfunction), but I still feel like a bad mom at times. Why can't my child behave like others? Then Lydia came along. She sleeps. She's content. She eats well. She plays well. And besides relaxing a little, I'm the same mom I was three years ago.

I know I can be a great mom, and he'll still throw tantrums, he'll still have difficulty with transitions, he'll still have trouble concentrating on his toys, he'll still have trouble sitting still, and he still won't respond well to discipline. I'm not trying to make excuses, but that's the way God made him.

It's hard. I try not to worry about the mom looking at us in the grocery store or the mom staring at us in the hospital waiting room. They don't know the whole story...

I guess it's a good lesson for all of us-- the homeless man, the screaming child, the defiant teenager....

We don't know the whole story.

The Hat, Part II

Help Stop Gapiosis

Lydia is wearing her Babylegs. I love them. They're advertised as a way to help with gapiosis, i.e., the space between a baby's sock and the bottom of his/her pants!

According to their website, they also:

1. Make diaper changes a breeze
2. Protect soft knees from harsh surfaces
3. Keep legs (and arms) warm year round
4. Provide light weight sun protection
5. Make a fun fashion statement with styles for every occasion
6. Help keep socks on

She wore them today. I didn't have to worry about gapiosis at all. Check them out. They'd make a great baby gift.

In Honor of Becky

My college roommate is a great friend. She was (and still is) bright, articulate, beautiful....

But she had a secret problem.

She liked to pile clothes on a chair until it practically tipped over.

So in the spirit of Becky, I thought I'd post a look at my ironing board tonight.


It was a busy day.

Another Chicken Dinner

We had a date tonight. I guess that's what you'd call it. We paid a babysitter and went to dinner. Mike was asked to give the invocation at an annual chamber of commerce event. I decided that some intelligent conversation and lipstick would be good for me.

It was the first time I left Lydia with someone other than my mom. I was nervous throughout the day, knowing that she's teething and her digestive system is a little messed up from all the new solid foods she's consuming. But it would be a nice time, right?

So wrong.

I was bored. I knew no one. I sat and listened to strangers talk about town easter egg hunts and fishing derbies and sesquicentennial celebrations.

So $20 for a babysitter, a five minute car ride to talk with Mike, a chicken dinner (which means a potato, roll, and cold mixed vegetables for me), and a day of worry.

Was it worth it?

Nah.

Home (almost) Sweet Home

You know, I've lived in this town for almost seven years. I can't believe I made it this long! It doesn't seem that long ago when I was lying on the floor, kicking and screaming (literally) because I felt so unwelcome.

So although I'd move tomorrow if Mike said the magic words, there are a few things I've learned to appreciate about this place:

1. Where else can I visit four dollar stores, three chinese restaurants, and every fast food chain within a mile of my house?
2. Where else can I take my kids on a half-mile stroller ride and pass a scrapbook store?
3. Where else does it take four minutes to travel to Wal-Mart during rush hour?
4. Where else does the postal worker, bank employee, gas station attendant, and gift shop owner call me by name?
5. Where else can I wear clothes from 1999 and still look cool?

It's my home.

For now.

The Dragon Lady

I don't think a librarian has ever made me cry. I almost cried today.

When I'm trying to prove a point to a stranger, I often get emotional, my heart beats faster, and my voice starts to quiver. I hate it, but that's what happens.

In November, Jonah ripped the pages out of three library books when he was supposed to be taking a nap. He was punished, and a few days later, I made him go to the library to apologize. I took my checkbook to pay for the books at that time, but the evening worker said she didn't know what to do and asked if they could send me a bill. No problem.

I received the bill for $41.00, paid it, and even noticed yesterday that the check had cleared.

Today is the first time I revisited the library. When I tried to check-out, they told me I had a $10 fee for the collection agency. I said, "I paid it and the check has cleared," not really listening to what she had said.

She replied, "No, this is the fee for the COLLECTION AGENCY." Hello? What are you talking about? Collection agency? I've never had a collection agency called on me (oh, except for that time in 1999 when Liz and I placed our electric bill in the junk drawer and didn't realize it unti the collection agency called us!)

"But I paid it immediately. In fact, I brought my checkbook the night I returned the books and she didn't know how to bill me."

At this point, the head librarian yells from her desk, "What's your name?"
"[I state my name]"
"How do you spell that?"
"[I spell it out for her]."

I couldn't help but feel the 12 eyes looking at me from the nearby computers. Actually, this story wouldn't be any big deal if I lived in a larger town where no one really knew me. But keep in mind that people know us. People know Mike. People know our name. We have a reputation.

"We contact the collection agency when you don't pay your bill in 90 days," she screams.

Now I realize that she wasn't yelling or screaming, but she was talking loudly and no one else in the library was saying a word.

My voice is quivering. "I just got the bill. I just paid it. Can you check to see when the books were due that I--"

"Give me a second to think," she interrupts. "Oh, I'll take off the charge. Computer glitch."

That's it? That's all you're going to say to me? After making me say my name and spell my name for everyone in the library. After repeating the words "collection agency" over and over again. That's all you're going to say?

They proceed to check out my new books. As I'm walking to the door I hear in a sweet voice, "Sorry ma'am for the confusion."

I want to write a letter. I don't really know what I'll say.

Perhaps "Dear Dragon Lady,...

Today's Emergency

I guess I should be happy that our overactive Jonah is 3 years old, and we haven't had to visit the emergency room-- until today. I got a call right when school was dismissed. He had fallen, cut his head, and needed comforted by his mom. When I got to school, they had already determined that we needed to go to the hospital. Jonah was calm, and actually, a bit excited to visit the place with the "echo stairs." Mike was able to meet me there and help-- thankfully.

Jonah did okay. When the doctor asked him what happened, he replied, "My hurt myself." I think the doctor wanted more details! He had actually slipped on the wet floor coming in from recess and cut his head on a rocking chair. The cut wasn't very big, just deep.

He got three staples.

We stopped at McDonalds on the way home. So life, according to Jonah, is good.

Aunt Millie & Me

I received an unexpected gift for Christmas this year-- a bread machine. It has quickly become one of my favorite kitchen appliances. In fact, I don't understand why every household in America doesn't own one! Yesterday, I made two loaves to give away, and I think the combined time I spent in the kitchen was 15 minutes. Everyone is so impressed when I give them a warm loaf of fresh bread, and yet it's as simple to make as grilled cheese. One of Jonah's friends asked his mom for "Traci's bread." Just call me Aunt Millie.

The Hat

If Only

If only I had such talent. While sitting down to post last night, I got a little carried away with surfing the internet for amazing photographers. I'll never create the art they do, but maybe I will be inspired by their props, clothing, and sometimes, very unique settings for children. Here's a list of some great photographers I found: Brianna Graham, Lori Nordstrom, Kathy Wolfe, Audrey Woulard, and Rachel Devine. And if you want to just see an awesome photography blog, check out The Image is Found.

American Idol

It has begun. I’m definitely not obsessive, although Mike would say I am. Sure, I don’t want to miss a show, but I’m not in the American Idol fan club, I’ve never been to an American Idol concert, and Ace didn’t draw my tattoo.

But I do enjoy watching the show—much to Mike’s dismay. He makes fun of the singers, he makes fun of the judges, and he makes fun of me!

“You knew this before you married me,” I tease. He knew that even as a child I remember watching Star Search and Fame. He knew I was in my high school's show choir (dare I say that it really was cool at my school!). He knew that I love Broadway and enjoy reading my monthly Playbill magazine. He knew that I tap-danced and was the forensics coach at the high school.

He knew this before he married me—
What can I say, I enjoy the performing arts!

And he did catch the spirit last night. Guess who “auditioned” for me, singing California Dreamin’ in his best bass voice? Okay, so I really had to beg him, but it sure was fun!

So let's get past these first few weeks of competition. You know, it's one thing to shatter the dreams of young men and women that are strong, nice-looking, and intelligent. It's quite another thing to laugh at contestants that are clearly disadvantaged in other ways.

Regardless, I'll tune in next Tuesday. Will you?

Precious Moments

It's been a miserable day; I've had an achy body and am just now starting to feel better. My wrists were even hurting. I tried to explain to Jonah that Lydia and I weren't feeling well, and he would need to take care of us. He immediately gave each of us kisses and then started to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." After the first phrase he said, "I don't remember it." So with some coaching from me he finished singing the song. As soon as he was done, he said, "Feel better, Mom?"

A couple times this afternoon, I let out a few wimpering cries. Both times he grabbed my face and showered me with kisses.

At one point, I asked if he would pray that Mommy would feel better. He grabbed my hands and said, "Dear Jesus, (pause) Amen."

Too cute.

Although he takes so much work, he can be such a sweet boy. I'm so proud of him.

Snow Day

I heard those two words this morning. It's funny how my perspective has changed. I used to pray diligently for snow days; now I HATE them. Once Lydia is older I can picture building snowmen, drinking hot chocolate, and making snow angels, but right now there's no routine, nowhere to go, and nothing to do. I have gotten so accustomed to Jonah attending school for three hours every morning (I know, it's marvelous) that it throws me all off when school is cancelled. So I decided early this morning that we were going to spend the day baking cookies. And that's what we did!

We're obviously not going to win any decorating awards, but he's awfully proud of his rocket ship, music note, pumpkin, egg, sailboat, etc.

We attempted a dinner out with friends tonight. We took the kids. That's a big deal for us. The occupational therapist told us a long time ago that we were doing a smart thing by sacrificing restaurants for Jonah's sake. He did okay. I guess he's growing up. He even said, "Excuse me, more milk" to the server without much prompting from me.

Maybe the snow day wasn't so bad.

Garden Chicken Pasta

To respond to Tricia's post about new recipes, I thought I'd post one of my recent favorites.

1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella
6 oz. penne pasta
1 lb. chicken, cut in strips
1 cup sliced green pepper
1/2 medium onion, thinly sliced
1 T. oil
14.5 oz. Del Monte Diced Tomatoes with Mushrooms and Garlic
8 oz. tomato sauce

1. Cook pasta according to package directions; drain.
2. Cook chicken, pepper and onion in oil in large skillet over medium-high heat until chicken is no longer pink.
3. Add undrained tomatoes and tomato sauce; simmer uncovered 5 minutes.
4. Add hot pasta to skillet; toss. Sprinkle with cheese; heat until melted.

Who's Six Months Old Today?

Lydia Ray!

It's My Couch

I had a friend ask me this morning how I find time to blog. Yes, it's true that I don't have time to do laundry or fix myself lunch or clean the playroom or vacuum the kitchen, but I'm realizing that I will FIND time to blog. What initially started as a way to keep in touch with family and friends has evolved these past few days into something else.

Even though my job is the most important job in the world, most days I feel that I don't have much purpose. What will I put on my next resume? From 2003-2009 I completed laundry tasks, implemented a diapering system, performed kitchen duties-- somehow I don't think an employer will be too impressed. Yet these past couple of days, I have been forced to find something interesting to share. I actually do a lot every day; most days I just don't feel like it.

Perhaps it's allowed me to see humor in things that initially annoy me. For instance, before friends came over for dinner last night, Jonah had decided to smear poop all over the couch, and when I was trying to clean it up, he sprayed 409 cleaner all over his neck, face, and shirt since the plumber (a whole other story) hadn't shut the cabinet with the child proof lock properly. In the midst of cleaning the couch, putting Jonah in the bath before the cleaner would chemically burn his skin, setting the table, and preparing for our friends to arrive, I immediately started thinking, "This is a great story for the blog."

So why do I find the time?

It's therapy. It's my brown leather couch.

Humble Pie

...that's what I had for breakfast this morning. Mike had an early meeting so I took Jonah to school today. His teachers had already obtained an alligator and put an Ohio State emblem in its mouth.

Okay. Okay. I was wrong. I'm getting down off my high horse.

In the words of my brother, "That was quite possibly the worst game I've ever seen...although I didn't see much of it since I quit watching early in the second half. I was feeling fairly destructive, and after I visualized throwing the remote through the window, I figured I should change the channel for good and just forget about it. Thankfully, Rambo II was on AMC. It's a good movie to watch if you want to release agression...Well, I can't remember the last time I was so far beyond anger and frustration that I reached the point of indifference."

I, too, went to bed at halftime.

Maybe next year.

My Little Buckeyes

Retaliation

Before the Michigan/Ohio State game, Jonah wore his Ohio State jersey to school. When I got him off the bus that day, his first words to me were, "Go Blue." Inside his school folder that same day was a picture of him holding a yellow sign that said, "Go Blue." I was disgusted, of course.

So in honor of tomorrow's game (and you better believe he's wearing his jersey again), we made treats for his class tomorrow.

Pop the Great

We just enjoyed a day with my mom and dad. We are so blessed that our kids have such amazing grandparents. I don't think there's anything they wouldn't do for us-- look, for instance, at Pop's hiding place during a game of hide & seek.

I feel so much better when I know my world is organized, and I'm thankful that I had time to do that today while Pop and Grammy entertained.

On a different note, we tried a bow in Lydia's hair for the first time. I don't think she's ready for them quite yet!

Tappin' Feet are Happy Feet

I just returned from my "down time." I get 45 minutes a week to myself. I choose to tap with those 45 minutes. Every week I come home and show Mike and Jonah what I've learned. They're always unimpressed.

What is it about tap-dancing? I absolutely love it, but I guess it just seems cheesy to those who've never really tried it.

I stand next to a woman that's been tapping for over 30 years. She's always showing me what I'm doing wrong. There are also two men in my class. One is about five years older than me, has a wife and kids, and rocks. Yes, I just used that word to describe a tap-dancer. Come on--have you seen Happy Feet? Those penguins rock.

Quit smirking.

It's an Obsession, Really

I'm addicted. In fact, I have exactly six minutes to finish this before I need to be downstairs in front of the tv.

It all started about three months ago when Mike bought Season Two of The Office on DVD. I thought he was a bit ridiculous. I had tried to watch it before but had no tolerance-- until recently. Now I just can't stop.

Jim and Pam are my friends.

And yes, I do think Mike looks a BIT like Dwight.

I'm Not Smiling....Yet

Did you ever have one of those days? I had one today.

Happy New Year

We decided the year Jonah was born that we just couldn't "party" like we used to on New Year's Eve. So we left our friendly gathering at 9:30 last night and went to bed at 11:00. I can't remember the last time I wasn't awake to participate in the ritualistic singing of Au Lang Syne.

We watched TV for a few minutes around 10:45, laughing at the responses given when people were asked what they "hoped for 2007." One woman said "peace," someone else said, "just a great year." LAME. LAME.

But what do I hope for 2007? Healthy children. Sanity. A skinnier body. A joy-filled house. A joy-filled heart. I guess it's a hard question to answer when you haven't given it much thought.