Halloween Fun part 1

Happy Halloween Eve!

Today we got some of the spooky festivities underway around here, so here are some pictures.

Peter showed off his Halloween Skeleton Pajamas.

And of course, his costume for this year:  a dragon!

This afternoon, housing was holding their annual Halloween Safety Spooktacular.  Why not throw in a little safety information and let the kids learn something amoungst their Halloween fun right? 




We started out by meeting some firemen and checking out their truck.  Mama, by the way, is really starting to resemble a truck.  Seriously, AJ, I know the c-section isn't scheduled for another month, but anytime you feel like coming earlier is fine by me.  I look like I'm carrying triplets!!!

 

The local Police were there.  They gave Peter a goodie bag of candy.  This was a good thing because they also had this large-ish sized remote control cop car fellow that was cruising around and talking to the kids and it frankly scared the begeezus out of my son.



Happily, next were some search and rescue dogs.  This one was even dressed up for the holiday.  Peter liked them a lot.

He wasn't too sure what to do next.

But then...

So naturally then we ended up at the playground.  Peter loved the slide.  He has mastered the fine art of climbing up the ladders by himself and sitting down properly and everything.  Such a big boy!  (I think it also helped that his costume's tail slowed him down while sliding.)

Then he climbed around inside on of the fire trucks.

And he and Daddy climbed through a Coast Guard boat.

There were some volunteer Police riders there with their horses.  Peter seemed to like them, but he was reluctant to reach out and pet them... too big!



Seemed like he just kept ending up at those firetrucks!



After an hour or so, we had ourselves one overheated and thirsty dragon on our hands.

And although I'm sure he'd never admit it, but he was pretty well tired out as well. 



Do other husbands do this?

Now, it's no secret that I talk a lot.  Too much probably.  I'm not very good at keeping things internalized. 

Then there's my husband.

Being as he's a man, he's very VERY good at internalizing things and leaving them there.

Communication (particularly with me) can be a struggle for him. 

But lately I've noticed another new communication phenomenon with him that's very confusing and hard for me to understand.

Maybe I'm only noticing it because he's been home so much this past year or so but, recently if he starts a conversation, he only manages to say bits and pieces of it out loud to me.  He speaks mostly in fragments and I only hear parts of ideas.

This tends to leave my head spinning a bit as I never can figure out how on Earth to respond, since I usually have no clue what he's talking about.

Here's an example:

Matt:  (Usually looking up from his computer, or his homework or something else he's working hard on) Oh my!!!! 

Me: What honey?

Matt: (long pause) Wow.  (shorter pause) I mean, this could be...  (another pause for thinking) Hey, this afternoon... can you please...

Me:  Huh?

Matt:  Crap!  I can't believe I forgot!!  (pause)  Well...  maybe... figure something out...

Me:  WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT???

Eventually, after some pestering he *might* reveal to me that (as an example) he left his uniform at the cleaners on base and he needs to be wearing it in the morning when he goes to base.  Or something silly like that.

Now why he can only manage to share about half of this information with me verbally while he's thinking over the problem is completely above and beyond me.

FINISHED!

Not to be boastful, but this evening I'm feeling tremendously proud of myself. 

Tonight, following the unfortunate Buckeye's loss I didn't much feel like watching any more college football so I turned off the television, got out my sewing machine and F-I-N-A-L-L-Y finished the quilt for the new baby.

I started it back in May or June.  I'd decided pretty early on in this pregnancy that we were going to stick with the Ohio State theme for the new baby's room (so that I could reuse the bumpers, dust ruffle and mobile that I loved SO much with Peter but he seemed to outgrow in a flash.)  The problem was, after much searching I couldn't find any other OSU quilts that were in any way as cute as or would compare with the quality of Peter's which hangs above his crib.  I really, really wanted another cute quilt to hang above A.J.'s crib so that each of my children would have their own baby quilt to keep for forever. 

Eventually I started considering just making one.  I'd made a quilt for Matt's graduation and commissioning about 100 years ago, but I have to say I felt less than thrilled with the quality of the end product.  Perhaps this is because I made my own pattern, and I probably rushed a bit too.  Even though I was certain I could probably create something from scratch myself for baby #2, I wasn't sure it would measure up to it's predecessor.  Then I found a website for a small company that designs OSU quilt squares and a few of the stores that sold them even offered additional kits that a person could use to put them together into a larger finished product.

I hesitated for several weeks.  Would I even be able to complete these kits?  They looked complicated, and I don't know anyone with much quilting experience who I could call on to bail me out!  The kits weren't exactly cheap either- I didn't want to end up wasting money.  In the end, I discussed it with Matt, who by the way tends to call me "Becky-Home Ecky" when I get into craft mode.  He felt confident that I'd be able to make a good quilt and he gave me the go ahead to order the kits.

It was a daunting task. 

It was really hard to find time to work.

and

I've never worked on anything so complex before.

But, after a lot of time, and patience, a healthy dose of close direction reading, a few google searches for help and probably 15-20 ripped out seams when I did something wrong the first time... it's finished at last. 

:)

Here are some close ups of the individual squares.

Ohio stadium, just like it says... those stadium details gave me nightmares!!!

A Buckeye football helmet

The Athletic Block O

A Marching Band square (I have one of those hats in my storage closet!)

And of course, the traditional Block O, complete with Buckeyes and leaves.

Mark one more thing off my to-do list before December 1.

Sinuses, Sesame Street and a brief survey for Mamas

Either there is something fairly evil blossoming in the area these days or else this pregnancy has gone to my sinuses.  Bleh!  So many boogers!  I can't breaf!

UGH.

Anyway, this next bit is fairly random, but it inspired where I am headed with this post so hang with me for a second. 

My kid loves himself some Sesame Street.  This is as much my fault as anyone else's.  I loved the Muppets as a child.  One of my clearest early memories (prior to age 4) was when my parents took our television in to a repair shop for a week and I couldn't watch Sesame Street.  I was devastated.  I was positive that the big moment when Big Bird's friends FINALLY saw Mr. Snufflepugus was going to come and I was going to miss it.  My parents solution was to allow me to sit by their stereo in the dining room and listen to the broadcasts over the radio.  This is an odd memory for me actually, because I have zero recollections of ever actually watching the show, but crystal clear memories of having to listen to it on the radio that one week.

Does anyone else out there remember "the good old days" when Snuffy was supposed by all of Big Bird's friends to be imaginary because he always managed to run off at just the right moment?  Or, does my knowledge of this just mean that I am, like, really, really old?

Also, side note, I never did get to see the big moment when Snuffy was revealed.  I'm not sure if I outgrew the show first or if I started kindergarten but the next thing I knew I tuned in some random afternoon in the summer when I was probably well into Elementary and was shocked to see everyone talking to Snuffy.

Confession:  I googled it and found the clip on You Tube a few months ago.  I feel so much better now.

Anyway, I bring up Sesame Street today, because as I mentioned, Peter loves it.  And I sort of still do too, except that lately it has a nasty habit of making me fall asleep on the couch.  It's officially the only show I "make time" for Peter to watch.  Although, let me just be honest here and admit that as this second pregnancy has gone on, and illnesses have been passed around, lately he gets to watch way more than his daily 60 minutes of educational Muppet schenannigans.  Dinosaur Train, Curious George and even The Cat in the Hat are now appearing in my living room more and more frequently.

So today, Peter was actually seeming back to his "normal" self following the nightmare teething and fever of this past weekend.  For the first time in many days he was eating his normal foods and actually playing by himself a bit.  Not that I don't love him, but has he ever been attached to me at the, er, shin, for the last week or so and making my life darn near impossible!  But today, happily, my normal Peter returned to me and did not, therefore, require his Mama to turn the TV on until just in time for Elmo and his friends in order to keep her sanity. 

However, when I tuned in, there was no Street.  No Muppets.  Nada.  No, instead PBS was showing some program on the Constitutional Congress.  Like the sort of crap you'd be forced to watch in Social Studies in like 5th grade.  And sure, in the context of Social Studies class, and a video you get to watch at school, this program might have actually been fairly entertaining on top of its educational value... but when it wass pre-empting my kid's favorite show---  UNACCEPTABLE!!!

Peter was NOT happy.

Mama was not happy either.

Luckily, I broke my everyday camera yesterday and when we were at Best Buy getting me a replacement (because I actually can NOT survive one day without a go-anywhere camera) Peter found himself a box set of Curious George DVDs and helped himself.  I was camera shopping, so I wouldn't know, but apparently the kiddo wandered over to the children's DVD aisle, spotted a yellow box with his favorite Monkey's face on the cover, picked it right up, smiled happily and went on his way with his new treasure.  Now, you tell me please... how could Matt and I not just go ahead get the DVDs for him?  Such smarts!  Such recognition!  Such decision making! 

(We're such suckers.)

Anyway, one of the new DVDs went in to appease the boy lest the lack of Sesame Street result in some sort of nuclear meltdown. 

Then, no sooner did the DVD go in then my nesting hormones kicked in and I started to NEED to clean the kitchen and run the vacuum. 

Well, it was the hormones, or the crap all over the floor and the dirty fingerprints and random "gook" all over the cabinet fronts.

And while I was cleaning I found myself starting to wonder...

1.  How often do other Mom's runs the vacuum?  Does having pets cause you to run it more often? 

I run it once or twice a week downstairs, but would probably run it every day if I wasn't so very pregnant and the vacuum wasn't so  difficult to get out of the closet from underneath the mountain of Matt's schoolbooks and assorted baby toys.  I definitely run it more often thanks to all the silly furry creatures running around here.

2.  How do other people's dogs react to the vacuum? 

My dog goes BANANAS and growls and bites at the thing and it's a really big problem.  I've heard about dogs who actually fear the thing and hide and I'm wondering how I could go about teaching my dog to do the same without risking a visit from the ASPCA.

3.  What is the one, non-obvious place (IE, obviously messy places would include the toilet, sink, tub, kitchen floor etc) where you are have been appalled by the dirt and/or grime that you unexpectedly found there?

For me, the obvious places get a lot of attention.  When it comes to thorough cleaning though, I can never believe how dirty the door to my laundry room is.  It's off the kitchen, and next to the pantry door, but a good several feet from any foot prep surface yet there ALWAYS seems to be splashes or drips of some sort of food and dirty, grimy hand prints all over the front of that door.  Where on earth does it come from?  Why is it that I never notice it until its so absolutely gross?  Do other people have this problem or is it just me???

4.  What are your favorite childrens' television programs?  Do you try to watch these shows with your kids whenever possible or do you take the time to get other things done?

I already mentioned the shows I allow Peter to watch regularly.  Additionally, Blues Clues is in reruns on Nick Jr and also on streaming-Netflix so that's in there too.  Sometimes, in the afternoon I will also turn on Phineas and Ferb but I probably find it a lot more entertaining than Peter does.  I really wish I could find some of the old Madeline cartoons, but they've mostly disappeared.  Anyway, so those are my favorites.  And, I confess, it might make me lazy, but I do, most often, try to sit with Peter and watch TV with him.  My goal is obviously that this is only one hour of hour day, so I try not to begrudge myself the time relaxing, although I do feel bad for sitting around with him when the TV is on longer.  I think it's nice of me to see what he's watching so I can *try* to reinforce whatever lessons he's getting.  Plus, well, a lot of the time if I watch with him he snuggles with me on the couch and that is just like, the best thing ever.  Now if only Sesame Street would stop putting me to sleep!

4.  What children's shows can you NOT STAND.  Do any certain ones put you to sleep regularly (since we all know how formulaic and predictable these programs can be)?  

Lately, as I mentioned, Sesame Street is the snoozer for me.  I'm hoping it's the pregnancy.  I do recall though back when I used to baby sit for my friend's kiddos frequently Dora would knock me right out.  I think they've expanded her repertoire a bit in later years, but seriously that show has the same script with the three places on the map changed and that is it.  *SNORE*  As far as the shows I dislike, well, there are many... pretty much everything else out there, especially on Nick Jr.  Seriously... what IS some of that stuff?   Wow wow what?  Yo Gabba who? I guess if nothing else, my strong distaste for that stuff helps me to limit my kid's TV viewing time. 

For fun, respond to my questions if you want.  Or don't whatever...  I'm just wondering.

Pumpkin Patch Visit 2010

Look what I found!



I don't know what these are but I like them

 

He tried to give one to Grace.  When she didn't want it he just started throwing them on the ground.

I want this one! (Can somebody help me pick it up?)

This one might be more my size though.....

What do you think?



Family Fun



My Pumpkin

Pumpkin Love

Playing in the grass with silly Daddy

Snack time!

Weighing our pumpkins...a little one for A.J. and big one for Peter.
Yes I know unborn babies don't need their own pumpkins, but it's cute.

On our way out....

Molars

This week Peter has decided to start cutting some of his molars. By my best guess he's working on somewhere between 4 and 16 of them all at once.

It's about time, actually, as he's had 8 teeth in his mouth since late mid-May or so.

And it looks like some of his canines might pop through at any moment, but then again it's looked like that since mid-August.

Anyway, so Friday night I finally got a finger in his mouth to feel around back on his gums and sure enough there were little pokey bits of teeth popping up all over the place back there.

And let me just tell you that this is by far the most traumatic experience this household has faced, ever.

Friday night he slept light and awoke multiple times needing some love and attention to soothe him back down.

But Saturday morning he was wide awake and inconsolable at 6 am. He nose and eyes running. Drool like never before. A fever hovering right around 103, in between doses of baby Motrin every 6 hours or so.

And he cries.

And cries.

And cries and cries and cries and cries.

Like never before.

I mean, I can't honestly ever remember a time in his entire little life where he's cried for over and hour straight and still been upset. (Thank you Lord Jesus for that.) Heck, honestly, I can barely recall him ever crying for more than 3o minutes. Especially not if somebody was willing to hold him.

Ladies and gentleman, holding him this weekend does NOTHING to help.

Yesterday he would eventually calm down and fall asleep on either me or Matt after 90 minutes or so. But all he wanted in the entire world was to be held. And to suck on his (not allowed out of his crib under normal circumstances) pacifier and hold his bunny.

We treated his gums with Orajel and gave him Motrin for his fever and once that all kicked in he'd be a sad, slightly glazed eyes version of himself when sleepy for a few hours. But then the medicine would start to wear off and he'd dissolve into another fit of tears again.

My poor baby.

Don't get me wrong, even on his very very worst days, his very loudest and angriest wales are like a 7. I bring that up only because my girlfriend's son could hit a 9.5 easily when he was only like 6 weeks old and my GOSH you should hear that kid now when he's mad. So what I'm saying is that if nothing else, when Peter screams it's not like, insanely loud.

It's just overwhelmingly sad and pathetic and heartbreaking.

And yesterday and today, its been going on for hours on end.

Last night he went down around 8. He awoke at 9:15, 10:30, 11:00, 12:00 and then finally somewhere around 12:30 am. Each time I'd be able to get him to calm down pretty easily until that last one. At 12:30 I eventually picked him up and tried rocking him... but this only upset him more.

(Me and my belly don't exactly fit comfortably in the rocking chair these days... let alone in a way that would be soothing for Peter to snuggle on.)

Before long he'd scrambled off my lap and was sitting in the corner of his room leaning against the wall next to his crib just wailing at me.

My heart kept breaking for him, but nothing I could do was helping.

When I tried to pick him back up he'd just run off to another corner of his room.

Eventually, (and I'll skip the long process that was involved) after 45 minutes or so, I sort of started to lose my wits, so I got Matt up to help.

We tried bringing him into our bed- a no go.

We took him downstairs and tried giving him drinks and cold-gum soothing type foods- another no go.

My poor baby just kept right on crying.

Matt turned on some Muppet's videos on the computer and eventually the distraction was enough to get Peter to calm down. Then my husband (OH the wonderful glorious man I married) sent me to bed and stayed with the baby downstairs himself. I guess they ended up watching the entire Muppet movie on DVD before finally sleeping together on the couch for what was left of the night.

At 7 am, I woke up to the sounds of him screaming again from down stairs.

Today was a repeat of yesterday's drama and horror.

SO. MUCH. CRYING.

And such and unhappy boy.

My gosh.

This evening, he seemed to be feeling better-ish. He actually ate his dinner anyway, which was progress. And he was even playing a little and running around trying to get into trouble.

He also went to sleep with out a fight and though he has woken and fussed a few times already I haven't had to go to him yet although to be honest I'm still afraid to even bother going to sleep. Here's hoping he manages to stay asleep and that his poor gums are okay and that we're on the downhill side of this little journey through teething hell.

Latest Prenatel Check

I had another Doctor's appointment today. It's been 3 weeks since the last one (which was only a few days after my little visit to the hospital) and frankly that last visit did not go very well (Doc was unhappy with my tests which showed my body was still burning fats and not really gaining weight or giving the baby what's necessary.)

I left in tears.

It's possible that I was still over-tired from being sick and this combined with the hormones and the fact that I hadn't really eaten a decent meal in about 5 days (so no wonder my urine was so bad) and I over-reacted slightly.

I don't know. I was pretty upset.

All this to say that I was sort of dreading this morning's visit.

Happily, it went better.

I gained over 7 pounds in the 3 weeks since my last check up.

GOSH. Um, wow.

That puts my total weight gain for this pregnancy around 18-23 pounds if you average out the weight loss at the beginning.

A.J.'s heart beat was STRONG. It's possible that the positioning of the baby and the Doppler combined to make it seem extra loud, but either way it was like, LOUD. I guess that's a good sign. Doc left it "on" so Matt and I could listen to it for a bit longer than usual, I think maybe he realized that hearing it relaxes me.

The only, um, concerning part of the visit is that I measured at 35 weeks. Like, a full 4 weeks ahead of where I am actually supposed to be. He joked about how this is going to be a 10 pound baby but since we're having a C-section I shouldn't care too much. Then he said that since this is baby #2 for me, my body is sort of like a balloon that's already been inflated once and can therefore stretch out and "inflate" so much faster this time around.

How nice.

And ignoring the part where he gave me a mental image of my mid-section resembling a sagging, wobbling stretched out used balloon, I hope he's right because even though I feel very ready
to have my body back and be done with this pregnancy, I am NO WHERE near ready to have this baby in just 5 more weeks.

Heck, I'm barely coping with the fact that I *only* have 8 more weeks to prepare.

Fry Guys

The other day, while we were out, Matt and I ended up at McDonald's for lunch. It's a rare treat for us, but on that day the overwhelming aroma of french fries won us over and drew us in. Peter, had himself his third ever Happy Meal. (The first was when he was only 6 weeks old so I ate it for him and probably doesn't really count. He also had another one a few months back, but it was still when we were transitioning to him exclusively eating real foods, IE- non-puree, so he wasn't into it so much.)

This time was different. He munched happily on his nuggets. He gobbled his sliced apples. He chugged the milk. And then of course there were the french fries. Oh those yummy french fries! (And oh so terrible for you!)

His happy meal had come with a teeny-tiny little cardboard fry holder. (You can see it in Matt's hand in the picture below.) I've never seen one like it before. It looked just as if somebody had put a Large sized fry container in the dryer and shrunk it several sizes. Matt and I found it very odd and amusing. When we were younger the Happy Meal fries just came in those boring paper sleeves. Why on earth would they have changed it? Surely the cardboard is more wasteful. But, honestly, the little serving container was just so cute I forgot to mind very much about the waste.

Peter certainly didn't know the difference either way. He was too busy loving himself some french fries. :)

The tiny container, by the way, listed the the contents to be 100 calories, which if you compare to the 380 calories in a medium serving (thank you Google,) really isn't too bad. Maybe that explains the tiny little container's size: portion control.

Because, honestly, it held about 9 fries... you know give or take a few.

Little Football Fan

Have I mentioned lately (and by lately, I mean this year) just how very very much I LOVE Saturdays in the fall? Because of course with the fall, while we might not necessarily have cooler weather or leaves changing colors or any of that, we still have COLLEGE FOOTBALL.

And oh how I love me some college football.

Go Buckeyes!

But it's not just watching my beloved bucks play, especially since we can't always get their games here. I love the fans, the traditions, the marching bands, the rivalries, the upsets, the ESPN announcers arguing during the recap shows, Kirk Herbstreit (so hot!) and of course the mind boggling things that happen so often during a college football season.

This time of year, my personal definition of happiness is spending the vast majority of my fall Saturdays on the couch in front of the TV with my family watching a good 8-12 hours of college football coverage.

Peter runs around the house and plays with his toys or his dog or sometimes even us on these Saturdays and only complains a little bit that the TV is on but isn't showing him Elmo. Sometimes he even seems to get into the games, although probably he just feeds off of Matt's and my excitement.

To add to the fun, awhile ago Matt taught him to make the officials' "Touchdown" signal, with both his arms straight up in the air.

And then this evening he did himself one better...

It was just before his bedtime. The Oregon/Stanford game was on and somebody scored. Peter heard the announcer call "Touchdown!" and Peter came running over to me, put his arms straight up and proclaimed "Tuh-dooooowww!" at me and shot me the biggest grin ever.

I think I died from the cuteness.

When I came back to life a moment later, I hugged him close to me and told him that he was exactly right.

Mama is so proud she can barely stand it. We'll make a Buckeye Fan out of him yet.

Excitement

I'm positive that NONE of you out there in Internet land are going to care about this next bit of news nearly as much as I do, BUT, oh my goodness I am so happy this evening.

Let me back up, first, and remind everyone what I'm talking about. Sometime last October I posted this video of a woodpecker who was pecking away at the decorative edge work under my roof on the front of my house, just outside my bedroom.

It was so annoying.

The edge work, as it turned out, was basically Styrofoam covered in stucco to match the rest of the house and as the stupid bird pecked away she sent little nubbits of Styrofoam flying all over our front yard.

Naturally, I called the housing office to complain and request that they fix the hole before the bird got too far in.

Housing, in all of it's glory, did not respond in a fashion that ANYONE would consider timely.

Weeks went by. Months even.

The bird eventually drilled all the way into what was now the hollowed-out piece of Styrofoam edge work. Then she made herself a nice little nest.

Eventually, after at least a half dozen maintenance requests and irritated phone calls we received word back from housing office that they could do nothing about the bird, so long as it was living there. Woodpeckers are protected by law or some nonsense. Gee, wouldn't it have been nice if they'd known about the problem in the early stages (like before the bird was all nice and settled) and they could have made some sort of pre-emptive strike to prevent the bird from ever getting to the nest building stage?

Oh wait...

Anyway, time went by. Sometimes weeks would pass and I wouldn't see or hear the stupid bird up there at all. Other times, however, like right around the time I found out I was pregnant again and I had a very strong desire to sleep ALL THE TIME, and so naturally on Sunday afternoons after church I'd try to lay down for a nap while Peter slept too... then the little pecker would be busy in her stupid hidey-hole, 5 feet above of my head when I lay in bed TRYING to sleep, pecking away at God only knows what on the inside part of the outside of my house!

The hole got bigger.

My annoyance multiplied exponentially.

Do not make me even mention how much the military charges us to live in these houses, because let me tell you it is a ridiculous amount! And for that much money (seriously, its a lot, and let me just put that in perspective for you by saying it is nearly 7 times what our monthly rent payments were back when Matt and I were in college. SEVEN TIMES!) You would think, for that much money, they could give me a home complete with a Master bedroom where I could actually sleep WITHOUT having to listen to a woodpecker trying to make it's way into my attic!!!

Over the summer, we saw baby woodpecker heads poke out sometimes.

The mama bird was always coming and going, getting food for them, I guess.

How nice.

And then, about a month or two ago, things got quiet up there again and I thought just maybe the bird family was gone and the whole silly ordeal was over.

Until this past Wednesday.

I was already very irritated about something. Peter was being a grizzly bear and WOULD NOT fall asleep for his nap (which come to think about it, was probably what I was irritated about) and when I went into my room to lay on my own bed and listen to Peter scream at me in protest down the hall for awhile in the hopes that he'd cry himself out, I heard that DAMN pecking sound in there again.

So naturally, I sort of lost my mind a little bit.

I dug out the number for housing and made one of those angry phone calls that are rarely a good idea. First I laid into them about our broken microwave which had already been "fixed" once a few months back but had randomly started to short out during the cooking cycles about 2 weeks ago and nobody from maintenance had come in response to our call to take care of it yet. (Seriously, SEVEN times our college rent to live here, they should be able to come fix a microwave in less than 14 days.)

Then I started in on them about the bird.

Because, seriously, I've been dealing with this for a year.

Before it was all said and done, the office manager promised that he'd be sending a maintenance supervisor over within 48 hours to look into the problems.

Hmm, maybe a little exhausted, hormone driven anger was just what the situation needed after all. Interesting.

This supervisor arrived yesterday morning around 10:00, while I was trying to vacuum and clean the house.

And my goodness, what a difference it makes when you get a supervisor. Peter was best friends with the guy within about 45 seconds.

Anyway, long story short... or, okay, shorter....

He brought me and installed a BRAND NEW MICROWAVE.

Yeah.

Then he changed all the batteries in our smoke detectors and replaced the air filters.

How nice.

Then he went out, set up a ladder and took a look at the bird's hidey hole. He reminded me that he legally, could not "evict" the bird, but promised that if the nest seemed abandoned (ie, was empty) he'd take care of it.... with wire and mesh and whatever hole-filling stuff he could come up with to prevent the bird returning.

(I might have played the I'm pregnant and about to have another baby and can't have a bird living in my attic card to get him to agree to this.)

He worked for awhile up there. I went on about my day. Then another maintenance man came and joined him for a bit. When they both went away I went and checked and the bird's hole seemed (from ground level) to have been widened, and cleaned out by the men. Matt supposed that the men realized just how much structural damage the bird was inflicting up there and that they needed to curtail the problem much sooner rather than later.

So then this afternoon.... I was gone all morning at a meeting, but in the afternoon I *thought* I heard the birds up there again.

However, it must have just been the wind because when I checked on the hole again, IT WAS GONE!

CEMENTED SHUT!!!!!!!

THANK YOU JESUS!

It only took a year to get this taken care of, but my house is officially woodpecker free once again.

:)

Oh, and before you start to feel bad for the poor evicted birdie, let me just tell you there are at least 5 different trees, each quite large and adequate that would make a lovely home for loads of birdies, within 25 yards of my front door. The woodpecker, can have her pick of them, just so long as she stays away from my edge work!

Does the house really need a good cleaning or am I just nesting?

I spent the better part of my day today attempting to clean the house because, I have a confession to make: I do not have a regular cleaning schedule.

*GASP!*

Grandmothers everywhere are surely suffering panic attacks at the very idea!!

Schedules have never really been my thing anyway.

And, cleaning just because it's Saturday, or just because it's Spring is stupid to me. What if a big mess happens on like a Tuesday? It isn't like I'm going to let it it sit there until the weekend when its officially "cleaning day" so I have more of a "clean it when its dirty" mentality running my household.

Except the kitchen. That gets cleaned nightly (usually by Matt.) In the very least. Otherwise... ick.

One might argue that my method of waiting until I can see the grime means nothing ever gets cleaned until its REALLY filthy...

...and to that I say, um, WHATEVER.

I have a dog, two cats, a one year old son and a husband sharing this house with me, I'm lucky if at any one given moment in time ANYTHING is clean around here.

So, the last couple of days I've noticed the house was a bit in shambles. The highlights included the laundry room (where all things-nobody-knows-what-to-do-with apparently go to die) looked like a bomb had gone off, the carpet in the dining room looked like it was attempting to recover from a food fight and the toilets.... oh the toilets... oh the horror. (I blame the humidity. The constant high moisture levels in the air tends to cause things to, um... grow in already damp places- like toilets. Yuck.)

Of course the first major step in any cleaning operation around here involves running the vacuum to eliminate clumps of animal fur, bits of chewed up doggie toys, tracked in dirt/ pricklers (from the yard) and food crumbs (because some body's Daddy insists on letting him snack frequently while also wandering around the house.)

But running the vacuum is SUCH a chore which can tend to hold up the entire cleaning process. Following the vacuum, periodically, I then need to steam the carpets. This is also a major endeavor to take on.

That is, of course, if I ever manage to get that far.

First, all the shoes, books, DVDS, dog toys and baby toys need to be put away. I usually try to distract the baby with Sesame Street or something to facilitate the process lest he attempt to "help" by following behind me and getting things back out.

The dog is less cooperative and much more of a challenge. He freaks out if anyone touches his toys and he detests the vacuum. I mean, seriously, HE HATES IT. The minute the thing comes out he turns into some possessed little fiery demon dog. It's becoming a real problem. He barks and growls and chomps at the thing while you're running it, making it nearly impossible to get anywhere with the chore.

What this means is that it has become QUITE necessary to trap the doggie in a bathroom or closet or something while the vacuum is out, lest he attack you and the dreaded machine the entire time.

The trouble there being that the crazy little doggie is on to me and knows that I want to trap him. So naturally he runs from me. And of course, as you may have guess, I am in no way capable of chasing him these days.

It can go on for a long time.

And what does the baby do while I am chasing around after the dog?

Well, naturally, he gets bored of watching Sesame Street, notices all his toys have been put away and so he gets them ALL back out again:



And the whole process of preparing to vacuum starts over again.

Also, if you're wondering, this picture was actually not taken today. I was far. too. irritated. at the nasty state of the carpets and from chasing that darn dog of mine to really find Peter's latest little toy-hurricane amusing. This photo was actually taken a few weeks ago, during a similar episode of attempted cleaning. The only tell tale sign of this is of course that Peter is, in fact, INSIDE his toy box. This was an interesting development actually since I had to take the TOP off the box to disable him from climbing on top it and then attempting to climb out the window.

Now he certainly can't climb on top of the box, but he also has a much easier time taking EVERYTHING out of it just for the sake of making a mess.

Oh joy.

I may never get my house clean again.

Heck, forget "clean" I just want to run the vacuum!!!