The Holy Spirit?

I cry at church.

Every. Single. Week.

Every week I enter the church convinced it isn't going to happen, perhaps even feeling a bit impressed with myself for even making it to the 9 am service at all, and then every week, with out fail, I find myself getting all choked up.

When we first moved here they were tears of frustration as the childcare was closed and the cry room was packed and my children weren't cooperating.

Then there were a few weeks of tears about the approaching holiday season and the stress of it all and the nerves about Matt's upcoming leave.

On Christmas Eve I cried as we sang "Angels We Have Heard on High" probably because I remember singing it every year on Christmas Eve when I was a little kid and I can't believe that now I am singing it with my own little kids.

It started again the week after Matt's leave ended and he went back. It was the Epiphany and we were singing the last of the season's Christmas carols and I couldn't even help myself.

It seems to always happen during the music actually....

The last few weeks I don't even know what has started it.  I guess I just miss my husband.  I want my family to be whole again, particularly when we do family things- like go to mass.

Today was the kickoff for Catholic School's week so all the students from the school were in their darling little uniforms.  An older girl in front of me was in her Cheerleading uniform and I just couldn't stop looking at her, thinking about how maybe someday that could be A.J.  (Assuming we magically stayed here that long...) And of course all the handsome little boys in their navy slacks, polo shirts and little red sweaters just melted my heart.  That could be Peter next year... assuming I get him into the 3 year old preschool class.

And actually, I don't even know if the preschoolers wear the uniforms, although I don't see any reason why they shouldn't.

So this week I started crying just thinking about how badly I want to get my kids into that school.  And, oh by the way, I can't believe I'm even thinking about my "baby boy" wearing a school uniform already.

It reminded me how right after Peter was born when Matt's mother came to visit and help out she teased Matt for repeatedly wearing a white polo shirt and navy blue slacks to class.  Did he feel like maybe he was back in high school again?

After church the school had an open house so once I picked the kids up from childcare we went down and visited the lower grade classrooms.  When I found the preschool room I met 2 of the 3 preschool teachers (although sadly not the one he would have next year as she wasn't there.)  Peter made himself at home exploring the classroom and then let himself out onto the playground play structure while I asked each of the teachers a few questions about their program.

Oh my goodness I just really need to get him into that school.

I don't even know why, it just feels so... right.

But anyway, our local Catholic school was not supposed to be the point of this post.

I was talking about how church makes me cry.

I wonder if the people who witness this behavior think I'm insane or not?

I wonder if I care what anybody thinks anyway?

This week was particularly interesting because the Monsignor kept cracking silly jokes about the trip he just took to Haiti, and there were two boys sitting near me alternating between attempting to quietly beat the tar out of another and  mocking the choir leader (who stands and conducts his chorus of maybe 20 odd singers with all the vigor and energy as if he was leading the Philharmonic in New York.  He waves his arms MADLY, he shakes his fists and his cut offs threaten to take out anyone unlucky enough to be sitting within 10 feet of him.)  So on top of my random snot and tears I kept giggling loudly at those silly brothers (and their imitations of the choir director.)

Not a pretty sight.

Or a very Holy one...  tears plus giggles all too often can equal accidental snot bubbles.  (Yuck.)

Anyway, I'm trying to decide if if all the tears are some sort of a weekly release, or if I'm just that much of an emotional basket case.  Then again, maybe it is something more powerful- like some sort of working within me by the Holy Spirit?

Breakfast Monsters

I read an article awhile ago about Nutella.  

It was one of those written basically to convince people to go all organic and all natural and all home made,  all made from scratch with what they feed their kids.

I stumble across a lot of these articles. 

And while I do want to feed my children as healthy as possible, I really feel that the only thing most of those articles really accomplish is a really lame attempt at making me feel like a bad Mommy because I don't feed my children all natural, organic, home made, made from scratch foods.  But, I mean, honestly, I'm doing the best I can.  I'm already at the top of my monthly budget for food and I feel like I spend 90% of my waking hours in the kitchen either preparing or cleaning up after meals and at this point I don't make anything from scratch.

It seems like most of the time one or both of my children don't ever want to eat anything anyway, no matter what it is I put in front of them.

Don't even start trying to convince me that if I did make their food from scratch (etc) that they would suddenly develop insatiable appetites and clean their plates nightly.  

The particular article that I'm thinking about basically suggested that spreading Nutella on toast was just like smearing it with chocolate frosting, and surely no good mother would ever feed their child such a thing!  Now, clearly, the person writing the article was trying to contradict the claims of healthiness of the chocolate spread and, obviously she is a much better cook then I ever have any hopes to be.  But, to her question let me just assure everyone of one thing:

I would absolutely spread chocolate frosting on whole wheat toast if my children would willingly eat it.

Heck, I'd probably spread ground up cockroaches on that toast if they'd eat that too.

Because the fact of the matter is, I just want/need my children to EAT.  Something.  ANYTHING!

I tried cinnamon toast for awhile and my son licked the sugary goodness off the top and left the actual bread soggy, but thoroughly uneaten.

And if Nutella (in all of it's chocolaty goodness) happens to have ANY positive, redeeming, healthy factors, while my children happily stuff their faces with it and make horrible messes of themselves?  Well, more power too it.

I'm just saying.

Potentially one of the Worst Stories Ever

I've been putting off writing this post for forever.

I have a feeling that some folks out there in Internet land are not going to like the way that things played out in this particular situation and I really can't say I blame them.  I don't like it either.

But I always preach about honesty and so I feel that I have to admit and acknowledge what has happened so that I can put it behind me and move on.

Alright, so to catch everybody up, we have had 2 cats since 2006.  We adopted them at a Petco in Georgia shortly after we moved back from Japan while Matt was there for some schooling.  That's actually a bit of a funny story as it had only been about 3 months since the very unexpected death of my beloved first cat Britney the previous summer while Matt had been on deployment.  The pain of losing my first ever kitty was still pretty raw but for some reason that afternoon we decided to go in and look.  Seriously, we weren't leaving with a cat under any circumstances, I just wanted to look and see if my heart was ready to embrace a new animal or as it turned out, animalS.  It was a Saturday and so as is often the case, several shelters had set up adoption centers inside the store.  No sooner had we gone inside then we ran headlong into a cage holding 3 cats.  Up top were the kittens that would become our Chase and KC and below was a grey and white kitten that looked frighteningly like my beloved Britney had.  I tried hard not to look at the grey and white kitten and I reached over to pet the tiny fluff ball that would end up being Chase.

I hadn't been at it for more than 5 seconds and when Matt asked me if I wanted to take him home.  I'm not kidding, I was just busy blinking away tears and I'm not sure if I ever answered him.  Then the next thing I knew Matt was arranging to adopt them both.  He was fighting off all the other people who wanted to take them and arranging to have the shelter hold them for us for 3 more weeks until we'd be checking out of the hotel we were staying in and heading to California.  My husband does this amusing thing every once in awhile where he turns into some sort of Donald Trump and he is going to get me what I want regardless of the price.  No amount of money was going to be too great that day, we were adopting those cats.   And we did.

And it only cost us the normal adoption fee....

Chase was always the skinny and overly needy one.  KC was always the cross eyed, chubby, neurotic, pain in the butt.  Sometime after we moved to Monterey and had Peter, KC started to have a problem using the litter box.

Then we moved to Washington and his potty problem just got way worse.  You can read about it here but the long and short of it was he was put outside and a few days later I thought he ran away forever.  However, as you can see here, he did eventually reappear in our lives, living mainly the backyard and sleeping under the shed.

When we left Washington at the beginning of November, I obviously brought him with us.  I wasn't really sure how this would go as he'd been outside exclusively for almost 6 months.  Once we got back here, he did really well for a couple weeks..  He was pretty sweet and snugly and I thought for awhile that he'd sort of learned his lesson and we'd be okay.  But soon he starting peeing on the floor again so he started going outside again.  My intent was that he could be an indoor and outdoor cat and could come and go as he pleased.  Except when I first let him out he didn't want to be out and went crazy trying to get back in.  Then once he seemingly resigned himself to being outside again he never wanted to come back in.  It didn't matter if it was cold or raining, he would run when I tried to let him in.

By then it was shortly after Thanksgiving.  One evening as I was putting the kids to bed I could hear him outside meowing like crazy.  He had been in my back yard for a few weeks, happily eating the food I put out for him each morning and spending most of his afternoons sleeping next to the air conditioning unit in the corner of my side yard.  We have 6 foot fences so it seemed unlikely he was going anywhere.

However that night after the kids were asleep I stepped outside to check on my Christmas lights.  When I did I found out what KC had been meowing about, as he was now on the front yard side of the fence.  I guess he'd managed to get over it but was having trouble getting back.  It didn't matter, he wouldn't come anywhere near me even if I wanted to help him and instead as I walked around the corner to check the lights on the garage he "spooked" and took off running up the sidewalk.

This didn't exactly make me happy, but there was nothing I could do.  The kids were both inside and I couldn't leave them there alone to chase after my problem-cat.  I didn't worry about it too much, and I assumed he'd be back in the morning.  I mean, after all, he'd been JUST FINE outside in Washington from May through October.  Clearly there was nothing to worry about.

Except in the morning he wasn't back.

And, scattered across the shaggy, scraggly grass of my front yard here and there were large tufts of his fur.  That part was troubling from the moment I saw it, but as the yard at that point was still pretty awful I didn't think too much of it.  I just hoped his long fur had gotten tangled in the overgrown grass and the stumps of the hedge I'd just had cut down.

Every time I left the house we drove slowly around the neighborhood a bit to see if we spotted him.

We never did.

So the fact of the matter is, 2 full months later, I have no idea what REALLY became of him.

My hope is that he's still around her someplace.  Perhaps he found some nice old lady to take him in.

Except he had his collar (with my phone number) on...

Maybe he took off heading North, back to Washington which maybe he considers to be his home territory after the time he spent there

Oh can you just imagine what SIL would say if he showed back up in her yard?  :)

Except my heart knows that neither of those is probably what actually happened.

This area is well known to have coyotes.

Lots of them.

And the bits of his fur all over the yard that morning could definitely be considered as signs of a struggle.

:(

I mean, if your wondering I've not seen or found anything else to confirm my dreadful suspicion, but from what I've heard from some of my neighbors it seems likely.

Oh.  And there's something else about this too.

Right around the time KC went missing Peter started going on and on each night when we put him to bed about a Dragon.  I have NO idea what started this.  He'd long been a fan of our Puff the Magic Dragon songbook but this was seemingly unrelated as the book hadn't been out since before we left Washington.  He didn't seem to think the dragon was particularly good or bad or in any way scary, he was just adamant that there was one.  At first I theorized that he saw his nightlight reflected in the overhead lamp in his room and maybe thought they were eyes.  I also thought maybe he saw the yucky smudge of dirt in that overhead light and thought it looked like a dragon.  But when I turned off the nightlight and cleaned out the smudge he still went on about the dragon.  Heck for all I knew it was just his imagination kicking into high gear.

The dragon talk went on and on for weeks, all through the time Daddy was home and afterward and only just recently seems to have stopped in the last few days.

So what I'm thinking is.... what if Peter HEARD whatever scuffle went down in the front yard between the cat and the coyotes?  It would have been RIGHT outside his room, and his bed backs up to the wall that faces the front yard.  Anyone who's ever heard a cat get into a fight could tell you it's rarely quiet and I can't even imagine what it would have sounded like if my suspicions are right and he got into it with a bunch of coyotes, presumably as he was attempting to make his way back to the safer side of our fence and the back yard.

That might have sounded like a dragon to my son right?

And the dragon talk definitely started right around the same time as KC's unfortunate disappearance.

What a terrible thought.

I guess we will probably never know what happened to our fat cat nor what brought on Peter's belief that there was a dragon living somewhere near his bedroom.  While, I really do hope that I'm wrong about this, I can't help but think they're probably related.

And, even though KC was, generally a tremendous pain in my butt a lot of the time, I did love him and I really do miss seeing him look up at me with those big, blue, crossed eyes of his.

I miss you KC.

I definitely don't miss your puddles, but I miss YOU.

If you're still out there somewhere, please come home.

If not, I pray that I'm wrong and whatever happened to you wasn't so awful.

Also, if you're curious, Chase is still here.  He's as neurotic and needy as ever.  He's FOREVER getting out (even though I obviously want to keep him in now) and recently has developed a litter box problem of his own.  I just don't know what I'm going to do about it....

The Biter and the Talker

Alright, so yesterday was just a little insane as I had the guys coming out to treat for my subterranean terminates (who don't seem to understand that their place is underground and instead have taken up residence in my attic.)  I was basically running around for much of the morning checking on their work and ensuring they had access where they needed and all of that so the kids weren't being supervised all that closely while they played and watched television.  

The work crew finished up just as we were finishing our lunches and shortly thereafter the kids went down for their afternoon naps.  A.J. had slept for a good hour in the morning but was still rapidly getting cranky again and Peter... well, he didn't have a choice.  

A couple hours later they awoke and I went to get them almost immediately upon hearing the first stirring as we needed to get out to pick up some diapers and more milk before dinner.

As I was strapping Peter into his seat I noticed something on his face:

I guess I'd seen it when he'd first woken up, but I assumed it was a sleep mark.  Several minutes had passed and the mark was still just as visible so I stopped and looked closer.

Hmm.

Almost looks like... no way... it couldn't be.

A bite mark?

But who could have bitten him, and on the cheek no less?

There was only one possibility:  a little girl that happens to have exactly 8 teeth.  4 little ones on the bottom and 4 on the top.  Between he top teeth is a decent space, just like her brother and her just like her father.

Just like the mark on her brother's face.

Yeah, there was no question about who had done it, but I asked him anyway for confirmation.

"Peter," I said, "what happened to your face?"

"Oh... J.J. 'urt me."


"Did she bite you?"

"Yeah!"


"Where did she learn to bite do you think buddy?"

He stared at me blankly.  Then he asked me for a band aid.

I assured him he didn't need a band aid, and then I answered my last question for him.  Because the fact of the matter really is I know exactly how she learned to bite.

Prior to this we've had exactly one biting incident.  The brother, having been warned and told and scolded repeatedly about hitting his sister when she takes his things or bothers him is always searching for other means of getting his way.  He still hits most of the time, but sometimes he kicks instead, and sometimes he just tackles her.

But this one time, I looked up and saw her arm in his mouth.

I screamed at him in horror to stop immediately.  A.J. started to cry, but it was probably due to my yelling as much as anything else.  The sister had two clear circles of teeth marks on her arm.  I couldn't help but find a small bit of humor in the two, separate bite marks.  Like he'd tried it once, and then for good measure, repositioned and gone again, just to make sure he was making his best effort.

He hadn't broken her skin, and as he'd bit her on the top of her forearm which is still nicely covered in baby fat, his bites had little affect on her.  Between the uselessness of his attack (she didn't cry or give back the car she'd allegedly taken from him) and my scolding, he hasn't tried it since.

But it would seem that today the sister tried it for herself.

Oh how I wish I knew the specifics of what went on...

She's a dangerously feisty one my daughter.  WATCH OUT WORLD.

So anyway, then we went to Target.  I had the distinct pleasure of pushing around on of those GIANT double seater shopping cart deals (which, seriously Target, why can't you just get the carts like Costco that hold two children in the basket just fine?) Meanwhile Peter talked and talked and talked and talked..  I have no idea what had stirred him up but he just went on and on.  AND ON.  He talked about how the man had come over and gone under his house to kill the bugs earlier.  He talked about the other man that was going to fix our toilet in the "bwoken bathwoom."  He also pointed out every single object he saw on the shelves.   "Look Mommy diapers.  Oh, those diapers have Dora on them. Ah, the baby bottles. Pacifiers Mommy! Hey a basketball right there.  Swimming pools.  Cars Mommy!  Mommy Cars! Whitening McQueen! Mater Tow Twuck.  CANDIES!"


As charming as THAT was, it was turning my brain to mush.  I couldn't concentrate.  I couldn't remember what I was supposed to be shopping for.

So then we got over to the Valentines section (hence Peter noticed all the candy.)  Before he could further start pleading for sweets I explained to him that I wanted to buy a present to send to Daddy to let him know we missed him.  That turned out to have been a mistake.  He started fresh on this new topic.

"My Daddy?  My daddy go away on da airpwane.  My daddy need candies?  What candies Daddy wike? I go on da airpwane?  Pwease?  I go see Daddy?  Daddy come home on airpwane soon?  Daddy come pway at my house?  WANT DADDY!"


This continued, seemingly, with out an end in sight.

If his nonstop chatter hadn't turned my brain to some sort of mush which had subsequently already leaked out my ears, that bit might have been sweet.  Charming even.

Instead I turned desperately to a random lady standing there looking at the boxed sets of Valentines and said to her honestly, "Oh my goodness!  Why won't he just stop talking for a minute?  I can't even think!"

Then I apologized and told her I knew that was terrible to say.  She kindly smiled and laughed a little and told me she'd been there before and not to worry.  We went on our way and she went on hers.

Peter blabbered on and on.

I'm sure somewhere out there internet land somebody who knows me well (my mother in law) is laughing at this and not because it's such an adorable little tale.  Anybody who's ever listened to me go on and on I'm sure finds my annoyance to be just hilarious..  OMG folks.  I am so sorry.  I almost feel like I need to call my mother up and apologize for being such a blabbermouth when I was a little kid as surely it must have driven her just as crazy as Peter was driving me this afternoon.

Relax, I said ALMOST.

So eventually I found what I wanted and then we headed off towards the milk.  Peter yammered on and on.  Little Miss Biter  A.J. (not to be forgotten) just kept right on sitting there in the cart, sucking on her pacifier, occasionally trying to grab stuff off the shelves and was, presumably, listening carefully  to whatever the heck her brother was talking about.  I found our milk (did you know Target carries Lactose free milk for a very reasonable price?) and we headed for the bananas.

As we rounded the corner my boy forgot that he had been talking about the milk I'd just picked up and started shouting about fruit.  "Yook Mommy! Danabas!  Want danabas.  Go get some Danabas!"  


And next to the bananas, laughing again in that all knowing oh-yes-I've-been-there-and-boy-am-I-glad-I've-moved-past-it sort of way, was the woman from the Valentine aisle.

"I heard you coming."  she told me with a grin.

Time for a Change

These past few days, whenever the children wake up and I go to free them from their cribs I find things in their room to be... interesting.

First of all there's this:

Miss A.J. loves to jump and bounce.  It's amusing to me because her brother didn't start jumping in his bed like this until he was much older.  But of course she has his example to follow and thus, she has found this fun way to amuse herself whenever she's stuck in her crib a little too long after she wakes up.  Or actually, she jumps like that a lot whenever we first put her in there to go to sleep as well.  Story time before bed is particularly interesting.  I'm in the rocking chair in the corner holding whatever book it is up like a kindergarten teacher so they can both see the pictures while Peter stands in his crib shouting things at me (usually, but not always, related to the story) and all the while A.J. is bouncing away.  Fun.

And yes, as the video shows, she's a big fan of playing peek a book now too.  She often plays it on Skype with Matt.

And then of course there is the last bit of the video: where we discover that A.J. mysteriously has her brother's teddy bear in her bed.   The teddy bear in question is the one Matt sent to Peter for his 2nd birthday last July.  And despite the fact that Matt has sent A.J. several of her very own stuffed animals (including a very nice teddy bear of her very own) she has always had something for that bear.  Practically since she became mobile she'd often crawl over to his crib, pull herself up to stand on the bars of her brother's crib and then began tugging like mad on that bear, hoping to get it out from between the bars of her brothers bed so she could have it for herself.

She still does this frequently.

So obviously I was amused to find it had wound up in bed with her that day.

She always seems to want it and he (naturally) never wants her to have it.

Then I noticed the floor between their two cribs and what had been going on rapidly became clear to me.

This picture was taken the following day (you'll see the kids are in different outfits) but you'll notice in the picture, just as it had been the day before, the floor between their cribs is littered with an assortment of items that started out in Peter's bed.  I think in this case you can see each of his socks as well as a matchbox car or 2.

Additionally, it doesn't show up well at this angle, but upon closer inspection...

you'll see that next to A.J. in her bed is PETER'S beloved blue bunny.

Now obviously I wasn't in there when all of this transpired, but just as he did on the video, Peter told me he threw the bunny over to his sister.  He also agreed to having attempted (and failed) to throw her his socks and his 2 cars.  

Why?

I have no idea.

Maybe he woke up before her and wanted to rouse her to?

or 

Maybe she woke before him and her noise woke him up so he threw the stuff at her to try to quiet her down?

Heck, for all I know he just thought it was funny.

Either way, one thing is very clear to me:  I need to get them into separate rooms.  The 3rd bedroom in this house is just sitting empty right now.  Actually, right now, the way everything is set up around here is temporary as most of our furniture is still in storage.  But I still need to buy A.J. most of the furniture for her own room and I've been planning on converting Peter's crib into his big boy bed whenever I get her new furniture and move her to her own roon, probably after we get the stuff from storage and I see what I actually already have.  I figured we'd make all these changes at once, but... maybe it's better I don't wait. 

Both children have been miserable grumps the last few days.  I don't know which one of them is keeping their sibling from getting the rest they need each afternoon, but I do need it to stop.  As much fun as it is too see which of his toys my son has decided to chuck over to his sister each day, I can only take so much of the two them when they're overly tired and being difficult before I start to lose my mind.

Helpful Suggestions for all types of Home Improvement Contractors

1.  DO answer your phone.  Seriously.  Even if you're in the middle of something, excuse yourself for a moment, answer my call and then explain that you're busy and will call me back as soon as possible.  I am much more likely to hire some one who actually answers.  If for some reason you can't answer, respond to messages left on your voice mail ASAP.  Yes, you're probably right, if I am really interested in your services I probably will call back again.  But in my mind your stock is already plummeting.  Also, if you do happen to answer the second time I call you, after I've left a message do NOT tell me you were meaning to call me back.  Really?  Because I'm so glad you were  procrastinating and/or forgetting about earning my business.

2.  DO NOT try to sell your product to me over the phone.  I called you, I'm obviously interested in hearing what you have to say but you need to make an appointment, come meet with me, LOOK at my house and then start convincing me you've got the best solution.  Telling me you've got the "only patented solution" before you've even seen the problem is ridiculous.  Additionally, never throw potential estimate numbers out at me over the phone before you've ever seen my property.  I don't care how familiar you think you are with the area, wait until you've seen the issue and then you can scare the shit out of me with your crazy high numbers and still try to convince me you've got the best solution.

3.  DO arrive on time for our appointment.  A bit earlier is even better as it shows some eagerness.  If you're running late, a call at least a few minutes before you're actually late is highly preferably.  Do not call me an hour and a half after you were supposed to be standing on my front porch to say you're "running late" and then get huffy with me that it is no longer a convenient time.

4.  DO greet me with a handshake and a smile... even if you suspect there may be something gross on my hands because of my children.  This shows you have a personality and are a real person and might understand the situation I am working in.  Additionally, DO acknowledge my children.  Compliments about how cute they are a nice but not required.  My son will probably want you to play with him but that can't be helped as he is 2 1/2 and very outgoing.   My daughter may also toddle up to you and flash her big eyes up at you while she tugs at your trousers begging for you to pick her up.  You are under no obligation to obey their wishes and should feel free to politely decline.  However, those of you that step over or around my children squeamishly, as though you are afraid they might be contagious will not be winning my business, I don't care how good your price quote is.

5.  DO give me your fair and honest opinion.  Being an alarmist isn't helpful but neither is trying to hide the gravity of the situation from me.  Obviously if I called you over to take a look I do realize there is a problem.  Assess the situation, present me with the options you have to offer me and then together perhaps we can figure out a way to proceed.

6.  DO NOT (for the love of God, seriously) DO NOT ask me when my husband is available.  Do not even bring him up.  Heck for that matter assume I don't have one.  NOTHING irritates me more than when you kindly offer to explain the situation to my husband for me at another time as if I'm incapable of restating for him what you just told me.   If I need you to do this I will ask.  Otherwise, do not assume that simply because I was born female that I am somehow lacking in a working brain.  Furthermore, please do not assume that I need to *clear* anything with my husband before I can make a commitment.  Certainly, in most cases I will do this, but I can assure you, that is NONE of your business anyway.

7.  DO offer discounts.  Offering me a minimal 5-10% discount because we are a military family makes me much more likely to hire you.  It makes me feel like you appreciate my husband's hard work and it makes me feel like you care because you are giving me a good deal.  Everybody wants to feel cared about so go crazy... offer discounts to every group you can think of.  Teachers, Senior Citizens... the sky's the limit.

8.  DO carry and offer me your business card.  Seriously.  Yes, I'm sure I did call you and I obviously found your number somewhere but... still.

9.  DO be willing to provide references or photos of your previous work.  Otherwise how am I going to be convinced you're not just full of hot air?  It's also preferable when these pictures actually relate in someway to the matter we're discussing.  Sending me to your website to view pictures of your company refurbishing a mobile home community isn't going to convince me of anything as I do not own a mobile home.

10.  Never try to guess what type of quotes other companies have given me.  Trying to convince me that your price is AWESOME because somebody else will want 4 or 5 times that much to do the work isn't convincing me of anything except maybe that you are pompous and overly arrogant.  I'm the only one that knows what the other companies have said so really, you just need to shut up about them and get back to trying to convince me that your solution is a better value.  Ooh, key word that, let's say it again, VALUE.  Please continue to think about that word as you attempt to sell to me.

Alright now, I really wanted this to be a list of 10, but there is one more and this one is particularly important:

11.  If you offer a warranty and your work or product fails:   FIX IT.  Don't make excuses.   Just fix it.  Don't blame the people who sold you the lumber for mysteriously failing.  I PAID YOU to put that lumber on my house before you painted so it is still your problem. Don't try to invent stupid made up reasons why my house is special and sucks.  Don't try to convince me my house must have suffered through some sort of natural disaster or flood that I know for sure never happened.  You offered me a warranty, it hasn't expired yet, so fix the work and don't whine to me about the cost.  Definitely do not try to tell me that you gave me some sort of great deal before either.  That's not my problem.  How much is your word even worth anyway?

The Last Day of His Leave

Monday, January 3, 2012

We went back and forth ahead of time about what to do with Matt's last day home.  Originally we talked about going up to Disney but that just seemed potentially too stressful and hectic.  We also highly debated sitting home all day and doing nothing except watch football.  That might have been fun, or it might have been just really depressing.  Being idle when you're waiting for something bad to happen is never a very good idea... trust me, we've got lots of experience counting down to separations.  

In the end we decided to go out into the beautiful sunshiny day and try to enjoy ourselves.  

Although we had decided not to stay home and watch the Buckeyes play (a good decision  looking back  and knowing the outcome of the game) we still donned our scarlet and gray to support our team.  Well... except Matt he didn't wear his jersey because his is a party pooper that way.

Anyway, we ended up downtown at Seaport Village.

It was the first time we'd taken the kids there.

Peter enjoyed looking at the boats and the birds out in the bay.

A.J. seemed like she wished she could get down and walk too...

It didn't take very long before we found the Carousel so naturally we all took a ride.

Peter also seemed fascinated by the duck pond.

Of course, one of the very best shops at Seaport Village is the kite store.  Matt and I are frequent visitors and have often purchased presents for children we know there.  Obviously it seemed time we got something for our own kids there too.

Silly me, I would have thought we'd get a kite.  Then we could take it to the beach to fly or head down to the park in our neighborhood.  But instead, A.J. ended up with a pinwheel and Peter ended up with a little glider plane.

Out in front of the kite store:

"Hurry up and take the picture Ma, I wanna go pway with my new pwane already!"

Peter soon led us to this bit of grass where he and Matt threw the plane back and forth for awhile.

Then I guess they needed to lay down and relax awhile.

Next we checked all the telescopes.

We never did put any money in them, but Peter didn't mind.  I guess he was just pretending to look through them...

Why is it that any toy we buy, regardless of who it's  for ends up with Peter?  He can be so greedy sometimes.  At least A.J. doesn't usually mind sharing.... yet.

There is a pier there never seems to be used for anything.  I guess maybe they use it for fishing boats or something but aside from an old and very rusted out fishing boat that was tied up there that day, the pier always seems to be empty.  I didn't really want to walk down to the end of it.  Back in 2008 when Matt's ship deployed I went there and watched his ship leave, so it was odd for me to be back there.  Plus there's no rail at all and I kept having terrifying visions of Peter falling the 20 or so feet down into the dark, cold, swiftly moving water.  Matt assured me he would hold on firmly to our boy.

At the end, they sat on the edge (seriously I'm getting a knot in my stomach just looking at this picture now and thinking about what might have happened) and posed for my lens with the bay and the Navy ships at North Island in the background.  

It's a sweet picture to be sure, but I the whole time we were on that pier I was suffering heart palpitations.

Ugh.

Shortly afterward we headed uptown a bit to my very favorite restaurant the Yardhouse for a late lunch.  Man I love that place.  :)

He I am with A.J. while we waited for our food and she munched on teddy grahams or something.  Interesting face she's making huh?  

Their children's menu includes a whole workbook filled with activities for the children to work on.  Peter and his Dad had a fun time with it.

Our food took forever that day and since we were eating late neither of the kids wanted to patient and wait. A.J. in particularly wanted to crawl around and make trouble like her brother was doing rather than stay calmly strapped in her high chair.  

The result?

Fun times for Daddy!

Male Bonding

Monday, January 2, 2012

I feel like with fathers and sons there are some moments that are just... inevitable:

The first time Daddy tries to play catch with his son.  The first lesson on how to ride a bike.  The first time the father teaches his budding little man how to tie his own tie.  You know, that sort of thing.

So, really, the fact this thing that I'm about to write happened wasn't too surprising.  I guess I just didn't realize it was going to happen so early.  I guess that's thing with our children, we blink and they're all grown up.

And actually, these photos weren't even the first time it happened.  Some time earlier in the week Peter had disappeared into our bedroom to investigate his father's location while Matt had been taking his shower.  I didn't think too much of it when he didn't return right away.  I figured they were just hanging out and, I don't know, snapping each other in the toosh with wet towels or something.  You know, whatever males do when hanging out in the bathroom.  

Except then after a few minutes my son came tearing out of there positively beaming, smiling from ear to ear and smelling suspiciously like my husband's aftershave.

So obviously on the morning of Matt's last day with us, when Peter again followed his Daddy into the bathroom during his morning shower I soon went back to investigate.

And I took my camera.

He's using the back of the razor so there is not danger of him getting cut.
Not sure why Peter looks so angry.

After they were both freshly shaved, Peter helped to mostly pack his Dad's bag for the next day.  :(

New Years Celebrations

Have I mentioned that I don't like New Years?  I'm sure that I must have... like every single year.  I just think its... dumb.  I don't need the changing of the date to give me an excuse to stay up late, drink, party or resolve to change my life.  I can do all of those things on my own whenever I want.  

It's awesome being a grown up that way.

Not that I've ever done much in the way of something fabulous to celebrate the holiday, unless you count my junior year in college when I counted down to the beginning of  1999 in New Orleans with all my marching band buddies during our Sugar Bowl trip. (Go Bucks!) There was also the following year, when we didn't make it to a bowl game so I went to my friend Beth's house for a party after a long day of work, drank too many shots of Tequila early and spent the remainder of the night letting Matt hold me up while we counted down to the start of the new millennium just hoping I didn't die of alcohol poisoning and that I'd even live to see the 00's.

Aw, fun times.

No, most New Year's Eves in my life have been spent with my family at home.  When I was a child this meant we got to stay up til midnight to celebrate with a cup of sparkling apple cider, pork sausage and sauerkraut.  Did your family do that?  I feel like maybe it's a German thing.  I know that both Matt and I grew up eating sauerkraut on New Years, but I've met loads of people who've never heard of such a thing.  

I also have one friend who insists you're supposed to eat spaghetti on New Years... to guarantee yourself a long life.

Man I love spaghetti.  Mmmmm.  Now I'm hungry.

Anyway, once I was grown, Matt and spent most of them at home, perhaps enjoying some beverages with friends, or, perhaps when there weren't any friends around to celebrate with, pretty sure we've mostly just gone to bed at a normal hour (10pm) and been just fine with that.

Pretty sure we didn't do anything fabulous this year either.

Other than the fact that we were together.

That part was fabulous, but, you know, whatever.  

Yea... 2012.

If nothing else the promise of the New Year brings the hope of this deployment ending and of course, getting settled into our new reality as a family back in our own home near San Diego.  But I can't think of a single resolution to make that isn't something I've already been working on for quite some time.

The only really significant thing about New Year's day was of course the lack of the Rose parade (until the following day) and any bowl games.  New Year's Day without College Football?  BUMMER!

Matt did make some sauerkraut for lunch and we ate it with our hot dogs.  

There's a funny story about sauerkraut and it's relationship to hot dogs, as opposed to as a stand alone meal that springs to mind, but it isn't my story to tell, so I'll skip it in favor of these pictures from our lunch that day.

I happen to love sauerkraut.  Plain, with sausage or on a hot dog... either way.  Works for me.  YUM!  Do you think I've got enough on my hot dog?  Can you even see that I've got a hot dog under all of it?  

A.J. was hard at work on her own plain, sliced, hot dog when she spotted my kraut.  Soon she was pointing and screaming and grunting like insanity and it seemed pretty clear that she wanted some for herself.

Um, alright then.

Matt got her some.  ANYTHING to stop her screeching.

We couldn't believe it, but she got right to work eating it.

I mean, I guess I wasn't too surprised.  A.J. will pretty much each anything.  I can't think of a single food that she categorically refuses.  And she willingly eats things lots of children are known to dislike.  At both Thanksgiving and Christmas she went bananas for the cranberries, so, really, the kraut might have been right up her alley.

Peter didn't want anything to do with the kraut.  

A.J. just kept shoveling it in.

Most of the time she ate it like it was nothing but every few bites the sour of it hit her and she made truly awesome faces, wincing, just like this one.

This makes me laugh because I remember quite clearly disliking sauerkraut when I was a kid.  And then somewhere along the way it stopped being so bad.  My brother and I used to say it had "winking power."  Like, we'd be going along eating it and then all of a sudden the sour would hit us and we couldn't help but... wink.  Just like A.J. is doing above.

:)

We spent the rest of New Year's Day doing nothing of any importance.

Mostly we just sat around playing with the kids toys and watching movies.

A.J. kept bringing Matt my hair brush to get her hair done.  

And Matt built this train track that went through the Cars track.  You can see Thomas and Lightening cruising along there.  Awesome.

Dinner Follies

Tonight for dinner I made a spaghetti with meatballs with a "salad" (consisting of lettuce which I really need to use up, croutons and Italian dressing.)  All this effort went bravely in spite of the fact that Peter kept insisting that we have Mac and Cheese.

So little Miss A.J. ate everything on her plate and in her bowl, including all the lettuce, surprisingly and the entire half slice of butter bread I gave her for good  measure since I tend to eat a slice of butter bread along with my own spaghetti.  When she was done she looked like she'd suffered some sort of accident, being thoroughly coated from the elbows down and from the neck of her bib on up, with the sauce.

Peter, however, ate nothing but three of the five croutons on his salad, two small nibbles of the noodles and his own half slice of bread.  He kept picking at it and looking at me with big eyes saying "I don't wike it.  Want mac and Cheeeeeeeese."  I assured him he was going to get no such thing and that he could eat or go hungry the choice was really his.  He used to LOVE spaghetti and I'm not entirely sure when he got over that.  He does ALWAYS beg me for no meatballs which both confuses and astonishes me as surely those are the best part and what child on Earth doesn't like meatballs?

Oh, that's right:  mine.

If you wondering, I didn't give him any meatballs tonight.  His sister had 3.  I had 6 (a choice which I am thoroughly regretting right now) and he had none.

I even tried pushing the sauce mostly off of his noodles since he generally loves noodles plain, but he wasn't going for it.

Around the time I finished and got up to get a jump on the dishes before my girly was set free of her high chair and would inevitably be toddling over to "help" me by attempting to take everything back out of the dishwasher and then replacing those items with various random small toys of hers.  No sooner had I gotten started cleaning up my mess than Peter started asking for ice cream.  This because earlier in the week I made the frozen pecan pie I had in the freezer left over from Christmas and served it up with a decent sized scoop of vanilla ice cream with whipped cream on top.

(I'm almost 100% certain that neither of my children ever even got to their sliver of pie as they both fell madly in love with the whipped cream and tolerated the ice cream only after their whipped was all gone.)

I kept telling him he could have some ice cream if he ate some of his spaghetti.

Some.

Not all.

I'm nice that way.

We are definitely not a clean plate household, but the rule is supposed to be that they should eat at least "some" of everything on their plate.  Dessert is a special treat and should never be expected.  If it's on the menu, and they eat their "some" they can have it... otherwise, it will wait until another time.

Try telling that to my 2 year old.

And alright, he did have maybe 2 small pieces of noodles, but that was not enough of anything to count as "some."  Not enough to "earn" ice cream anyway.

Then randomly he gave up on the ice cream and started begging for "danabas."  (Bananas, if you don't know what I'm talking about go to my last post and watch the first video.)  Now, under different circumstances that would have been fine.  We generally will let the kids have as much fruit as they like.  Trouble is I fed him the last banana for breakfast.

Try making a stubborn 2 year old understand that the house is out of bananas.

He kept telling me places I should look for them.

Gee dude, because obviously the trouble isn't that we're out of them, it must just be that I misplaced them.

So, you know, that went on for awhile.

And then... randomly, out of no where he came to me and said, "Mommy, I go fly a rocket ship in upper space."

Um....

Where the heck did that come from?

Also, "Upper space?"

I swear this is not going to turn into another one of the dozens of Mommy blogs out there where all they ever talk about is the funny things the kids say.

I'll at least make a decent effort to post pictures sometimes too.  ;)

A Couple Videos

I haven't posted any videos in awhile.  These two are pretty random but they make me laugh.  

First one featuring the boy and his awesome language skills:

And now one featuring the girl, wandering around aimlessly like she does so often these days.

Luckily she seems to have balloons and toys to play with so I can be sure she's not a zombie looking for brains.   BRAINS!

(Pay no attention to the lazy blob that is my son camped out on his bean bag watching TV in the background.)

Hair Style

Slowly but surely her hair is finally coming in for real now and starting to get some length.  She loves to have me brush it and and I think she's just dying for it to be long enough for some proper styling and bows.  In the mean time her favorite product for manageability is dinner....

Popcorn

I don't remember what had been for dinner that night, but neither of the kids would touch it.  We decided to pop some popcorn for them instead so that nobody would wake up crying and hungry in the middle of the night.

I'm just going to go out on a limb here and say they enjoyed it.