Thanks to ksl for tagging me. I did this before with the Sweet Boys, but have never done my own!!
Three nicknames--Alligirl, "Al", mama
Three people that make me laugh--Stephen, Zachary, Mike Rowe (from Dirty Jobs on Discovery)
Three things that I love--my God, my family, my sleep (pretty much in that order, too)
Three things I hate--rude people in public places, little girls dressing too "sexy", obnoxious children (well, it's not the kids I hate, it's how the parents handle them)
Three things I don't understand--how I can be running out of room to breathe and eat and I still have 9 weeks to go in this pregnancy! how a child can eat nothing but a handful of raisins and a peanut butter sandwich ALL day long, why people always ask me if we're going to try to for a girl on number 4 (um, can I get done cooking this one first?)
Three things on my floor-- a plate, a magazine, a toy block
Three things I am doing right now--this, watching Fox news, listening to Stephen during his "quiet" time
Three things I can do--I've recently remembered that I can sing and that I like it, same for playing handbells (I started doing both at church last week), understand the gibberish of my nearly 2 year old
Three ways to describe my personality--sarcastic, silly, cautious
Three favorite foods--oh, this is not a good time for me to be thinking about this...hmm...just three? Cinammon rolls, barbecue, onion rings
Three foods I do not like--chinese food, cabbage, salsa
Three beverages I drink regularly--water, milk, diet Barq's
Three shows I watch--LOST, House, Dirty Jobs
Ok, my turn to tag...hmmm...I can only tag 2 (everyone else that reads this has already done it) Stephanie at Adventures in Babywearing and My LaughterThoughts.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Thanks to ksl for tagging me. I did this before with the Sweet Boys, but have never done my own!!
It is Wednesday, right? Well, I can't leave these pics without explanation...this is how we make pudding. Put all ingredients in a gallon zip-top bag and let the little ones shake, hit, kick, throw, etc. the bag around till it's ready to empty into a bowl. This time I let Stephen lick the bag. Five wipes, a clean shirt and some clean underwear later, he was good as new!
Monday, August 28, 2006
I felt like I was in an episode of Cops this weekend. For some reason, when they have Cops in Texas, they only show the dirtiest, grubbiest, toothless people they can find....and our experience was no different.
Sweet Hubby and I had planned a nice relaxing morning on Saturday since my folks had the kids Friday night. That was interrupted at 8:20am when the neighbor came to ask about the tree limb (from her tree) that had fallen in our yard. *sigh* That's fine, I needed to get up and eat soon anyway. So we get dressed and head out to the van. When we walked out of the garage, we saw two trucks parked kinda funny at the corner (we live in the middle of three houses on our block, so they were just one house over). Sweet Hubby wondered aloud if they had had a wreck and then he got in the van. I stood and stared (I'm not sure why) for a second and then someone started hollering and screaming. I got in the van and we pulled out and started driving by. Sweet Hubby yells, "They're fighting!"
I thought he meant the two guys were fighting....no....two grown women were in the middle of the road POUNDING on each other. I got out my cell phone to call the police and Sweet Hubby pulled on to the street they were on. I got out just long enough to yell "We're calling the cops!" so they wouldn't kill each other right then and there. I talked to dispatch for a minute and finally one of the couples drove off. The other couple stayed and were hollering at us. Sweet Hubby kept the window cracked just enough to hear what they were saying. They were obviously very drunk. At. 9am. in. the. morning. We wanted to keep them there till the cops showed up. They kept yelling at us to go follow the other people....um, yeah....not my job. He was steadily pulling stuff (empty beer cans and such) out the cab of his truck and throwing them in the bed. Sweet Hubby thinks he wanted us to go follow the other people so he could throw it all away without us seeing. Finally the guy pulls a KNIFE out of his truck. I start yelling at dispatch, "He's got a knife, he's got a knife!" Thankfully, Sweet Hubby had the car in drive the whole time and we could've quickly driven off at any point. But he never approached us with it.
Just then the cops show up. *huge.sigh.of.relief* We pull off to our neighbor's driveway and hang out just in case the police want to talk to us. We watched as they pulled out another knife, more open cans and bottles of alcohol (including a large bottle of whiskey that was half empty) and what, from a distance, looked like some kind of crack pipe...but that could've been my adrenaline-drunk imagination. Finally, the female cop comes to talk to us. During our conversation with her, dispatch came over the radio and said that the guy's license expired in April of '05 and he had no insurance. The cop said they were going to take both of them in. We have no idea what ever happened to the other couple and why they decided to have a Smackdown in the middle of the road to begin with.
So AFTER all this, we heard a bit more gossip about the winners that we encountered. The guy has been in jail and prison several times and has had his license suspended before for DWI. Apparently, the woman was about 30 years his junior and had recently taken to prostituting around town. Nice. I thought she was much older than she is. Must be all the lovely habits she's taken to over the last few years.
So, I hope that some good can come of this nasty situation. I hope that because we were in the "right" place at the "right" time to break this up and get these drunkards put away for a little while that we were able to save them (or some other innocent person, for that matter) from themselves.
It's so weird and kinda scary that this all happened just 20 yards or so from our front door. Where can you go these days?
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
I know this may seem like an obvious topic to some. And I guess it is to me, as well, but for some reason I just feel like I should blog about it....perhaps someone else needs to hear this....
I've always believed that if I and my family seek God's will and stay in His will, that things will always work out. One of the ways that we seek and stay in God's will is me staying at home with the Sweet Boys. There have been many times that we've discussed me going back to work (and I've even applied to places, with no call backs) because the money crunch just gets so tiring and frustrating. It gets exhausting when for several months in a row, we're just not sure if we'll be able to make ends meet. It gets scary when we have to use credit for normal, everyday things such as gas and groceries. But somehow, we always make it. And just when things get really tight, somehow, from somewhere, we get money we weren't expecting. Or our credit card companies give us a break for a month (that really has happened a couple times over the last couple of years).
Take for instance, last month, Sweet Hubby had a small bonus included in his paycheck that we didn't even know he was getting. And this month, we had an unexpected expense of $90 (which is HUGE in our house) when I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes and had to pay for the test strips and lancets. I was sort of panicked about it...where could we skim off the rest of the month....groceries? Yeah, right. Gas, maybe, but that meant that the boys and I would be housebound for the month since there's nothing to do in our town. Then, yesterday, we get two checks in the mail. For real. Two checks totaling $70....now, granted, we were expecting those checks. But we've been expecting them for weeks. And it could have been another couple of weeks, at least, before we got them. But we got them now, just when we needed them. I've also been keeping a little girl after school. Her mom and I agreed on $25/week for the first few weeks. She paid me yesterday for last week and when I looked at the check, it said $45. I questioned her on it and she said it was because I kept the girl all day last Monday. The thought never even crossed my mind that I should be paid more for that full day. She could've paid me the $25 and I wouldn't have thought twice about it. But every little bit helps.
So, let's review. I had to pay an extra $90 last week for my diabetes supplies. Then yesterday we get money we weren't expecting...totalling $90.
What's funny about all this (to me, at least) is that we're better off now than we ever have been. I stay at home, we own our own home, and we have a vehicle that fits our needs and 2 children and we have everything we need and a few things we don't. Before we had kids, we both worked and somehow, the ends didn't always meet then, either. But, I believe, the Lord is continuing to bless us because we're making the sacrifices to stay in His will. We wait for His answers to prayers. We stay put even when we get anxious or things get hard because we know it's what is right for us and when it's time for a change, God will make a way.
Things aren't always easy. But we always have/get what we need and I never cease to be amazed at how He provides for us, in so many ways besides financial. I'm always in awe. Especially, when it seems (to my little brain) that we don't deserve what we have. But I guess that's how God works....
We are so blessed.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Maybe someone can give me some perspective on this.
I, generally, have never cared what people thought of me. If I did, I wouldn't have made half the decisions I made for myself or my children. But for some reason, this situation has really been bothering me tonight...and I've been stewing over it ever since I heard about it.
A little background--I was in choir all through high school and my director was probably the one teacher who made an impact on me. I had her for 4 years and at one point for my senior year, I had her for 3 classes.
I also got engaged to Sweet Hubby my senior year. I know, I know...I was young, barely 18, but I've always been more mature and when you know, you know, right? At one point, my choir teacher pulled me to the side and said "I want you to prove everyone wrong and go to college." First, who's everyone? and second, why do I care to prove them wrong....unless they care to pay my bills...but I digress...
Fast forward to today. I haven't seen her in nearly six years (none of which I spent in college). I threw a party for my best friend and her new baby...a sort of "Baby Debut" because we couldn't throw her a shower and this was probably going to be the only chance for this set of people to see her and her new baby for a while. The choir teacher was invited (Best Friend had Choir Teacher, too, and they were fairly close). It was great to see Choir Teacher again....I got to introduce her to the Sweet Boys and share with her the great news of the next Sweet Boy.
Later in the afternoon, Sweet Hubby had/overheard this conversation between Choir Teacher and Best Friend's mom:
BF's Mom: Alli and "Sweet Hubby" are living in (insert name of our very small town here)....I don't even think they have a theater there.
Sweet Hubby: No, we have a theater, it just has one screen, though.
(BF's Mom and Choir Teacher walk away)
Choir Teacher: They must have a drive-in.
I know it doesn't sound like much, but does anyone else get the insinuation? I'm guessing it's because I'm getting ready to have 3 kids under 4.
I've been simmering and stewing over this ever since he told me about it. Here are two women I really respect and they're talking about me like I'm some white trash slut who doesn't know what causes babies and that I got myself knocked up in the back seat of a car at a drive-in movie. Am I reading too much in to this?? Am I being too sensitive? WHY do I care what they think? I know Choir Teacher doesn't think I've amounted to much because I didn't go out there and get a degree and a career, but so what? Frankly, I feel like my time and energy have been better invested in my children. I'm passionate about staying at home with them and while a college education couldn't have hurt (and might possibly have even helped) in raising them, I don't feel like I've missed out on much except some school loan debt. College isn't for everyone. And I can see how college was just not in God's plan for me....not yet, at least.
Chances are it could be at least another 6 years before I see this woman again. So, WHY do I care? I haven't been able to let this go and that fact just irritates me more than the comments. Would anyone else be bothered by this? Am I being hormonal? Am I not just as good as my college-educated, working mom counterpart?? I KNOW that my place is at home with my kids. I can't imagine having to go to work every morning and leaving my precious babies in the hands of another person. So why does this bother me??
*sigh* Any comments would be welcome. I just need some perspective on this and the most I can get out of Sweet Hubby (who feels really bad for telling me) is "You shouldn't let it bother you." Thanks, hon.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
So, for some reason (that maybe someone can explain to me) I haven't been able to attach pictures to my blog for a while. But I reeeeaaaallllly want to talk about the project we just completed. Problem is, talking about it just doesn't do it justice. But here goes....and as soon as Blogger will let me post a pic (or someone can tell me how to fix this problem) I will post the pictures.
Except for the very first two months of his life, Stephen has always had an unfinished room. And the room he's had for the last year or so was actually quite pitiful and tacky. The walls were a yellowish white color (called "Popcorn"). The windows didn't have blinds, butroomo darkening shades that were crooked so we had to tape them to the walls so they would actually darken the room. He slept on a mattress and boxspring on the floor (the transition from a toddler bed). When we moved him to a twin bed, we bought him red sheets because we had expected to eventually do his room in a Texan/red white and blue theme. The blanket he had on his bed was just one that we had that my mother in law had given me...it was a quilt with white, light blues, greens and purples. His pillow case was sage green. He also had his old toddler bed in his room in the corner where all some of his books "lived" and that's also where he read them. He had a glider rocker and ottoman in there as well that has been in his room since his first nursery. His lamp had a natural would base with a yellow crescent moon pull and a blue check shade. He had LOTS of little random knick-knacks that we have gathered for one reason or another over the last 3.5 years. A few cowboys (for his future Texan room that never happened), 3 piggy banks, a funny decorative lamp, a memo board, a couple of baseballs from games we had gone to, a couple of decorative lunch boxes with superheros on them, etc.... The only reason I let myself get away with this mish mash of tackiness is that I figured he didn't really care. And he didn't. All he really needed was a comfy bed to lay in with a blanket. All he really needed was a space to call his own and his own place to be alone. And he had that. He never cared what it looked like. But it bothered me nonetheless.
The whole point of me describing (in painful detail) the contents of his room is that now it is all NEW! He got a new coat of paint, new bedding with curtains to match, a cool new lamp, and a great "tent" (that to me actually looks a bit like a manger, but it's still GREAT) where he can play and read or do whatever he wants. All the little knick-knack-y things that were there and didn't match are gone or put away somewhere else. He's got blinds. He's got a frame that sits up off the floor like a real bed! The walls are a camo style green with a bold orange stripe running horizontally. The comforter is reversible with camo on one side and a green plaid with a bit of orange running through it. The sheets are orange and the curtains are a different green plaid that matches the bedskirt. His lamp doesn't give off much light, but is kind of a brushed silver color (very modern looking). His tent that his daddy and grandfather built is also orange with a few throw pillows in there for comfort. The switchplates are black and he has a black S hanging above his bed.
The room is SO cool! It looks like a boy's room. We'll eventually move Z in there with him and I think they'll love it. Stephen loves it already and ever since we finished the room he's included "God, thank you for my new room" in his nightly prayers. He also tries to show it off to anyone who crosses the threshold of our house.
I'm so proud. I want the whole house to be that cool.
If you are still reading, thanks for letting me bore you with that. I'm really excited....now Z's next in line...his room isn't quite as bad, but it's never really been finished either. Or how 'bout the master bedroom...it's pretty sorry, too.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
What is it with boys and certain words? What is it about words like "butt" and "stinky" and "armpit" that makes little boys keel over in hysterical giggles?? And why is it that they seem born thinking those are funny? The adults in this house don't snicker and giggle when we hear the word "fart" (actually, I really hate that one) ...so how do they know or why do they find this the least bit funny?
So Stephen (3.5 years) and I are sitting on the couch yesterday. The TV's on but neither of us are watching it. I'm reading and he's tucked sweetly behind my legs "reading" his magazine. Someone on the TV said "booby trap". He starts giggling and then this is the conversation we had:
S: *giggle* Mama, boooty trap.
Me: No, honey, he said "booby" trap.
S: Boooty trap?
Me: No, boooooby trap (at this point, I'm still thinking of it as the phrase)
S: Baby trap
Me: No, booby, BOOOOBY!
S: *falling off the couch in giggles*
I think it was a set-up.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
I always enjoy a day when Sweet Hubby, has to spend the majority of his day taking care of the kids and house while I go off and do whatever it is that I do without kids. I want to make sure he appreciates what I do every day with very little break. I don't get a true weekend or a true lunch hour or a true vacation like one would during a "normal" 9-5 job. That's okay...I don't mind and I try not to complain (too much). I love my "job". Can't imagine doing anything else but raising my sweet little boys. But I want to make sure that he understands that it is actually hard work. And it's even harder to do it well. And I have this insatiable need to be appreciated. He seems to like me a bit more when I come home after being gone for the day or even a weekend. So I think he "gets" it once in a while.
So this past weekend, he had to work on Saturday. He doesn't usually work weekends, but he was doing me a favor by taking off Monday (so I could actually have a bit of a break and go see my friend and her baby) and in order to do that, he had to get work done on Saturday. He insisted (didn't even ask, really) that I go to work with him and help him since he was helping me out on Monday. So we sent the kids with their grandparents and off to work I went. I had a great time spending the day with him and seeing what he really did all day long. I know his job...I know what he does all day to earn us our living. But I didn't realize how hard he worked. I didn't know how hard his job really was...and I didn't know how unpleasant it can be at times. It was busy and constant (I'm used to that, though) and it didn't slow down...everything was the same over and over again and it was very physical. I was so sore the next day. If I had to do that job by myself every day, day in, day out without the company of my best friend, I would go crazy....I would hate my job! But he doesn't...he doesn't complain (too much) and he gets up waaayyy earlier than we did that morning and works twice as many hours as we worked that day.
I walked a mile in his shoes (I would be willing to bet that that is a completely true and literal statement as well as "the old saying"). It was hard. Not fun at times. I'm so glad I don't have to do it. I'm so glad I get to do the job I love....and after coming home yesterday, I thinks he's glad that I do the job I do, as well, and that he has the job he has. I appreciate him more than I have in the past...he's finally getting the appreciation he deserves from me. Here's to you, honey! You are a star!! And you can have your shoes back.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
This is my first attempt at a Thursday Thirteen. Let me know if I do something wrong or if there's some piece of etiquette I'm missing! ;)
Because I've not said much about Sweet Hubby, (except for the fact that he didn't pour out bad OJ) my first Thursday Thirteen is in honor of him. We've been married for almost six years...and six years and 2 (and a half) children later, I've learned some things from him along the way. So I made a list for myself of what I've learned.
Thirteen Things I've learned since being married to Sweet Hubby
1. Although he would do nearly anything for his wife and family, dealing with lizards in the house is just not one of them. Don't tease him about this.
2. He really isn't trying to make your life miserable when he puts the laundry detergent on the very top shelf where you can't reach it without climbing ON TOP of the washing machine to get it.
3. Never ever criticize the way he cleans out the garage, mows the lawn, or takes out the trash--unless, of course, you enjoy doing those activities.
4. Along with #3, never criticize how he makes a sandwich....you'll be making your own lunch for the rest of your life.
5. Always make sure to he goes to the grocery store with a list....
6. ...and never expect for him to come home with ALL the items on the list (or ONLY the items on the list).
7. Always remember Dads do things differently. Even if that includes too much TV, too much sugar, no sunscreen, your white laundry being pink (or your best sweater that now fits your lap dog) and ridiculously dirty children, it's a good thing.
8. Some say it's a myth or a stereotype, but it's true...guys can't multitask--at least mine can't. (Just yesterday, Sweet Hubby called me because he locked his keys in his company car at one of the stores he was calling on...turns out he had tried to pump gas and hang a sign outside the store simultaneously to save time....he waited 30 minutes for his work to bring him another set of keys.)
9. When asked if his hairline is receding, the right answer is always a quick glace and an even quicker, "No! Not at all! " This is the equivalent to "Does this make me look fat?"
10. Always be open-minded to his interests--even if you never thought you would be the girl to see every comic book movie ever made on the day they come out to the theaters (and spending 6 bucks on those questionable hot dogs), you might actually enjoy it (once in a while).
11. Even though he may not seem to have a "quick wit", I've learned to never underestimate his sense of humor and his ability to pull out some really good one-liners (once when I was getting ready to cut his hair, he came out of the bathroom with the "haircut drape" on and asked if he had his cape on right...I still giggle about that).
12. Because of guys like him the term "Family Man" isn't becoming obsolete.
And in honor of my hubby and his interests....
13. NEVER EVER even begin to joke that Batman and Robin might be gay. Any sense of humor he might have had will be completely lost on this joke. The same goes for making fun of superheroes wearing tights...
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
My mom often asks that question when one of my kids says something that doesn't sound like the "Tay-uh-xan" way of saying it. Well, now there's a test at alphadictionary.com (I found it at LaughterThoughts) that tells you how Rebel/Yankee you are based on the way you pronounce/say different things. Some of my answers horrified me as I thought I was Southern/Texan all the way. Shhh....don't tell my dad! I'm 74% Dixie...my neck's a little pink.
We're running low on rice milk this morning. Both boys get a cup of it first thing in the morning. I knew yesterday that we would only have enough for one to get his cup of milk so this morning, I asked Stephen if he wanted milk or OJ to drink. He chose OJ and I poured it for him. Just after I poured it, I remember that Sweet Hubby had said Saturday that the OJ wasn't good. I couldn't remember if he meant this carton or the last carton, and certainly he would throw it out if it was this one, right? So I tell Stephen that if it tastes funny not to drink it (I hate OJ and don't drink it...not sure if I would know if it was "good" or not). He said okay. A few minutes later, he brings an empty cup to me and tells me his tummy hurts. I ask if it tasted funny and he says yes. *sigh* Then WHY did you drink the whole thing?! Of course part of me wonders if he heard me thinking aloud about the OJ being good or not and is just finding something to whine about. Which makes me feel even worse for doubting him.
Note to self: When in doubt, throw it out....and certainly don't feed it to the kids!