A Bit of a Rant

Ok, I have to say I"m getting a little tired of random strangers criticizing my parenting choices. In the past week and a half I've had two strange men call me out on small parenting decisions without bothering to A) look my in the eye or B) offer to help me correct what are obviously grievous parenting deficiencies.

The first time was just after the transmission on my car died. We were experiencing an apocalyptic rain storm that day which I was, admittedly, unprepared for being that I didn't expect to have my car go completely belly up on a Saturday morning in a torrential rain storm. Trust me, if I could have somehow anticipated that I would be stranded in the Pearl District without a car you can bet your ass I would have come better prepared.

So AAA has towed my car away (seriously, if you don't have a AAA membership, GO GET ONE! Totally, 100% worth it.) and I have to wait for Morgan to come pick me up in the rental car (we only have one car now which is normally FINE). So I can either choose to sit with a vocal baby in the waiting room of the salon where I have just gotten my hair cut or I can run up the street to Powell's where Finley can make all the noise she wants and not stand out like a Hummer in a sea of Priuses. I go for Powell's. I mean, its only two blocks from the salon and while folks are drawing up plans for the Ark (i.e. its raining real, real hard), its warm and I'm wearing boots and Finley is partially covered by the shade on the stroller so we go for it. And we have a lovely time. And I get some Christmas shopping done. And people ooh and ahh over Fin and I'm thinking Wow! this has been a really crappy morning but things are working out. Yay!

So, Morgan calls and he's waiting for me and Fin and I walk toward the salon where he is meeting us. And yes. It's raining. But 1) we live in Portland, we're used to this. We regularly make fun of people who use umbrellas. Seriously, what a sissy. And 2) its 61 DEGREES! If it wasn't raining people would be out in skirts and shorts and sundresses. And 3) IT'S TWO BLOCKS. This is not a tremendous distance even in the rain. Even with a baby.

ANYWAY...I'm waiting at the corner and it's definitely my time to cross and this guy has to come to a screeching stop so he doesn't hit me and Finley (FORESHADOWING) and I think Oh phew. Glad we missed that guy. So we cross and then I'm crossing the other way and as he drives by me he takes the time to roll down his window and yell out at me "HEY LADY! GET YOUR DAMN BABY OUT OF THE RAIN! JESUS CHRIST!"

Ok, tough guy. Let's go ahead and list out your asshat-ery
1)what kind of jackwagon yells at a random stranger on the street? Seriously? Get a job or a hobby or spend some time of Facebook. Maybe you can be one of those Dungeons and Dragons freakshows. If you find that your thoughts are so consumed with the weather & travel habits of strangers, that you need to yell at them out of your car window, you need to enrich your life.
2)clearly you are not ACTUALLY concerned with me or my baby because if you were, you would have stopped and offered to, I don't know, hold the umbrella over the stroller or something.
3)and yes, you're very tough and helpful and cool or something to yell out the window at me and refuse to make eye contact when I look at you in surprised amazement. That's right, buddy, drive on. It's easy to be critical and a general ass clown when you don't actually have to back up what you say. Just yell it out the window. Very helpful. Thank you.

AND THEN!

I took the kids to the library yesterday and because I forgot the stroller I was wearing Finley in the Ergo, carrying my diaper bag on one arm and holding Conor's hand with the other arm. Well, I was holding his hand with my hand but you get what I'm getting at. He's aware of the handicap button that will automatically open the doors and I usually let him push it for me because he likes to (kids like to push buttons, both real and figurative) and because generally I do have my hands full and while, yes, I am physically capable of opening the door by myself, it usually involves some sort of body contortion where I open the door with one side of my body, smash up against it and try to usher Conor through all while desperately attempting to keep hold of all the items I happen to be holding in my hands. So yes, I take advantage of the handicap access door. I also use the handicap bathroom and GASP! use the auto open doors at Target. I wonder how long my prison sentence will be?

ANYWAY! We're going through the second of the set of double doors and this man behind us snidely says "these are not toys, you know". And I look around because What? He's can't be talking to me and he sure as hell better not be talking to my son. But there is no one else around me. It's just me and Conor and him. And I look at him like What? Are you talking to me? And he won't even meet my eyes. Just makes his little comment and walks on. I walked the other way but kept looking back over my shoulder at him like, seriously? Was he really talking to me? So you criticize my parenting choice but don't offer to help with the door. In fact, you GO THROUGH the door you've said is not a toy.

So, yeah, I get it. I'm a pretty hands off parent. It's not that I neglect my children but I walk out of the room and leave Finley alone. And I don't insist that Conor hold my hand every second that we are out. And I don't put him on one of the wretched kid leashes. I allow my kids to experience rain drops (Quick! Call Child Protective Services!), and I allow my kids to let go of my hands to push the handicap button on doors (Quick! Call the cops! She doesn't have the appropriate handicap placard!) I don't keep them in perfectly-secure-no-harm-may-come-to-you bubbles and I guess sometimes that can call my parenting choices into question.

But more than someone disagreeing with a parenting choice I've made, it's the way you disagree. A comment hurled through an open window on a rainy day or snidely tossed over your shoulder is obviously criticism not to be constructive or help the situation but criticism just to criticize. Or maybe these two guys just like to be ass monkeys. Who knows?

This is about 10 paragraphs longer than I anticipated but I actually feel tremendously better from having vented. Whew.

It's unlikely that I will post again before Christmas so I would like to say that I hope you and yours have a day that is merry and festive. And hopefully spiked with a little somethin'-somethin'.

Also?  This is my 200th post!  YEE-HAW!  Merry Christmas, y'all!

Oh Crap

Is there anything I can say anymore?

Conor now walks around the house going "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap."

Oh crap.

Yes, there are worse things he could say, he's said those too, but I'm running out of expletives.

Dammit.

Sleeping Arrangements

Conor has begun giving us some trouble at nap time and night time. I get the feeling that he has become afraid of the dark as he won't walk down the hallway to his bedroom alone in the early morning hours or in the early evening. As a consequence his bedroom door must be left open during naps and during the night.

And so a new step has been added to our nighttime routine. We read our stories, sing our songs and then Conor says its time to talk about his "options". As in, "OK, Mommy, now we can talk about my OPTIONS."

See I discuss with Conor what he needs to do in order to keep his bedroom door open.

ME: Ok, Conor, you have two options. You can have your bedroom door open or you can have your bedroom door shut. Which would you prefer?

Conor: Bedroom door OPEN.

ME: Ok, and what do you need to do in order to keep your door open?

Conor: I need to be QUIET.

ME: And if you're not quiet, what will happen?

Conor: You will close my door.

ME: And if I close your door, will you be happy or will you be sad?

Conor: I will be SAD.

ME: So what should you do to keep your door open?

Conor: I will be QUIET. Good OPTIONS, Mommy.

So last night Morgan gets out of the shower and asks if Conor was noisy and if that was why I closed his door. Since I actually didn't close his door we were curious and decided to investigate this little matter. We also noticed Tucker was missing. (FYI Tucker's kennel is now in Conor's room.) Hmmm...

Morgan walks into Conor's room to find Tucker pawing at the door, Conor missing from his bed and curled up with his Bubba (Blankie) in Tucker's kennel.

Apparently there is a third option I failed to consider.

Spoons

The strangest thing is happening in my house. I'm losing all my spoons. Well, all the small spoons, that is. Does this seem extrordinarily strange to anyone else?
I mean, where have they all gone?

I started with a set of 8 and now we're down to four. Half the original amount have vanished. I've looked everywhere I can think but they have simply DISAPPEARED. And it's not like you can go out and just buy four spoons that will match the set. Actually, I don't even care about matching, I woulld just like a full set of spoons but no one sells utensils individually. Probably because, who in the world looses only spoons?

When we move out of this house someday we are going to find a cache of spoons and perhaps missing socks stored somewhere.

At any rate, small spoons, along with cookware, cutting knives and sippy cups are no longer permitted in the dishwasher. Hand wash only. At this rate, I should just tear out the dishwasher and put in more cabinet space.

Babyfest

I love Babyfest every time we have it.  There are three members to this group.  Zech, son of Billy was born June 3rd, Harper, my sweet little niece, born June 23rd and Finley, (you know who she is), born July 10th.


 I wish I had a picture of Babyfest 1 when they were so little and tiny.  But you know, looking back, they actually look more like aliens so perhaps its best that I don't post it here.

Babyfest 2 - Early August

Babyfest 3 - Late September/Early October

Babyfest 4 - December

It's fun to watch these little ones grow up together.  I can't wait to see what they look like this time next year.  We moms were talking about taking these same pictures in 10 years and how they would probably not want to sit on the couch together then either.  Billy and Kristen and I have all been friends for at least 10 years so it's perfectly reasonable to think that we'll be attending Babyfest 134 in 2020.

So cute.  Such fun.

Comments

So when I said the other day that I don't get any comments on this blog I guess I lied a bit. I get these random annonymous comments from time to time and I thought, rather than actually typing a coherent post, I would share with you the responses to some of my other posts.

Please to enjoy.

In response to Blocked: I fool be familiar with a insufficient of the articles on your website in the present circumstances, and I really like your style of blogging. I added it to my favorites net stage file and resolve be checking back soon. Please contain out of order my orientation as highly and vindicate me conscious what you think. Thanks.

Well, kind sir, consider yourself both vindicated and conscious.

In response to Cop Out: solved my problem, thank you!

Wonderful! So glad my post about ABSOLUTELY NOTHING solved your problem. If only we all had problems so easily solved.

In response to The box under the table: Just wanted to take a moment and say hello to everybody. Looking forward to the forum and what everybody has to say.


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There are so many things wrong with this. First of all forum? My random, sometimes incoherant ramblings can hardly be considered a forum. Then, dear commenter, if you are not, at the moment, "focused on the internet" why are you reading a blog on the...you know...internet? And then, the good man Anonymous just goes all sorts of crazy. Potent as a train engine? hmm, someone has an awfully high opinon of themselves. And what the hell is a packet outhouse? A packet in an outhouse or an outhouse in a packet? Either way, I'm not interested. But my favorite part is where our esteemed commenter explains that the "information is prepared in order that obviously any good infant can understand it." Well, good! I don't want the bad infants understanding it anyway.

I have toyed with the of setting up the comments so that you have to enter a code in order to post a comment thereby eliminating these obviously spammed comments.  But its actually far too much fun.

December 7, 1941

Today is the 69th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor.  Grandpa Joe is a Pearl Harbor survivor and one of the coolest, most rock-solid dudes I know.  He reads every single blog post I write and comments on most of them.  He admits that half the time he has no idea what I'm talking about.  I admit that, half the time, I don't know what his comments are about either.  He always signs comments and emails "Semper. The Grands South  or Elder Grands Walsh...way south". 

As they say, once a Marine, always a Marine.


As the years pass the numbers of Pearl Harbor survivors dwindle and I count myself extremely fortunate to know and love this particular veteran. 

Thanks, Grandpa Joe, for your service to our country. 

*Click the link above if you haven't already.  You'll not only see how handsome this 91 year young man is but you'll see how he still serves in his community today.*

December 2nd, 2010

Finley rolls over for the first time.  I had forgotten just how much fun these little milestones can be.  Smiling and giggling can be tricky because each can be confused as something else be it gas or strange baby grunts.  But this felt like the first big, easily recognizable physical accomplishment and it reminded me of how much more we have in store.

Oh!  and she was so cute when she did it too. We were at Mom's Group which we don't get to go to very often and she was MESMERIZED by the other babies.  The speaker that day was a phyiscal therapist and she had just mentioned that babies, at about five months old, will begin to pull their feet towards their faces and roll side to side in what she called a barrel roll.  From there they will rock until they are on thier sides and then sort of smush a little bit farther and end up on their bellies.

AND THEN FINLEY DID IT!  She looked really surprised like "wait!  how did I get here?" before I scooped her up and kissed a million and a half times.  Such a sweet little girl, I could not love her more if I tried.

in other Finley news, I've begun feeding her some solid foods at meal times.  I had given her a few tastes of my oatmeal or yogurt a time or two and she was kind of blah about it.  This weekend I mashed up some banana and she was...well, underwhelmed by it.  We hit the jackpot yesterday at lunch though when I gave her some of Conor's applesauce.  She could not get enough.  Again at dinner,when she had some avocado, she could not get enough.  Looks like she'll be a good eater just like her brother.

yeah, I fell off the daily posting wagon. Based on the content of my last several posts, I doubt any tears have been shed.

12 days in a row. Wait, make that 13

So, today is my 13th consecutive post and I've got to say, the novelty has long since worn off.  There are two problems I've identified with daily blogging thus far.

1.  Quantity often sacrifices quality.  I'm forcing myself to blog every day but not forcing myself to come up with quality posts.  I mean, I want to, I just don't always have something of merit to say.
2.  Its a little lonely.  I sort of feel like I'm writing for myself most days.  And if it's just me writing for me, then why I am I doing this?  With blogging it's hard to know if anyone is actually reading this.  And if no one is reading any of this...wait, again, why am I doing this?

So, that's where we stand today.  Tomorrow is the Civil War (GO DUCKS!) so hopefully a passionately fought football game will inspire more than a similarly tepid post.

Merry Christmas Tree

Its the Sunday after Thanksgiving and we're off to get our tree.

Its important to plug your child in with a movie before you leave.  Its not like you want to actually TALK to them on the way up there or anything.

Its nice to have a car big enough to eat lunch, hang out and change a diaper.

A big car also protects you from the snow.  Well, only if you're not the photographer.

Finley has decided that the snow is pretty fun.

Morgan is growing a beard.  I think its sexy even if it is a bit tickly.

Do you remember when you were little how much you loved the snow?  Conor LOVES the snow.

Its also great fun to throw snowballs at Mommy.  Meanwhile Mommy is yelling "Not the camera!  NOT THE CAMERA!!!"

Look!  We made a little teeny snowman.

Look!  I can knock it over!

Look!  I am adorable and pink cheeked.

Off to find the perfect tree.

Found one!

Conor finds Daddy in a game of hide and seek.

"How about this one?"

This is the one!

So, Daddy.  I think you should cut it down right here.

No, actually,  I think this is a better spot to start.

Well, if you're not going to listen to me, I wash my hands of this whole operation.

 Christmas tree getting was a success.  Our tree is up, decorated and dropping needles everywhere.  Its kind of perfect.

As promised

Oh 1996, with your puffy hair and Bill Cosby sweaters, you were good times.  Let's take a moment to review, shall we?

1.  What is with my triangle shaped poofy hair?  Also, is it two-tone?  Very possibly.
2.  Oh Dustin, did you have to borrow your dad's sweater that he stole from the venerable Mr. Cosby?
3. Look at the way I am gripping his arm.  What I want to know is what the hell is he doing with the other hand to make me grip him so?
4. Corsage and boutineer.  I sincerely hope in the 14 years since I went to high school dances the practice of giving wearable flowers to your date has passed.  I'm all for a nice bouquet but seriously?  Flowers?  On my wrist?  What?
5. We aren't in our high school cafeteria but a blue skied, snowy winter wonderland.  With comfy wrought iron chairs and weird white stick thingys and a lamp post to light our way.
6. I actually paid money for this marvel of photographic genius.
5. Boutinier

The box under the table

A million years ago I bought these jenky little tables to use as night stands. Throughout the course of many years, many moves and many passes with the monster trucks, one of the tables finally fell apart. It was actually propped up on two of its three legs, then one of its three legs and the point where two of the bedroom walls meet until this weekend when it finally cried uncle and collapsed.

When Morgan took the table outside (actually he just left it on the washing machine which is my FAVORITE thing) I discovered my keepsake box. Its not a fancy box, just an old cardboard hat box but its big and it houses all manner of things that I deemed sentimental for one reason or another.

I pulled it out and decided to take a quick peek through it before finding a new spot for it.

It was quite the trip down memory lane. I laughed at old birthday cards, cried at old condolence cards, and found an old Winter Formal picture from 1996. I was reminded of old friends I've lost touch with and reminded again of why some friendships last so long.

Out of the dozens of cards, notes and letters in my box (SHUT UP, MORGAN!) two really stuck out to me.

The first is a letter from my grandma sent right after Morgan and I got engaged. I am not a phone person and Grandma doesn't have email so for the year I lived in California and the two years I lived in Arizona, Grandma and I had a fairly regular correspondence. I'm so glad I kept this particular letter because I've thought of what she said in it many times in the years since Morgan and I got married. I hope she doesn't mind that I'm posting her words here:

"The way to a fulfilling and blessed marriage is to do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves. Do not merely look out for your own personal interest, but also for the interests of others." Phil 2: 3-4 

And its signed, as always, "Love you muchly, Grandma".

The second is a card that Morgan sent me in November of 2004 about two months after we had met.  I don't remember getting it from him and he doesn't remember sending it but inside I found an envelope for a Starbucks gift card.  The cards reads:

Babe-
This is for all the times I would love to have coffee in the morning with you.  So I thought I could at least buy you a few cups.  I love you more everyday and having you 1200 miles away kills me but soon it will all change.  I am so excited to start life with you, a whole new chapter for both of us.
I love you.
Morgan

We both read that and thought Whoa!  That was only TWO MONTHS after we met.  Considering I was a little gun shy about the whole "falling in love" thing (yes, in 2004 I would have definitely used air quotes when saying that) its a wonder I didn't head for the hills.

The box will eventually be relocated under another table or under the bed where it will collect dust and I won't think about its contents for another 5 years.  Every time I get a card or note I'll toss it in there and think nothing of it, until the next time I take a minute to look at these snapshots in time. 

Morgan thinks I'm overly sentimental for keeping all this stuff but I'm so glad I have.

Stay tuned tomorrow for the Winter Formal picture circa 1996.  Booya!

Cop out

I have two posts half composed but I know they can both be more than what they are currently. However, I'm tired and running low on energy but I need to post. I think putting "however" and "but" is somehow grammatically incorrect but I can't think just now how so.

Today's little tidbit: both Conor and Finley have an adorable feature in which their little cheeks turn bright pink when they are tired. They both have pretty distinctive cues to let me know when they are sleepy but just in case I miss those, there is no mistaking the bright pink cheeks.

I love that while they are SO different in so many ways little similarities jump out from time to time.

Until tomorrow, friends, when I hope to have something of slightly more substance.

This daily posting is much more difficult than I had hoped it would be...

Songs

I am not a particularly musical person but that does not keep me from singing all the live long day.  Whether its Lady Gaga, the Black Eye Peas or made up words to Beethoven's Ode to Joy, I'm always singing some sort of nonsense.

Over the course of my singing career (HAH!) I've made up several tuneless songs whose lyrics I would like to share with you now.  You should be very grateful that I am not subjecting you to a recording of me actually singing. You're welcome.

I made this song up in 2002ish for my sweet cat, Luna.

See, isn't she cute?

I like to lay on the bed with my baby,
I like to lay on the bed with my baby,
I love my baby,
She's so pretty,
That's because,
She is my kitty.

Are you amazed?  Yes, you should be.  Luna ran away on Halloween last year and I will not listen if you suggest something awful about her being a black cat and disappearing on Halloween.  I choose to believe that she was adopted into a whole house full of friendly cats where there are no wild animal style toddlers to yank on her tail.  And ears.  And whiskers.  (Dear Luna, sorry about all that.  Hope you're living a happy life out there somewhere.  Love, Mama)

After Conor was born, I made up a song for him too.

Oooh yuck. Please don't sing, Mommy!

Who's my beautiful baby,
Who's my beautiful boy?
You's my beautiful baby and
You's my beautiful boy.
You bring me so much happiness
You bring me so much joy
You's my beautiful baby and
You's my beautiful boy

Morgan was critical of this song not for the ridiculous way in which I sang it, but because "You's totally isn't a word, Erin!"

Most recently, I had to make up another song for Conor because I adapted the previous song for Finley.  I won't give you the full version but just imagine "girl" where there is "boy" and "brighten up my world" where there is "bring me so much joy".  Man!  I am wicked good at rhyming.

This is Conor's new song.

He used to be my baby, but he's a big boy now
He used to be my baby, I really don't know how
He's turned into a big boy, the biggest boy I know
He used to be my baby, but he began to grow.

Hey, Mommy!  I like it.  I mean as I long as I can play with my monster truck while I listen to it.

I would be lying if I told you that singing this song that I made up for him, doesn't make me cry.  Like, even as I was typing it out, I was getting that annoying eye-pricky thing that happens just before the tears start.  Its just that...well...he used to be my baby, but he's a BIG BOY NOW!

I mean, really, Conor?  Haven't I told you and told you?  Stop growing!  Damn!  These kids just don't LISTEN!  Hmm, maybe I should write a song about that.

A Wii little game

Kristen and Keenan are letting us borrow their Wii for a bit because Conor loves to play "games". The last two days have been spent learning how to master bowling and golf. What fun its been to watch Conor picking up new skills right before our eyes.

I've been pretty against video game systems for Conor. I have this image of this pasty skinned, glassy eyed, overweight kid who has a permanent imprint of the game controller on his hands. Obviously I don't want that for Conor. Also, I've never really been into video games so its not like I'd want to sit down and play Grand Theft Auto with Conor or without him.  Not that I'd want him to play Grand Theft Auto at all.  It sounds like an absolutely horrific game.

The Wii however, has turned out to be a fun toy for the whole family. (And, we're not ALWAYS playing with Monster Trucks.)  We spent this morning bowling, golfing, canoeing, sky diving and enjoyed several rounds of table tennis. I'm telling myself that, in addition to time spent together as a family,Conor is learning such skills as sharing (he and I had to share our Wii controller), taking turns, hand-eye coordination, being a graceful winner and not being a sore loser.

Meanwhile, my shoulder is sore as hell from fake canoeing. Yeah, that's kind of an embarrassing sentence to have to write.

Thankful for

good dads.

Morgan is texting his friend Rob about meeting for a beer this evening.

Morgan: want to go have a beer and watch the Boise State Game?
Rob: I would but I promised Will a snuggle party tonight
Morgan: I though we were going to have a snuggle party tonight?  No, I wouldn't miss a snuggle party with Conor either.

I think its great when men aren't too manly to admit that they would rather have a snuggle party with their boys than go have a beer.

Narrated

Conor has recently began a campaign to narrate our lives. It sometimes goes like this:

"Mommy! Look at that tanker big truck! Oh, I think that is very interesting when the tanker big truck is on the ROAD. Ax-sool-lee, I don't want to to go Red Robin, I want to stay at home and you cook me dinner here or look! a squirrel and read the I Spy book to me Mommy? and Finley needs her passie....aaaaa-gooooooo, Finley. A goo, Mommy. Daddy is home now? Daddy is at work now. Daddy is at his NEW work now. Daddy fixed tractors and big trucks and I wear my work sweatshirt and Mommy? Where is Trocipal Funder? I love you Mommy.  I have a kiss Mommy?  I give Finley a kiss, Mommy? aaaaa-gooooo, Finley.  We go for a walk, I hold your HAAAAAAND, Mommy?"

Yeah, maybe that seems annoying, but its actually kind of cute.

Ok, on other days though, he sounds like this:

"Mommy, can I have a snack? Mommy, can I watch Monster Jam? Mommy, I WANT A SNACK please.  Mommy!  You need to LISTEN TO MY WORDS because I am very ANGRY at you.  Mommy, you go sit in timeout, RIGHT NOW!  Mommy?  Can I have a snack?  Mommy, can I watch Monster Jam?  Mommy, can I watch Sesame Street?  Mommy, where is Daddy?  Mommy, where is Opa?  Mommy, where is Nana?  Mommy, where is Tucker?  MOMMY!  I want a snack RIGHT NOW!  Ax-sool-lee Mommy?  I don't have to go potty in the big boy potty.  MOMMY!  NO!  You DON'T feed Finley right now!  What are you DOING Mommy? What are you DOING, Mommy?  What are you DOING, Mommy?  WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING. MOMMY!!!! Mommy, Zack coming over today?  Ax-sool-lee Mommy, I'm not going to sit right now, I'm going to stand right now.  No, Mommy!  YOU go sit in timeout."

It is truly a never ending torrent of words around here.  It is both completely sweet and completely annoying.  Sort of like parenthood in general, I suppose.

I picked a winner

The other night I was all stuffed up and snuffly when I went to bed and Morgan, without me even having to ask, got up both times with Finley. It was wonderful to be able to get a full nights sleep and I felt much better in the morning.

Before he got out of bed I thanked him to taking the night shift for me and he goes "No problem, Babe. We need you to get better. You're our rock and we need you to feel your best."

Seriously?

Love him a real whole lot.

Does daily blogging apply to days when I don't feel well?

Perhaps, when I decided to blog every day, I should have picked a day when I wasn't feeling all head cold-y to start.

Today I am frustrated because I have a cold, a compulsion to clean my house, two toddlers who are behaving more like rabid squirrels than the sweet two year olds that they are, and an infant. I am tired because Finley was up from 11pm to 12:15am and then again at 3:44 and then up for the day at 5:50am.

Thank goodness there are two back to back episodes of Friends on TBS right now. Its the only thing keeping me going.

Aren't you glad I decided to post every day? This is just riveting, I'm sure.

Blocked

My blog posting has been pretty meager lately. Actually, its been pretty meager since Finley was born. You see, I had a routine that allowed me about a half an hour each morning to sit, drink my coffee, read my emails and blog if I was so moved.

But, with a new baby, my whole schedule has been thrown off. Instead of waking a half hour early, now I don't get out of bed until one, or both, of my children request (demand) it. Then, from the moment my feet hit the floor, its just go, go, go until nap time (and, by some miracle of nature, they both nap from about 1pm until 4pm - crap, now I've just jinxed it) which is when I should blog, but basically I throw my behind on the couch and stay there until, again, one or both of my children request (demand) that I get up.

Oh sure, sometimes I fold laundry or vacuum and I always (well, almost always) do the dishes, but those are the brainless, easy tasks that don't require anything more then the ability to match socks, sort lights from darks (who am I kidding, it all gets lumped together) or properly load the dishwasher.

I guess what I'm saying is my brain (I actually just spelled it branin. Super.) has TURNED TO MUSH. Which is actually all the more reason to force myself to sit down and write something, ANYTHING, every day.

Last year I decided that I would post every single day in December - I was not successful - and I've decided to do the same thing again this year, but maybe, as an exercise in self-discipline (any (and) typing! My tuping (typing) has become terrible! (SEE!??!)) I should start early. Perhaps I should also learn how to write short, concise sentences, not these comma heavy monstrosities I'm subjecting you all too. There I go doing it again!

But, here's the thing. I often have very little to say. Or maybe, I often have very little that gets said. See, I'm ALWAYS constructing blog posts in my head. In fact, the other night while I was nursing Finley I mapped out the most killer blog post EVER! But it was all in my head and by the time I was done with nursing and the rest of the nighttime routine, it was gone. Or, more accurately, the small, quiet room in which I had composed the post was replaced by the loudness of the rest of the house and the mood was gone.

Where was I going with that? See? I'm all over the place. Mush, I tell you. Mush.

OK! for the four of you that read this regularly, be prepared. Starting today, it's one post per day. You've been warned...

Frost in the morning

We woke up this morning to the most beautiful frost.  Well, we actually woke up to darkness but that's neither here nor there.  Anyway, when the sun emerged I took advantage of the light and the frost and got to work with my camera.  Here are just a few of my favorites.