Don’t try returning stuff to Target if you’ve lost your receipt. They are insane. Chris bought me two books that I already had and lost the receipt. The books still had the tags with the prices on them and the girl at the counter acted like she was doing me some huge favor by doing my transaction. She then tells me that in order to exchange them I have to go pick out two items each at the same or more price as the individual books. I can’t combine the total cost and get one big thing. So I go get Toy Story 2 for the kids since we were buying that for them anyway with their Grandpa money, and I snag a box of diapers, figuring that I would just use the diaper money on myself later. I get back to the register and Li’l Miss Priss says, ‘I told you they have to be from the same department that you got the books from. The electronic department.” Uh, no, she didn’t tell me that, and I have a friend with me who confirmed that. I just ignored the comment and grabbed a copy of Cinderella. In total, I ended up paying $5 extra bucks to get stuff I didn’t really plan on getting. I could have walked into Barnes & Noble and they would have given me store credit for both books to spend at my leisure in whatever department I chose. Target is nuts.
I got SO SPOILED this Christmas! I got a new Quickutz font that I wanted, we got ten DVDs between the four of us, a cute jacket, moola, and a beautiful Hummel figurine that looks like my Maggie. My in-laws are way too good to me! Now I have one for each of my children. The neat thing is that my kids actually resemble these figurines. This is the one I got.
Something very exciting happened to me this past week! I bought a new bra! For the first time in a year! And it’s smaller! It’s so nice to be back in the first half of the alphabet! Maggie is choosing to nurse less and less. I don’t think I’ll be a nursing mama much longer the way she is chowing down at meal time and snubbing the breast. So, that’s kind of exciting and kind of sad all at the same time. Bittersweet, I guess. I like nursing, but I like having my body all to myself too. I’ve spent the better part of the past four years sustaining life. It will be nice to just be me.
On the down side, my camera pooped out on me again. I’m ticked. It has been working when it feels like it lately, and over Christmas that has been not very much. We have a very limited amount of holiday shots this year. Chris is taking it back to Best Buy today. We have a warranty. Since this is the second time it has needed repair in three months I really hope they replace it or I just might go berserk. Last time it was gone for almost a month and came back fussy. I bought the warranty so I could have a camera, not so it could live in the repair shop forever. ]]>
Peace on Earth, people.
We are enjoying our Christmas festivities. Jonas and I keep checking the NORAD Santa Tracker to see how close Old Saint Nick is to our house. We are getting ready for our Christmas Eve dinner and looking forward to unwrapping the traditional holiday pajamas that my mother in law swears will be totally garish and hilarious this year.
I have wrapped all of the gifts (including the ones that Jonas and my niece Bella have unwrapped) and re-wrapped Jonas’ Harry Potter Legos in Harry Potter gift wrap. Oh yes, Santa is that good.
Tonight, after we are all snuggled into our jammies, I hope to read The Christmas Story in Luke. It is my favorite reminder of the season, so much more than all the holiday hub-bub. It is nice to remember just why there is so much joy this time of year. Why there is so much giving and why we ought to each do a little better to love and serve one another in the upcoming year. It has been difficult for me to keep sight of the real meaning behind Christmas this year, but these verses always put my heart in the right place. I hope you all have a great Christmas and that you are safe, happy and healthy. ]]>
I think we chose the most dangerous two hours to be traveling today. When we started out there was a bit of a drizzle, by the time we hit the freeway it was a massive downpour that didn't let up all the way to San Bruno, on the other side of the Bay. Being a North Dakota girl, I've seen my share of weather. I'm even fairly comfortable driving through a snowstorm, but put me in a heavy rainstorm and I get nervous as a cat, and for good reason! We hydroplaned several times, just drifting lazily from one lane to another, wondering if we would end up in the ditch, or worse, on the grill of the semi next to us. I really got a thrill when the blue truck next to me sped by, splashed through a huge puddle, and covered my entire windshield with water, leaving me to just coast along with my foot off of the brake, hoping that when I regained sight of the road there would still be a road there. Then there was the sheer bliss of driving with idiots. I feel so blessed to be able to share the road with selfish jerks who feel that their pathetic lives are so important that they need to weave in and out of the rest of the traffic that has sensibly slowed down from eighty mph to a safer fifty. I really cherished associating with the moron who cut me off and nearly caused a pile up, and then, deciding that my lane wasn't inching along any faster than the one he came from, weaved out infront of the guy next to me, forcing him to slam on his brakes and dart in back of me to avoid crashing. You people are just stellar. When you get to where you are going, would you stay the heck there?
Upon arriving at my in-laws, Jonas expressed his delight at the beautiful decorations. He adores the tree and the Santas, and his sheer joy at the signs of the season really melt my Grinchy, cynical heart. The icing on the cake had to be when Jonas discovered the angel on the tree.
"Yes, that's an angel! Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yes, that's Mommy!"
And that is why he gets so many presents!]]>
I told you that my family never waited until Christmas morning before diving headfirst into the stack of presents under the tree? My mom tolerated this tradition. Oh, she had her fun like anyone else, but it bugged her just a tish, so one year she decided that when the Day of Unwrapping arrived, she was going to be ready.
That year was no different. It started with eleven year old Janice wheedling and needling Dad until he had very little choice but to turn to Mom with big puppy dog eyes and ask, just like Jan had been pleading, “Just one present?” Usually, it took a little work to get Mom to give in, oddly, this year she acquiesced quite quickly, only after making us promise that once we opened this gift, we’d wait for Christmas for the rest. We agreed and never suspected that the wool was being cleverly pulled over our eyes. She gave the customary, “I’ll choose the one you get to open first!” and then ran to choose three gifts from under the tree.
She had to select the gifts because we kids were so terrible about guessing and peeking and shaking that she had to devise a new code each year of how to mark the packages so that only she knew who belonged to which gift. There were many years that she would be second guessing herself as we unwrapped as she tried to remember the recipient of a certain gift. Accidents were made, but it never made anyone upset- we just tossed the unwrapped gift to it’s rightful owner and continued on.
Mom had us each sit at the table with our present and told us that we should unwrap them all at once so we didn’t spoil the surprise. My younger brother and sister tore into their gifts with rabid glee while I more delicately teased the pretty paper off of the box. Before I was done unwrapping my sister and brother had torn the paper off to reveal Uncle Ben’s Minute Rice and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. They immediately began to tear into the boxes because my mother has a habit of wrapping gifts in whatever box is available, and those usually happen to be food boxes. As I unwrap a cake mix, Mom yells not to open the boxes because that’s really what they are.
Jan and Bernie are devastated. Bernie gets mad and Jan dissolves into tears; I start laughing and congratulate my mom on pulling a good one. I’m about fifteen years old, and the humor is not lost on me. My sister sniffles and then wails, “Of course you’re happy! At least you got cake mix!”
I’m still laughing. I can’t help it. My siblings start looking mutinous and declare that they still get to open a real present. Mom tries to hold them to their promise, but after many tears she gives in and, as usual, the gifts are all unwrapped that night.
To this day I still think it’s one of the funniest things my mother ever did. If I get the opportunity to pull something similar on my children, I will.]]>
Yes. This is a straight man. A military man. Quoting “The Music Man” and prancing around like an old lady with a screw loose because he’s just cool like that. And he’s all mine.
Welcome to my newest renter, Signora M! She has a fun blog with a gorgeous design, so click on the side link where it says "rent my blog". And, a special WELCOME to visitors from gigglechick’s place!]]>
I’m losing my mind. All this happened in just the past week, and these are only the worst examples.
We had company coming the other night so I decided to make taco soup. I opened all of the cans of tomatoes, beans, spices and hominy and added the frozen corn, dumped it all in the pot, stirred, and thought, “My goodness, that was easy! We should have this more often!” I walked away and let it simmer. About ten minutes prior to when our company was arriving I asked Chris to taste it.
“What do you think?”
“It’s good- but it could use some hamburger.”
“There’s not meat in taco soup!” Long pause. “Is there?”
“I think so.”
“Nahhhh, can’t be. I’m gonna google taco soup and see.”
Every single hit for the words Taco Soup begins with: “One lb ground beef”. Shoot.
Thank Heaven company was late!
I was typing at the computer when the doorbell rang. I set Maggie down, and opened the door to find a guy in a suit. Suits are never a good thing in the military. It means someone is in trouble or, if you are especially neurotic, like me, you think it’s the chaplain come to tell you that your husband’s plane landed on him and he’s dead. People in suits at my door always make me nervous. I start talking to him and it turns out he’s doing a routine background check on some guy I lived next door to for two months while I was on bed rest with Maggie. He seems oddly distracted while talking to me, kind of like he can’t really look me in the face. I hear Maggie fussing, and when I turn around to go get her, I glance down and my jiggly bosoms pop into view because I’ve left my shirt unbuttoned from nursing! This guy has been trying to avoid eye contact with my gleaming white nursing ta-tas for the past five minutes.
Saturday I was so excited to have a lovely full day of activities. I had just received an invitation to a card making party for that morning, and then there was a birthday party for Jonas to attend. I get myself all prettied up, get Maggie looking adorable, then hop in the car to my friend’s house where I see no other cars, not even hers. I ring the doorbell thinking, “How sad, no one else showed up.” After standing in the chilly fog for a few minutes it dawns on me that something is very wrong here. I get back in my car and drive home where I check the invite and realize that it was for a card party in November! The postal service just took a month to deliver it.
Two hours later I realize I’m late for the birthday party so I toss the kids in the car and we drive to the party. Once again, no one is there. I think, “Oh crud! I bet the party is at Chuckie Cheese or some party place and I just didn’t read the invitation well enough.” So, I drive back home, dig through the ant infested garbage to find the invitation, and find out that it is, indeed, at the house I just left. I call my friend:
“What gives, no one’s home!”
She says, “Uh, yeah, the party’s at noon.”
“It is noon!”
“Nooooo, it’s eleven. What time zone are you functioning in?”
Obviously, I’m the time zone specially designed for crazy people.]]>
Chris talks in his sleep. Now, the average person mumbles a bit and goes back to snoring; Chris carries on full length conversations with imaginary persons and sounds perfectly lucid. I could fill a book with the absurd comments he has made while sleeping. My favorite was the time he rolled over toward me at two a.m. and asked, “Have you seen the movie In Like Flint?” I thought he was awake, so I answered. We had a full conversation about how I should see this movie before he started talking to an imaginary third person in our bed and asking his opinion on things! Other times he would start thrashing around shouting, “No! NO!” I would always wake him up from this because it freaked me out. Once he told me an entire horrific nightmare he was having. He fell back asleep and started screaming again. I woke him up and asked, in detail, if it was the same dream. He responded with, “What the heck are you talking about and why did you wake me up?” He recalled nothing.
As if the endless chattering weren’t enough, he tried to kill me once. In his sleep. Some how he got his fingers tangled deep in my hair, clenched his fist, and then proceeded to roll over. I woke up flying through the air, painfully propelled by my hair, seconds before my head smacked into his, and he woke up with a yell and said, “What are you doing to me!” As if I was trying to do him in. I sat there dumbfounded for a few seconds before I let into him about how he was beating up on me.
The worst thing about sharing a bed has to be the snoring. Now, everyone snores a bit. I snore when I’m hugely pregnant or if I have a cold. Chris snores all the time and not quietly, I might add. He sounds like he’s trying to communicate with a herd of deaf cattle. I snuggle into him and the next thing I know I’m having dreams where I’m trying to make this loud noise shut off. It’s usually an engine or a tornado or someone yelling at me. Then I wake up and realize that I’m actually sleeping with a weed whacker. I have rolled and shoved and begged Chris into several positions and it never helps. I try to solve the problem by falling asleep first. This was great back when I was a heavy sleeper. But after two kids keeping me up all night and my mom radar going off at the tiniest tiptoe of a sound, this isn’t working so well. In fact, there have been many sleepless nights where I have lain awake fantasizing about smothering him with my pillow; I am almost convinced it could be justifiable homicide.
These things were all much worse when I was expecting. There were many nights when I just slept on the couch during my first pregnancy. Although the snoring and the talking bugged me, the real problem was that pregnancy turned Chris into an olfactory nightmare. No matter how many times he showered or mouthwashed or applied deodorant every time he came with in three feet of me his stench sent me retching into the kitchen sink. The fact that he liked to curl up in bed and breathe on me all night was just unbearable. I would sleep facing the other direction for as long as I could and then grab a few pillows and blankets and build a little barricade between us to keep his stinkiness on his side of the bed. When I spent the last few months of that pregnancy in the hospital it was actually a relief to have the bed, as uncomfortable as it was, all to myself (well, as all to myself as you can get with a four pound kid using your rib cage as a punching bag).
With Maggie, I wasn’t nearly so nice. I finally just kicked him out into Jonas’ room so I had a chance at some rest. Chris was pretty sweet about it, although not happy. I explained several times that I was actually doing him a favor, because he and I both know I can be a real shrew without adequate rest. He had two options: deal with a crazy psycho hormone lady when he was awake or give up his bed. Not much of a choice, eh? Upon Maggie’s birth, Chris thought he could come back to bed, but with Maggie in the bed, and Chris sleeping like a thrashing eel who would just keep snoring away if he smothered our newborn, he was kicked out again. Again, not happy, but tolerant.
Maggie is approaching her first birthday next week, and I have begun sleep training her. Chris is back in bed, conjuring thunderstorms in his nasal passages. I am back to fantasizing about old movies where the husband and wife have separate bedrooms. That would be perfect for me. I could snuggle a bit at night, maybe more if I felt so inspired, and then go back to my own bed for the purpose of sleep. Because, really, that’s all any mother really fantasizes about!
If you or a loved one suffers from apnea or is in needs of CPAP Supplies- check here!
My first jewelry making attempt. They go well with a tweed skirt and burgundy sweater I have. Now, lest you think this artsy fartsy stuff just spews out of me, I do have my fair share of troubles- for example, I snipped the wires holding the beads onto the clasp not once, but twice! I had to start from scratch. Twice. But they were worth it! I’m usually what you could call allergic to accessories, but I’ve decided to mend my plain jane ways and try to branch out a bit. What do you think?]]>
Memes- They Are Like The Common Cold: You Rarely Enjoy Catching One, But It’s Oddly Satisfying To Pass It On
Seven things I hope to do before I die:
1) Live overseas. I’m not picky about where. I just want to experience life outside of the US of A.
2) Own my own home.
3) Be a “popular” scrapbooker. ( Ok, so that’s a Loooong Shot- but you never know).
4) Get a better grasp on my own spirituality. Really know myself in reference to my religion.
5) See my children grow up healthy, happy and intelligent. And with fabulous senses of humor.
6) Vacation with just Chris.
7) Climb Mt Rainier. Just for kicks. Cause it’s there.
Seven things I cannot do:
1) Have a pet tarantula. Seriously, what if it escaped?
2) Watch scary movies without getting the heebie jeebies and not being able to sleep or be home alone for a week.
3) Remove stretch marks. Wish I could though.
4) Live without an art form.
5) Stop singing.
6) Understand how airplanes stay up. I am convinced it is magic.
7) Endorse hate.
Seven things that attracted me to my spouse:
1) Gorgeous long, thick eyelashes (and, yes, he did pass them down to the kids).
2) His patience.
3) His really hot butt.
4) His intelligence.
5) His big puppy dog eyes the same exact color as mine.
6) The fact that he was outgoing and sure of himself.
7) His testimony.
Seven things I say often:
1) Jonas, get down!
2) Stop yelling at me.
3) This is a No Choking Zone.
4) I love you.
5) Maggie Doodle Bug Bug Buggiest Doodly Doo-er
6) Where are my shoes?
7) Have you seen my keys?
Seven books/series I love:
1) Harry Potter by JK Rowling
2) The Time Travelers’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
3) Babyhood by Paul Reiser
4) The Mozart Season by Virginia Euwer
5) Quest For A Maid by Frances May Hendry (Absolutely wonderful- read it today!)
6) To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee
7) Anything by Erma Bombeck
Seven movies I could watch over and over again:
1) Sense & Sensibility
2) Love Actually
3) The African Queen (This movie cracks me up to no end)
4) The Emperor’s New Groove
5) White Christmas
6) Return To Me
7) Singing In The Rain
Seven people I want to join the seven sevens meme:
Be sure to let me know when you guys have completed it lol! ]]>