Fa La Laaaaa

There are some people who just shouldn't sing Christmas (any) songs, and there are some songs that people shouldn't sing...unless accompanied by a choir. With the names Mormon and Tabernacle preceding.

Allow me to take a moment, and give you some examples.

Number one: Anyone who at any point in their lifetime would come when called "Gomer". As in Pyle. Several times on the radio station (thank you XM Channel 4 Holiday Traditions, I LOVE you!) I shake my head when I hear Jim Nabors (aka Gomer Pyle) singing. It sounds as if he hase a big furry animal caught in his throat and just ate a huge bite of ice cream to push it down. It is truly terrible. Jim, I'm sorry, I'm sure you don't deserve such punishment. I'm also fairly certain that growing up somewhere there was a Jim Nabors Christmas Album (vinyl of course)...I can picture it now, it was all white...as a connoisseur of Christmas music I don't think I even listened to that one. I must draw the line somewhere.

Another one, is Deck the Halls. Unless you are in a group of -- well, anyone, please don't sing this song. Case in point is Willie Nelson. No one person should ever be Fa la la la la-ing on their own, and Willie, you are no exception. At least get some cowboys to chime in to help you out a little bit.

So what do I like to listen to? Very few Christmas songs can be done poorly (sorry Gomer) which is probably why just about anyone who has ever tasted the flicker of celebrity seems to put out a holiday album, but among my top faves have got to be Silent Night, White Christmas, and Once in Royal David's City -- King's College Choir version.

I think it's time to go start a playlist as I begin to pack as Noll Down South returns to our roots for a little while (and shows these Southern Belles what winter is all about).

Frosty Paws

Contrary to news reports across the nation, North Carolina has not been buried under 12 feet of snow to disappear forever like the mystifying Atlantis. Most of the state is green and albeit it a bit on the frosty side this morning, only saw a few minutes of sleet. No big deal. Now granted, there are western areas of the state that probably look like a postcard of Santa's wonderland, but I just wanted to let all of you know that here in the Noll part of North Carolina we are cold, snow free, and looking forward to a Christmas in the mitten of our country where while we would love to see some snow, will not ask for it as to reap the benefits of a 5mpg and 2 1/2 drive home from the airport last year due to said 'flake wishes'. So, while it would be a special treat, it is not a requirement. I'm just saying.

Whether the weather

10 minutes of light sleet... The world is falling apart. Who am I to complain, vacation is going to start two hours early because of it. Felix Navidad.

Whew.

I must wipe my brow a minute before I sit down and type a post about nothing. Just felt like I needed to give you something to look at before you forget all about this.

So, we've been busy with birthday parties and Christmas parties and programs (photos to come soon) and homework and shopping and all that is good and well with the season. I love the pre-Christmas holiday sprit, but wish it could be extended throughout other holidays as well so there wasn't so much pressure to constantly celebrate -- school things, neighborhood things, this/that and the other things.

And in the midst of all of this, Greta is wrestling with the awakening concept (thanks to a school lesson on Kwanzaa) that people come in different colors. And, ever the "organizer" and "controller", let's just say we will need to be talking up Black History Month in our house a little bit....

Meanwhile, Clara is beginning to learn that all is not right and equal in this world either, and that candy canes are really good, and a teeny tiny piece of a candy cane is NOT equal to the candy cane her sister gets to eat so LOOK OUT world -- Clara will not stand for such injustice. Literally. In fact she is sure to sit or lay down and let her opinion be heard.

Chris and I will enjoy a very brief outing tonight to his work Christmas Party which is always pretty nice. The sitter is our neighbor Sarah whom we all love, in fact I shouldn't really call her a sitter. Since she had her first child 2 years ago she has resinded all sitter responsibilites and payment, and now we just help each other out, although I must say we need her help more often than she needs ours. She has more friends I guess.

Anyways, we are also trying to convince Greta that -- wish as she might-- Santa is NOT going to bring her a trampoline this year, but after 2 birthday parties at the gymnastics academy she is hooked. Neither Chris nor I want her to get into gymnastics, but she sure is loving the trampoline.

I will try to post some recent pictures soon, and be a better poster.

I'm not for rent....

but the magic in me is amazing. It seems I have suddenly developed some stunning form of magic that courses through my veins. At this time, it seems like I am only able to complete this stunt on children under the age of two, and because I haven't learned how to control it, it is only seen at certain times of the day. For instance, diaper changing time, pajama time, or any other time we need to change into or out of something. POOF -- I work my magic. Need to put on a coat? POOF! Magic. Shoes? VOILA, once again. Magic.

So? I will let you in on my secret.

It seems...

that I have the magical powers...

to take a young child who is perfectly capable of walking and standing upright, etc...

and turn them into what could only resemble a cooked noodle.
Soggy bread.
Jello.
You get my point?

Here we are, one minute walking and giggling and moving away until it is time to put a coat on to and POOF: Bones O' Yogurt. It's like I have to actually pick her up with a shovel in order to make sure I actually get all of her in one fell swoop so that nothing is dangerously dangling to the side (like a head) that might accidentally get cracked into a doorway (only once...maybe).

Time to change your diaper, time to put on your pajamas, socks, wipe your nose, mouth, etc.etc. etc. Limp. I amaze myself.

So there you have it. My magical-mush-making talent. Not available for kids parties (for obvious reasons) and if you know of anyone who can teach me how to hone my craft, let me know.

Mid - December

As probably one of the most festive rimes of year gets in full swing , we here down south are enjoying a luxurious coat-free day. The blue of the sky amplified by the dark green of the tall pines drenched with the recent rain seems to have cleared the palette for the Christmas countdown.

The true meaning of Christmas momentarily aside, I will say that I will miss the figure/figment/concept/idea/genius that is Santa. This year, out of necessity, the presence (read threat) ofMr Claus has been at the forefront since mid-October. I thought we would ruin by starting so early. I thought by Thanksgiving we would be scrambling for new ideas. Turns out, there's really nothing better than a threat to pick up the phone and call the jolly man himself. Always wondering where I would really take that, so far just the meer mention of 'do I have to pick up the phone' and, well, let's just say Christmas miracles really do exist.

Trying to get with the program and create good, quality citizens we layed excuses aside and attended church last weekend. And, not only did we attend, but we sent Greta to the children's chapel and Clara to the nursery. Lo and behold, the experience was far from the near grueling past experiences before we sent children their seperate ways. While Clara was less than eager to be left, she pulled through without so much as a distant tear when we picked her up, and Greta came away with at least a recognition of what a church is. Phew. And Chris and I actually had a few minutes together without wiping, shushing, getting, holding, rubbing, hugging or doing anything for anyone else.
When I asked Greta what she learned, she said "God".
What about God, was intrigued.
"Just God.". She stated with closure. "I don't know what his name is."
It was all really cute as she continued on with 'who is his family' and adorably honest and thought provoking questions. But I have to tell you that there was a little bit of Laurel and Hardy's 'Who's on First' going on in the beginning as we went back and forth about God's name. ("It's God".
" I know but I don't know his name."
" His name is God"
"Whose name?"
" God".
" But I don't know his name"
Cue hair pulling and maniacal screaming within. I politely changed the conversation tom something a bit less...theological. "So, what do you want for Christmas?" Ahhhh, the true meaning of the season. I will be the first to let you know, attending church a scant handful of times a year does not arm you with the knowledge to discuss anything regarding the true meaning of anything with anyone over 2 and under 6.

The Perfect Background

Since Clara often does not get her fair share of stunning photos, I thought I'd share a few from a quick weekend at the beach about a month ago. They might not be stunning, but I think they are special. You just can't beat a white shirt and jeans against the waves, sand and sky. It doesn't matter who you are, what you look like, or what you're doing, it's almost foolproof. I think these pictures capture the serious side of Clara. Clara has few gears: hysterically silly, contemplating and serious, or asleep.

Christmas Preview -- Clara Version

I know I know, not as many pictures, not as interesting, not as different. Model she is not. As it is I had to bribe her with Smarties, which to me was pure torture. Not only for the fact that I was bribing this child with candy, not only because I was giving my small child candy, but that I was giving away Smarties. But they were small, and I could just put out a couple and she would think that was it, so it was worth it. The pictures turned out a lot better than if I had NOT done this, in which case, there actually would not have been pictures at all. Look carefully, actually you don't have to look that carefully, but in the last picture you can see the Smartie nestled in her mouth...dancing on her taste buds, mingling with her senses, invading her bloodstream with sugary addicting goodness....

Christmas Preview -- Greta Version

The Great Christmas Preview

Featuring: Greta Lillian

(by the way, I know she'll love this someday because I would, but have you ever noticed how hard it is to spell either Greta or great when you really want to spell the other one? No? Well, trust me, it can be a mental unmatched by man. It takes humongous brain power to get my fingers to type the correct word. I have to double check when I write things for work lest people really start to wonder about me. More.)

Tunes to Start the Morning

The Hamster Dance it is not. And for that I am happy. On the whopping 3 minute drive to daycare in the mornings (if we aren't stuck behind that school bus that is) we can usually get in a snappy little song, or if we are lucky, parts of two songs (and we've been known to sit in the car and dance if it's a really rockin' number), before we have to part ways and start our days. Some mornings, the music is so good that I've been known to keep the station on the entire way to my work. Oh that extra 3 minutes of kids music can just jump start your day. Or put you in a really irritated mood...you have to be careful.

And so, this morning, AFTER I dropped the girls off (which involves not so much as a nod from Clara, but about 50 hugs from Greta and occasional prying off my leg) I got in the car and since we were just a hair early, I decided I would treat myself to a bagel. Since I was concentrating on said bagel, it took me a moment to realize that I have left the kids' channel on (XM116) until I realized: Hey, this song is absolutely hysterical! I mean, I chuckled out loud, to myself, in the car. I wanted to call everyone I knew to play it. (But, seeing that it was 7:16 and most people I would call were no where near in the mood to have a phone call, I didn't. But I thought about you!) So, without further ado, I must let you know that this song (which I hope to find SOMEWHERE to download) is this:

My hair had a party last night,

It musta got into a terrible fight,

Cause when my head hit the pillow it was lookin' all right,

My hair had a party last night.

My hair had a party last night,

When I lay down everything was all right,

It started out friendly but there must have been a fight,

My hair had a party last night.

Priceless. The band is beautifully named Trout Fishing in America. If you find a link to the msuic, let me know! I hope you all can start the day this way.

I have not given up! Stay tuned for several pictures!

Miss You All

Happy Thanksgiving to our family in Michigan.

The turkey's in the oven,

a lovely smelling home,

but at these special holidays

we tend to feel alone.

It doesn't feel too different

as we go about our day

missing out on all of you

on this holiday.

See you soon at Christmas time!

Plug

Calling all Christmas shoppers. Do you have that someone that you need a gift for yet don't know what to get? Do you need something to freshen up your home for holiday festivities? I thought so. Well...it just so happens that Greta's dance class is selling Partylite candles to raise money to supplement their costume fee for the Spring Recital. Please click here to view the brochure. If you are interested, let me know!!! I have to turn it in by Dec. 7th.

PS No, this is not the costume.

OH the HORror

In case you didn't know...

In case you haven't heard...

In case the incessant whining has not yet reached your corner of the earth...

the world is coming to an end.

Why?

Because SOMEone has a stuffy nose. And she doesn't like it.

It all began with Clara starting some sort of nasal discomfort down South here. Friday she came down with what has amounted to a light cold. I am of course glad it is nothing more, she had a low grade fever Friday night, but all is fine now. Drippy, but fine. Sunday afternoon, after playing at a gymnastics gym for a birthday party, Greta succumbed to the same fate. We were gently awakened this morning by a strange sound that turned out to be Greta attempting to breathe through her pathetically clogged nostrils. (Did I mention it was 4:30 and she was on our floor?) As we dragged her into bed with reassurance and pleadings for quiet, she was quick to tell us how unhappy she was because she couldn't suck her thumb with a 'snuffy' nose. However, being the persistent young lady that she is, somehow seemed to have found a way.

While I am fairly certain Greta is feeling definitely less than fine, we have been reminded no less than a dozen time since she came home today (nearly 4 hours ago today) that she hates having a stuffy nose and when is it going to go away! And so, I sit here, with bedtime on the horizon hoping that the snuffiness finishes soon, because goodness knows there are thumbs that need sucking.

And, sleep to be finished until after 4:30 in the morning.

Way to GO!

A beautiful fall morning and Chris hit the streets again this year for his half marathon. With less training time than last year, he shaved 2 minutes off of his time! We are so proud of him! The girls and I enjoyed warmer temperatures -- about 25 degrees warmer than last year's unseasonable chill -- as we watched Daddy head off, and then returned to watch him cross the finish line. Chris battled the hilly course and was in the top third of the finishers. HOORAY!

Test

Testing something....

Laying it Out There

Maya Angelou has said:
"You can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things:
a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas lights."

Just for the record: I absolutely LOVE rainy days.

I have never lost luggage, but would probably be fuming about the money

I would have to spend replacing all of that stuff.

I now have a tree that is pre-lit. That should say it all.

(But I will add that before the pre-lit tree I would spend VERY little time untangling lights. They would go in the trash. Even my frugalness couldn't wrestle with such a monstrosity. Although I must say I got quite adept at wrapping them carefully for storage each year.)

What does this say about me? I'm gloomy? Sure, goodness knows I've never been described as "perky". I have little patience -- yes, especially when something is someone else's responsibility. And 3, I have little patience. I don't solve problems well. Unless they are someone else's. I will take the time to help you. But don't bring me your Christmas lights. I'll just go buy you new ones. (And not those fancy LED ones, so don't get any funny thoughts.)

Willy Wonka it's not

In mid stream of battling with creating and uploading a new header, I felt the need to raid the Halloween candy. Something I never do, which has always resulted in me honestly pondering if I should use last year's Halloween candy to actually pass out each year. Don't worry, I never do. I have been known to bring it to school though, 10 year olds will eat almost anything.

Anyhoo...searching for just the right smackeral of goodness, I became frantic.

First of all, Sweetarts can be rolled up to LOOK like Smarties, however they are NOT Smarties.

Second of all, I just ate an Almond Joy. Does anyone REALLY buy those anymore? They must make all of their money in Halloween minis because, well, yuck. I settled on an ultimately unsatisfying tiny Hershey thing to wash away the Almond Joy all the while avoiding the lone pack of Smarties sitting next to me. (Because I know where one will lead, I'm trying to resist temptation.) And so, I now must go get a giant glass of water to rinse this Halloween candy funk off of my tongue.

The Full Report

I try to keep up with the latest news, I have to admit I am a bit tardy on this report.

Have you heard?

They found water!

ON THE MOON!

Notice the clear upstaging on this shot by George. Never say he didn't actually like the lens a little bit.

A little lonely now into week 2 without our beloved Putter, and George officially seems a bit lonely. I don't think he entirely minds his single status, but he's definitely... around a lot more.

Proof of this is his agreement to actually spend quality time near Greta and Clara (notice Clara chose to sit this one a bit far away, George has figured out he can scare the Bejeezers -- and yes, you must do jazz hands when you read that word -- out of her, and tries to regularly throughout each day.) Greta, as is the case with life, doesn't care what George does because she is going to have her way regardless of whether this means receiving fake bites from George. Clara -- as is the case with life -- isn't up for a battle and has better things to do than argue. With a dog.

In the meantime...

while you're waiting for meaning and thought and genuine heartfelt sentiments about our life, this will have to suffice for the moment.

It's a "Family Thing". Some families pray before each meal. Other families have Family Game Night. Some families hunt together, some cook, some watch a favorite movie. We take a photo of ourselves. It just sort of...happened, and it's happened often enough for it to now officially be our "thing".

And, while there is not one ounce of vanity -- or sanity-- to this, I find it's relevance to our short and wonderful weekend totally poignant and it just makes me

beam with warmth and delight

and so I had to share it with the rest of you.

SOrry

Okay, patience please. Although you probably have 8 thousand things to do besides read this blog anyways. We headed to a quick weekend at the beach, and I have a couple of pictures I will post this week. But this evening has been calming everyone down, laundry, baths, and now bedtimes begin. One down, one to go.

THE BOTTOM LINE

42 pairs of underwear really is too many for a four year old.

(Although it does mean I technically can go 6 weeks without having to include those in the laundry. Yet, how much room does something for a bum that size really take up in a washer and dryer anyways....)

In honor of this day

If nap quality was measured on the Fujita Scale like tornadoes, I just had an F-5.

If naps were measured on the Richter Scale like earthquakes, this one would be a 9.7.

If naps were measured in computer memory, I just tok one worth several thousand Gigabytes.

Basically, I had a good nap. Actually, good is actually a derogatory word to describe the peace and serenity I just experienced. I don't even let my students use the word good. But I'm still a little sleep-drunk, and so I just don't feel like thinking up a more interesting word.

The house is dark and chilly, the constant rain from Hurricane Ida is relentless as our rain gauge is filling now past 4 inches and there is still more anticipated. Chris and I enjoyed a great lunch together, as he is off today as well. Certainly no golf among this rain and wind. Yes, I sent the girls to school today. My plan was to get a lot done around the house, but this is so much more effective. A happy and rested mommy lends itself to a much more peaceful home.

I couldn't complete a blog about rest and happiness however, without mentioning that the reason this is possible today is because of Veteran's Day. So, while I could just thank the veterans for giving me a day off of work, I find myself to be a bit more civilized than that. Thank you Veterans. You are also giving me freedom, security, well-being, and a more peaceful quality of life and I am thankful for all that you sacrifice within your lives to help everyone else. A big shout out to our neighbor over in Afghanistan working hard to come home in a few months, just in time to turn around and greet the next addition to their family.

Thank you Veteran.

Ho Hum

So, if you made it through yesterdays posts and are still reading this blog, thank you. It continues to be oddly quiet around the house.

WORDS:
Never teach your toddler to say the name of your terminally ill dog, because the day before the dog dies your toddler will learn to say his name. And from that point on, all dogs will be called that name.

We got in the car this morning, put on the kids music station, and the song that was playing was called "Cold, Wet Nose". What is the world trying to do??????
However, right after that song came on the song you see in the sidebar on the left: Really Nice Day. What an awesome song! It couldn't have come on at a more perfect time. The song was lighting the forest of trees a brilliant orange in the crisp pre-frost of morning, and it is Friday. My school's auction is tonight, and a neighbor is watching the girls so Chris and I can actually slip out for a couple of hours.

Happy Weekend everyone. And PLEASE listen to that song. I hope it brightens your day as much as it did mine!

November 4, 2009 Part Three

If you haven't read the previous two posts, please scroll down and read those first.

So there we are in the waiting room. Waiting. Waiting for Putter to have the catheter inserted so that we can provide him relief from the pain and discomfort he is experiencing. It is truly an awe-inspiring moment, not necessarily in a good way, but not entirely bad. It was a time of reflection and thought, of questioning faith and judgement, of uncertainty.

In this emergency veterinary hospital waiting room they have a flat screen tv on the wall. A welcome addition to drown out the thoughts that must be racing through anyone's mind who is unfortunate enough to need such service. The unfortunate part, was that the tv was on the Independent Film Channel. No offense to independent film makers, however, in the midst of such an emotional time the last thing I really want to try to divert my multiplying thoughts is a subtitled asian ninja movie. And yet, the circumstances of life would not allow me otherwise. I saw the remote. I vainly tried to change the channel. Some dynamic level of engineering not clearly posessed by me at the moment (or anytime for that matter) was needed because the station would not change. And, as I gently layed down the remote and tried to unsuccesfully settle myself in a wicker chair abounding with fluffy pillows, my back to the subtitles, I hear screaming. Horrible, terror-stricken, dramtic, Emmy-award winning screams emanating from the black box on the wall. 'What on earth IS this' my thoughts relinquished me to wonder. And as I looked I see clearly the climax of the movie where one young ninja-type character certainly most nobely chooses to end his own life by thrusting his sword through his own chest, thus releasing screams of agony from what could be presumed to be his true love, who promises that now 'he can return home' (thank you subtitles). Not what I needed at them moment.

So, as I try and release that tortured moment from my already tear-stained face, the other gentleman patiently awaiting news on his dear pet returns from wherever he was. I am assuming he needed to get away from me because I have to admit, the snorting and snuffling and nose blowing would've made me gag if I wasn't the one doing it. He comes in and checks in at the desk, and suddenly I hear music. The kind of music from a carefully selected ringtone probably assigned to a very important person. Such an important person who is calling to check up on this man and his beloved pet. And the song on his cell phone?

Oh Danny Boy...

the pipes the pipes are calling...

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the possible significance to this situation....

And as we stayed with our beloved friend in his final moments, which were indescribably full of peace, serenity, and a deep sense that this was exactly what should be happening at this moment, he rested on a soft cot, with a cushiony blanket, as if someone knew he was coming and this would just be the perfect place for him.

The moon relented on the way home, and allowed us to enjoy the black night. It was tough to see the empty bed, to bring in the collar, to retire the leash. It was sad to wake up to a house one body quieter than it was the previous morning. I'm sure there will be a few more sad times, as I can not erase the vision of my friend beyond rest as we tearfully closed the door both physically and metaphorically on a life whose true purpose in this world hasn't even been fully understood though I am sure it was completed.

We love you Putter. We did, we do, we always will.

November 4, 2009 Part Two

Please read the previous post in order to be fully understand what is going on here.
And another warning: this post is full of cliches, similes, and potentially obnoxious metaphors. I apologize in advance, it is my sense of healing and closure.

The night now felt like a burden, like burden forever to be etched in my memory. Every movement I made felt like my feet were filled with bags of sand and pins and needles were in my clothing. Knowing every single thing we did for the next hour more or less would be Putter's last, and our last with him. It was almost unthinkable.

A neighbor -- so much more than a neighbor, our savior in so many ways -- came over to sit with the girls while they slept, endearing us with stories of his youth in a small, rough coal mining town in Pennsylvana, and how they "took care of this" themselves 65 years ago....Inappropriate, completely. Unexpected? Not at all.

We loaded Putter in the car to make the 20 minute drive, and, because this wasn't feeling long enough before we even left town we had to get gas.

Finally on our way, the road blacker than imaginable, the moon appeared as we cleared through the trees. That moon. That annoying, ridiculously bright bulb that hung in front of us the entire way, like it was pulling us right to where we needed to be. Accustomed to the lack of streetlights anywhere in the county, usually night is deep, dark night. The moon felt like the sun. Looking at it felt like I was looking at a lightbulb. It burned my already reddened eyes as it forced as to move closer towards our destination. Move towards the light...move towards the light....We're coming.

Once in the building of the Emergency Veterinary Office, there was one other 'customer' in the waiting room. I was not shy of my red eyes, my snorts and sniffles, my heaving chest. I know that customer was not there because their animal was getting their nails clipped. It is the type of place that you feel an automatic comraderie when you walk in. Like you walk in to a giant group hug, because you know everyone there has a very special thing in their life they are concerned about.

But a waiting room is a waiting room, and unfortunately, we had to wait. My stomach felt like it wanted to leap outside of my body and run back home, and I wish it had. I didn't like the feelings it was giving me. Our turn at the front desk, and there were painful decisions to be made. 'Do we want to be present?' yes 'Communal of private cremation, or none?' Communal Sign here. and here. and here. and here.
Then they took him back to insert a catheter.

More waiting. This time, just the two of us in the waiting room. Us and our red eyes and runny noses. And doubts and fears and insecurities. I am so glad we were there together.
To be continued....

November 4, 2009

We have heavy hearts today as we mourn the loss of our beloved gentle soul, Putter John Noll. We never knew Putter's birthdate, when he came into our lives he was a year to a year and a half. In all possibilities, his birthday could be right around now. He had to leave us much too soon, however, as he was only around 8.

Putter has had lymphoma for a while, we found right before Labor Day weekend. We were able to keep him with us much longer than anyone anticipated, and are thankful for that.

On Monday we had him in for a "Quality of Life" evaluation at teh vet, and while Monday was "not his time yet" we were assured that it would not be long, and we would just know. My biggest fear all along has been that his vet would not be the one to be there when the time was right, and, of course she was not. Yesterday afternoon, while on his daily walk, we noticed Putter was crying in pain every now and then. The rest of the afternoon was fairly uneventful, but perhaps that was because we were in and out of the house. By 8:00, the time for relaxation for Chris and I, Putter was in his usual position on our bed. He kept crying out in pain, and as we took him outside for the night, we noticed his suffering had definitely begun. It was nearly an impossible decision to make, but we knew it was time.

MIssing

Quick, somebody help me! My baby is missing!

Seriously!

That soft baby smell, that freshly baked loaf of warm mushy person, right dow to her toes...
MISSING!

That precious grin from ear to ear that lit up a room and crinkled those pillowy cheeks...
MISSING!

The hugs, and snuggles, the silky blanket wrapped around tiny fingers grasping the textures with one pudgy hand and my neck with the other...
MISSING

And in it's place is left
a squirmy
indecisive
LOUD
whiny
little GIRL
who has learned that
she has an opinion
and isn't afraid to
use it
and that
no
is a real word
with power
that she
can also use.

And if you try to tell me that this is indeed the same person...she has just come out of her chrysalis and has molted from babydom...that this is my angel, my easy baby, my pride and joy...this is really it...
Then I will say:
take it back
I want a
refund. Or a big bottle of wine.

Make a Smilebox slideshow

I don't know if I'll actually get to post this...

seeing as I'm not actually sure I'll get to even create this post.

I sat down 30 seconds ago, armed with exactly what I was going to write. Chris is off for a haircut, my dad should be over to visit soon, and the other humans (as I will acknowledge them at this moment before they start turning into aliens with their out-of-this-world shrieking and screaming) were actually playing. I was going to nab 3 minutes. I figured I could probably get that long to sit here and create a post.

30 seconds into it, meaning I logged into Blogger and pushed the "New Post" button, and the peace ended. Screaming, hair pulling, tears, anguished and accusatory cries reverberated off the walls and bounced like a super ball off my ear drums. Chaos ensued and I am typing through it. This has turned from past tense to present as I type through the leg tugging (shook one off) and the whining (little elbow flick). "Don't get tears on the new floor!"

But, I'm still writing.... It's subsiding. The quiet is overwhelming. I have but one person to thank, and it's not someone I'm proud of. Please don't judge me by the company I keep.

Dora, thank you. You usually are not on at this time in my house, but for some reason we forgot about you what with all of the playing we were doing until the aliens reentered certain bodies. Thank you. Your voice must be an alien exorcism.

Anyways, Happy Halloween. I'm sure there will be costume posts to come, hopefully I don't need Dora's help again.

I'm Baaaaaack!

Loved being in the tree.
Hated being in the tree.
Probably running away from the tree.
Again, lovin' the tree.
I know! It's been forever! I'm sorry. Really, I am. It's just, I've...been...

not in the mood to blog.

Sorry. I promise I'll do better. I'm not in the mood to write though, so please just enjoy these photos. At least I've done something lately.

Pin Point Accuracy

I JUST GOT THE FLU SHOT.

I signed up.

I really didn't think I would even end up following through with it.

I have 6 students sick today.

I do not want to be sick.

I JUST GOT THE FLU SHOT.

The only other time I have had the flu shot is when I was pregnant.

I was reluctant.

I hesitated.

I filled out more paperwork than I did when we bought our house.

I signed my life away.

I sat down.

I was swabbed, the nurse grabbed my skin and....

she actually had to tell me she was finished.

My name is Adrienne. I JUST GOT A FLU SHOT. And I didn't feel a thing.

I wanted to hug her. I didn't.

It made my day.

A New Series...

Law and Order -- YDS.

I'm going to start researching good law schools. I have Greta's new career path -- lawyer. Either that, or hostage negotiater. Or, she would probably do very well as a torturer. A few minutes with her, and you'd get a clear confession out of the most purest soul.

Everything lately is met with a counter argument. If I say "eat 5 more bites of x on your plate", it's countered with, 'how about 4'. If I say, you may have two pieces of x, it's how about 3. She never goes overboard and asks for the impossible. It's just enough where I have to stop and decide if I really want to continue this debate, or just go with her choice since it's only a small increment up from what I originally said. In actuality, I'm thinking this is all a part of her grand scheme in life. Once again, I'm proud of the mental prowess it took to create such a masterful life plan. It's too bad this couldn't spill over into, say, locating the pair of shoes two fee away from her.

Last night I was reading her a story from the current favorite book: The Frog and Toad Treasury. A lovely collection of a great pair of critters that makes you realize exactly what the show the Odd Couple was created from. The stories itself are pretty good, and not too bad for reading multiple times. But the treasury is full of many many stories, and Greta could easily sit there and listen to each one being read in one sitting. Which I have never done and do not plan to do. Last night, at the last possible second before impending bedtime, Greta used a stalling tactic she has perfected and to which I usually readily give in to, mostly because bedtime is not usually one of our debates. So, I read the "one" story that I promised. And Greta opened the book again. "No, one story I said."

"I know Mommy, I want to read it to you."

"Hm, well, how are you going to do that."

"I just need you to tell me all of the words on the pages."

Please send help.

Not now Monday...I'm not ready yet.

There is no sarcasm in this post. There is no humor. (Perhaps you never thought there was in any of the other ones though, in case, this will be no different.) While reading this you may imagine the following:

a house filled with the aroma of a dinner enjoyed... the early evening where the sky is a dusky grey as the sun's rays are long below the horizon and the shade of night is appearing...the orange glow of a fire ending...snoring dogs, sleeping baby, and the hum of the dryer.

Ahhhhhhhhhh....This time, that is not a scream or yell I am typing. It is the serenity of a breathy sigh, lamenting over the end to a perfect fall weekend at home. After an early family grocery shopping trip (I LOVE when we all go together, it makes actually makes it fun) on Saturday, then a crisp walk around town for a street fair, and even a relaxing nap the first part of the weekend was delightful. Sunday has proved to be just as marvelous because it was completely uneventful. We left the house for moments to take a morning walk in the coldest morning yet. It felt delightful to be cold, and then to come in to our cozy house. I finished taking out all of the girls' winter clothes and putting away most (not all, down here you have to leave out a few teaser articles of shorts/t-shirts) of the summer clothes. Every time I do this, its always a little heartbreaking. Not only are my babies growing up, but I just miss some of those clothes, pathetic I realize.

But now, it is just about time to go shower. Three of us are going to enjoy a small bowl of chocolate ice cream, and will be off to bed early to be ready to welcome another week. I can only hope that all of you have had even half as pleasant weekend as I have, if not more. And with that, I will leave you with the world's most popular emoticon that perfectly sums it all up.

:)

We Be Jammin'

I love my XM Radio. I love that it has 16 million channels, of which I listen to 4, but the options are so much better than my limited small town radio station channels which offer: classic rock, classic rock, alternative, a grainy classical station, classic rock, and that's it. I've heard enough of Ozzy's Crazy Train to last me 3 life times.

We listen to very few of what XM has to offer, although I've been known to listen to the traffic report in Detroit -- why? because I can -- to hear all of the familiar street names. (Same reports as ever, incidentally, it's like I was right there.) I know, I need to come back to reality. The nearest 4 lane freeway to me is an hour away. Anyhoo...usually my default station is Classical Pops. It just is. It's easy, it's good, it doesn't require thought, unless I want it to. When Chris is in the car, it's station number 54 (I believe those are the numbers) Jam On. I certainly don't mind that, and we listen to it so much, it's just like putting on your favorite pair of shoes. It just makes sense.

There is a great kids music station. Well, great at most points of the day. In the afternoon there is absolutely horrible deejay with a voice that would cut glass, and the humor of cat poo. Occasionally there might be humor in cat poo, but not usually. I try and steer clear of that station. BUT Greta does enjoy it, and is recognizing songs and finding her nitch. She likes the fast ones. Being an elementary educator, and seeing as much of my background -- and my favorite age of all -- is the littlest people, I really like this station too. So I certainly endulge her.

But I want to create an image for you. It's dark. Dark dark. Not even the morning light as begun to wake up the world. It's rainy, and it's the chilliest day in about 7 months. You are currently driving at the speed of nothing. Because you're stuck behind a school bus that is stopping every...3...houses. And waiting. Because God forbid the kids wait in the rain for the school bus. And this song comes on. And suddenly you find yourself not only annoyed by your terrible circumstances, but wide awake. And suddenly some more your shoulders start rockin', your torso starts twisting, and you find yourself boogying to the electrifying early morning beat to what you can only assume is so aptly named because America's favorite wheel-bound pet enjoys a good techno beat to------- The Hamster Dance. Oh, if you have no idea what I'm talking about, please please please go search and listen to this for 10 seconds. I guarantee it will improve the quality of this post 10 fold. I was trying to upload it here, but couldn't. PLEASE.

Edited content: Thank you so much for whomever found the exact music which began my morning. Please visit www.webhamster.com.

A Little Drama for your Thursday

A cold mist continued to cover the area today. Walking from the door to the car, you really wouldn't feel the light kiss of rain. Standing outside the door while hunched over the seat wrestling with seatbelt buckles and kids shifting objects from one hand to the other while you wrangle an 18 month old's arms to places she does not want them to go...you tend to feel more than a kiss of rain.

A school bus cut me off today. Or rather, because I follow the rules of the road and did not cut off the school bus, I gave it full opportunity to take advantage of me. Thus causing my vehicle and it's early morning passengers to crawl down the street and a speed not yet known to man as it picks up 4 students along the way. None of whom are waiting properly for the bus, which would be at the end of their driveway with a coat and an umbrella, all are still in the comforts of their home which just p-r-o-l-o-n-g-s the agony of this process even more. I want to honk. OOOOHHHH I so want to honk. The flashing lights against the dark of the sky make me feel like I'm going to have a seizure because these kids are sooooo sloooooooow.

It took me 7 minutes to get the girls to school today.

It usually takes me 3.

We go one mile.

I was angry.

I'm not sorry.

Maybe it was a line from a movie

So, today at work -- which is a school...where educated people teach...or so I thought....

I was arriving to a meeting and greeted the lady with whom I was meeting. "Hi, how are you?" It should be noted that this lady is a colleague. A teaching professional.

Wait, are you ready? Brace yourself.

Her reply : "I'm fair and middlin' I reckon."

How many times did you have to reread that for it to even attempt to make sense?

...

I waited for a punch line, after what took me f-o-r-e-v-e-r to figure out what she said, when I realized there was not one. No gaffaw, giggle, smirk, or gaff. She was serious.

People, let me be the one to point out -- this is a small part of what is wrong with the world. It's not funny, or cute.

I remember the closest I ever came to being slapped across the face as a child was when I JOKINGLY used the word ain't in a sentence. I saw the devil, and it was scary. I never muttered that word again. Now of course there are plenty of people in all areas of the country that use ain't, including up north, so I realize this is not just limited to the south. HOWEVER, never did anyone I work with use that term, not to mention whatever phrase that was that was given to me today.

I don't watch a lot of movies, or maybe it's a line from a classic I haven't gotten around to reading yet. Either way...ugh.

Brrrrr

A flashback picture from this time last year....

We are so excited to be enjoying Michigan-like weather for the rest of the week! It may seem strange to some people, but we Yankees just haven't "warmed" up to this Southern weather. It's hard to believe we are going on our 7th year down here, it doesn't feel like it, it just doesn't feel like home....

But, tomorrow the high is only going to b e 53 degrees! A 20 degree difference from today and from the normal for this time of year. A warm up by Sunday, but we will enjoy pulling out some light sweaters and wearing some long pants -- or tights, I know Greta will be so excited for those!

And now, it's time to go bathe some little naked girls....

Reasons 4,376 - 4,381...,

...Why my husband is awesome.

1. He is installing another amazing floor, making our house

even more wonderful. I am so proud of him!

2. He did not make me delete this photo of sparklers on the 4th of July,

and if it was me I would've. But it's funny, because we have no idea what actually is going

on here, it was innocent fireworks and an innocent photo.

3. And after so many years, he indulges my silly photographic whims

without so much as a grimace. Love you! (pic. from Xmas 08)

4. He goes into nasty, horrible, disgusting places (the crawl space

under our house) when you couldn't pay me enough money to

do so. And he had to do it more than once. You are my hero!

5. He folds my underwear. Seriously. Never even would've thought of that myself,

but he does it. And you know what, there's nothing like putting on a pair of

folded underwear on a cool fall morning.

(pic from Summer 02 I believe....)

Face Forward

We started last week with some beautiful pictures. There is a series of these I snapped that I just love because Clara's eyes just pop.

Then this happened on Monday. This is a bite. A human bite. On her face. And actually, this was taken before it it took a turn for the worse. The next day it turned a lovely bruised-purple shade. I love daycare.

And then, with the bite almost gone, Greta deemed it necessary to draw on Clara. With a red pen. I knew it was too good to be true when they were playing in her room. Quietly. There are about 8 more of these x's on her arms and legs as well.

I don't have a picture of it, but Friday she came home with some more red marks on her face, because she ran into a chainlink fence at school while going down a small hill. It wasn't bad enough to photograph, but it's the principle of it all. So, don't ever ask if we go through spells where there are not a lot of pictures of Clara. Because, besides the fact that she does not like to get photographed, clearly there are many instances when she is a little too banged up to be in front of the camera.

From the Mouths of Babes....

We are just chatting away here down South. Our house is a bevy of language and words and sounds. Clara is (finally!) saying Mommy, Daddy is a longstanding favorite. Something that sounds like Dada is either Greta or doggy. Yesterday after I picked her up from school, I smelled something a bit...odiferous coming from her direction. And when I inquired as to the smell, she grinned and said "poopy" and did her sign for that. I'm sure it was a "you had to be there moment" as you are all probably not appreciating the cuteness that it was, so you'll have to trust me. It was pretty high on the cute scale. (Incidentally, Clara hasn't been doing a lot of sign language lately, but the other day was trying to get something Chris was eating, and I was trying to get her to say please -- 'peas' to her -- and she wasn't doing it. Until I realized she was feverishly doing the sign for it, which I haven't done with her in so long. Kids really are sponges, and retain things you don't even realize. It was neat.) This morning Clara was up early, and we were all in Greta's room getting her dressed. (Because goodness knows the Queen is unable to do any of it by herself.) As Greta was pulling up her underwear Clara was saying "mum mum" and patting her on the rear. (Bum bum for those you not well-versed in toddler-ease.) Again, PDC -- pretty darn cute.

It's that time of year, before the time changes, when the morning light is just different. The stillness of the morning coupled with the crispness of the air is a refreshing and relaxing way to start the day. Ususally we park in the garage, but because of the flooring work taking up the garage we are parked in the driveway, so it was extra crisp and cool at 7:05 as we were leaving the house. As we huddled together against the cool blast -- it was only 52 this morning, but we were in shorts and tees with jackets for later this afternoon -- Greta couldn't help but noticed the glowing moon shining just through the trees over the neighbor's house across the street from us. I have to admit, it was especially brilliant this morning as there was just a hint of dimness to the sky still before the sunn completely opened its shades for the day. Here was Greta's take on things this morning, I just can't stop thinking about how beautiful her thoughts were:

'Oh Mommy, look at the beautiful moon. It is so bright and twinkly this morning! Do you see it? I wish I was the moon. If I was the moon I would be so way up high in the sky and everyone would see me and you could look up at me and say "Oh look at that lovely moon up there. That Greta moon way up high." Such a pretty moon.'

I am saddened that we couldn't build upon that moment, the three of us standing there in the chill, snuggled up, looking at this bright brilliant moon, sharing Greta's story, dreams and wishes.

Clara and I took advantage of a beautiful afternoon while Greta was in dance class to play on the playground outside. She's getting around so well now, and not letting her size get in her way. I love the blues here....

Lookin' Good Girl!

Someday, I might feel bad and take this post down. Someday, she might look at these and make me take this post down. Or be really mad. But I can't help it. Clara has a personality the size of Alaska, and while she has some wacky hair moments, and can just be nutty, I had to try and capture some of that here. The pictures don't do her justice, but I think they're cute.

Fit to be Tied

Can someone please tell me (again) the secret to folding fitted sheets? I find it works best when, after disentangling myself from their straight-jacket-like web they have me entangled within, to look like I'm folding them, I actuality just end up rolling them into something resembling a cube with very rounded corners....

Velcro -- great! When you have a four year old who, while only after asking 50 million times, has yet to put on her sneakers to get out the door and go to school, and you really don't know what she's doing, because she went in her room, until you go in there and find her wearing bright red dress shoes which YES! go with her outfit but are not suitable, or allowed at school. And this we begin asking once again, please put on your sneakers while I finish getting things ready until FINALLY phew! Here I am, she announces and you look on her feet and ARGH! Your pirate self mutters when you see -- Crocs! C-R-O-C-S spells shoes mommy look! ARGH! By this time you are finally wishing you had a hook arm that you could really put to good use. And then you realize okay, and you go get the shoes, gently toss them to your 4 year old, resisting the desire to chuck them at her head, and you watch her say "oh, thank you Mommy" and put them on and you are just soooo thankful that, while velcro isn't necessary the cutest, you are so glad you didn't just have to tie those shoes.

Velcro -- the not so great version: when your one and a half year old learns she can take her shoes off by herself. Everyone hear that velcro sound in your head -- riiiiiiiiiip, rip rip rip rip riiiiiiiiippp.

And one random thought: considering Twitter. Any opinions?

Greta's Body

I hope you can click on this picture to enlarge it. You have to be able to read everything that she did. It was just so cute, and such a surprise to see it in her school hallway. Greta is one of the youngest kids in her class, but is keeping up so well. She exceeds many of the 5 year olds in her daily work and probably has a better work ethic than I do! (She gets that from her dad. :))

And yes, the fins and the tail were because she was making herself a mermaid. I don't know how that came to be, since she certainly didn't trace herself, so I don't know if those were mistakes and that's what she made them out to be or what. Bottom line is, she knew exactly what they were and was determined that she made herself a mermaid. I'll give her one for thinking outside the box, but I can only imagine what was going through other people's minds when they looked at it in the hallway....

It's Not Like the Good Ole' Days

I...love...birthdays. To me, they should be the number one holiday for each person and made much more important and significant than they are now. I mean, we are celebrating LIFE. It's not about age as much as LIFE. To celebrate the fact that, each person is indeed here! I used to love my birthday. I just had a birthday, on Sunday. I used to have a "Birthday Month" (and thank you to my dear friend who tries to keep that idea going for me. I appreciate it so much). I used to count down the days until my birthday, usually starting around my sister's birthday almost exactly six months previous. But no, now I'm lucky to get a birthday hour. Darn kids, they take the fun out of everything.

But it was a good weekend. We trekked to the mall to do a little shopping on Saturday, and the girls were well-behaved and patient. We ate lunch at California Pizza Kitchen (which has undoubtedly the world's most heavenly split pea and barley soup I have ever eaten in all of my life) where we dined on their scrumptious bread and barbecue chicken pizza. On my actual birthday, on Sunday, we decided it would be better to go to our favorite Inn for their brunch than gobble down dinner at a nice restaurant at vacuum speed with the girls. We were not disappointed! Brunch was phenomenal, and I should now be part omelet with the size of the one I ate.

I was hoping to snap a couple of good pictures of us all dressed up and what not, but it was not to be. I'll show you what we do have, but I'm so bummed out that they just didn't turn out right. Not to mention, I'm sporting a heinous haircut, and I'm giving this lady one more chance to fix it. No one knows how to cut curly hair down here, unless you're a 75 year old woman in which case, it doesn't matter. It's very depressing. And, just when I thought I had my camera under control, I don't. And the point and shoot wonderful pocketsized one is...well, I think it's not recovering like I thought after it's time in a bag when it looked thirsty enough for someone to offer it a drink from their sippy cup.