I told you there was more to me than just crafting...

So some of you may already know that I do *those* parties... you know what I'm talking about, right? The parties where men are ABSOLUTELY not invited? The parties where you are pampered and "pheromoned" and learn about every last *position* to reach *that* spot? Well, if you didn't... SURPRISE! I'm totally a Pure Romance Consultant.

I need YOUR help. Have you ever set one of those goals for yourself that when you got within 48 hours of the deadline and you realized you are embarrassingly close but it doesn't look quite like you're going to meet it and OH WELL, MAYBE NEXT MONTH. Girls, that CAN NOT HAPPEN. Not this month, not ever. So that's where YOU come in. If you've got a Facebook account, go invite every last woman you know to this event. I'm giving anyone who's interested a chance to order at a Consultant's discount. That's 35% off EVERYTHING we offer. If YOU'RE interested, go click on the first hyperlink above and that will lead you to my personal website. You must order THROUGH me by contacting me via Facebook. ((The contact methods are on the event page.))

I really REALLY appreciate any and all help you can give me. I just can't watch my goal slip through my fingers when I am so very very close!

Day 11. Silhouette.

I'm just relieved they don't take away from the tacky as all hell wood paneling.

Day10. Animal. Do amphibians count?

Hello, friend.

I know this is technically "cheating" seeing as I took this 3ish weeks ago, but I couldn't get my cat to hold still and to be honest? You wouldn't want to see pictures of him right now anyways. He kinda looks like he has some sort of leprosy. This little froggy friend kept peeking at me through my "office area" window the last time the clouds completely bottomed out. I probably never would have noticed him if my desk lamp hadn't been on.

They grew up on me.

Once upon a time, I didn't have children... and when I did have them, I thought to myself that they would always be these babies that would spit up and coo at me and depend on me to wipe their butts. And then my son took his first "steps" and it was OVER. He came out determined to grow up. It was a catch 22, this love for them.

With the boy, he always had a NEED to go. He had physical goals beyond what any of the baby books set as "normal guidelines" for milestones. He begged to stand on his own two feet before he was even 2 months old. So we let him, with our help of course. Even then, he was constantly yanking his hands free of ours to free fall backwards on the couch where he would scream at us because this was obviously ALL.OUR.FAULT. that he couldn't do these things. I mean seriously, what were we, imbeciles? At 4 months old, we gave him a walker... we just couldn't take the accusations and screaming from a 4 MONTH OLD anymore. Within 24 hours he was racing us around the house.

It was for his own good... Honest...

I get that there are all these "studies" that "they" put out, claiming walkers are the devil incarnate, but that thing SAVED MY SANITY and allowed that kid the freedom to explore and most important of all, RUN. We took the walker with us on trips, to the in-law's, and even outside.

A boy in his element... all grown up at 4 months old.

Although he's always been physically ahead of the game, verbally, not so much. The Princess, while not physical in any sense of the word, has been verbal from the minute she discovered she could make noise with her mouth. At 4 months? She was "talking" to her brother the best way she could, and to be honest, his verbal skills at 2 weren't much in comparison. What one excelled at, the other would flail about desperately. When she started speaking in full sentences at her first Birthday, we all noticed the boy doing a mental "OH SHIT!" and all of a sudden he started putting forth more of an effort to get his words out. She still has a better vocabulary than him, but there is no question that he isn't still far ahead of where a 4 year old should currently be in his physical activity.

They're growing up, these kids of mine... and they're acting like there are world records to be broken with the way they're going about the whole thing.

Day 9. Fresh Fruit.

Fresh figs from the backyard.

Buttery fig cobbler.

Filling

• 2 lb fully ripe figs
• 2 tbsp lemon juice
• 1/2 cup sugar

Crust/Topping

• 3/4 cup butter
• 1 cup packed brown sugar
• 1 3/4 cup all purpose flour
• 1/2 tsp each soda, salt
• 1 1/2 cup rolled oats

Wash fully ripe figs; cut off stems and blossom ends and puree. Should be between 2 1/2 - 3 1/2 cups. Combine with lemon juice and sugar. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, until thick and reduced to 2 cups. (If you're not wearing an oven mitt, I highly advise it. This stuff bubbles something fierce even on low heat.) As mixture thickens, reduce heat to prevent scorching; let cool.

Beat butter with brown sugar until creamy. Stir together flour, soda, and salt; add to the mixture of butter and sugar; mix well. Stir in rolled oats (mixture will be crumbly). Press half of mixture evenly in bottom of a greased 9x13" baking pan. Spread fig mixture over crust. Crumble remaining oat mixture on top. Bake at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes, or until lightly browned. Cool in pan on rack. While still warm, cut into bars. Makes 2 1/2 dozen.

Soon

I will not miss coming home to the smell of "Home Sweet Basement."
I will not miss the overabundance of ticks and fleas and our wilderness that is the yard.
I will not miss the A/C being set on 80 degrees year round.
I will not miss vacuuming up drywall.
I will not miss racing to my children in the morning to make sure they don't eat candy and donuts for breakfast.
I will not miss dumping the dehumidifier twice a day.
I will not miss standing up to my calves in water when showering.
I will not miss our 50 year old oven.
I will not miss our cat finding new ways to make his way into the drop ceiling.
I will not miss the darkness of bedrooms with no windows.

I will miss being within a stones throw of my family... sometimes.
I will miss my Grandfather and the way he lit up when the kids (or cat) would come up to visit.

There is too much to be gained by moving on. We will leave behind memories and many MANY firsts, but it's too easy to get comfortable here. It's too easy to say that this is good enough, to accept responsibility for someone's well being, when it means overlooking our own.

It's time for us to grow up and we are so very close, less than a year close... if not less than a month. It's time for us to accept responsibility as adults, as parents. To come out into the light. I say "soon" all to often with my own children, but I can without a doubt promise myself that "soon" in this context really IS right around the corner. It might not even be this house that welcomes us home, but it will be very similar if not right next door.

Come on in!

So much room to run and spin and LEAP! ((And soak, if you happen to be eyeballin' that garden tub in the master bath.))

"Dis my woom. Is not bruddah's."

And then something went "pop."

Today started off good, no, GREAT even. We were completely flying through the activities from library time, to Michael's "Passport to Fun" program and we EVEN WENT TO THE GROCERY STORE! JUST! US! GIRLS! We had a blast, we came home revved up to paint and "cwapft" (i.e. craft) and make dinner.

We went upstairs to visit "Ye Olde Man" and nab some corn he'd picked fresh from the garden. The kids were jumping off the couch (I know... I KNOW...) and we made them stop. So Lillie started sitting on the couch and letting her brother put his arms under hers and pick her up. No big deal, he's done it thousands of times before. I would still wince every time her weight would become too much for him and they'd land in a pile on the floor. Again, NO BIG DEAL. They rough house all the time... and then he turned and landed on her... and something went "pop." My daughter "popped." A cry came out of her unlike any I'd heard before. Not the shrill shriek she'd let out when Logan pinches her. Not the attention cry that all kids have. This cry was mournful and broken like she couldn't quite get her breath. I picked her up begging her to tell me where she hurt and all she could do was cry. No words, just big crocodile tears and that moaning cry. I panicked. I ran her down the stairs, texting my Husband the entire way to please oh PLEASE come out of the office ASAP, she's hurt! Even he can't get her to show him where the pain is. So I try and trick her into getting off the couch herself to see if we can pinpoint what's going on and she tries to walk, but after two limps towards me bursts out into the crocodile tears again. At this point, the Husband runs back and calls into work that he has a family emergency and we do a quick discussion over who should take her and who should stay with Lo till we find out more at the ER. I choose to stay as I'd already done one ER visit with Lo around her age and I can't handle hospitals, let alone the thought of something horrible having happened to my child while I watched oblivious as to what could happen.

I waited for answers from my Husband for what seemed like days, regretting not being there the entire time. How selfish was I to choose staying and not dragging Logan with us till someone could pick him up? It's the woulda/coulda/shouda's that make me consider teaching a "How To Succeed At Bad Parenting" course at the local rec center. The Husband managed to message me that the Doctor claimed she was favoring the opposite leg than what I'd thought, which still concerns me, and that she'd need x-rays but he didn't think it was broken. TWO HOURS LATER... x-rays revealed no breaks and the Doctor proclaimed her to be in good health aside from a possible sprain to her ankle/leg and the popping noise to be nothing more than how she fell.

While I'm glad that they sent her home all smiles and seemingly in good health, I'm still worried. I worry that the Doctor is wrong. I worry that they x-rayed the wrong leg. That they should have done both legs at the same time. That when my Daughter got down to sneak a special treat from her Pappaw tonight, she shouldn't have taken two steps and repeated the physical "crumple" and crocodile tears. I wish I didn't feel so guilty because she is in pain. I want SO badly to believe my instincts right now are dead wrong and that the Doctor is right and she will be walking pain free in a few days, my gut is murmuring something completely different.

"My bwacelet is gonna make my boo-boo all bettuh. Doctor said I "ok" and he told me go home so I can get bettuh at home. I not hurt no mo."

Day 7 & 8... High Angle and Sunset

That black lump on the floor above the piano? That's Dexter. My In-law's 13+ year old black lab. He'll put up with anything, but especially likes Lillie's rendition of "You Are My Sunshine" on ukelele. This "High Angle" shot was taken from the staircase next to their music room. The music gene runs deep in my little one. If she's not banging it out on their piano, she's playing the bongos, rattling the thunder tube, hitting the PVC "do-re-mi" pipes together, shaking the tambourine or when she thinks no one else is looking, strumming Papa's Guitars. This? Is her room in the house.


I took TWO sunset shots because a.) I'm an overachiever and b.) I didn't know which one I liked better.

Exhibit A would be "Sunset in Suburbia" on our way to the frozen yogurt place.

Shot B would be 10 minutes later (after making a wrong turn IN THE TOWN I LIVE IN... I know, THAT was a breathtakingly blonde moment even for ME.) I like that you can't make out the faces of my family, but that you can tell that they're all engaged in the conversation.

And of course tomorrow's episode of "30 Days" involves fresh fruit... which I'm pretty sure we have NONE OF and Logan SPECIFICALLY asked me for bananas tonight which I remembered at the grocery store and of COURSE forgot. SIGH. I fail at this whole parenting thing.

Day 6. Books.

To be honest, I think I might need more bookshelves. Bet you thought I was going to say I need more books. HA! The Husband would skin me alive if I brought more books into our house. I'm saving all my crack... I mean... book money for a HOUSE. Sad part? There is no part of our budget just for books... soooo... take THAT however you want.

The above image? Is maybe a 5th of that bookshelf and doesn't even give you a good idea of what the OTHER 3 bookshelves look like. Nor does it show you the two vegetable boxes of books sitting next to this shelf. Or the other boxes hidden underneath all our crap in storage.

I might have a problem.

Day 5. Breakfast.

They don't always get Cocoa Puffs... just when they're on sale and I can justify spending $1 on a big box of chocolate flavored sugar puffs. As for me? Nothing beats some Multigrain Cheerios.

Happy.

A is for AWESOME PARENTING SKILLZ

So let me just put it out there that I love Leapfrog. I had seen on my blogger list that there were some free ABC printables out there by Leapfrog, and of COURSE I had to print them all out. ((Don't worry, Husband, I did it 2 pages per sheet of paper!)) So today after the storm started dying down, we broke out our colors and got us an edumacation! You can go ahead and applaud my mad drawing skills... specifically "Animal" from the Muppets. The works of art are hanging up on their Responsibility Charts. I *knew* that bottom half wasn't just a waste of perfectly good board!

Logan Age 4

Lillie Age 2 1/2

Now... WHERE WAS I??!?

So, getting back to the 30 Day Photo Challenge about 30 days late (oops! MY BAD!)


Day 3: As I touched on with my Birthday post for Lo, he's always going. ALWAYS GOING. He gets frustrated when something (i.e. life) stands in his way and he wants to do things himself. ALWAYS. He loves to learn new things, so long as the learning process lasts all of a second or two. The one thing he's been introduced to in his short 4 years that stops him in his tracks and slows him down to the point where he can actually focus? Video games. It started out with watching his Daddy play some old school Mario Kart on his computer and a light bulb went off over my own head. I broke out and dusted off my old Dreamcast and popped in some Crazy Taxi. BOOM! I had a WHOLE NEW CHILD. It was the strangest thing to witness. Within a few days he could tell me how to get somewhere on the game faster than I could in my heydays as a gamer. No, we don't allow him to play games all the time. Yes, we allow him to play for roughly an hour each day, DEPENDING on his behavior the previous day and ONLY during "quiet time" or what we like to call nap time around these parts. He got a Leapster for his Birthday which, YES, I do allow him to play with when he's not playing the Xbox as it satisfies my want for something a little more educational than any of the games he plays on the BIG system. I'm floored how even with the Leapster he's learning faster than I can think. And yes, you are more than entitled to your opinion about letting my 4 year old play video games, but remember that I stand firm on how I choose to raise my own child. Doesn't mean you can't put up a good argument and I won't take them into consideration.


Day 4: Clouds. THIS is the view right above our entrance to our part of the house. I love the combination of trees and the coverage they give and I can't imagine how blazingly hot it would be in this house right now if we didn't HAVE this amount of shade. Did I mention my Grandfather keeps the AC on 80 degrees pretty much year round? He does. And now you know.

Breaking and Entering

When I was 4 years old, my Father hoisted me up and over into a vacant house's window. At that point, it wasn't yet our house... we were just checking it out from what I understand. I don't remember any of the events as they happened, but I've heard them enough to recount the story to you.

I can't imagine being 4, I barely remember being 24 or what happened 4 days ago. My memory? She is not very good. At 4 years old, we were living in housing "limbo." Meaning, we were HERE... at my Grandparent's house where my own family now lives 25 years later. On the day the "breaking and entering" occurred, we were house hunting the next neighborhood over from aforementioned Grandparent's house and without an agent we couldn't get in... So my Dad checked each window and finally hit the jackpot at the Master Bedroom. So, over I went! I wish I could remember if I lingered in the hallway... if I looked into what would be my bedroom... or even if I used the toilet. Any memory of the event would be nice, but I don't. I do know that my little hands managed to open the front door to allow my Parent's entry into the home so they wouldn't have to shimmy through that same window.

My Mother and Stepfather still currently live in this home, and I know there have been other times I've slipped through my bedroom window (I wasn't one of THOSE kids, it was more for fun with my friends than anything else.) It's still weird for me to think though that I was the first of our family to step foot into the home that would hold so many memories. It's where my Sister took her first steps and where countless parties have been held (I always opted for the BIGGEST most BAD ASS Birthday parties as opposed to the big $$$ gifts from my parents). It's where I shared my first real kiss... the kiss that as a teenager every thought of it brought a flush to your cheeks. It's where my Parent's marriage dissolved, my childhood pet passed, and my first car had to be towed off after being declared dead on the scene. It's also where I found out I was pregnant with Lillie.

It's strange now that I've not lived in it for so many years, to think of it as my home. It's not my home. It's not where I would raise my children. Not so much because of the memories, but more because of my own particular likes/dislikes when it comes to layout and function. That doesn't take away from the fact that in my mind it is still a shell containing so many memories. When I pull into the driveway I still think that maybe if I press my ear to the door I'll hear the sounds of a "Me" that once was, unlocking the door and welcoming me inside.

Happy Birthday to You...

7.7.2007
Happy Birthday to You...

7.7.2008
Happy Birthday to You...

7.7.2009
Happy Birthday my Baby Boy...

7.7.2010
Happy Birthday to You...

7.7.2011
And many more...

It is amazing to look back at these pictures and see such a change in you. From a bewildered newborn, to a toddler yearning to break free and run without ANY help (thank you VERY MUCH), to a 2 year old stuck somewhere between being a baby and being a BIG BOY, to a 3 and 4 year old who is bigger than his britches allow. It's hard to be your Mommy because I didn't know I could BE a Mommy to a little boy. I didn't feel equipped to nurture an infant into a man, and to be honest, sometimes I still don't. If I really want to panic, I just think that you're quarter of the way to car keys... and you already like to go fast. Again, PANIC.

You've grown so much in the past year and we are swelling with pride at all you can do because you are so passionate and impatient about learning how to do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. Sometimes it's too much for us because you are so persistent. You know what you want and you want it NOW. You've always been this way and it's ok, because you're YOU. One thing I am certain of is that even after scraped knees and temper tantrums, you pick yourself up and ask for help when it gets too hard. That alone, shows me that I'm doing something right. Sometimes it takes a few scraped knees for Mommy to ask for help too. You are amazing with your Sister, who half the time wants nothing to do with you, and while it breaks your heart at times you still try... unless one of you breaks out your claws. Unfortunately, that whole sibling thing never goes away. She's always going to be your baby Sister and she is always going to expect you to play the part of the "Knight in Shining Armor" when you play dress up with her. You don't realize it yet, but this past year marks a point in your life where she's been more a part of your life than not. You probably don't even remember life without her.

I love you, sweetest boy. I hope you know that even if I end up doing everything else wrong, I will always love you with all of my heart.

My heart soars...

because it is free of anxiety. Now if I can just get my brain back into writing mode. It'll happen people, soon! Please don't give up on my little bloggy blog blog!