SweetScooterBickses

Sifting Is A Slow Business

2012-01-13T06:49:00.015-05:00

My darling Nibblet has recently past another big milestone, inspired by the increasing number of "wild woman hair" days.

We've loved our girl's wispy, fine, long hair, but it was taking longer and longer to tame it, making both Mommy and daughter a little tense during the process. Then within an hour or two it would slip out of the clips and rubber bands and get a nice film of jam on it. And I discovered it was the terror of both the grandmothers when they offered to keep the kids. Not the possible tantrums or hideous poopie accidents or sibling squabbles ... nope, just dealing with Elsbeth's hair.

So we had girls' only outing to our local Great Clips.

I vividly remember holding Andrew down with all my might while he screamed and flailed hysterically during his first hair cut. I can't believe the poor guy cutting it didn't run away, or at least slice off Andrew's ear of something. It was awful. And he's by far the milder personality, so I wasn't sure how this event was going to go down with The Fiery One. But she was perfect! She waited patiently and was stoic during the cut, except for a few really hilarious smirks in my direction. I think having seen Andrew go through this on multiple occasions (and thankfully he's fine with it at this point) and having full confidence that a lolly pop awaited her at the end made all the difference.

Phil especially misses it long, but the cut is really sweet. And MUCH more manageable.

Nothing quite so baby-book worthy happening with my boy. Just growing up fast and getting cuter by the day. Here he is in the sweater vest his Nannie gave him for Christmas. He just loves it and declares he will wear it every single weekend.

Don't get me wrong ... he still has plenty of moments. Complete meltdown because we're out of peanut butter. Knocking his sister flat because he thought maybe she was thinking about messing up his project (and let's be honest ... she probably was). Sending him up to get dressed for school and finding him 25 minutes later sitting naked on his bed with a magazine. But his new favorite game is Chess. How adorable is that?! It's this awesome version that he got for Christmas that is perfect for beginners. (Thanks again, Nannie!) Seriously, I'm learning the game along with him and it's super fun. Everyone should run out and get it.

He also started asking me tons of questions about death recently. Not exactly what you imagine talking to your 5-year-old about for an hour, but he had some really insightful questions. When his chin started quivering as he asked what would happen to him if I died and left him without a Mommy (ahhh!), I decided to turn the conversation in a more hopeful direction and mentioned the second coming of Christ as a pretty awesome death alternative. Well he got so beautifully and sincerely excited about that, he could barely go to sleep that night. Now every night he requests we pray that Jesus will come back, and his "good night" to me ends with "see you in the morning ... or in the clouds!" Gave me a much richer understanding of Christ's desire for us to have the faith of a child. I sure could use a dose of that.

Here's The Precious enjoying the last drops of his mint chocolate chip ice cream from, I kid you not, an African-American Jewish vegan soul food restaurant we discovered not far from downtown. Come and visit and we'll take you! My favorite is the country-fried chicken platter with rice and gravy.

New subject: I want a pig. Now, before you say that I'm crazy, just look at this face!

Doesn't that make you want a pig?

Yes it does.

Yes it does.

Oh come on, you hard-hearted souls! Pigs are awesome! And I really want one. My dear friend Julianne knows this and sent me information about a 1-year-old pink female pot bellied pig that needed a home and I was seriously this close to getting it. Right before e-mailing the owner back to arrange a pick-up time, I was doing a little research on the type of ramps I would need so Zhu Zhu could get around appropriately and happened upon a site that had a "Things You Should Know Before Getting A Pig" section that I foolishly decided to read. It went something like this: "Pot bellied pigs are pretty much the most amazing and adorable animals you could ever have in the world and they'll make your whole life better in every possible way except for this one little itsy bitsy issue of them getting kind of wildly AGGRESSIVE if there's only one of them so you'll have to make sure you have at least two." Snif. My dear husband was actually considering letting me have one pig ... but two pigs that could get up to about 120 pounds each tromping in and out of the house on a series of ramps was, well, a little much. And as much as it pained me (and pained me it certainly did), I had to agree. For now.

Plus he pointed out that he had recently allowed the acquisition an adorable but very nearly feral kitten. Here's Mr. Tumnus smack in the middle of our Christmas tree. If you look closely, you can see his wild eyes peeking out at the right.

To further assuage my sorrow, Phil has promised me that in the spring we can have ... wait for it ... chickens!!! I am wild with delight!!! Stay tuned for more chicken updates and start making fridge space of all the awesome fresh eggs I'll have to share.

Oh! And I keep forgetting, but several of you have asked me to share some of my favorite new vegetarian recipes. I'm going to try to remember to post a new one at the end of my blogs from now on. This one is from this really great vegetarian cookbook my sister-in-law Sallie gave me for my birthday. I love it. I'm really getting into lentils, and thus far this is my favorite way to cook them. Beware, though, if you're new to lentils. You do have to sift through them and pick out small rocks that get mixed in. Chomping down on a pebble kind of ruins the moment.

Lentil Soup with Barley

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 large onion, finely chipped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 celery stalks, finely diced
2 medium carrots, peeled and diced
1 1/4 cups dried lentils, picked over and rinsed
1/3 cup barley (or brown rice)
2 vegetable bouillon cubes
2 tsp. salt-free all-purpose seasoning (I found this jar of Italian seasoning in my cabinet which has worked fine)
3 tsp. poultry seasoning
2 bay leaves
salt and pepper to taste (Don't hold back on the salt!)

Heat the oil in a soup pot. Add the onion and garlic and saute over medium heat until translucent. Add the celery and carrots and saute for 3 to 4 minutes longer.

Add 7 cups of water and the remaining ingredients, except the salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer, then cover and simmer until the lentils and vegetables are tender, 30 to 40 minutes. (Do make sure the lentils are tender! Sometimes they take a little longer.)

Season with salt and pepper. If time allows, this soup benefits from standing for 1 hour or so before serving to develop flavor. Heat through as needed and remove bay leaves before serving.

Enjoy!

Candy, Candy Canes, Candy Corns and Syrup

2011-12-30T22:02:00.011-05:00

This was my favorite out-take from Christmas card photo attempts. I just noticed that they're holding hand here ... awwww! Anyway, if you didn't get a Christmas card from me (and you cared anything about getting one) I'm so sorry. My super duper organized way of handling Christmas mailings is to grab a box of cards from Target and just start sending them until they're gone. I don't think I'm going to be CEO of anything at any point. Ever.

This year's Christmastime for us was really sweet. We did our second annual trip to Thompson's Tree Farm and picked out this little guy, whom Elsbeth named "Sky." Isn't that awesome?! I have hope that deep down inside this girl who loves princesses, fancy dresses and sparkly shoes is a hippie chic just waiting to burst out. :-)

We got to enjoy all the extended Mobley family in Aiken the week before Christmas. Andrew's finger wasn't quite in his nose here, for which we can all be grateful. And don't miss my darling new nephew, baby Jay, nestled in Jessie's arms.

The cousins got some good play time in. Cute! I'm trying to get Jeff and Jessie to move closer so they can hang out more.

OK, so I realize that I'm not exactly a bastion of normalcy, but even I can't quite wrap my head around this one. Below is a photo of Papa. Laying in the middle of the floor. In the living room. In the middle of a big family Christmas gathering. A bunch of Mobleys just sitting around, chatting and hanging out and generally being merry and in strolls Papa. He proceeds to lay down on the rug, hands symetrically placed upon his chest, and is perfectly still with his eyes closed for quite some time. Nap? Deep meditation? Finding his happy place in the midst of the chaos? I have no idea, but it made me deeply happy. It also makes me happy that I was the only one in the group who even took notice of this bizarre event.

We got home from the Aiken festivities just in time for Phil to squeeze in a spot of surgery before the big day. He had been in severe back pain for weeks and really wasn't nearly as amusing on the narcotics as I had hoped, so finding this opening with a great surgeon was a wonderful Christmas present. Dr. Rhee told me the disc herniation was "massive," so I guess he wasn't just being a giant baby when he was crawling around on the floor yelling in the middle of the night trying to find a way to get back up in bed. That was all really super fun, by the way.

My mom, dad and brother all made the trek to see us for Christmas, bless 'em. Actually, my mom and Bradley came early (dad was working) to take care of my wee ones so I could be with Phil at this hospital. I cannot begin to express my gratitude!

Phil's recovery went (and has continued to go) very, very well, so we were all able to enjoy a wonderful Christmas together.

Andrew decided he was too busy to help me make sugar cookies on Christmas Eve, so Bradley stepped in to lend a hand. He's too sexy for my kitchen, too sexy for my kitchen ....

We could barely find the children under the wrapped boxes on Christmas morning, which delighted them.

I gave Bradley a box full of disguise material, which I'm pretty sure was a stroke of genius. I cannot wait to hear the stories of the ways in which he decides to use this stuff.

My parents brought Sofie a catnip cigar, which if you know Sofie at all, is one of the most hilarious things ever.

Huh. I'm out of pictures, so I guess that's it for this post. I hope all of you loved ones had a beautiful, meaningful Christmas and that 2012 is your best year yet! I also hope when I go to get Elsbeth up from rest time momentarily that I don't find a poop explosion that requires a special, middle-of-the-day bath like yesterday.

Sometimes We Just Have To Put Dick Scroggins In The Closet

2011-12-02T11:24:00.009-05:00

Too many glorious adventures, too little time to write about them!

First off, surprising Andrew with a trip to Disney World was just the best thing ever. Poor guy was so confused when we dragged him out of bed at 4:45am and started throwing clothes on him. "Why are you dressing me in the middle of the night," he asked with half-open eyes and sincere bewilderment. Below is the video clip of me telling him where we were taking him. I'm not sure if it will play (Blogger video technology often eludes me), and even if it does play, the audio is really low.

Basically he just does this little crazy arm dance a few times, then gets serious trying to figure out all the logistics.

Disney World was more crowded than we were hoping for, but in the end it didn't matter. We had a blast.

Our Precious can be a timid soul, so we really didn't know what he was going to love and what he was going to shy away from. Right after entering the park, we saw a show going on in front of Cinderella's Castle. He dug it until the witch from Snow White made an appearance, then he was done with that, and actually had zero interest in shows from that point on. He didn't give a rat's behind about the parades. He enjoyed Small World, the Tea Cups, Peter Pan's Flight and Dumbo. But what he loved, what he couldn't get enough of, was Splash Mountain and Thunder Mt. Railroad. The faster and wilder the ride, the better. If he was tall enough, I'm certain he would have loved Space Mountain.

OK, so the quality of the photo below leaves a little to be desired, but I want the world at large* to see with their own eyeballs what my husband was doing ... on a ride in Disney World ... sitting next to his beloved son. Enjoying the wind in his face? Capturing the look of glee on Andrew's face in his mind?

Oh no. He'd be the guy checking Facebook.

I would like for you to all click over to your Facebook accounts right now and status update what you think of this. (But only if it's dripping with sarcasm and negativity.) (And then un-friend him so he won't have a reason to check it anymore.)

Anyway, back to Disney World. Not only was it full of amazing rides, but treats upon treats as well!

Seriously, that cinnamon roll was as big as my head. (Andrew saw Goofy take a picture holding one of his ears in the air, so he decided to try it for his "insanely unhealthy but fabulous breakfast" photo shoot.)

Is it any wonder that he spent hours on Nina's couch throwing up? Actually, that happened days after our trip, so I don't think we can blame the sugar. But it was crazy that it's been almost a year since we've been to Nina and Pa's house and we all caught a stomach bug last time! Thankfully, he kept his pitiful tummy situation to himself, but we all felt really sorry for him as we chucked crackers and Sprite in his direction from a crack in the kitchen door.

The healthy folk had a glorious time cooking ginger bread Mickeys with Nina. We also had some deep discussions about which end of Mickey you should start eating first if desiring the most humane end for the famous mouse.

The next day Andrew felt great, so we went to Wacatee Zoo, one of my favorite places, because you get to see a whole lot of this:

And now a quick catch up of some additional Preciousness I failed to post earlier.

Andrew had a Veteran's Day program at his school and had to dress in his "performance wear." I could just keel over from the astounding levels of adorableness here.

His class did a series of patriotic songs, and I tried to take some video with my phone, but shockingly it didn't turn out so well. So I talked Andrew into giving me a solo performance in the living room.

And finally, Andrew's class did a whole big thing for Thanksgiving, weeks of preparations making place mats and headdresses and costumes for their big feast with the first grade Pilgrims. For the month of November, Andrew was called by his Native American name "Hugging Bear." Here he is with his teacher, "Chief Faithful Friend." I swoon.

*All four of you currently following my blog I shall now and evermore refer to as "the world at large." I hope this makes you feel important.

I've Got A Fever, And The Only Prescription Is More Cowbell

2011-11-02T21:08:00.009-05:00

It all started out so innocently. Elsbeth wanted to paint her tiny pumpkin.

Then she wanted Mommy to paint pictures on her arms.

Then Mommy's tea kicked in ... and things started getting out of hand.

Oh my. I had such fun.

I love having kids that let me do stuff like this.

All that and it wasn't even Halloween yet!

Andrew saw The Mickey Mouse Club for the first time many months ago at Dr. Robinson's office while getting his teeth cleaned, and thus began his obsession with Mickey Mouse. Of course, Elsbeth quickly fell in line and became obsessed with Minnie Mouse. Now the Mickey Mouse Club is the regular choice for TV time, I wake up at night with "The Hot Dog Dance" stuck in my head, Els and Andrew can spot Mickey ears from any distance in any store, and they both carry their stuffed mice (back from Phil's Orlando conference) with them all day long. It all made for a really stinkin' adorable Halloween.

We did our annual tour of the McSchnazzy's fabulous neighborhood (thanks for having us, Dave and Ami!) I appreciate that my friends have really cute, sweet kids.

This picture just made me happy.

My Precious doesn't know it yet, but we're surprising him with a trip to Disney World in a couple weeks. We leave the Sunday before Thanksgiving and we're not going to tell him 'til we're on our way to the airport. How fun is that?! The Fiery One is staying with Nannie and Papa so it will be just the three of us. We are really excited. :)

Phil's boss has 5 kids, and every time one of them turned 5, it was their year to have Disney World (and Mom and Dad) all to themselves. We thought this was such a neat idea and decided years ago we were going to steal it. Our sweet Nibblet won't miss us at all ... she'll be having her own version of Disney World with her Nannie and Papa. I might miss her a smidge, though.

Got Monks?

2011-10-01T19:46:00.006-05:00

I haven't done this in so long, I'm not sure I remember how. I think I'm just going to post a whole bunch of pictures (some kinda old) and maybe say something about them. Should be riveting.

Ohhh! This is a good one! This is our newest member of the family: Mr. Tumnus. We've had him just over a week. He is adorable and so very sweet. Right now he's asleep on Phil's lap, but he's just as likely to be trying to catch Shiloh's tail, trying passionately to get to our breakfast cereal, or curled up next to Andrew during rest time.

I just love this face. She has been such a hoot lately with all the crazy made-up games she wants to play! This morning she and I were sitting inside Andrew's closet (the zoo) so she could release animals from the humidifier I keep there (elephants, giraffes and tigers) and feed them beans and popcicles. Does it get any better than that?

A couple weeks ago we went to visit my wonderful Burlington family. Have I mentioned before how much I love my cousin Ashton? Here she is on a train ride with Andrew.

And hanging with her girl.

Didn't I marry a good-looking man? Yep. I thought he looked particularly stunning riding on Uncle Ron and Aunt Gayle's boat this summer. I love a man who can grow a good burn.

A little Sprite ad.

We had such a good time - thanks a million Ron and Gayle!

And here are some pictures from our trip to Myrtle Beach with my family back in July ....

I just love my Aunt Leslie. I really wish she didn't live all the way in PA. Here she is telling us all about how her face is falling off. It was a gripping and terrifying tale.

Andrew was a crazy wave-jumping fool this time around, which is extremely helpful when trying to enjoy a beach trip with young children.

Here's Phil ordering pizza from notes made on the Magnadoodle. Funny! (Maybe you had to be there.)

Cutie patootie.

Let's end on a high note ... my Mom doing push ups before going down the the ocean. Isn't' she awesome?! I can't remember now if she ended up doing 0 or 1, but it totally brightened my day.

I may have just beaten my own record of random and disheveled blog posts.

It Can Reach The Piglett?

2011-08-28T19:31:00.003-05:00

The Fiery One and I have really been enjoying our girly mornings together. Last week we went wild and decided to alter a yummy plum bread recipe and make it into peach muffins instead - a pretty big risk for me. The muffins ended up stuck fast to the pan, but the pieces we pulled out were mighty tasty. Els was the official peach taster during this project and she did a swell job. She even left just enough fruit for the muffins. (PS - The plum bread is delicious but tends not to get done in the middle ... one of the reasons for making the switch to a muffin tin.)

Another morning we spent walking the isles of Costco. Phil has decided Costco's official motto should be "It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time." I think of it as I strain my back unloading giant flats of Gatorade and 12-pound sacks of raisins. And I seem to be going through a phase where every time I go out shopping I think to myself, "Hmmm, I do believe we're out of toilet cleaner" and grab a couple bottles. So, naturally, I find myself dragging a 10-pack of Lysol toilet gel around the house only to find every cabinet loaded down with the Clorox toilet gel I was compelled to buy last time.

Anyway, while I was there I noticed they were selling Carter's footed fleece pajamas in both 3T and 5T (yes, my girl is already growing out of her 2T clothes!), and The Precious had recently been talking about how excited he was going to be to wear footed whambones again. I don't know why they thrill his soul so, but he wore the feet right out of the ones I finally tracked down in 4T last year. So I grabbed a pair for each of them. Elsbeth had to hold hers all through the store and in the car on the way home, and Andrew went nutty nuts when he saw them after school. My two children spend the entire Georgia August afternoon gleefully tearing around the house in fleece footed pajamas with sweaty heads and rosy cheeks. Andrew and I had a bit of a battle over whether or not he was wearing them to sleep, but I won in the end because I'm bigger and pretty committed to him not having a heat stroke.

Speaking of weird kids, I think Elsbeth may have gotten the Fisher Crazy Gene like her mother before her. I believe she and I are going to share the same odd sense of humor and random wackiness - whoo hoo! A small sampling:

During snack time at the zoo: "Mommy, I want you to take a picture of me eating my pretzels." OK, no problem.

A couple days ago in the kitchen: She declares she and Minnie Mouse must sing the ABC song together upside down. Alrighty then.

She says hilarious things all the time which I kick myself for not writing down. She regularly fixes me tea and treats in her little kitchen and beams when Andrew includes her in his games (the most recent favorite, playing bears in a kitchen-chair-and-blanket bear cave that come running out to feast on Mommy's legs until she tickles them and sends them shrieking back to their hideout).

And ... drum roll please ... she is now sleeping in a big girl bed! We made the switch this weekend and she has been so excited about it. Here she is all set for night night sleepy time on Saturday night:

She's done so well. There's a little built-in rail, so I haven't had the fun of hunting for her in the middle of the night like I did Andrew. Tonight I heard something strange after putting her down and discovered she'd reached under her bed and pulled up the toy baskets stored there. She was waist-deep in blocks and Lego's having grand old time. I think I'll find another spot for those. Other than that, the transition has been perfect. And adorable.

Um...So...It Isn't The Cutest Alpaca Ever? With His Little Toofies?

2011-08-14T20:36:00.005-05:00

As if life could be improved upon after Chuck E Cheese and miniature golf, Andrew has decided earthly joy has now peaked with the arrival of kindergarten. There he is above, posing at the end of his first day (Wednesday) with Mrs. Funk and his freshly decorated gingerbread man.

That morning he skipped down the stairs at 7 o'clock on the dot, ready for a bowl of cereal and anxious to put on the new belt we got as part of his uniform. He didn't want any help getting ready (I found a belt with a magnetic clap - glory be!) and I was so delighted when he ran into the kitchen like this:

Oh my. Oh my oh my oh my. So cute, my heart nearly burst. We decided to try to the shirt the other way, just so we could take in all our options, and ultimately felt having the buttons in the front might be handy. By 7:36 we were walking down Lula Street, backpack securely fastened, lunch box tucked inside containing a granola bar, Mandarin oranges and some cranberry juice, Elsbeth contentedly riding along in the jogging stroller.

I knew he'd be a little timid going in, but he actually did better than I thought! I love this precious, anxious little face trying to smile for a picture before I left, but not quite able to get one out over the butterflies:

Elsbeth and I had a low key morning of kitchen clean-up, bed-making, and some story time thrown in for a little spice. I must have looked at the clock 80 times. He really isn't gone all that long - I pick him up at noon - but after 5 years of him as my constant shadow, it was just so very strange not to have him there!

When Els and I showed up to get him, he was sitting outside in the hallway with all his classmates waiting to go, and I'm happy to report that he shrieked with glee to see me. Before I left him in the morning, I told him to try to remember everything he did because I was going to be so excited to hear all about it. After the grin and happy shriek and his wild delight to show me his gingerbread craft, I was waiting for a bubbly report on our walk home. As soon as we exited the building, I smiled at him at said, "So, how was it?" His little face got all serious and he looked down and replied, "Well, I don't know." My worried eyebrows appeared. "Did you not like school?" I asked. His face brightened again straight away. "Oh yes! It was great! I'm just not sure if I remember everything." :-)

Let me just say how thrilled beyond words I am to have his sweet little school that offers a 4-day-a-week, 3.5 hour-a-day kindergarten THAT WE CAN WALK TO! I'm a little obsessed with the walking, I have to confess. It's just over a mile and uphill most of the way there and sometimes Andrew feels the need to say things like, "You know, if we had driven, we'd be there by now" or pitch himself in the grass to rest ...

... but it's just so fabulous! And Friday we stopped by Mr. Ruling's place on the way home to get eggs from his chickens and had scrambled eggs for lunch. It's been a good week. (Except for all the poop on Friday, but I won't soil this post with reality.)

It's Not In My Nature To Be Mysterious, But I Can't Talk About It, And I Can't Talk About Why

2011-08-02T14:56:00.010-05:00

It happened this past Saturday. My boy is a whole handful of fingers now. The big cinco. And he starts KINDERGARTEN NEXT WEDNESDAY! This is a whole lot of bigness to take in during one 10-day period.

We decided this year to just make his day just a fun day with us. No official party, just 12-hours during which we pretty much catered to his every whim. He seemed OK with that. His morning started with a bang - orange frosted cinnamon rolls!

Then his first present: A giant National Geographic wall map of the world. For months he's been very interested in locating any new place being discussed, but he's been limited to searching on a little stuffed globe his Nina gave him when he was two. It was time to move on.

After breakfast the family took a trip up I-85 to the Mayfield Dairy Plant. I've been wanting to take him there for about a year. They do tours at this plant and I just knew he was going to be mesmerized by all the bottling machinery and dairy processing. In reality, however, the tour was really lame. A video. Then you look through a couple of windows at some vats where they pasteurize milk (nothing in motion). You look through another window at a truck hooked up to a hose. The grand finale: Another video. But we got the kids some ice cream at the end and they got to take a picture by a giant cow in the baking sun, so it wasn't a total loss.

After chugging back down I-85 for a while, enjoying the a/c and listening to Neil Diamond, we went out for pizza at Antico, pretty much the most awesome pizza you will ever experience in your whole life. And they import their cheese from buffaloes in Italy, and we're pretty sure if you're a cheese producing buffalo in Italy, you're probably pretty happy. I mean, who'd bother a buffalo anywhere? Not me. And if you're a human who gets to live in Italy, you must be so amazingly happy just to be there they you wouldn't ever consider abusing a buffalo, would you? And that's just one other reason we love Antico. For the happy buffaloes.

Here's Andrew with his best pal, Mickey, watching pizza dough being tossed up in the air while awaiting our own margherita pie. Mickey is a constant fixture under Andrew's arm these days. I couldn't find Andrew today when trying to get everybody in the car for a market run, and that's because he was upstairs bandaging Mickey's arm. He had apparently suffered quite the abrasion playing with sidewalk chalk this morning on the driveway.

After pizza, we stopped home long enough to leave Daddy with a resting little sister, and The Precious and I headed out to Chuck E Cheese. Only the love of a mother for her son. And then, only on his birthday. I got a Sprite and 25 tokens and that $8.50 bought one birthday boy an hour's worth of glee. The highlight was when Andrew hit the jackpot on the Monster Truck game and 200 tickets came flying out!

And I had been just pondering all these "games" and their "jackpots" and was pretty sure that no one had ever landed a jackpot in Chuck E Cheese in all this history of the world. The tickets kept coming out for so long that Andrew started to get pretty stressed about it. But in the end, all those tickets bought him a bag of cotton candy and he couldn't wait to get home and tell Dad all about his big win.

We got home and had birthday cupcakes, strawberry with butter cream frosting per his request. I took a little video of us singing to him, and our quirky little man didn't let us down.

After cupcakes, there were more presents (his own alarm clock, a board game and a Hard Hat Harry video all about garbage and recycling (whoo hoo!). Then it was off with Mommy again for supper at McDonald's (french fries and apple slices ... please don't call the supper police) then miniature golf at this awesome little place only 10 miles away that I just found out existed.

Speaking of golf, My Precious just loves watching golf. Very weird. Phil is actually taking the day off on Monday to take Andrew to a practice round of the PGA Tour! And we think he's going to enjoy it! And he's now just wild over putt putt and can't wait 'til he's old enough to go smack the ball as hard as he can at a real course. A while back my father graciously gave us some child-size clubs that were my brother Andrew's when he was little, so in another couple years I hope my own Andrew will be big enough (and still interested enough) to enjoy them. Snif.

And here's a fun story .... I was recently giving Elsbeth a bath when I realized that the kids' toilet was due for it's bi-annual cleaning. I squirted some soap in and was leaving it to do something important when Andrew saw it and asked to help. I decided a big 5-year-old might be able to handle such an important chore, so he ran off after the brush. After several minutes of him scrubbing away with me giving minimal instruction from my comfortable perch by the tub, I told him he was doing a fantastic job and all I needed to do was show him how to squirt the cleaner in and he could take over potty cleansing duty for the house. He was delighted and replied with glee, "Yes! I could do it all by myself and you could go read a book!"

That's my boy.

Happiest of happy birthdays to you, The Cutest Boy In The World!

Left Leg Lazy Lion Licks A Lolly Pop

2011-07-08T19:32:00.007-05:00

Ah, summer. We're so very glad for the pool a half mile away. For the most part, Elsbeth enjoys the stairs and flits up and down them with her crab kick board in hand. Sometimes she'll pop into her little ring float and swim around all by her onsie.

Andrew is doing great with his swimming. Yea! He's constantly leaping off the wall and diving board. If I hear him shrieking for help, I can be certain it's because water has gotten into his goggles, which apparently feels like molten lava.

My Nib has recently discovered the joys of disrobing during nap time. This is how I found her last week:

She had managed to get her favorite dress off, then back on backwards and inside out, part of the skirt pull through one of the arms holes, and the other arm completely missing the opening. It was fabulous. Clearly she was far to busy to actually sleep.

The kids and I ran a fun errand a couple days ago to pick out a new fish for our little pond. After considerable debate, we selected a lively speckled guy that Andrew named Phil.

Andrew was so excited about Phil, running out to check on him, calling to him when he was hiding under the lilly pads. After putting the kids down, I went to look for Phil since we hadn't seen him all day. I ended up finding him dead in the filter system. :-( The taller, warmer and considerably more alive Phil won't let me run out to buy another fish before Andrew notices, so I'm afraid of a few tears when he finds out. I'm also anticipating lots of discussion about fish in heaven, spiritual fish bodies, and the like.

In happier wildlife news, the billions of tadpoles in our Pond of Death have escaped just in the nick of time and now our yard is packed with tiny wee frogs. Aren't they the cutest?

Andrew just loves them. He's great at catching them, often putting them back in the pond to watch them swim around. Elsbeth prefers to look at them from afar. Probably best for the frogs that she doesn't want to hold them. I think they're such fun. I do have anxieties when the lawn is being mowed, though.

Would You Call Me Cordelia?

2011-06-09T20:32:00.008-05:00

Phil had a Saturday morning commitment a couple weeks ago, so the kids and I scooted out to Southern Belle Farms again, this time after their blackberries. Good news: Unlike wild blackberries, these farmed ones do not have thorns! Bad news: Though it had been cloudy the whole ride down, the sun came beating down mercilessly upon our backs as soon as we stepped into the field, and all the ripe berries were hiding deep inside the bushes. We had to bag our original plan of picking 2 giant buckets. Instead we knelt on sweaty knees and cursed the one bottomless bucket that haunted us row after row.

But the kids were great and we really did have fun. Especially after we were back in the shade with icees in hand, a bucket of fat berries waiting for us in the car.

One of my rules for myself as a mother is to try hard not to pass on any of my neuroses to my children. It seems only fair that they get to pick out their own. The area where I've felt this most keenly is with the bugs. More specifically, with the giant, horrible roaches that occasionally get in the house. I realize that they are the trade-off for not living in the ridiculous frozen tundra of the north where no man (or bug) was ever meant to inhabit, but it doesn't mean I can't be very, very scared of them.

So a few mornings ago I was getting Elsbeth up and a roach went tromping through her bathroom like a big, fat, dirty, hairy old man in smelly slippers and a mustard-encrusted bathrobe with a limp cigarette hanging out of his mouth tromping through a cute little girl's bathroom. I quickly ran my Nibblet down the stairs and got her set up with her cereal, then slowly climbed the stairs again armed with an old Real Simple magazine. (No Raid on the premises, and though I was sorely tempted to do my whole "bowl over the bug until Phil gets home" thing, I was afraid it would get out, hide in a toy bin, then come out at night and chew on my daughter's feet.) Andrew was right on my heels, very excited. I said something to him to the effect of, "OK, so there's a big bug up here that we need to get, and Mommy might scream a little bit because it's freaks her out, but I want you to know that it's just a bug and it cannot hurt you. There is no reason whatsoever to be afraid of these things. They're just kind of gross and sometimes Mommy is a little silly about them."

At first we couldn't find it and Andrew was devastated, but after some timid searching, the monster waddled out from beside Elsbeth's crib. I threw the magazine on top of it, but I knew that wouldn't be enough to end the beast.

"Now I'm going to jump on top of the magazine and I'm going to have to scream while I do it, but I'm totally fine, OK?"

So I did it and yelled and did a spastic tippy-toe dance all over roachzilla's face, then I had to run back downstairs to check on Els and decompress after all the stress. Andrew was mesmerized by the scene and didn't seem to be at all traumatized. In fact, after Phil flatly refused to come home and clean it up (rat fink), I paid Andrew in candy to do it. And he handled the situation valiantly. Who says high fructose corn syrup on a stick at 9am is a bad idea? Morons, that's who.

When not discarding large insect carcasses, The Precious can be found playing Yahtzee, his new passion. I just love hearing him say, "Hmmmm, 2 fours and 2 twos ... I think I'll go for a full house." So cute. Tonight before bed he requested I pray that Jesus let him have a bird for a friend in heaven and stated matter-of-factly that he would have to teach it how to play Yahtzee. "He'll have to use his beak to pour the dice out of the cup," he tells me.

This year our church has planted a community garden right next to the playground. All the produce goes to a local ministry that helps families in need - pretty neat. There isn't a whole lot of outreach going on in my world these days, but the kids and I do love to play with a water hose on a hot day, so we're in charge of Monday watering.

I think it's going to be very educational for me. Andrew really wanted to plant something in our yard early this spring, so we let him pick out a few packets of seeds and Phil tilled up a little spot. Take a look at our awesome vegetable garden!

What do you mean you don't see it? Back there, behind the bushes in that shady grove under the giant oak.

In our (very weak) defense, the leaves in the trees hadn't fully grown back at the time of our planting, but yes, I am a little bit of a amateur when it comes to, you know, growing things. But I'm learning! And look at this brave little blade of a corn plant. Talk about perseverance in the face of adversity! And shade! There's so much you can learn from a garden.

My Next Car Will Be A Transvestite Old ... I Was Scared When She Drove Her Loneliness

2011-05-25T13:00:00.009-05:00

Ah, dear Edisto. How it pained us to leave you! Your sandy beaches, soothing waves, and giant, giant beach house with it's own elevator, pool and hot tub call to us still.

When we first arrived, I thought the hot tub was sort of a superfluous addition to the fine, fancy house Nannie and Papa so generously rented for everyone. (Thank you!) But the first 3 days were cool, especially with the sea breezes and all, so the hot tub (or "tiny pool" as Els referred to it) became the kids' very favorite place to be. Uncle David didn't mind it, either.

Poor Elsbeth got chilled after a nippy walk on the beach (during which she fell into the drink), then a dip in the not-yet-properly-heated "tiny pool", followed by several minutes on the very windy porch while Mommy ran around looking for a towel. I bundled her in everything I could find and she still shivered through most of her lunch.

Here's My Precious having some quiet time before bed reading an animal encyclopedia on this super nifty swing/hammock thing. He and I are conspiring to talk Daddy into getting one of these for our own porch.

The last half of our week there got deliciously warm. We took many long walks on the beach where we saw hundreds of horseshoe crabs, a couple star fish, pelicans fishing, and porpoises playing very close to shore. The walks were my very favorite thing.

We also built many an awesome sand village, always well fortified, yet never quite able to withstand the tide.

I actually love the little mismatched boy's swimsuit ensemble that TFO is sporting in these pictures, but I'll have you know she also wore some really adorable (and feminine) little bathing suits. At least she had the pink hat. I have amazingly few snapshots of our beach week. Who wants to tote around a camera where there are waves and sand around? So much fun to be had as well as so many elements to destroy a camera, especially when one is a clumsy ox prone to dropping said camera.

Bye-bye east coast. See you again in July!

I'm Allergic To Fingers

2011-05-13T13:59:00.009-05:00

Alrighty, I have 4.7 minutes to make this blog post. I'm supposed to be packing for a week at the beach we're leaving for in the morning, but I'm already so horribly behind.

So, first things first ...

I love this man! I had had sort of a crumby day and it was late and I suddenly felt desperate for a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. I also really wanted to see if his hair would go into pigtails. It did. Nicely. And to cheer me up he went to Kroger like this to get me my cereal. Quote of the night: "What if a little old lady stops me and tells me I'm an abomination?"

Nannie came to visit us for a few days before Easter and, as always, it was like Disney World came to us. The highlight was the day at the Aquarium.

I couldn't believe how mesmerized Elsbeth was with all the fish. I think she sat in front of one of the giant tanks for over 30 minutes.

Easter was lovely. Very relaxed morning, worshipful church service, then Nina and Pa came for a visit!

I tried my hand at a bunny cake. I think we can all agree my fears about the Thomas cake were well founded.

Pa probably had to sleep for a week to recover from all the attention he got while he was here.

Els went nuts for her Pa. He had to be looking at her or playing with her at all times, and her sensibilities were all disturbed if he dared leave the room.

After all the glorious grandparent fun was over, we staved off depression with a day at Southern Belle Farms picking strawberries.

Big fun! Both kids did such a good job this year. Els needed a little help picking from the top of the berry instead of squeezing it hard in the middle, but otherwise it was perfect. As was the homemade strawberry ice cream.

And as a little side note, my Fiery One is so cute when she's napping.

The only problem is that if she sleeps too late, she has a hard time at night night sleepy time. So sometimes I have to wake her up. Which sometimes makes her feel like this.

Which is how I feel when people wake me up from naps, too.

Oh, and a funny Andrew story. So he's totally obsessed with this iPhone game called Angry Birds (not Angry Pigs as I referred to it in an earlier post). Phil put the free version of this game on my iPod touch and Andrew can work this thing about a thousand times better than I can. This was brought fully to my attention when I checked my e-mail a couple days ago and found a charge from iTunes for some upgraded version of the bitter bird game. Can you belive this?! I had to sit down with Andrew and tell him he needs to ask me before he does anything on my iPod that requires a password.

I Thought You Were A Paper Bag

2011-04-19T14:48:00.032-05:00

My darling Nibblet, fieriest of Fiery Ones, turned the big TWO last Saturday! It was a week-long celebration full of cake and toys and singing, as any birthday week should be.

Her official party was on Saturday, featuring some so-so pizza (note to self ... never again buy pizza topped with eggplant!), a Thomas cake, and a few friends and their parents.

I was all geared up to try to make a giant Thomas face out of icing, but as the day approached, I felt more and more certain that it would end up ghoulish and terrifying. I envisioned a crowd of toddlers grinning in eager anticipation as the cake was brought out, only to moments later all burst into fearful shrieks and sobs and run away. So it was a relief when my friend Rachel gave me the idea of just using a toy. Whew! So much less counseling in the long run.

Here's big brother helping Mommy with the frosting.

And later helping Daddy put together Elsbeth's little playhouse, her gift from us.

Earlier in the week we hosted playgroup at our house - I think the final kid count was 15! - that included a vat of macaroni and cheese and cupcakes.

For some unknown but hilarious reason, Elsbeth calls cupcakes "buttcakes" and for days after the playgroup party she kept saying, "Happy birthday buttcakes turn candle off." It was funny every time.

Amazingly, even with 15 kids plus mommies, we had a few buttcakes left over, so we made them the grand finale to our Stone Mountain picnic the next day.

I can't believe how much this girl has changed in the last year. I found myself thinking of her as 2-years-old months ago with all her talking and independence. She's gone from demanding to be on my hip every moment to running and leaping and saying, "Do it self!" with fierce determination. She has gotten quite tall (we'll see just how tall in a couple weeks) and her few wisps have grown long and are slowly getting thicker. She has 12 teeth, soon to add the 4 canines currently pushing their way through. She loves music and can (I think) sing the whole alphabet song herself. She's also really into her books these days and often wants to hold one to read "by self" while I read her another one. She enjoys her little routines, often chanting about how we go to swim lessons on Thursdays or that we'll watch Thomas after bath time. She also really loves her brother, which is just the best, and she's getting better and better at apologizing to him and giving him kisses after whacking him with something.

I simply adore her personality (in the moments when I'm not using all my will power to keep from smothering her because she's screaming in hysterical rage and beating the side of my face with a credit card while I try to check out books for Andrew at the library.) She is amazingly loving and affectionate (when not enraged) and she makes me laugh all the time ... my favorite thing. Just looking at her little grin makes me want to snatch her up and squeeze her and cover her face with kisses. I am so deeply grateful for my girl.

We all love you wildly, Elsbeth Ashton Mobley! You light up our lives!

It's OK. I Make Lamb

2011-04-03T13:34:00.016-05:00

Alright, everyone take your seat for the next installment of "Phil and Christy Are Out Of Their Gourds!" Very good. Let's begin. It's Sunday afternoon and Phil is not here. He wasn't here yesterday, either. "Why?!" you wonder anxiously. " How can this be?! After a very full week of work and traveling for Daddy/Husband, what in the world could keep him from this precious family time?" Well folks, Phil has been very busy at his ...

... motorcycle training class! (Poor soul, I made him get on the thing last night in his pajamas for this post. I'll put a much cooler picture of him in his gear soon.)

Apparently this has been bubbling about in his mind for a while, but all it took for it to come to the surface was a mention from me that maybe, once my car needed replacing in a year or two, perhaps it would be kinda nice to get something that would hold more people. You know, for when family visited or I needed to pick up one of Andrew's friends or whatever. Within a week he had sold his precious BMW (something I still can't believe he did) and with the proceeds purchased me an Acura MDX (LaFawnda) and himself a motorcycle (yet to be named). The plan is that he'll ride the motorcycle to the bus stop on pretty days and take dear old Strider (my X-Terra) on inclimate ones. He claims it's to save money on gas, but I'm pretty sure he just needed it to go with his ...

... awesome tattoo!!! Early mid-life crisis you ask? Nah. He's just trying to keep up with his super hip wife and ...

... her awesome tattoo!!! And let the record show that I got mind first, after many deep sighs and head-shaking from Phil. Then, naturally, he was so overcome by my hipness that he needed to get one for himself. My four little sparrows represent me and the three precious ones that share the nest with me. I'm the one farthest on the right, looking off in into the distance and thinking about pie. Phil is right below me looking at Andrew, both presumably planning their next big "Angry Pigs" game session on the iPhone. Els is up high, about to fly off my shoulder, full of zest for life.

And finally (I know the mind reels that there could be more), I have decided to become a ...

... wilted stalk of celery!!! Wait, no. A vegetarian!!!

Hmm, you look surprised. Is it because before today the only official "interest" in my profile was bacon? Or is it because only a few months ago I had my own beloved pet in a roasting pan? In truth, I'm pretty surprised myself. I'll give you the short version of how this came about.

Years ago Phil read this article to do with caring about the treatment of animals, specifically in the food industry. At about the same time, I was watching some really high-brow television show ... I think it was Wife Swappers ... where some gun carrying hunting fanatic dude was suddenly forced to join this group of people on a quest to save an abused and nearly dead cow from a factory farm. The dude ended up bottle-feeding the cow and feeling a little more softness for the creatures while I sat in horror, never having heard of a factory farm. Phil and I talked about it here and there, but I was busy with little people and he was busy with work and running. Then about a month ago I sent a message to a friend of mine in Virginia who cares very deeply about animal welfare and asked her about some stuff and did some preliminary research on the computer. Phil and I decided to be deliberate about only eating meat and animal products that came from farms where the animals were treated well.

Then I got this book. And now I'm a vegetarian. :-) No judgement on the meat-eaters! I just got sad. Sad about death and suffering in general. Sad about all the abuse and neglect and cruelty in this broken world. And I read about this world and decided it sounded mighty fine ...

"'Never again will there be in it an infant who lives only a few days or an old man who does not live out his years ... Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking, I will hear. The wolf and the lamb will feed together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox, and dust will be the serpent's food. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain,' says the Lord." (Isaiah 65:20, 24-25)

My motorcycle riding, tattoo-wearing man is being very supportive, bless him, and he hasn't even read the turn-you-vegetarian book yet. I'm in the process of a complete meal-plan overhaul ... very interesting, and kind of exciting (here at the beginning at least). I just bought an eggplant for the first time. Andrew was thrilled and declared he was going to eat the whole thing for supper ... a likely story. I tried Moroccan Winter Squash and Carrot Stew with Quinoa a couple nights ago. Doesn't that sound ... insane?

Here's Phil preparing to take his first bite.

But you know what, it was good! A little spicy for me, but we both liked it quite a bit overall. (The kids had macaroni and cheese.)

Today the kids and I had our traditional Sunday pancakes and I decided to give these bad boys a go.

That one got a collective "Ew."

I ate mine and thought, "Weird. I hope the kids will eat them."

Andrew took his first bite and said, "Mmmmmm!"

I think, "Yea! Andrew likes the weird soy fake meat! This transition is going to be a piece of cake."

Andrew took another bite, more cautiously, and asked, "What's in this? Is it the same thing they have in the sausage at the Waffle House?"

"Hm? Oh, um, I think they might be made a little differently than the Waffle House ones. Does it taste different?" I reply casually with an air of complete innocence.

Andrew then declares he would like it better if it wasn't burned and decided to go for another pancake instead. Elsbeth took one bite, pulled it back out of her mouth and said, "Don't like it."

Shiloh thought we were being very snooty about the whole thing and snarfed his sample with gusto.

You'll Be Glad To Know That Mrs. Mudge Has Bought Herself A New Set Of Teeth For The Occasion

2011-03-26T19:39:00.010-05:00

My Precious. Wasn't it yesterday that he was The Cutest Baby In The World? On Friday we took a tour of Parkview Christian School where he will be starting Kindergarten in the fall. I'm so grateful for this school - it's a part of our church which is a mile away, only half-day and 4-days-a-week, and it's educational philosophy follows the idea of Charlotte Mason (and all you need to know about that is that it's pretty much the cutest little Laura Ingalls Wilder sort of set-up your could ever hope for). The principal walked us through all the classrooms and he got to meet his soon-to-be teacher, Mrs. Funk. (I ask you, is there a better name for a Kindergarten teacher in all the world?) He's still obsessed with the inter workings of machines, though he isn't determined to watch each and every wash cycle these days. He spent yesterday afternoon with his beloved Eunice Chantilly* and her mom (Gillian) was working on a sewing project. Apparently he became fixated with her sewing machine and had to figure out how all the parts worked. I have a sewing machine set in a piece of furniture that was Phil's grandmother's and I have never even plugged it in. This morning Andrew was checking it out and trying to tell me about a part of it I would have to do something with to let out the lead? I have no idea, but it's scary that he could probably set it up and sew something now after his lesson with Aunt Gill. Oh, and this morning I had the milk carton out on the table and he says, "Mom, this says 'keep refrigerated." What the hay?

We've had a week of simply glorious weather and spent some time at the zoo, where I took the photo above. Getting the picture of them together was hilarious, Andrew trying to put his arm around her and lovingly putting a choke hold around her neck, Elsbeth the ever moving target hopping around in circles and jumping off the curb and wandering over to see the birds. Elsbeth was mesmerized by the flamingos, standing silently watching them for a while, then saying definitively, "Chicken." We also got a little lesson about how silly flamingos are when they play, giving each other odd-looking piggy back rides. "Mommy, what are they doing?!" Aye yie yie. The Fiery One continues to chatter up a storm which I think has brightened up her little world. Being able to communicate many of her strongly-felt thoughts and desires has lead to much less screaming and lots of giant smiles and sweet hugs and kisses. Joy of joys! I make make it after all!

On a completely unrelated note, I just went on a women's retreat. Yes, moi. If you know my thoughts on women's retreats in general (I spelled them out in a blog post years ago - it's my first confession), this may be surprising. Shocking, in fact. When they began to promote this retreat at church, Phil leaned over to tell me (in all seriousness) that I was welcome to go. I burned holes through his face with my glare. He went on to say how he wouldn't mind at all taking care of the kids on his own and could even take some time off work if need be. I answered something to the effect of, "I'd rather have my limbs severed with a spork." Then Mischa e-mailed me. She invited me to go and share a room. She's a young mom in the church, wife of the music/youth director, and she's just the most friendly and kind person and she looks like a Pantene model. We get together occasionally to let our kids play together and I have really enjoyed getting to know her as much as is possible with little ones whizzing around our knees. Clearly going on the retreat would afford us the opportunity to have entire conversations, and I really have wanted to get to know her and the other women of my new church a lot better. So I said yes.

And then I broke out in hives. This was me as I headed out the door, full of joy and anticipation of the next 24 hours. You know what, I survived. Three women from the church (including Mischa) shared about their lives with the rest of the group and did a lovely job. I got to hang out and chat with a bunch of other women on topics ranging from Triskets to thyroids and not once did anyone suggest an outlet mall. Mischa, Dina (my other fabulous roomie pictured below) and I were all terrified of the giant Jesus door we had to walk through for every event. Were you supposed to hold his hand to open the door? Should you smile and say "Hi"? It was unsettling. And the best moment of all was when Dina opened the envelope she won as a door prize.

Yes. Yes they did. That alone was worth the whole trip. And now, and a note even further removed from anything previously discussed, I'll share that I've recently been on a new recipe kick and have found myself profoundly impressed with the Pioneer Woman's food blog where she not only posts wonderful recipes but also takes zillions of the most beautiful pictures of the food all through the cooking process. The Pioneer Woman is cool. I kind of want to be the Pioneer Woman. Thus, I took a picture of the celery I was about to use in a stew. Celery isn't supposed to do that, is it?

Marvin O'Gravel Balloon-Face

2011-03-08T15:08:00.007-05:00

One down ... four to go.

P.S. It was so vile. I even spent extra to get the cigarettes in pretty colors, but they didn't taste anything like fruit or candy or coolness. Why is this? We made ourselves finish them, just so I could check it off my list for real, but heaven help me, it was awful. I only inhaled once (for the reason above) and for hours I felt like I'd been licking the inside of a fireplace. I think Gillian, bless her, felt sick for the rest of the day. And I'm pretty sure we corrupted some young boys who were playing in the park near us. They're probably on the streets now, selling their puppies and skateboards for a smoke.

P.P.S. I have a mostly full box of really awesome, brightly colored cigarettes for sale that taste like strawberry delight and will make you instantly cool! Only $6.95! Tell your friends!

I've Got To Go Home Now And Wash My Arms

2011-02-16T15:21:00.005-05:00

Finding the above photo on my camera made me exquisitely happy.

Well, The Fiery One has been full of major events as of late. First was a really really adorable Daddy-Daughter date night for Valentine's Day.

Atlanta is Chick-Fil-A Mecca. When we eat there, the employees (who are so insanely friendly sometimes they make me nervous) often bring out my food for me since my hands are full, they come check on us and refill our drinks and bring us extra sauce, give treats to the kids, and they're always hosting special events (local school spirit night, dress up like cow day, etc.). Right before Valentine's Day, they had a special Daddy-Daughter night that you had to RSVP for and everything. Els wore her sparkly shoes, Daddy put on a pink tie, and they had chicken nuggets and ice cream sundaes. She even came back with a carnation and a goodie bag. I swooned.

The Friday following her Valentine's dinner was her first mother's morning out. Look at my big girl holding her lunchbox and giving big brother a hug before heading out the door!

All of her clingy-ness and serious lung capacity had inspired several people who love and know me well to suggest I try a little one-morning-a-week playtime that did not include Mommy. As per usual, I was full of angst and hand-wringing about it, but it has been great! Her playschool is at a church a few miles away and is run by the most kind-hearted and adorable people. For example, on her first day she screamed hysterically when I left her, which was to be expected, but of course I drove away with a lump in my throat and felt like the devil. I was counting the minutes I felt I should wait before calling to check on her, trying really hard not to be one of the mothers the teachers had to discuss in hushed tones during staff meeting. Elsbeth's teachers beat me to it and texted me to let me know she was doing wonderfully, then e-mailed me a video of her playing happily. Can you believe this? I LOVE these ladies!

So now every Friday morning is Andrew/Mommy time, special hours for us to run errands and do art projects and eat lunch without interruption. He'll be starting kindergarten this fall (!), so some one-on-one time with my boy is pretty great. Last Friday we worked on Valentines and did some lovey art on the door to the porch.

And on Valentine's Day proper, we baked a really yummy strawberry cake while our sweet Nib was resting. This boy can really crack an egg! I'm thinking that by the time he's 5, Phil and I should be able to leave our breakfast order on the counter the night before and wake up to eggs and bacon sizzling on the stove.

Speaking (again) of Valentine's Day, I have to say I felt a little unromantic when Phil greeted me with a box of chocolates and a really touching card and all I had to offer in return was a hand-made creation I had worked on during my art time with Andrew. It was touching ... sort of ... in it's own special way ...

I'd like to close this post by making everyone aware of how deeply sacrificial I am as a mother. After breakfast on V-day, Andrew became very interested in the red, heart-shaped box on the counter. I decided, being that it was a holiday and all, we should each have a piece of chocolate right then (not that I wanted any chocolate at 9am ... I was making the day special for the children).

One hundred martyr points.

THEN I let Andrew pick his chocolate first. He chose a square one, which is almost always a caramel, which is my favorite. I let him keep it.

Two hundred twelve martyr points.

THEN I let him pick mine, and naturally he chose a round one. Filled with coconut. And I kept it.

Eight thousand four hundred eighty-seven martyr points.

Oh blast. Now that I've gone and told you about my selflessness, I've totally lost my reward in heaven. At this point, all I'm getting in recompense is your pity and admiration, so pile it on.

Pathetic Effort To Hog The Brownie!

2011-02-03T21:31:00.016-05:00

Back in the days of yore, I worked for a man who worked for a company that was completely obsessed with goals. Personal goals. Company goals. Where do you see yourself in ten years? Five years? Twenty minutes? And even though I was a mere administrative assistant no aspirations of going anywhere in this company (perish the thought!), I was occasionally pressed to come up with my own goals, an exercise which I loathed and detested. I'm simply not built this way. I'd stare blankly at my boss and think deeply about my lunch or slowly close my eyes and hold my breath in an attempt to pass out. I honestly can't think of a single goal I ever came up with in my years of working there other than the goal of never being an administrative assistant ever again.

But for some reason I've recently been putting together a list of things I'd like to accomplish in my life. No big goals here. No saving a species or becoming the president of anything or even getting my desk organized. Just a handful of somewhat unusual things that I've decided I'd kinda like to do one day.

1. Smoke something

I'm not exactly sure what yet, but I'll go ahead and cross anything illegal or instantly addictive off the list. Cigars are hideous, so those are out, too. Cigarettes are the obvious choice, but, well, they just smell so dang awful and I'm a little afraid I would throw up. If I go with a cigarette, though, I was thinking I could throw in one of those really awesome cigarette holders so that I would look exactly like this during the experience:

My friend Jane and I had plans a while back to smoke clove cigarettes together, and I don't know exactly what those are but apparently they would make me instantly artsy, which would be nice.

And what about a pipe? I'm pretty sure Audrey Hepburn would not approve, but I adore the smell of a pipe. And I think I'd have a shot at being at least a little more artsy at the end of the day, in a literary, C.S. Lewisian sort of way. Man, I really love the smell of a pipe. And I love Lewis. What if I became addicted? That could be a problem. Do you think Andrew would be embarrassed if I picked him up from kindergarten puffing my pipe? Would Phil mind if I pulled out the old pipe after a romantic dinner on our anniversary? So many things to consider before crossing this one off my list of life accomplishments.

2. Wear my wedding dress again

I should probably clarify that I don't want to get married again, I just want to wear the dress again. I mean, that thing was expensive! And I like it, it's pretty. I didn't get it preserved or anything, so it's just hanging in my closet, moldering away all pitiful and lonely and crazy jealous of all the ratty t-shirts surrounding it that get loads of attention.

In a wild fit of fancy, let's pretend that I could actually get into my dress at this point. What I want to do is have a girl's night out where we all wear our wedding dresses (veils optional). There should probably be more than 2 of us, just so no one assumes we're marrying each other (I live in Atlanta, I have to think about such things), but 3 or 4 would be perfect. Come on, friends, who's with me?! Let's leave our diaper bags and apple juice splattered tennis shoes behind for an evening and go out for dessert in our bridal gowns! It would be awesome. Anyone?

Anyone???

3. Experience nitrous oxide

Also known as laughing gas, this stuff really intrigues me. I've never been under the influence of any chemical substance (that I'm aware of) and I feel my life lacking as a result. I think alcohol so vile and disgusting a beverage that I don't think I could force myself to consume enough to get even a little giggly. I've never been put under for surgery (the only surgery I've had was for my eyes, and, as you may recall, I was nursing at the time and opted not to take the really awesome "I'm so relaxed I don't even care that you're cutting a flap in my cornea " pill they prescribed me.) My mom won't let my dad give me his crazy high-powered sleeping pills that he claims would cause me to drop like a sack of clams into my mashed potatoes and stay that way for a week. (Wouldn't that be fabulous?!) Illegal drugs still seem like a bad idea. So really, nitrous oxide is my one viable option. And I love to laugh! What could be better?

I usually hear about laughing gas being administered by a dentist. No problem! I'm actually good friends with my dentist ... he's married to one of my close friends. Hmmmm. But wait! I know another dentist! Also the husband of one of my close friends. What if this gas turns me into one of the senile old ladies I used to take care of in my days as a nurse's assistant in a nursing home? You do NOT want to know what these cute little old church-going grannies used to say to the doctors on check-up day. I am suddenly fearful of the dark, hairy subconscious that I was so eager to plumb only seconds ago. I haven't the foggiest idea why lies beneath it's murky waters.

I wonder if I could talk Dr. Robinson into slipping a trial-size nitrous tank into my toothbrush and floss gift bag?

4. Watch the entire Dallas series

I've never seen a single episode. I just know that someone named J. R. is involved and I believe is assaulted at some point with a firearm. And, for reasons mysterious to me, I can hum the entire theme song. I have just discovered that I can own the entire series for a mere $360.96 AND I'd be eligible for super saver shipping! I think for all the really really long football games I've endured for his sake, Phil owes me 168 hours of his life. And a yacht.

5. Have a stalker

I think this would give my self-esteem a nice boost.

Now I do have some very specific ideas of what I want in my stalker. First and foremost, he must be young and extremely exceptionally good looking. Something along the lines of ...

Yes. That would do nicely.

Also, I'd prefer nothing creepy. I'll cook my own pets, thank you very much. I'm looking for someone who is overcome by my stunning beauty from afar and just can't move on. He catches a glimpse of me whizzing through Kroger, clip askew in my matted, unwashed hair and his breath catches. He follows me from a respectable distance to the frozen food section and is mesmerized by my grace as I pick up the box of cereal my enraged toddler has chucked across the store. He stares in disbelief at my athleticism as I race to the bathroom pushing a 800 pound cart just in time to keep my 4-year-old from wetting his pants. At this moment, he just knows. I'm the one, his heart's only desire.

At first he just writes me letters, detailing how incredibly gorgeous I am. Then he moves on to leaving flowers and expensive gifts on my doorstep. Finally, the flowers and jewels are accompanied by tickets for two to New Zealand where he asks that we live together forever in his giant mansion.

At this point, of course, I'll have to let him down gently, informing him I am madly in love with my husband (which he has no idea that I have, because he's always out running). A tear will roll down his check, and he will walk away through the fog, forlorn.

And this completes my list of life goals! I expect each and every one of you to hold me to these and not let me give up on my dreams.

And Who Are You? The Primate Garbage Police?

2011-01-25T22:55:00.011-05:00

Brew some tea and pull up a chair. I've got a story that'll put hair on your shmeckle.

Ahem, where to begin? Ah yes, the ice. We all (even Shiloh) survived the ice and snow. And as soon as the heaps of winter insanity melted enough to let us escape the neighborhood, the kids and I scooted to Aiken to spend the long MLK weekend with my mom (Phil being on a really awesome ski trip with his parents and siblings ... LUCKY!) Aiken is actually where Phil's parents live, but they are currently on assignment in New Mexico so we were able to use their house, saving both me and my mom 6 hours round trip. (Thank you Nannie and Papa!) It was soon discovered that everyone was in desperate need of new socks (seriously) so we headed down to the Aiken Mall for some real shopping excitement. When we happened upon the "hurricane simulator," I begged Mom to go in, as I was desperate for entertainment.

What a total let down! You're not supposed to be smiling if you're trapped in a can of hurricane, are you? Mom tried briefly to scream and look terrified when she saw my look of disappointment, but it was pretty unconvincing. I was waiting for her clothes to come flying off and swirl madly about her as she stood in the middle of the mall, beating the glass frantically to get out, crowds gathering and murmuring anxiously, 911 and news crews being called in. Instead she hopped out with a grin, combed her barely tousled hair with her fingers and said it was like sticking her head under a hand dryer in a public bathroom. Blast. At least we got Chick-Fil-A for supper.

Aunt Jessie and Cousin Anna-Kate came to play the next day, and we even got to walk to the playground for a while. Highlight of the trip!

At the last moment, I decided to just follow mom back to Johnsonville for the rest of the week. Phil had a lot of work travel, and even though mom and dad would both be working, at least I'd get to see them a little, right? And I was halfway there. And I could visit my Mema, who I rarely see. It all made sense ... in theory.

The first day there (Tuesday) Mom had a long work day (leaving at 7am and not getting back 'til 5) and Dad had to sleep all day since he was working nights at the hospital. No problem. Just keep 2 small children occupied (and quiet!) on a rainy day in half a small house ... for 10 hours.

An outing to Piggly Wiggly for yogurt and crackers and an exciting tour through Fred's variety store for some play dough was just what we needed.

Andrew was fascinated by the Play-Dough Fun Factory, and Els loved the play dough jewelery I made. They played quietly with this stuff for over an hour! And TFO took a nap! (She very rarely naps at all anymore. She's 21 months. I consider this a disorder and feel that very powerful medications should be available.)

It was decided that Wednesday we should definitely pack up and go ... somewhere. Anywhere. For the whole day. So of course, Elsbeth decides to throw up as I'm fixing her breakfast. Maybe it's a fluke. I'll go ahead and feed her lots of cereal and milk and surely she'll be fine. Cereal and milk regurgitated all over the kitchen floor. Sigh. Poor Nib. She ended up not throwing up any more the rest of the day, but she didn't feel great and we certainly couldn't go anywhere.

She slept (yea!) Andrew watched 101 Dalmatians. I entertained myself as I saw fit.

On Thursday, Elsbeth seemed to be better, so we decided to take our show on the road to visit my Mema (kids' great-grandmother) on her farm. And joy of joys, it was a pretty day! We had a blast driving around the farm on her bobcat, sun on our checks and fresh air filling our snoots.

We stopped by to visit Uncle Stephen's chickens and ducks. This photo was taken about 13 seconds before TFO stuck a tiny, white finger in the cage where it was eagerly pecked by the hungry hen you see approaching.

She screamed bloody murder and I half expected to see her finger spurting blood, barely attached to her hand. An up close inspection failed to produce even the slightest indentation, just a little chicken drool. She finally stopped crying to call a mournful, "Bock, bock, bock" at the coop before we moved on.

We decided to give the ducks in the pond a go, most of which looked and moved quite normally. But then there was this guy:

What the heck IS that thing? Whatever it was, it let us stare at it for a while before slowly rising from it's spot in the shade next to my uncle's house (sending Andrew running for the hills). Then it took about 8 minutes to waddle the 12 feet to the pond shore where it unceremoniously plopped in. Elsbeth and I were mesmerized.

We finally puttered back to the farm house, I packed the kids back in the car, and then, since the day had been going so well, I decided to became violently ill. After releasing my angry lunch into the bushes next to the car, I drove the 30 minutes back home breathing deeply at, at times, clutching an empty grocery bag, just in case. I staggered into my parents house, somehow managed to get the kids down for their rest time, and then spent the next hour in considerable intestinal distress. My mother, bless her, got home from work just as rest time was over.

I survived the rest of the afternoon, and by the time I went to bed the worst of it was over. I had been asleep for about 30 minutes when I woke up to hear Andrew thrashing and groaning from his pallet next to my bed. Oh yes. I was up most of the rest of the night with my Precious throwing up everything he'd ever eaten in his life. My thoughts at 2am: Surely tomorrow Mom will get a sub and take care of Elsbeth while Andrew and I recover. And get a sub she did ... moments before she began throwing up herself.

Poor Nina and Andrew ... they were so very sick. I think Andrew was the sickest of all of us. He just drifted in and out of sleep for the whole day, sometimes staring listlessly into the distance.

That night he desperately wanted to watch a load of wash, but he didn't even make it to the spin cycle.

So it was me and my girl, looking to amuse ourselves in the 1/4 of a little brick ranch that wasn't occupied by sleeping or desperately ill people.

We had another wild time in Piggly Wiggly searching for popsicles and Saltines, and my whole day was brightened by these signs next to the main highway that goes through town:

In the midst of the horror, I had a moment in which to call Phil. Here's an excerpt from our conversation:

Me: ... and then after I finished throwing up hot dogs, which is really the worst thing in the world to experience a second time, I had to drive 30 minutes through all kinds of road construct-

Phil: What Honey? There's some really awesome parade going by here in Disney World and I can't hear you over the fireworks.

Me: You're in DISNEY WORLD?!

Phil: Yeah. My work conference was in Orlando. They put me up in a 16-star Hotel right in the middle of Epcot. I just got my second massage. You wouldn't believe the spa they have here!

Me: Oh. Hm. I guess I forgot ... about ... that. Anyway, (speaking louder) then Andrew started throwing up in the middle of the night and then mom got sick and -

Phil: Oh no, that's a total bummer. Hey, can I call you back a bit later? I've got to tee off.

Well, I'm making this story way too long. In the end, we survived the plague and by Sunday were able to make the treck back home. But just in case you think that went smoothly, I'll have you know that Elsbeth had a horrific, abominable, explosive diarrhea diaper that got all over her clothes and I ended up having to change it in the front seat of my car in the parking lot of a super nasty McDonald's somewhere in Hickland, Georgia and it got smeared on my (only pair) of pants and on my hands and there weren't enough wipes or hand sanitizer in the world to make me feel clean again and I smelled like poop for the last 4 hours of the drive. Then I missed the exit to my house. Twice.

When Phil got home from his conference later that night, he had a little present for the kids.

Why Hadn't I Got Housemaid's Knee?

2011-01-13T09:36:00.016-05:00

Sunday, 09 January 2011, 8pm

The snowfall has begun. Giant, feathery flakes drift down from the darkened sky as Phil and I peer from a lamp lit window, smiling at each other and whispering as if to safeguard this moment of wintry magic. Soon the holly bushes, the brick walkway, the old stone stairs leading up to the arbor are all blanketed. Phil moves on to light a fire in the master bedroom while I linger at the glass, a smile playing on my lips as I imagine fawns and wood elves creeping from their hidden realms to wonder at this divine moment bestowed unto humanity.

Monday, 10 January 2011

The day dawns to 5 or 6 inches of snow draped across the whole of metro Atlanta and flurries mixed with sleet still coming down. Schools are closed, Phil will be working from home and we enjoy a leisurely family breakfast of warm oatmeal with brown sugar, milk and hot tea as we watch the birds flock to our feeders.

Phil decides to seize the moment - he has time to play in the snow before his first conference call of the day - so the house is suddenly buzzing as we rush around looking for coats and boots. Elsbeth becomes deeply distressed when, despite our most sincere efforts, we cannot locate her favorite pink hat. Finally the boys rush ahead to the back yard and I wrestle our little diva into Andrew's outgrown fleece hat and drop her into the snow.

For a handful of minutes she's mesmerized by her surrounding wonderland. Andrew laughs and runs in wild circles around the yard as I pelt him with snowballs, and Phil and I are delighted to discover that we can make real, honest-to-goodness snowmen.

Els decides to reconsider her contentment.

We play a bit longer, ignoring the light sleet pelting our faces for the joy of frolicking. Finally Phil must retreat to the quiet upstairs to work and Elsbeth concludes that the has been plunged into a Siberian inferno and becomes hysterical until she is carried inside and freed from her frosty trappings, and then for an additional ten minutes just to make sure she'd made her point.

Fortunately, Phil was able to sneak in a mid-day break to build Andrew a stupendous snow slide.

Tuesday, 11 January 2011

Our sleepy eyes feast on another scene worthy of a Christmas card, much unchanged from the day before except that the top 2 inches of snow have now turned to ice. The roads are even more treacherous, but we're safe and warm inside, grateful to still have water and electricity.

Phil holes up with his computer once again, and the kids and I stave off boredom with hot chocolate, popcorn and the first Toy Story movie.

With no hope of things melting any time soon, Phil decides to take the garden shovel to our driveway. Andrew throws on his coat and boats and makes the most of the icy slope with a cookie sheet.

Wednesday, 12 January 2011

I wake up to the radio news: Tractor trailer flipped on an interstate ramp, accidents generously sprinkled about the city, schools still closed. Anything that dripped for a few hours on Tuesday had stubbornly re-frozen during the night with no intention of puddling again. Phil, uninspired to shower, shuffles off with hair askew to boot up the computer while I (also unbathed) kiss little faces and answer their energetic question of, "What are we going to do today, Mommy?!" with a weary shrug of my shoulders.

Phil kindly breaks from his typing and scrolling to hang some fantastic, old family portraits his parents gave me for Christmas, blood trickling from his left hand as he put his tools away. Great, great, great grandmother Elizabeth fought back.

The only other excitement of the day was discovering that our washing machine has a cracked drum which has been dripping for some time and rotting our hardwood floors.

We're out of milk, bread, eggs and dangerously close to the bottom of our Christmas candy.

Thursday, 13 January 2011

I wake up. Good for me. Everything looks the same. Schools still closed. In a wild burst of animation, I shower and dress ... but by the time I realize that this one act has depleted my stores of lucidity, it's a done deal. The kids chew slowly on dry cereal as Phil packs his suitcase ... he leaves at noon to seek out a more life-sustaining land, calling home with reports of ice patches throughout the neighborhood ... he barely escaped our tundra with his life.

I stare blankly into the bowels of the bare refrigerator as my stomach rumbles. Children wail in the background while Little Richard's voice howling "Itsy Bitsy Spider" blares, adding to my instability.

What was I doing? Oh yes, food. I must feed my children. I must be strong. My thoughts turn to Sofie, the succulent beast lazily perched on my bed ...

... but Elmo has beaten me to her.

"Shiloh!" I call in a thin, sugary voice. "Shiloh, want a treat?" Dogs are stupidly trusting and loyal.

The oven beeps to alert me to it's preheated status. I open a cabinet in a futile search for a bit of broth when my head snaps up. Shhhhhh. Everything becomes quiet apart from indistinct mumbling in the stairwell. I move forward as if in a trance ... the whispers become louder ... the portraits ... the portraits are talking. Elizabeth hates my shirt. Uncle Rico demands clam chowder. J. Montgomery bellows out the lyrics to 'Uptown Girl.'

Heh heh. Ha ha ha ... Ha HA HA HA HA. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Every Idiot Who Goes About With 'Merry Christmas' On His Lips, Should Be Boiled With His Own Pudding

2011-01-10T21:13:00.019-05:00

Mobley Christmas 2010

The Precious was sick with a really terrible cold all around Christmas ... probably his version of Elsbeth's croup. I was really trying to push some merriment on Christmas Eve here, making sugar cookies for Santa. That face says it all.

Christmas morning brought us a much happier boy (after a vaporizor purchase, a lot of Vicks and some really spectacular nighttime meds). I love it ... one hand stuffing his face with a Little Debbie Christmas tree cake, the other deep in the stocking searching out the next treat.

My ca-ca-doodie camera didn't do a very good job with Christmas morning photos, but here's a fun (if blurry) moment of Els and the 6-inch Elmo she found in her stocking.

I think someone underage got ahold of my camera (and did a much better job than me ... perhaps it's the ca-ca-doodie photographer that's to blame). Anyway, this picture just makes me happy ...
Elmo biting the heck out of someone's finger after being
released from the stocking.

And here's our girl again, decked out with sparkly ruby slippers given by Nina and Pa.

It was so wonderful to have my family here to spend Christmas with us - it had been a year since we'd seen Bradley!

Hanging out with Pa

A wee Christmas snow!

I'm afraid playing outside with mommy will pale after the
Uncle Bradley One Man Circus.

Enjoying the shananigans from afar.

Nina was also willing to brave the wintry outdoors (and nearly made herself sick pushing Elsbeth 'round and 'round on this little train.)

Christmas all over again with Nannie and Papa!

I think she's saying "More."

Poor Nannie and Papa, trying to get a picture with all the grandchildren at one time. Trying to get everyone to look at the camera got funnier and funnier. Not sure if it ever happened, but this was the closest shot I had. I think maybe Andrew was tired of smiling and thought he'd try a maniacal look just to keep things fresh.

And I leave you with a shot of Elsbeth heading out to the mall with her jacket from Uncle Bradley, her pants from Aunt Gayle, her shirt from Nannie and her beloved doggie purse from Aunt Sallie. Don't you all fear for me in about 13 years?
"Like, chill out Mom! I'm just, like, going out for a while. Gosh."

Ah, The Peat

2010-12-19T14:18:00.008-05:00

Let's just get right to it. It's been cold 'round here. Freakishly, ridiculously, nightmarishly cold. And I don't appreciate the perky comments I've been hearing lately about the "warm front" that has shuffled through - Kurt Mellish and his meter can go boil themselves in a vat of sunscreen if it pleases them so much. As far as I'm concerned, these last days of alleged "fifty degree highs" are only better in the way that Death is better than Instant Death. I still can't feel my hands. The only reason I'm handling the arctic blast so well is because it's festive and has put me in a cheery, jolly mood. Come January, some may consider me a mite petulant.

I think Andrew may have inherited my thin blood, bless him. Here he is crouched over the heating vent a couple mornings ago.

And here's what Elsbeth thinks of old Jack Frost.

Actually, I think The Fiery One, oddly enough, is a little more warm blooded. These are her "crazy eyes" that make me laugh hysterically. Here's a little must-see video footage.

Speaking of my sweet Nib, she and I got to spend a little extra quality time together last night ... in the ER ... waiting for steroids. She'd had a wee runny snoot and I put her to bed early as she had opted out of her nap. About an hour later, she woke up very upset and making a horrible, barking sound every time she tried to breathe in. A dear friend of ours is a pediatrician, and I probably shouldn't mention his name because he's a quiet, humble sort that doesn't like a lot of attention (ALLEN PEABODY), but he happened to be at home - and awake! - when I called rather frantic, looking for sound medical advice. He heard her through the phone and told me it was croup and that she needed to head on over to the ER. Phil was at a Bible study, so I called a neighbor to come hang with Andrew until he could get home, then realized that he had the car seats with him. Fortunately, Elsbeth had started breathing a little easier, so we were OK to wait for him to jet home. By the time we saw the doctor, she was doing well enough that he didn't think she needed a breathing treatment, just some 'roids for the next couple days. Just what TFO needs. I'm holding out that she might grow a handsome mustache in time for Christmas. Wouldn't a 'stash look mighty honcho with the full pigtails she can wear now?

My Precious continues to grow and grow before my eyes. He went off to church yesterday in khakis, a plaid shirt and a sweater vest that made me want to swoon. I took the most adorable picture of him with Phil in front of our Christmas tree, and my computer can't seem to read it. Blast! You'll have to imagine.

My rational engineer seems to be growing more in touch with his feelings in his old age, having a more difficult time dealing with disappointments (really tragic things like a torn hot dog bun will leave him in tears), but also so full of spontaneous hugs and kisses and "I love you"s. It's like he knows how to take me to the point just before I decide to leave him duct taped him to the porch swing 'til his daddy gets home, then he comes up and kisses my hand and decides to make me an ornament for the tree. Ah. the mood swings I experience!

This year The Grinch was chosen for Christmas Movie Night. He seemed to enjoy the movie, which was a relief since he didn't love the book (odd for a Suess lover like himself). Mean characters and upsetting events (like a stolen roast beast) get to him rather easily - he still has no desire to see Rudolf ever again after being distressed by the Abominable last year. Anyway, the movie itself was a hit, and the pizza and chocolate chip cookies didn't hurt, either.

I'm just so excited for Christmas this year. Having these little people to share it with really does make it so much more magical. We get to be here 'til the 28th with the amazing, added bonus of having my parents and Bradley come to visit for a few days! Be still my heart! Then off to South Carolina for a wonderful celebration with Phil's family. Bliss. Just praying that my sweet Nibblet is back to her old self by then and able to take it all in.

Alright Foo, Get Ready To Float

2010-12-08T21:58:00.004-05:00

Getting a Christmas card photo this year was challenging. The above is my favorite one to hit the cutting room floor. As you may have surmised, TFO wasn't down for a photo shoot. At some point after that picture I began shoving candy into her mouth in a futile attempt to make her smile ... or at least stop yelling. All I accomplished was to make her start yelling for more candy, and when it didn't come fast enough she sobbed and drooled candy slobber all over that beautiful coat. So what I've learned is, when at first you don't succeed, keep pressing on until you've made everyone crazy, then try to squeeze in just a couple more shots until they want to kill you. Then take a few days off and snap a quick photo of the kids in their pajamas and call it a day.

Jeff, Jessie and darling cousin Anna-Kate came to visit last weekend. They walked in the door after hours of driving and we immediately shuttled them out to the bitterly cold, dark park to witness the most pathetic Christmas tree lighting in the history of the universe. You see, there's a big tree at the back of the park that is in the shape of a Christmas tree. And so someone decided to string a few white lights in the center of the tree in a triangular shape, as the natural shape of the tree was not quite good enough. There was a big countdown, the 15 bulbs were lit and a local high-school chorus whispered some Christmas songs, then we shuffled back home to see if we could rekindle some feeling in our toes.

The next day was a little better. We made them run out to main street shortly after waking up so that we could catch the Christmas parade.

This was a little more of an event, though still very charming small town. Andrew thought the whole thing was fabulous. I mean, is there anything better to a 4-year-old than having hundreds of people walk by hurling handfuls of candy at your head? He had wisely chosen to wear cargo pants, and I'm surprised he was able to walk home without them dropping around his ankles.

Elsbeth decided the parade was pretty cool, too.

The Chestnut. She's A Fickle Beast.

2010-11-29T20:21:00.006-05:00

Doesn't this goat have the most winning smile?

After about a year break from the zoo (since I was tired of driving across the city simply to stand at the railroad crossings for the zoo train), we're back and loving it. Andrew is much more interested in the animals at this point, and Elsbeth appears to be enjoying them, too!

Yea for smelly goats and pigs and piles of doots!

The Fiery One had been holding steady at 50% in height, and suddenly I started thinking, "My, but my girl looks tall." I was at a friend's house and we both noticed that Els looked oddly similar in size to her 3-year-old. TFO's 18-month visit to the pediatrician confirmed that I have a healthy girl who weighs just under 23 pounds (25th percentile) and is 33.5 inches tall ... 95th percentile!

She's talking tons, and if I have a decent amount of context I can usually understand her. She's currently obsessed with Ring Around the Rosie ("Ashes Ashes!!") and always wants Andrew close at hand, which is so sweet when she's not trying to pinch him. She's doing a really good job with the potty, though I confess I got a lap full several times during the first couple no-diaper days.

A couple weeks ago I caught her putting a big beach bag over her shoulder and dragging it around, so I found her a little pocket book more her size. Ahhh, it's so cute, it kills me! And tonight I was making soup and she was determined to help, so I got her a pot and a spoon and she worked hard making her own. Love it.

And speaking of big helpers, here's The Precious helping Daddy stretch out after a race.

A few weeks ago he asked me to explain what a temptation was, and I gave him some examples. Ever since then he regularly asks me to tell him about more temptations (and he's decided that Mommy makes up much better temptations than Daddy). Tonight he was satisfied with me describing only 3 temptations before bed, even though he wanted 5. Still loves washing machines with agitators. Still hums and rocks himself to sleep. Still refuses to talk on the phone. My sweet, funny boy.

For Thanksgiving this year, I painted a "Thankful Tree" on our sliding glass door and we all added leaves that had written on them things we were thankful for. (The bare tree branches are about as artistic as I get, so no heckling!) I love that the very first leaf Andrew put up had, "My swimming thing that keeps me warm" on it, referring to his swim lesson wet suit. Two things I will remember next year: 1. The acrylic paint was much messier to clean off than anticipated. And 2. Picking an detailed maple leaf design may look cute on the tree, but takes about 45 minutes to trace and cut out. Not good.

I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving holiday this year. Ours was wonderful - thank you Aunt Gayle and Uncle Ron!

One Hundred Fifty-Two Insights Into My Soul!

2010-11-01T19:06:00.006-05:00

Most fun Halloween to date (even with Elsbeth skipping her nap).

Poor Phil had to recycle last year's costume as he and I were pretty last minute with our decision to dress up at all. I thought he pulled it off just swine, though.

Andrew wanted me to be a tiger, but black cat was about all I was able to put together. He was satisfied.

The Daddy group was incredibly amusing to me. Dave McNay's expression (the blue bandana) is one of the funnier things I've ever experienced.

I know it's blurry, but just because it's that funny to me ...

Wal-Mart Really Sucks Monkey Butts

2010-10-28T14:05:00.005-05:00

The kids and I had a super-adventurous visit with my parents recently. Kissing lions in the park was only the beginning.

Elsbeth has decided that animals in any form are fabulous and was particularly delighted with this lion sculpture at Brook Green Gardens in Myrtle Beach. He didn't know quite what to make of her.

Andrew decided pig riding was more his speed. Interestingly, this pig was in the children's garden, and after several minutes of letting the children climb all over him we noticed a sign that said he wasn't supposed to be touched. Come now. You're going to put a giant, affable-looking bronze pig in the middle of the children's garden, right at the children's level, and you don't want him touched?

While I'm on the subject, I'll go ahead and confess to you that I continued to let the children climb on that snooty pig even after I read the sign because I thought it was stupid. Not being one that brazenly disregards rules (in public) on a regular basis, I felt a little self-conscious, but my disdain for the moronic Garden Rule-Makers far outweighed my goodie-two-shoesidness. Then, a little farther into the children's garden there was a whole line of giant bronze turtles that had no sign, so I was able to enjoy watching Andrew and Elsbeth play on them with no pangs of conscience. That is until a mom came walking up the trail with her kids and, spying mine, said (loud enough for me to hear ... obviously), "You guys are not allowed to do what those kids are doing." Even now I kind of hate her guts.

Our beautiful and rebellious day at the gardens turned out to be only a very mild adventure indeed. The real madness came about on Sunday when my dad decided to take me on my very first (and only!) kayaking trip. A beginners trip, perhaps and hour or so long on Lynches river just to give me some quiet daddy/daughter time away from the little ones. Here we are, happy and dry and not bleeding, ready to scoot off to the river for some peace and relaxation ....

... and here we are about 6 hours later, wet and chilled to the bone and bleeding and barefoot and so exhausted we could barely stand.

It would take pages for me to describe the insanity of this little venture. Suffice it to say that low water levels, lots of fallen trees, totally bizarro quicksand-like clay bogs and kayaking don't mix as well as one would think. There was lots of capsizing and hauling of kayaks and frantic digging of legs out of muck and swimming in cold, alligator and snake infested river water. But it turns out facing death and giant hairy spiders with someone is quite the bonding experience. I'll never forget our trip together, Dad! I'm so grateful for you (and that you didn't sink to your death in the bog).

Once back in Atlanta, our little foursome had a cleaner, more subdued adventure at one of our favorite little spots, Southern Belle Farm. Such a perfect place to enjoy the fall season! I've decided that a family photo of us on the hay ride needs to be an annual tradition.

Hayride 2010

Hayride 2009
We also watched a pig race, walked through the corn maze, rode the cow train, slid down a giant slide, chased goats and ate delicious, very festive food. Elsbeth snarfed my corn dog and I let her, which shows you the depth of a mother's love for her child. Anyone else would have drawn back a bloody nub

We also chose a fabulous pumpkin which we promptly carved into a jolly jack-o-lantern who is now standing guard by our front door.

This Corn Is Like An Angel

2010-10-12T20:27:00.003-05:00

The kiddos and I made at trip to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens this week for the first time. It was so lovely! A fabulous way to enjoy a glorious fall day. (Eowyn, I thought of you - you must come! You would love it!) I am so grateful to Gillian, not only that she shared a "buy one, get one free" admissions coupon, but that she took the above picture that, should I get hit by a bus, will stand as one of the the few pieces of photographic evidence that I do, in fact, exist.

I've been very into outdoorsy-ness lately and got this great idea to work on a flower bed with my Nibblet and the Precious. Things like this often end up being so perfectly charming in my mind and a little more exhausting in real life. After a bazilliondy trips to the Wal-Mart Lawn and Garden Center (sometimes with my wallet, sometimes without) and repeatedly explaining to Nib that pulling the freshly planted snapdragons back out of the ground isn't all that helpful ... also dirt dumped down the front of my shirt and discovering the planting spot was full of red clay and being bitten in payment for thwarting Nib's attempts to walk on the flowers ... I decided half a flower bed is pretty good, too. Throw in a couple of potted plants and call it a day!

A happy, togetherness moment before the biting and red clay discovery.

Not done with our outdoorsy adventures, we made a trip to the Yellow River Game Ranch with a couple of friends from our new church. All kinds of wild animals to observe very closely, if not feed from your hand - it was so fun. And right down the road - I had no idea! Below you see Andrew feeding a peanut to a very bold squirrel ... a favorite moment.

Andrew and I have been reading Charlotte's Web together in anticipation of seeing the story performed at the Atlanta Center of Puppetry Arts next week (another really neat place we will be visiting for the first time). Between that and Halloween coming up, we decided to make spiders out of egg cartons and pipe cleaners and spider webs out of cooked spaghetti noodles. I feel like this is some sort of parenting milestone, doing a egg carton and pipe cleaner project. I love the idea of arts and crafts projects but rarely come up with anything beyond crayons and watercolors. Now, thanks to Google, I have cutesy spiders and webs hanging all over the kitchen. Now if I can do a craft involving dry beans, pine cones and felt, I will have arrived.

And finally ... drum roll please ... Andrew has grown tall enough to ride the Big Wheel he got from Nannie and Papa for his birthday! He just loves it and many a beautiful afternoon will find me walking the trail near our house with Elsbeth in the jogger and Andrew in front, riding his awesome bike.

I Want A Tattoo Of A Monkey . . . That Has A Tattoo Of Me

2010-09-28T20:40:00.005-05:00

Sadly, our time with Nannie has come and gone. But it was sweet. Last time Nannie was here, TFO was still refusing to be anywhere but on my hip and screamed her face off if Nannie (or anyone else) tried to hold her. She was a whole new girl this go 'round, having a wonderful time with her grandmother, running around everywhere, smiling and chatting away. Andrew continues to adore his Nannie. He was asking me recently about how people got married, and I told him how he'd find a girl one day that he loved so much and that they'd be best friends and he'd want to be with her forever. He immediately declared that his girl would be Nannie.

Mobley excitement continued as we spent last Saturday at Aunt Sallie and Uncle David's house. Nannie, Aunt Jessie, Uncle Jeff and darling cousin Anna-Kate were there, too, and there was cake and ice cream and b-b-q and presents for all the fall/winter birthdays! The Precious consumed his weight in sugar and Nib's diaper leaked and there was much shrieking in delight every time Aunt Sallie's cat (Bean ... poor Bean) walked into the room, so a great time was had by all. (Except Bean, though he was extremely good-natured about all the attention.)

Here are the cousins, sharing secrets as their lunch was being prepared.

Andrew getting some good Uno time in with Aunt Jessie.

Back at home, things are less festive, but going well. Elsbeth is blossoming before my eyes, often full of sweet kisses and little chatterings. I'm picking more and more words out of her babble, like fish ("bish") and flower and slide and diaper ... and my current favorite, Andrew (something like "Anew") usually said with a big grin. I'm sure she's saying lots more ... I've just got to keep listening closely.

I was foolishly attempting to wash some clothes a few days ago, separating piles all over the kitchen, and this time, instead of loading the washer for me, my Nibblet decided she needed to wear all the dirty clothes. At the same time. She was particularly taken with Andrew's new Thomas whambones (she loves Thomas). Hard to tell here, but she's actually wearing 3 pairs of pants, and she was none too pleased when I decided to take them off.

On a side note, I have determined that we own an alarming amount of khaki. Does this say something about us as a family unit? Are we bland? I think Phil's the only one among us that wears loafers (which is an issue I'd like to discuss in a later post ... namely, how does one most efficiently set shoes ablaze, starting with the tassles). But really, perhaps I should start spicing up the wardrobes around here. Red lycra all around!

Spoot

2010-09-11T20:57:00.002-05:00

Elsbeth and I took off last weekend - just us girls! - to visit my dear family in NC, and we had such a wonderful time. Els decided that Ashton was pretty much the best thing ever as soon as we walked in the door (and she is). See this picture? Nibblet being held by Not Mommy? And Mommy was taking the picture, so I was in view and everything, and there she is being all happy and smiling. It was bliss.

Els took a really long nap one afternoon, so I got to not only nap myself, but have a quiet tea time with my Aunt Amy, Ashton, and my wee tiny 4-foot grandmother. Or perhaps my Nana was just leaning back in this picture. I can't remember. Whatever the case, she made some wonderful pumpkin bread that Elsbeth later inhaled.

Sunday afternoon we spent enjoying the very adorable Burlington City Park. Here we were riding the little train that on loop 1 totally weirded Els out, loop 2 had her feeling wary but not yelling, and loop 3 turned her into an expert and nearly happy train passenger.

Can anyone tell me why I would purposefully take a photo next to Ashton? I mean, really. I'm taking a blogging break right now to go put on a mud mask.

I'm not sure why this picture turned out this way, but I love it.

The boys had some manly bonding time hiking around Stone Mountain and eating multiple meals at The Waffle House. Aunt Jessie, Uncle Jeff and cousin Anna-Kate came to visit and, as far as I can tell, were entertained with hours of football games, meals of week-old leftover flank steak and cold cereal and a drive downtown where they were permitted to peer out of the car windows at Phil's office building. I'm pretty sure we're never going to see them again.

I'll end with this picture of Andrew who decided to give himself a mustache with a dry erase marker. I was actually a little disappointed in how easily it washed off ... I don't know why.

The Frightful Bombastic Aghast

2010-09-02T20:21:00.006-05:00

Here's the last few weeks in pictures in no particular order with a smattering of disjointed thoughts:

TFO has actually turned a corner and is a cheerful, darling delight the majority of the time. But at any moment, her sensitive soul might decide a particle of her universe isn't exactly as it should be ...
and she lets you know about it.

My Nibblet has fallen deeply in love with Mr. Bear, a really sweet stuffed animal that Phil picked out for her months before we met her. She is always full of kisses for him and clutches him tightly while listening to bedtime stories and going to sleep. He makes any sad situation tolerable.

Speaking of bedtime, Phil was finally given the privilege of putting his daughter to bed earlier this week. This was the first time I had not put her down myself. Ever.

The Precious is my wacky, fun-loving boy! We've started a new gymnastics class only a few miles from our new house and he loves it. I'm hoping to also do some more swim classes soon.

He had his 4-year-old checkup, and though he was apparently not in the mood for a photo shoot, he was incredibly brave and sweet. Barely a whimper during his shots. (I'm going to enjoy this while I can since I anticipate it taking 3 strapping orderlies to hold TFO down for such an event.) Everything looked great, and after years of holding steady at 30 pounds, he's now a lean but healthy 35.

Elsbeth just loves wearing Andrew's shoes.
It amazes me how well she can run around in them.

I don't know why my house is such a sty when I have so much great help. It must be messy Daddy's fault.

Els loves putting clothes in the washer. Occasionally I have a basket of clean clothes sitting next to a pile of dirty ones, then when I go to start the next load the machine is full and both piles gone.
Therein lies the rub.

Magic Old Man Baby

2010-08-10T13:22:00.009-05:00

Mobley Lake Day 2010! Look at the cousins enjoying a leisurely boat ride together, soaking up the cool breezes and working on their tans.

Andrew, on the other hand, was too busy riding the exciting and manly jet ski to frolic with the girls.

The day on the lake was really lovely ... so lovely that I think it might have actually made up for the misadventure of traveling to and from Aunt Gayle and Uncle Ron's house, and that's saying something.

The trip started off with a bang as Strider (my car) blew up about a mile from our house. He limped to a gas station parking lot where we let him cool down (not easy in 98 degree weather) and filled him with water (he was bone dry) and finally got him back to our garage where we set to work moving all our gear into Phil's car.

An hour later we're on the road again and heading straight into Friday evening traffic ... and then the rain came ... and then our road was blocked by a fallen tree that had to be bashed to smithereens by a queer little machine before we could continue. So instead of arriving at our destination with happy children ready to eat a bite and go straight to bed, we arrived 2 hours past Elsbeth's bedtime with a very sad baby and a 4-year-old who could have levitated and flown our car around with his excess pent-up energy ... ah, if only it could be harnessed for such purposes. Anyway, everyone slept soundly through the night and I got to eat a really fantastic steak, so the day ended on a high note.

As you can see from the photo, Andrew really loved that jet ski. He also had a great time splashing around in the lake and learning the ways of the swim noodle. It was a heavenly day for our boy.

The Fiery One had a different perspective. She did not at all like being contained while the boat was moving (and letting her run up and down it was challenging) and she found being in the water loathsome. Almost exactly like cousin Anna-Kate ... except that Anna-Kate was content as could be in her mommy's arms and was lulled to sleep by the moving boat, then cheerfully got into her turtle float and ... yep, fell asleep again.

TFO preferred to remain on deck where she could keep an eye on things.

Well, somebody had to! Mighty Captain Ron quickly succumbed to the warm, rocking boat and The Beach Boys playing in the background.

Uncle Ron and The Precious really hit it off this trip. He took Andrew on multiple jet ski rides (even when he would have rather been snoozing), and he let Andrew be his right-hand-man while gassing up the boat and grilling hamburgers. I even caught the two of them sneaking popsicles before dinner. How cute is that?!

When he wasn't helping Uncle Ron, he was assisting Aunt Gayle with her laundry. I think 3 cycles were completed under his watch over the weekend.

The drive home was certainly quicker, but Nib provided us with additional travel drama by having a hideous diarrhea explosion all over her car seat. You haven't lived until you've knelt on the concrete by a gas pump in Washington, GA with a poop-covered baby shrieking on a poop-covered changing pad. Seriously, try it! A majorly character building exercise. You get additional points for needing to send your husband into the gas station to buy stuff (a Moon Pie and Mr. Pibb) just for the grocery bag to contain aforementioned poopie items.

So thank you so much, Uncle Ron and Aunt Gayle, for your amazing hospitality (as always) and a glorious summer day! I'm so glad our last memories of your home are good ones since I'm never driving there again. (Just kidding!)

(Maybe.)

Opulence. I Has It.

2010-08-05T19:16:00.006-05:00

The big 0-4! My Precious was celebrated last weekend with, among other things, strawberry cupcakes with vanilla frosting and sprinkles, per his request. Kat Von D and I approved of his selection.

Instead of a party this year, we allowed him to pick one friend to go with him to the children's museum downtown. So we picked up Marjorie Stewart-Baxter at noon then hauled our brood down to Moe's for lunch.

The two of them ate and sang songs about chopping down trees with their juice box straws (?) and crawled under the table and pretended to be lions. Very loud lions. Then Phil and I thought, "Hey, now let's give them cookies and take them on MARTA!"

MARTA was a big hit, excepting the ridiculously long wait for each train in the blazing heat, nasty loud MARTA bathrooms and wetties in shoes, and the time Andrew, MS-B and I were nearly slung the length of a train car on our faces (a kind rider caught us before we hit the ground).

After a more substantial walk that I'd anticipated from the station, we arrived at the crazy madhouse of a children's museum. I've been wanting to take Andrew there for ages, so I was really deflated to see the place in complete chaos. It was trashed and there were so many kids everywhere it was really hard to imagine our two big kids getting to actually do anything. Fortunately, Andrew is often quite content to be an observer and he found the place facinating to watch. And after a time, the crowds thinned a bit and the kids got to do a few things ... like dress up!

I'd like to take Andrew back on a non-weekend, non-summer day so he could really get into it, but even with the pandemoniom, Andrew had a really good time. And Elsbeth was an angel throughout the adventure, even with no nap. 1,000,000,000 points to Elsbeth, for without her sweetness on that day Phil and I would have surely gone mad.

My darling, big, 4-year-old boy. He's such a great conversationalist these days. Often when I tell him of something we need to do, he'll look up at me and say, "I can handle it." Now that Elsbeth is running around, the two of them will play this game where they throw themselves down on the living room rug over and over, laughing together for tens of minutes at a time! He gives out lots of spontaneous hugs and kisses and "I love you"s, swoons over playing board games and hide-and-seek, and can work any appliance set before him. He doesn't usually want to read to me if I put him on the spot, but he regularly asks me about things he'd only know to ask from reading a sign or package ("Why is that place called Food Mart?"). He generates 127 questions per hour ... things like, "Why do they call these 'crackers?'" and "What would happen if the car didn't have wheels?" and "What are you and Daddy talking about?" And his adorable smile continues to light up my world.

Happy birthday, My Precious! You are so loved.

Oh, Save Me From These Pale Green Pants With Nobody Inside!

2010-07-30T21:47:00.008-05:00

We are fresh in from a trip to see Nina and Pa where the main attraction was, once again, Nina's washing machine. The kind with an agitator, in case you'd forgotten. I am so baffled by this fascination, but it kept an otherwise very energetic boy totally still and fixated for, and I'm not exaggerating here, 3 or 4 hours during our visit. He stood on a stool watched at least 4 cycles from start to finish. If he had to go to the bathroom, we had to stop the machine until he got back, lest he miss something important, like a rinse or spin. At one point I lured him away because my mom had a present to give him. He excitedly played with his gift (Moon Sand ... very cool stuff) and then realized he'd left his post. When he saw that the load was done, he was devastated and cried (seriously, tears and poked out lip and all) until Nina agreed to wash some towels. I mean, wow. If I didn't remember, quite vividly in fact, this child coming forth from my very person, I'd be pretty sure we weren't related as I can't begin to tell you how disinterested I am in the washing machine (just ask Phil, who moments ago informed me that he's out of clean underpants).

I am, on the other hand, quite interested in Cheez Ballz (something I do have in common with my boy ... and my girl). We took a trip to Myrtle Beach on Wednesday and stopped at a drug store to pick up a few beach essentials, which naturally included a giant vat of Cheez Ballz (not to be confused with your old run-of-the-mill cheese balls). We purchased these because the bucket they came in had a little plastic shovel attached, and we were concerned we might be one little plastic shovel short in our stash. And the bucket was a nice shape for castle-making ... bonus! Thus, we (I) felt the need to eat each and every salty, cheesy delectable ball before we got to the shore. Nina wasn't much help at all, and Andrew hung with me for at least the first two-thirds of the bin. Elsbeth and Kat Von D were the last ones standing ... but they did it. Look at those cheesy babies. You can tell Els took her job very seriously.

The beach was so glorious and the kids loved it! The sand, the surf, all of it! Yea!!!

Gone are the days of standing sadly by a water slide.

This girl was not at all intimidated by the ocean and wanted to follow big brother as far out as he'd go.

And as the grand finale to a grand trip ... My Precious decided to turn 4.

"Zoom!" Said The Head, Buttering My Bread

2010-07-23T15:22:00.012-05:00

This is home, my sweet Genevieve.

Phil keeps asking me what I love most about her - hard for me to settle on, but the outdoor spaces are high on the list on any given day.

Here's Phil relaxing on the front porch. Based on the piles of hair I keep finding on that swing, the neighborhood cats also like relaxing there.

Unless the day begins at 90 degrees with air that could drown an ox, we eat our breakfast on the back porch watching all the birds (and squirrels) on the feeders and listening to the little pond waterfall. (Full disclosure: This photo was taken before we bought the house - some of the cool stuff you see here now lives somewhere else.)

Elsbeth LOVES the child-size wicker set the dear former owner left for us. AHHHHHH!

Backyard.

Andrew and Daddy working on a compost bin. It was completed 5 days ago and is already full.

Front yard.

This is how we travel to the park, which is now 1/2 block away.

Two blocks away is the Greenway Trail that is fabulous. I walked it every morning for 3 days straight, contemplating my new yard and how I really, really, really don't want to kill it with my black thumbs and complete lack of knowledge of anything botanical. Then I got a cold and lost my walking ambition and have thus been left to fret over the yard while peering at it from the windows.

I plan to post some of my plant questions (like what the heck are the crazy shoots coming out of my Lady Banks rose that grow, like, 8 inches a day?! Do I cut them off? Photo coming.)

Wierd. Do NOT Give Her A Key.

2010-07-04T19:57:00.006-05:00

With the help of many strong backs, willing spirits, and du-rag-wearing nut jobs, I am thrilled to announce that we now occupy the greatest house in the world (as far as I'm concerned, anyway).

For those of you who might not recognize her (like Papa) ... this is Nannie. This sweet woman slaved over our old house, leaving it sweet and clean for our renters, pretty much unpacked my entire kitchen the night we moved, and spent hours playing hide-and-seek with Andrew.

Super fly Aunt Sallie is the best thing since sliced bread. This lady can haul boxes and wrap pictures like a pro, and look like a darling peasant woman while she does it.

Here's my baby daddy, lookin' all fine while he puts together a tv cabinet. I just found out he not only has a favorite screw driver, he's named it Steve.

The kids were major champs on moving day. Andrew was Daddy's right-hand man, and Elsbeth rode sweetly in her backpack for hours.

I'm so glad to be here, and so glad my world seems to be taking on some order again.

Couple of fun shots of the sweeties:

Andrew at his first Braves game with Daddy (as a reward for a very long sought-after bathroom achievement).

Elsbeth's first pigtails (aka the "double snork").

Why Squirrel Hate Me?

2010-06-03T14:15:00.016-05:00

I've been thinking quite a bit about our move in just over 2 weeks - pondering deeply, you might say - but I haven't exactly officially "started packing" yet. Part of me is still living off the high I got when I packed a few things away before we put our house on the market. The other part of me keeps getting distracted by the ENORMOUS MOUNDS OF LAUNDRY everywhere that I keep moving from one surface to another, somehow expecting the piles to diminish in size during the shuffle. So yesterday morning I mustered 2 ounces of determination and proclaimed to the heavens that I, Christy Mobley, was going to fold and put away at least one load of laundry, whatever the cost!

So we head off to my room where I sit Elsbeth on the floor with some toys, give Andrew the job of putting a new roll of toilet paper in my bathroom (one of his favorite tasks), then I grandly dump a giant basket-full of rumpled clothes onto my bed. The Fiery One doesn't scream immediately when I put her down and The Precious takes off after the toilet paper. I fold a pair of underpants. Andrew runs in with the package of toilet paper, grabs one and runs off, leaving the other roll next to Elsbeth, who, having already dumped the toys out, begins shredding the unprotected roll. I fold a pair of pajamas. I am then summoned to look at what a wonderful job Andrew had done replacing the toilet paper - I tell him how amazing he is. Elsbeth continues shredding. I fold a pair of socks. Andrew clunks out in a pair of my high heels and I stop to take a picture (see top photo). Andrew leaves shoes in the middle of the floor and climbs up on the bed and starts jumping on it and all the clothes. Elsbeth decides we've been apart far too long, pulls up on my legs and demands to be held. Upon noticing Andrew leaping about, she then requests to get on the bed as well and has a jolly good time flinging clothes hither and yon and dropping them behind the bed. I stand there guarding the sides of the bed and refold the same shirt 12 times. I pause to take a picture so I can blog about the experience.

"You're the Mom, right? You're bigger than they are. Why did you let them jump on the bed and fling the clothes around in the first place?"

I have no idea. Stop interrupting me with silly questions.

Then, with me standing right there "guarding," Elsbeth dives head first off the bed and lands on her face. She begins SCREAMING. This upsets Andrew and he begins SCREAMING. I grab up injured baby and determine that the fall most certainly did not feel good but has not caused any permanent damage. I walk both crying children around the house and outside 'til they've decided life is again worth living. The mission to do anything else laundry related (ever) is aborted.

So, let's look at the final score:

Positive Accomplishments: 6 folded articles of clothing

Negative Accomplishments: Toys and shoes scattered across floor, shredded toilet paper roll, clothes dropped somewhere behind the headboard, baby with big goose egg on forehead and scraped up nose

The moral of the story, ladies and gentlemen, is that, if you're me, you should pretty much just pack up everyone as soon as possible every morning and leave. Sure, you won't actually get anything done, but it's unlikely that the house will continue to degrade while you're gone.

And that is just what we did on Wednesday ... and we had such a fun morning. We went to one of our favorite parks and discovered, much to our delight, that there was another park 3 blocks away with it's own fabulous play fountain!

We were all happy and soaked and cool by the end of the visit, and there were no injuries to report.

FANNY!!!

2010-05-26T18:21:00.009-05:00

Sometimes I sit and watch it happening, and I don't even care. No, more that that even. I'll sit there and think, "How adorable, the two of them working on a little project together! No imminent threat of stitches or concussion or fingers getting squished in a cabinet door. And no yelling. Ah yes, no whining or fussing or wailing. No loud noises at all. This is a happy, happy moment."

Another happy moment was taking the kids to the pool on Tuesday for the first time. Look at The Fiery One all suited up and with a little snork to top it off!

I'd been intimidated by the thought of watching 2 wee non-swimmers at the pool at the same time, but we had such fun! Andrew was inspired by Marjorie Stewart-Baxter (who can swim) and was leaping off the side into deep water with his little water wings before I knew it. Els desperately wanted me to just let her go to it and was very put out that I insisted upon holding her. I'm hoping she'll take a liking to her float soon so I don't have to alligator wrestle the whole time. Funny thing: When I got home, I was rinsing out their bathing suits and saw that Andrew's is size 24 months and Elsbeth's is 3T. What in the world?

In appliance news, The Precious decided recently that it was time our Nibblet was educated in the ways of front-loading washers. He was excitedly telling her all about it (or, in truth, telling me to tell her ... "Mommy, tell Elsbeth this is where the water comes out," etc.). The two of them stood watching the clothes wash for some time before Nib decided she had some other things to check on. Andrew was distraught that she was going to miss the spin cycle. Seriously.

A few Saturdays ago we scooted out of town to Southern Belle Farms to pick strawberries. (Same farm we went in the fall to select a pumpkin and do the corn maze and take a hay ride - love this place!)

Yum.

TFO was annoyed that she was strapped to my back during the actual picking instead of digging around in the plants herself. She punished me by occasionally getting a fist full of my hair and pulling it with all her surprisingly powerful might. Then she'd arch her back and kick her legs and tell me a little more about what she thought of her confinement. But later I let her free-range in the grass and eat homemade strawberry ice cream and all was forgiven.

New Nibblet milestone: She's walking! She took her first step a couple weeks ago, and then did a whopping 8 steps by herself yesterday! She still prefers to hold on to my finger, but I don't think it will be long before she's careening wildly about the house.

And finally, in house news, we're moving in a just a couple weeks a big 3 miles away to a 100-year-old Victorian that I'm madly in love with. I can't believe it! It's my dream house. And it has 4 sets of stairs and a deep koi pond that just might give me a stroke. Everyone go now and buy up stock in baby gates and pond security netting.

Man At Very Top Of Food Chain Chooses Bugles

2010-05-13T08:27:00.002-05:00

I'm not exactly sure what's wrong with me ...

A Little Sea Bathing Would Set Me Up Forever

2010-05-06T14:19:00.002-05:00

Swallow study accomplished! Elsbeth left Egleston this afternoon sporting barium in her eyebrows, feeling disgruntled, but with an 'A' in swallowing. And I got to see a gentleman strolling proudly through the hospital wearing the most terrifying hair piece ever created, which pretty much made the whole outing worth it for me.

The speech therapist (Laura) who conducted the study felt very good about how all her swallowing parts worked and concluded that she is very sensitive to texture. It was wonderful to hear that her throat flappy bits are protecting her air tube as they should (yes, I have a degree in speech therapy) and that if (when) she gets choked up on food she should be able to clear it on her own with out the 911 people. Laura suggested I just press on with foods, helping her to learn the new textures, and that she should catch up with her contemporaries (who are snarfing chicken nuggets, quesadillas and apple wedges).

I kind of wish she had done one of her gurgley chokes where she can only whimper because she doesn't have enough air to cry. I described these more than once, and though I'm sure Laura believed me, it would be comforting to me to know she's witnessed it and still unconcerned. The only thing she actually did see what a bit of a cough/gag, which, though I don't like it when she does that either, isn't the reason I decided to do a whole big children's hospital event.

Ultimately still good news which we celebrated with french fries at McD's with friends. In my newly emboldened state, I gave The Fiery One her very own french fry.

She proceeded to stick the whole thing in her mouth, and at once my boldness dissipated. I snatched it out, then went back to pinching little bits of it off for her. Then she got choked up on some small pieces of soft green bean, but she got through it without any back beating. Baby steps.

Andrew and Marjorie Stewart-Baxter shared a booth and a couple of Happy Meals and neither of them choked on a thing.

M.F.E.O.

2010-05-03T19:36:00.011-05:00

A couple weeks ago we were invited to Aunt Sallie and Uncle David's awesome new house to celebrate all the Mobley spring birthdays. As punishment for surviving another year, we made them all line up in party hats and asked them to smile while we took a zillion snapshots.

Elsbeth serenaded us with brain-melting shrieks on the drive to Greenville, but once there she decided life was pretty fantastic. She and Cousin Anna-Kate crawled circles around each other and battled to see who could retain possession of the most cat toys. I'm trying not to have my feelings hurt that she smashed the monkey cake I made for her to smithereens and threw it on the ground, but was quite interested in her cupcake here at the party. It's wise to creep snoot first into unfamiliar foods.

She was delighted to receive her very first doll, a sweet Raggedy Ann that she grabbed and kissed.

Somebody decided to let Uncle David out of the attic even though his medication had clearly worn off.

And Scary Uncle Jeff was permitted to mingle once we disarmed him. The children knew to keep their distance, but sadly a neighbor's cat has been missing ever since.

Andrew thought the whole thing was spectacular and didn't seem to mind that none of the presents were for him. (Granted, Nannie had a whole sack of goodies for him upon his arrival and we let him "help" Elsbeth open her gifts, most of which he unceremoniously pitched to the side once out of the wrapping.) Time being doted upon by loving aunts, uncles and grandparents feeds a little one's soul.

Andrew also got his own private magic show by a much adored family friend. I think Sir Raul was biting a quarter in half here.

The weather was unbelievable so we all spent hours in the gorgeous yard running, playing badminton, laying on blankets, throwing footballs, etc. Thank you so much Crazies Uncle David and Aunt Sallie for all the wonderful memories!

Back at home we're trying to muddle along after such party fun followed by days of getting to hang out with Nannie. Andrew continues to enjoy his gymnastics class ...

... and now we've added some swim lessons to the mix! And as a special bonus, he's getting take these lessons with his dear friend Eunice Chantilly! Aren't they so cute, waiting there to go into the pool?

Even though he's still very hesitant to get his face wet (which, from what I understand, is a critical piece of the learning-to-swim process), we're making great strides. He was wrapped around me like an octopus - total death grip - when we walked in the first day, but by the end of that class he was giddy about going back. He now willingly wears goggles (!), will jump off the wall to the teacher (after much negotiation about how close the teacher should stand), and is learning to float.

And Els keeps growing and growing. I'm going to shamelessly steal a nickname I saw on a blog I visited once years ago where the writer referred to her husband as "The Fiery One." Elsbeth is my Fiery One. She will be so happy, so very happy, giggling and laughing and grinning so you can see all her 7 teeth. Then something will happen - say, Mommy offers her water when she isn't in the mood for water - and she'll wither you with her glare and try to fling the offered sippy cup into the next room. I've been really working to get her to sign "please" when she wants more food, but she flatly refuses. She prefers to give me a stern look and bang on her tray. She is tied for the most adorable creature in the world and I simply love her to bits. I also collapse into a heap outside her bedroom door after I put her down for the night.

One item of prayer for my girl - she's scheduled for a swallow study at the Egleston Children's Hospital on Thursday morning. She chokes very easily on food - something that's been an issue since we brought her home, but that has gotten scarier now that we've (finally) entered the world of table foods. Several back-beating episodes had me calling our pediatrician who suggested we do the swallow study to see if there's an issue there. Anything that I can imagine fixing a swallowing issue sounds pretty yucky (surgery?), but I'm ready for meal times to be more relaxed.

And The Tree Was Happy

2010-04-10T20:06:00.009-05:00

My sweet girl is ONE!

We celebrated with a Fisher Price doctor's kit (lovingly chosen by Andrew), a cozy quilt and Peter Rabbit book (from Mommy & Daddy), a gorgeous afternoon at the park with a few friends and a monkey cake, and lots of hugs and kisses.

Elsbeth has 5 teeth, is pulling up on everything and starting to cruise a bit, adores her big brother, chatters constantly and will say Mama and Dada if she feels like it, and will begin going to the church nursery on Sunday mornings (instead of sitting in the lobby with Mommy and Daddy, as has been our tradition).

Happy birthday, my darling girl! You have brightened our lives and brought us unimaginable joy. We love you more than words can say.

Being You Is Not A Gratifying Experience At The Atomic Level

2010-04-07T13:18:00.006-05:00

I finally did it. I drove to visit my parents 6 hours away with both kiddos all by me onesie. Well, to be totally honest, I only drove it one way all by me onesie - Nina and Pa met me halfway on the way down. But the kids did so great, and other than an unfortunate experience in the McDonalds restroom on the way back (and, naturally, some bad Atlanta traffic) it couldn't have gone more smoothly. (Why, oh do tell me why, would the McDonalds people design the changing station to block one of their two stalls? And why WHY would they decide to put the one tiny, nastified trash can way the heck on the other side of the bathroom? And why, heaven help me, did Elsbeth feel the need to have a complete colon cleanse in this poorly designed and terrifically unsanitary location? Three of the great mysteries of the universe found right off I-20.)

The week was full of glorious adventures including a trip to Myrtle Beach where I was delighted to discover that both my wee ones love the beach this year! Or at least, in this particular moment of April, 2010. Whatever the case, it was a lovely day.

"Thank you for letting me borrow your sun hat, Emmy!"

I don't know if it was just Andrew's mood or perhaps his willingness to wear sunglasses this year, but he laughed and ran and jumped and splashed and was very sad to leave. Zero minutes were spent standing at the top of a water slide. Fabulous.

Our fun did not end with the beach. We played croquet, went to new parks, walked trails, ran on suspended bridges, baked Easter cookies, dyed Easter eggs, got Easter baskets, and had an Easter egg hunt.

But most exciting of all was .... Nina's washing machine!

Andrew spent hour after hour utterly engrossed with my mother's washing machine. Why? Personally, I'm convinced it has everything to do with the whopping dose of Mobley freak genes that have been bestowed him. According to him it's because hers is a top-loader and thus has an agitator (unlike our front-loader). I mean, come on! What was I thinking? An AGITATOR! All 3-year-olds love a good agitator! His obsession knew no bounds. We had to talk him into abandoning his vigil (to go to the playground!) by stopping the machine and promising the spin cycle would not begin until his return. I mean, wow.

And Elsbeth had the culinary experience of a lifetime. She's finally started eating some things with texture. Just before our visit, I discovered she could handle a teething biscuit without gagging and scaring me to death. But at Nina's we found that Elsbeth also loves ...

Ritz crackers,

Grass,

Dandelions,

Mint chocolate chip ice cream,

And lots of sand. (This may be partially responsible for the McDonald's colon cleanse.)

Andrew decided against the sand and grass this time, but did enjoy a nice breakfast of cinnamon roll and black coffee.

Thank you Nina and Pa! Let's do it again soon.

What I Wouldn't Give For A Holocaust Cloak

2010-03-15T20:26:00.010-05:00

I guess my kiddos do favor each other a bit. :-) I've been hearing that a lot lately. Since my Precious was the TCBITW, I'm quite pleased to get a "do over" as my Auntie called it.

Last summer Andrew would get beside himself if I tried to put a hat on him, but he seems to have outgrown it. Hallelujah! His eyes are super sensitive to the sun and we do get some pretty intense UV rays here in Georgia, so this will make us all happier during park time. And he looks so old and adorable I could just swoon. Can this really be my baby boy?

And don't even get me started on the fact that my Nib turns ONE in just a few weeks. Look at those sweet little teeth coming in.

It seems to me she's changed so much in just the last month or so. She's crawling with great purpose, most often determined to get at whatever Andrew is playing with. I can have veritable sea of enthralling baby toys surrounding her, but if she catches a glimpse of Andrew doing something exciting (like coloring or putting on his shoes) she will light the turbo jets to get to him. Now all day long I hear, "NO Elsbeth, this is MY _______!!" Heaven help me. I thought I was going to get a few more months in before that started.

She's eating really well these days, but still only purees. The couple times I tried to give her little pieces of food, she gagged and turned bright red and scared me to death. She may just get a spoon full of whipped cream on her birthday. She was really excited about playing with the food processor last night (after watching Andrew with it, naturally ... my kids do love a kitchen appliance) - maybe I'll teach her to make her own purees.

She's sleeping really well, for the most part (she's playing on the floor right now after refusing to take her afternoon nap, but this is unusual). Most days she sleeps all night (about 12 hours straight) and takes two 1.5 - 2 hour naps a day. Ahhh, what a sweet spot! I shall enjoy it while it lasts. She's also saying "Da Da" much to Phil's delight, clapping when she's done with something (that was Andrew's "all done" sign as well), and waving!

I'm ready to be done with all this House On The Market stuff, but it's really going fine. No offers, occasional showings, just found out we're on somebody's short list of homes they're considering, still hoping for our dream house.

Listing our house has made me keenly aware of something, though. My dog is ridiculously spoiled. He lives inside a nice warm home, but is the soft carpet good enough for him? Oh no, never! The stinker isn't even happy with laying on the couch or bed! He absolutely must dig in my pillows and blankets to be satisfied. It's killing me! Right now I'm making the bed every single day (ahhhhhh! Only freaks do that, right?) thinking as I leave the room, "Now that's one nice looking bed. Who wouldn't buy a house with a bed in it as nicely made as this one?" I walk back in moments later to see this:

"Oh, excuse me Shiloh. I hope I didn't disturb you. Your massage is scheduled for 3:00. Can I fix you a sandwich?"

Silly creature. I clearly haven't properly prepared him to be a contributing member of society. I'm considering hooking him up to a little cart and sending him out to sell bananas around the neighborhood

I Left My Thimbles And Socialist Reading Material At Home

2010-03-06T09:58:00.004-05:00

Am I super dramatic person all the time? Or just with my hair? Do I make anyone want to set themselves on fire?

I don't know. But what I do know is this ...

... Wearing wigs will be much easier.

You Don't Need More Sleep, You Need More Coffee

2010-02-22T15:14:00.003-05:00

So, the snow was pretty, but the magic of it was pretty much lost on this thin-blooded group. Andrew refused to even consider stepping outside to play in it, much to his daddy's dismay who was all geared up for snowman fun. We didn't make that mistake twice - decided to just bundle up Elsbeth without asking.

She really loved it.

So I stayed inside while Elsbeth napped off the horror of the experience and Andrew played a computer game in his slippers while Phil built a snowman all by his lonesome. It was pitiful (both Phil and the snow person). He couldn't get any of the snow to stick together, so his final product was a toddler girl snow person we named Tweaky.

Phil blamed his southern roots until we took a walk and saw that our Mexican neighbors had a nice 7-foot snow giant. Phil's still pretty sensitive about it. I think some heckling e-mails would help toughen him up (pmobley@kingsleyassociates.com).

Valentine's Day was pretty low-key. I was up to my eye galls with basement grime and touch-up paint, so my plan to do some lavish family Valentine's dinner with homemade gifts didn't happen. Not even close. But it was a charming thought, don't you think? Ten points for the charming thought! Anyway, Andrew and I did sit down one morning and made Valentines for our dearest friends and family (that I intended to deliver but never did ... 10 points for another charming thought!) Take a look at this one for Holly. I held the paper while he cut it, but that's all I did. I thought it was pretty good!

Elsbeth celebrated by eating her very first Valentine.

It's a family tradition.

PS: The house is officially on the market (here's our virtual tour: http://www.michaelbunch.com/Listing/VirtualTour.ashx?ListingID=11798809). I'm being a total freak, looking out my windows every couple minutes to see if people driving by are slowing down to look. And we live in a cul-de-sac for crying out loud! Not a lot of drive by traffic that doesn't include people who already live here. We don't have fliers yet, but rest assured I will be counting them every evening. I'm also staring at the phone since we should learn this week if our dream house is a possibility. Somebody give me a pill!

Serenity Now!

2010-02-05T18:42:00.008-05:00

Getting ready to put the house on the market

Where did we get all this crapola?

So tired - I feel like an example on one of those "this is your brain on drugs" commercials

update: Elsbeth

Crawling!
Tooth!
9 month appt = 20 lbs. 2oz. (75%), 27.5 in. (50%) and a referral to an eye surgeon for her clogged tear duct (blah)
Lots of night waking = not enough caffeine in the world for Mommy

update: Andrew

Turned 3.5 = Big Boy Party, the purpose of which was to encourage certain bathroom activities which until this point he would only do in a Pull-Up during his rest time.

Didn't work. Blast.

Upon seeing a pimple on my forehead: "That is ... (hesitantly reaches forward to touch the spot) ... Mommy's skin?" Momentary silence as he ponders this, then states matter-of-factly, "That's just how God made Mommy."

visit from: Dear friend Rachel and Darling Baby Shanaynay*

So fun to get caught up with Rachel and meet sweet, amazingly laid-back baby

Incredibly kind friend who claims to have had a good time despite the fact that her visit included:

- Mobleys killing borrowed van battery ... twice

- her digging in cold mud 'til 11pm trying to get Phil's car unstuck from our side yard (we failed ... had to call tow truck)

- Mobleys leaving her here alone for several hours one evening because an opportunity arose for us to look inside a house we're dying to get (awesome house! just don't know how much owner wants ... tiny, insignificant detail)

- getting stuck in traffic on the way to the airport leaving her no time to eat breakfast before boarding with Shanaynay (who was also hungry)

Off I go to scrounge for supper, for I am also hungry.

* name changed to protect the innocent

Yes, You're Very Smart. Shut Up.

2010-01-16T14:48:00.008-05:00

Ah, my darling Nibblet all fancy for church. Joy!

Pathetic how often I find it absolutely necessary to crop myself out of pictures. I looked ... I don't know ... old or something in this one. And oily. I have been hoping all this oil that continues to make me break out (even though I'm in my blasted 30's for crying out loud!) was going to at least prove useful in warding off the old thing. Sigh. Whatever. Looking young and beautiful is stupid.

On a much more interesting note, Andrew has developed an imagination! It happened suddenly, right after Christmas. He has only ever used his play kitchen to push buttons and see what pieces of plastic food he could squeeze into the refrigerator through the hole under the handle, and out of nowhere he began baking me cookies and cakes, cleaning up imaginary juice spills with imaginary paper towels, and driving imaginary cars to purchase tires for his imaginary tractor! It's so stinkin' adorable, I just don't know what to do with myself. I just wish I could pause it while he eats. It took him 6 1/2 hours to finish supper tonight. Who cares about eating when you're handing out invisible balloons and playing imaginary golf with your slice of red pepper?

Below is a house we built out of those fun foam squares (thanks, Aunt Gayle!) He felt it necessary that we build something he could actually get inside, then spent considerable time cutting the grass on his front lawn.

Yesterday he was nibbling on a square of chocolate carefully selected from the basket of leftover Christmas stocking happiness. He turned to me and held up his half-eaten treat and declared, "It looks like Minnesota!" Now I wouldn't know a Minnesotian shape if it knocked me down and stole my handbag, so I was pretty sure my 3-year-old was just pulling this out of the air. But just to be sure, I pulled out the US map. That piece of candy looked freakishly like Minnesota. What the heck?!

Here's my wacky Precious, dressed to the nines for gymnastics.

In Nibblet news, she's started eating! Sort of. A couple weeks ago she began getting up in the night to eat again, so I decided to give the whole solid food thing another go. I have learned that she wants it to be quite thin (I hand-mashed an avocado to within an inch of it's life and added water but allowed a few microscopic beads to remain - she gagged like I'd spooned gravel into her mouth). She also wants it to be heated to exactly 86 degrees. I tried some cold pears on her and she looked at me like, "I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but I've got 9 months experience with nice warm food and I'm not about to go lowering my standards now."

I also think she's going to be crawling soon. She likes to sit with her feet clasped in front of her, then lean waaay over forward to try to get something.

She doesn't really know what to do with her feet and legs, so she'll either give up and sit back up, go nose first into the carpet, or (most often) end up on her stomach pushing herself backwards with her arms. Watching her prize get farther and farther away really ticks her off, which is quite understandable, but me trying to help her learn to crawl is apparently much more annoying. Even Andrew's fabulous crawling demonstrations haven't fixed the problem, though I have enjoyed them tremendously. Guess it's just one of those things you've got to work out on your own.

Simon, Bennett, Robbins, Oppenheim & Taft

2010-01-06T14:03:00.007-05:00

Look at my boy and his bling. On the way out the door to the booty mall, Andrew found this gold cross necklace and felt it added a little something special to his outfit. I put on his jacket over top thinking no one would ever see it, but as soon as we got inside he made sure to pull the chain out so everyone could admire his flyness. He's so much cooler than me. I wonder how much longer I have before he asks me to walk 6 feet behind him when we're out.

New topic: Big neighborhood news! We've been living next to a mesmerisingly craptaculous house for years. The people living there moved on several months ago and we've been waiting anxiously to see what would come of it. Saturday we had the thrill of watching a giant backhoe smash it to bits and haul it off!!!

Before:

During:

(Andrew watching the backhoe fill a giant dumpster)

After:

Merry Christmas to me!

Andrew was both fascinated and frightened by the backhoe. It hadn't occurred to me that it would scare him, so I grabbed him up and we watched it work for a while. I ended up needing to talk with him over and over again throughout the day about why that house was being torn down and, more importantly, why ours wasn't next. After they finished and I finally convinced him the house-eating machine wasn't coming back, he was OK.

New Topic: Elsbeth handled our Christmas travels amazingly well and gets 20,000 points for all of her fabulous car riding! She decided Nannie and Papa's house was far too exciting to sleep in, so we had one serious meltdown after 2 napless days, but other than that, she was happy as a lark. Andrew loved all of the festivities and has become quite the impressive present opener, ripping through all his packages with superhuman speed, then going back after the dust has settled to appreciate what he opened. I think the best moment was him sitting in the middle of his stocking innards, lovingly caressing a fancy milkshake straw from Nannie and saying, "This is wonderful!"

I think Elsbeth has started calling me, "Mama." !! :-) When she's not being held and I walk by, she'll look at me pitifully and wail, "Mamamamamama!" and reach up. This, as you can see, is why I hold her almost all the time. Occasionally she will also bat at the light switch and say, "Mamama," which makes me momentarily insecure, but I still think most of the time it means me.

AND (I know, the mind reels that there could be more) ... she's clapping.

Get Me - I'm Givin' Out Wings!

2009-12-25T09:23:00.002-05:00

Merry Christmas To All!

You Never Told Me About Your Cat Milking Days In Motown

2009-12-20T21:30:00.011-05:00

I'm so excited that my Nibblet has finally grown into her fancy fur coat with bunny ears. "Thank you, Aunt Jessie and Uncle Jeff! It's good to look divine and stay warm all at the same time."

Seeing The Precious in his flannel shirt makes me happy as well. I told him he was my Brawny Man and he was pleased, announcing several times that day that he really liked being "the brownie man." I think the face he's wearing here makes him look just like his daddy. Not that either of them wear this expression often ... there's just something about it that screams Phil to me.

There's something else that screams, "Phil!" around here. Andrew, when he's calling him from across the house. At all other times he's Daddy, but if Andrew is upstairs and daddy is downstairs, he'll stand at the top of the stairs and yell, "Phil! Come here!" I haven't the foggiest idea where that came from.

Other wacky Andrew-isms:

1. His favorite state is Nevada. He's never been, but we have a US map puzzle, he fell in love with the Nevada piece, and now it regularly comes up in conversation. Today I told him the capital of Nevada was Carson City, and he asked me what the lower case was. That question took me a minute.

2. His favorite time on the clock is 7:17. I have no explanation for this one.

3. This evening he asked me what holds his skin on. He asks a lot of great questions. I end up saying, "I have no idea" and "Jesus made it that way" a whole lot.

Andrew and I made quite a load of Christmas cookies last week (I guess I should have realized it would be a large batch when the recipe started with 3 sticks of butter).

I read that you could make cookie icing by simply mixing powdered sugar and milk. Seemed too easy, but it worked! We added a little food coloring and used paint brushes to decorate and Andrew loved it. It was way better than my old plan - having Andrew shake sprinkles on the cookies before they went into the oven. Oddly, few of the sprinkles actually stayed on the cookies with that method (I'm still finding them in various kitchen crevices).

Christmas shopping in a mall, an activity I once delighted in, has never sounded worse to me. Right now malls are for strolling when it's cold/rainy, train rides and Chick-Fil-A lunches, so I'm extremely grateful to the USPS, Fed Ex, and UPS for their role in my gift giving this year. We did do one mall run with Daddy to take in the lights and the crowds (and to avoid an exorbitant Macy's shipping fee). Andrew loved the decorations and begged to experience each elevator and escalator we passed while Elsbeth soaked up all the excitement from her little perch on my back - it was a great outing! Having Daddy around makes quite the difference.

I think the last thing I mentioned about my Nibblet and solid food was my hope that she was taking an interest in sweet potatoes. That was short-lived. The last couple times I tried to feed her anything (even applesauce!) resulted in her crying, spitting it out, and pushing the spoon away with considerable force, so my 8-month-old is still on a 100% milk diet. I'm not too worried about it. She's clearly keeping plenty of weight on, and frankly, it simplifies things. No messy bibs or trying to work clods of squash out of her nose or remembering to pack food when we leave the house. I'll just keep giving it a try every few weeks, and one of these days she's bound to take interest.

Oh - and speaking of surprising rejections, Els has also passionately rejected the pacifier that until now was a key part of her going to bed routine. She has instead opted for ...

... her sweet, wee thumb.

I Am A Martyr To My Own Generosity

2009-12-13T17:36:00.005-05:00

I've recently figured out a few things about myself - you might want to sit down and take some notes ... this gets pretty deep. Ready? I am a introverted pessimistic spaz, and there's nothing to be done about it. Doesn't that make you want to come hang out? These personality traits intensify exponentially every hour the later it gets after 9pm (Phil has devised a formula determining what shall henceforth be known as the Freak Factor). Here's a fun conversation we had at 2am Friday:

Christy: (rushing into the bedroom with cooing baby in arms) Phil, Elsbeth is really hot. What should I do?

Phil: (bleary-eyed, rolls over and lays hand upon his daughter) She feels fine.

C: She's burning up! I mean, feel her feet! Seriously, open your eyes and feel her feet! She's on fire! (baby grins at Daddy)

P: She doesn't feel all that hot to me. Maybe she has a little fever. You should just put her back to bed.

C: (wild-eyed, chewing her nails and trying to decide between tossing baby in the car and racing to the ER vs. calling an ambulance) I really think we should take her temperature.

P: (lets out a huge sigh, takes a look at the time and does a quick Freak Factor calculation, then knowing there's nothing else to be done, stumbles off to find the thermometer)

C: (takes temperature of baby now annoyed at being on changing table while rudely probed by thermometer ... temperature reads 105 ... Freak Factor shoots through the roof) HA! Look! (said in a voice laced with an even mixture of panic and gloat)

P: There is no way her temperature is 105. She would be glassy-eyed and limp as a dishrag if her temperature was 105.

C: (uses last shred of sanity to entertain the thought that husband might have a point) I'll take it again. (baby loves this idea ... thermometer reads 107 ... shows thermometer to husband, not sure whether to scream and run in hysterical circles or laugh and throw thermometer away)

P: She'd be dead.

C: Alright, I'll take it one more time. (baby totally TO'd, thermometer reads 102, feeling totally insecure about how to react) Maybe this is more likely?

P: Oh, so now you're going to start believing this thing?

C: Well, what do we do?

P: Give her some Motrin and go back to bed.

End of story: I gave her some Motrin, rocked her until she felt cooler, she slept all night and now appears to have a little cold that, other than occasionally causing her to sneeze unearthly amounts of bleck out of her little snoot, hasn't really bothered her all that much.

In other news ... it's almost Christmas, and we're having all kinds of Christmasy fun 'round here. Here's a picture of Family Movie Night where we ate pizza and watched Rudolph. Andrew loved it but has since announced that he's not a fan of the movie because of Abominable and the head elf that fusses at Herbie.

Elsbeth, Andrew and I also went out, picked out a tree, got it inside, and decorated it all by ourselves as a surprise for Daddy. I made the mistake of mentioning to Phil that the guy at Pike's that helped me was named Andrew and also happened to be really, really ridiculously good-looking, and now all day long I hear comments about Andrew the Tree Guy and how he probably would be really good at doing the dishes, and though supper was good, it probably would have been better if Andrew the Tree Guy had been here, etc.

And here's a picture taken during my Christmas card photo shoot ... I didn't use it since you can't see Elsbeth's face, but I love it still.

Last weekend me and my Nib had a girls' weekend in North Carolina. We stayed with my Aunt Amy, Uncle Mark and cousin Ashton and had the most amazing afternoon tea (Martha Stewart has nothing on my Auntie). Many members of my beloved family were in attendance ... 4 generations of Glendenning women represented ... it was so wonderful. So, of course, I forgot my camera. Ahhhhhh! What's wrong with me?! But Elsbeth did so well - flew well, slept well, and gave everyone big grins from the safety of my hip (she's gotten a bit attached to that spot). I was so thrilled that she traveled well and have hope that our Christmas visits in South Carolina will go so smoothly.

Yes. I Am Relieved To Know That I Am Not A Golem.

2009-11-27T21:33:00.014-05:00

My Nib in the hat Aunt Gillian made for The Precious, all set for the park. Don't you just want to reach through the screen and kiss those rosy cheeks?!

Andrew and Elsbeth occasionally have moments of sort of playing together - usually one is trying to play with the other, and the other is busy doing something else, but it's really sweet. A few days ago I went into Andrew's room to get him up in the morning and he saw his sister and said, "Elsbeth looks so beautiful. I love her." Be still my heart.

We were on our own for Thanksgiving this year with Phil running a half marathon in the morning and our extended families spread around the world, so our dear friends the Peabodys came over in the evening to share a meal and lots of chaos and laughs. (Gillian there next to me is the one who made the hat in the first picture). The most amazing moment for me was when both babies were down, Andrew and Eunice Chantilly* where entranced with a video and the four adults sat down and played a game together. It didn't last long, but we got in 1.27 rounds before a baby needed to eat and it was delightful!

A couple fun Andrew tidbits.

1) He has started calling me "sweetie" - hilarious! It usually comes out when he's a little annoyed with me, like when I'm coming over with a glass of milk ("Sweetie, I wanted some juice!")

2) He can READ! I just discovered this new skill last night, and it totally blew my mind. He's been fascinated with letters and words, so a few weeks ago I picked up some reading flash cards at a yard sale thinking he might find them interesting. Last night I asked him if he wanted to play with them and as he handed them to me, I thought I heard him try to sound out the word on the first card. Now, he's been giving me the sound of the first letter in words for a bit, but never the whole word. I showed him a card and he sounded out the whole thing, but it didn't occur to him that he was saying a word (like when you play Mad Gab). Then the light went off. You could see it in his eyes. He got a new card, sounded it out, triumphantly announced the word, I started yelling, he started yelling and jumping around, we terrified Elsbeth ... it was a moment. Then he wanted another card, then another, then he wanted me to put them into sentences. I was blown away.

Forgive me my bragging, but what else is a mommy blog for? :-)

Warum Tragt Dein Vater Lippenstift?

2009-11-13T14:32:00.013-05:00

Elsbeth is sitting up! Doesn't she look so pleased with herself? I still keep something soft behind her as she will occasionally pitch backward, but she's really enjoying her new found skill. Such a big girl!

I am enjoying her other new found skill ... sleeping through the night (as in 11 - 12 hours straight with no snacks). Whoo hoo! It's only happened the last 2 nights, so I'm trying not to get used to it quite yet. Andrew was over a year old before he did that consistently, so she may just me toying with me. But it's been a nice couple of nights.

Let's see, what other disjointed bits of information do I have to share? Ah, yes ...

So I made a rather half-hearted stab at getting some exercise into my system by scanning through the Exercise TV section of my On Demand cable thingy, planning to try out something pilates-ish. Naturally, Andrew was fascinated and did some of the exercises with me for a while (I thought of Emmy doing the "one hundred" with you, Rhianna). Then he decided it would be fun to jump on my legs as I tried to lift them (and I wasn't all that great at getting them in the air before the 30-lb ankle weights). I decided to explore some of the other excercise options, thinking The Precious might enjoy something bouncier. I was right. I'm so sad now that I ever deigned to select something called (and I am not making this up) "Cardioke" because it is now his favorite on and he begs for it ("I want to do the one where the guy jumps off the stage!") I'm one of the more uncoordinated people you will ever meet and can't follow any of the steps (especially the ones that come after I'm encouraged to "get funky") ... and it goes on and on ... and it's just so painfully stupid. I once tried to fast forward through some of it when I thought Andrew wasn't paying attention and he was devastated.

In addition to Cardioke, Andrew has been really into picking out his own outfits lately - they often add spice to our day. Here's what he decided to wear to gymnastics a couple weeks ago. It's actually one of his less shocking selections, and he was pretty sure that his teacher, Miss Amy, would really like the necklace. Fortunately he wasn't too upset when I explained that wearing a long string of pearls while tumbling could cause some problems, so they ended up waiting for him in the car.

I really enjoyed it when he strapped Elsbeth's bouncey seat to himself like a rocket pack. I think it was a little tougher to walk around like that than he'd anticipated.

I still haven't done tons with solid foods yet with my Nibblet. She just wasn't that into the rice cereal or the butternut squash. I did give sweet potatoes a whirl this week, and it appears that she might have actually given half a hoot about them!

In closing, a Phil story to delight the soul. He was getting measured for some clothes this week by an old Italian tailor who's been in the business for abolutely ever. His first shocking discovery was that one of Phil's arms is a full inch different in length from the other. Freak! He then moved on to take a measurement for the, ah, gluteal region. He looked at his tape measure, shook his head in astonishment, then took the measurement again. Realizing the first numbers were accurate, he shook his head again and muttered, "Unbelievable." :-)

There Are Two Ingredients In Candy Corn: Wax And Nasty

2009-11-02T21:27:00.005-05:00

Oh my, Halloween was such fun. My wretched camera battery dared to die as Andrew was getting all dressed up, but Dave came to my rescue and got a family picture. Phil saw this and said, "Elsbeth looks like she's desperately trying to remain dignified." :-) I love my hilarious little farmyard family.

We had a lovely chili dinner with the McSchnazzys and the Leathers, then went on an early jaunt around the neighborhood. The kids were so adorable! At each door, Andrew would hold up his new candy and yell, "Look Mommy!" Then he'd ask me what it was. His most prized possession was a ring pop, and he'd check on it between houses.

We had fun pumpkin carving as well. He didn't relish pulling out the guts like I thought he might (personally, I found it exhilarating), but he enjoyed my very elementary face carving and, of course, watching it glow.

I love autumn.

My Armpits Have Never Liked You

2009-10-23T19:08:00.004-05:00

Andrew came up with his Halloween costume all by himself - I'm so excited! Mr. Literal usually doesn't get stuff like that, but when I asked him a few days ago what he'd like to dress up as, he announced cheerfully, "A pig!" He has also declared that Daddy will be a pig like him, Mommy is to be a sheep, and Elsbeth a cow. This is going to be the best Halloween ever.

And the pig noses came in the mail today. I'm giddy.

The Elks Bugling At The Caldera

2009-10-19T13:07:00.003-05:00

Food, glorious food! This girly has been eyeing our pancakes and pork chops for some time now, so a few days after her 6 month appointment, I busted out the rice cereal. I think she knows we're holding out on her, though. Rice paste is just a bit anticlimactic as a first food experience when someone has been longing to get in on some brownie action. At this point she still gets more excited about chewing on her washcloth during bath time.

Speaking of the 6 month appointment, the doctor walked in, took one look at her and exclaimed, "She looks like a 9 month old!" :-) She weighed in at 17 lbs. 4 oz. (75th - 90th percentile) and checked out beautifully. She even blew some raspberries at the doctor for extra credit.

Andrew has been having fun with the skads of tree frogs that love our house. This little guy was vacationing with a friend on the sandy beach of his sandbox. I went to water the plants the other day and one had wedged himself in the spout. It makes me happy - I love tree frogs! The bright green skin, the sticky feet, the eating of the bugs ... what's not to love? I just hope Uncle Mark won't avoid us like the plague.

Yesterday we had a fabulous family outing to Southern Belle Farms about an hour outside of Atlanta. I LOVE fall. Even more than tree frogs. And every year I pine for some sort of fall festival experience, and this year I got it. Here we are on a hay ride . . . all together in one shot!

We had to work really hard to convince one of the fat goats to come eat our pellets.

A corn field maze! Sooo cool! Phil and I were a little disturbed to discover we were no better at finding our way through than our 3-year-old.

My little Els had a good time, too. I think her favorite part was the pig race.

Phil and Andrew on the "cow train."

Andrew declared this slide to be his favorite part of the farm:

And finally, totally unrelated to fall, is my sweet, silly boy who was desperate to wear a pony tail just like mommy.

Hairy Legs Are Your Only Link To Reality

2009-10-07T09:28:00.004-05:00

I'm constantly thinking, "No, THIS is my favorite picture ever." I don't know how many favorites one is allowed to have, but my girl in her crocheted hat is on the list. And boy howdy, she can make some awesome faces.

I can't believe she's going to be 6 months old tomorrow. I feel like I just brought her home! She started rolling over a couple weeks ago ... here's a clip of her mad skills. (Disclaimer: I'm posting this video for my mom, and perhaps an auntie or two who haven't yet had the opportunity to see it in person and who want to be updated every time I wipe her wee nose. The rest of you ... both of you ... might find a 2.5 minute video of me waiting for my baby to roll over less than riveting.)

Just so you know, Andrew does occasionally wear pants. I find about 50% of my pictures of him and 75% of the videos show him in his underwear. Every day he begs to run about in his skivvies (or less) and I usually give in at some point in the afternoon.

There's a little park in Decatur that I love, and we met Gillian, Eunice Chantilly and sweet baby Cracka' (who you can see in the background) there last week. This was Elsbeth's first time in a real playground swing - she wore that same concerned expression the whole time (about 30 seconds).

A little while after this picture was taken, Andrew asked to swing in the big kid swing - you know, where you have to hold on? Yeah, well he didn't. He was swinging fine one minute, then fell flat on his back the next. Apparently he just let go! I guess I didn't go over the big kid swing rules in enough detail. Only days later, our playgroup met at a different playground and Andrew fell to the ground while climbing a very tall slide. That fall made my heart stop for a few minutes, but while it could have easily broken his leg (or worse), the only injury I could find was a palm that turned pink from the impact. This won't make sense unless you've seen that slide, but he really should have hit some other (metal) playground equipment on his way to the ground. I envision angels guiding him through the air and allowing him to land softly in the wood chips.

Other than crashing into the ground, Andrew's big news is that he's started taking gymnastics. I had a less than satisfactory experience trying to get him signed up for a class a few months ago (a pox upon the Tucker Rec Center!) and found that the Atlanta School of Gymnastics is actually quite close to us, and as a special bonus, the people there are competent and seem to actually like children. Weird. He's gone to 3 classes now and loves it. It's just him and his buddy Skeezix and his teacher, Miss Amy. Parents aren't allowed out on the floor, and the gym is huge, so I don't have any pictures of him during class yet, but I have many of him gymnastisizing around the house.

Here he has dismantled my couch and built himself some sort of jumping obstacle on top of a chair. He jumped so high I lost the top of his head in the shot. I think this picture really gives you a sense of what it's like to be around this energy-laden gymnast these days.

And let's throw in a hand-stand for good measure. Miss Amy would be proud.

Lord Humongous

2009-09-19T14:11:00.009-05:00

Well, I did it. I bought bows. They're bigger than I thought they'd be when I ordered them - I was sort of planning to start out slow with a "Oh, there's a bit of lint in her hair" look - but heaven help me, I like them anyway. I ... can't help myself.

And, just for fun ...

Phil has just started speaking to me again. But I think if he decides to go off to work and leave me on my own and "in charge," he's just asking for it.

My girl is growing up so fast. She's started wearing the little duck wambones her brother wore a few years ago ... snif. He was a wee bit older, though, sitting up and all, so I'll be interested to see Elsbeth's measurements come her 6 month appointment.

Els sportin' the ducks at 5 months

Andrew at about 7 months

To continue our journey down memory lane, we borrowed the Intellitainer from the Peasmacks once again. She totally digs it, as did her brother. And check out her sweet leggings! I saw my friend Christi's little girl in some a few months ago and thought they were so cute, and such a good idea! Just pop them on ... you've got warm legs, no need to remove to change a diaper, and all the while you've made quite a stellar fashion statment. I found myself wondering where these were back when Andrew was a baby, but I guess even covered in trucks or puppy dogs they'd be a smidge girly. (And I'm violently opposed to girly things on little boys.)

And we got a fun, if very quick, visit from Nannie and Aunt Sallie to brighten our Monday!

Fortunately we'll get some more Nannie time at the end of this week, and we'll get to see Aunt Sallie again in a couple weeks.

As I type, Phil has one football game being projected onto a sheet hung over our fireplace (fancy equipment from work) and another on the TV right next to it. He's threatened to start streaming another one on my computer and also bring up the tiny TV from the basement for game #4. I feel I've been sufficiently punished for the whole bow thing, don't you?

I Am The Chief, So Everybody Hail Like Crazy

2009-09-09T14:55:00.010-05:00

We enjoyed a glorious visit from Nina and Pa this weekend. Things got a little crazy, as they are wont to do when Nina's around.

My playgroup met yesterday at the playground of a local Catholic church, and on my way I noticed a sign listing times to go for confession. I've been thinking about it ever since. To me going to confession sounds like something only done in movies or books, but people go in real life. Apparently.

I'm going to have to chat with my Catholic friends since, for the life of me, I can't figure out what it's supposed to accomplish (unless I'd, say, previously thrown a stink bomb into the little box with the priest in it, then I admit it would be quite appropriate for me to be in attendance). But until I can locate Brooke and Dave's e-mail address, I thought I'd try out some confession here to see if it enlightens me. This is just an experiment and thus I declare that none of this information can be used against me in any form or fashion.

1. I hate women's retreats. There, I've said it. Whew! You know, I DO feel better.

I'm basing this vast judgement of all women's retreats everywhere on my personal experience of having attended, hmmmm, maybe 2 retreats in my whole life, and those many years ago. And if you're reading this and you actually attended one of these conferences with me, please be assured that it wasn't your company that sent me to the dark side. It's the toxic levels of estrogen in the air.

Cutesy gift baskets in the hotel rooms are nice. Bow-bedecked tables laden with books like "Quieting the Demons in My Ovaries" and "Pray Away Your Cellulite" I can deal with. The manicured snipers positioned and ready to take you out if they sense you might not cry while listening to the speaker ... that's when I run away. Maybe you could get a pass if you teared up during the music. I don't know. But I think for it to be considered a truly successful event, clumps of women clutching mascara-laden tissues have to hug each other all the way to the parking lot, promise to hold each other accountable, then make plans to stop by the outlet mall on their way home to shop for Capri pants.

I don't think I'm manly ... am I? I mean, I can chat it up about childbirth and crock pot recipes with the best of them. I love Jane Austin and perfumed lotion and am currently crocheting a baby blanket. The whole thing might benefit from a couple of dudes on the panel - that's all I'm sayin'.

2. I once fixed a cup of tea for Phil and used breast milk instead of cream to see if he'd notice. He didn't.

Nina was determined Elsbeth had to have a turn on a slide. She loved it.

3. For a time while I was in high school, I kept a framed picture of Jonathon Brandis (torn from a magazine) on my desk. I know, your first thought is, "Hey, I did that, too! In THIRD GRADE." Yes, you see, that's why this is a confession and not just a bit of random information about me. Your second thought, "Who the heck is Jonathon Brandis?" I thought he was cute, so sue me. And it wasn't like I was dating a whole lot through high school (and by "a whole lot" I mean "ever"), so the day dreams had to suffice. Aren't y'all glad Phil took pity on me?

Els forgiving Nina for the whole slide incident.

4. I have named my baby fat tummy flap "Kat Von D" after the tattoo artist on the show "LA Ink." I have this compulsion to name everything, I think Kat Von D is a super cool name, and it's nice to imagine the fat flap is something separate from myself. I think Phil is a little disturbed by how often conversation includes her, as in, "Kat Von D is starving and really needs a big bowl of ice cream" or "Kat Von D hates those pants 'cause they pinch her face." He asked the other day how long Kat Von D would be staying with us. I think she was a little hurt.

5. Yesterday I poured myself a glass of milk, then a while later when I went to pour some for Andrew, I couldn't find the carton. This morning I discovered it neatly tucked away inside one of my kitchen cabinets. I'm pretty sure this is the kind of thing people find themselves doing just before they're diagnosed with a bad case of dementia.

6. I currently have a mild-to-moderate crush on Zac Efron. This means that though I do not have a photo of him framed anywhere in the house, I would most certainly make a gigantic fool of myself if I happened upon him in real life. Phil had made big fun of me and cruelly intimated that I could be his mother (which I couldn't ... I don't think), and really I don't think he can talk since he has had a mild-to-moderate crush on Katie Couric for years, and she could totally be his mother.

Cozy with her Pa

7. I once accidentally took a naked picture of Phil and didn't realize it until after I had it developed. It was during our first year of marriage and I was trying to take some daily life photos of us around our first apartment. There was a strategically placed mirror that I hadn't considered .... This was pre-digital, so I actually had to go to CVS and drop the film off, and when I went to pick it up, I was assisted by a girl who had recently begun attending our college group at church. She was very chatty (and smiley) when handing over my pictures and made sure to mention details about several of them as she had done the developing herself. It was quite a moment for me, standing it the kitchen alone sifting through my cute newlywed snapshots when I saw it. I clung to the hope that it wasn't too obvious, that perhaps no one but me would have ever noticed, so I left it out on the counter. My hopes were dashed when Phil got in from class, picked up the print, and said with a horror-tinged voice, "You took a naked picture of me?!"

That's all I've got for now. How cleansing! Gotta go now - Kat Von D has requested some peach cobbler before she hits the sack.

The Story Earned Her Ten Minutes In The Uncooperative Chair

2009-09-02T20:53:00.004-05:00

Oh my sweet Nib. She and I have had quite a week, and it's only Wednesday. Phil and I finally decided we were going to have to let her cry some and figure out how to fall back asleep on her own, but it's been painful. Look at that face! How do you let a face like that feel sad? Only out of desperation, I tell you.

We were going backwards in the sleep department. Quickly. The swing didn't work anymore, and I was spending all evening running back upstairs (often after only a couple minutes) to try to rock her back to sleep. And she started waking up more at night. Doing the same thing during naps. Poor Precious, constantly being left downstairs to do the mending and baking and generally looking after things while I tried to get her to sleep.

I think the kicker was when we had a guest over on Saturday night - a lovely, single college professor - and over and over I kept abandoning the table. I'd come back downstairs all disheveled and find Tovah and Phil discussing absurd things like Aristotle, Descartes and metaphysics. Now let's be honest, all the sleep and calm in the world aren't going to provide me any contribution to a conversation on metaphysics. Ever. But there would be a pause in the discussion and I'd find myself smiling blankly and saying (a little too loudly), "I like pie!" Something had to be done.

So we've been working really hard on this. Last night I rocked her to sleep, she woke up shortly after (which has been her way) but only for about 30 minutes, the she fell back asleep and only got up once to eat the whole night. THEN she took 2 fabulous naps with nary a tear. I was dancing through the streets naked (can you believe you missed it, Erin?) ... then tonight she had a terrible time getting back down to sleep. I was in the depths of despair. Now that it's been nice and quiet for bit, and I've peeked in at her and seen that she's sleeping comfortably, I'm feeling better. Oh, may there be no crying tomorrow!

The Precious has actually been handling all the attention his sister's been getting very well. Today I left him at the table with his art supplies while I fed her and attempted to get her to laugh on video (I'll keep trying).

It could have been lots worse, though his hands are stained green and I'm not sure why.

A couple days ago we had a great rain storm in the middle of the day while Elsbeth was actually asleep, so I let him run around in it for a while. He loved watching the water flow down the gutters along the street, telling me how it was headed for a storm drain. (He loves storm drains.)

We had a really fun family outing on Saturday to Centennial Olympic Park. I thought he'd love the giant spurting fountain you can run around in, but he preferred to stand back and watch. He did love the amazing playground they have there. One of several, I think. Look at this awesome slide! And riding the Marta train is always an adventure.

And just this afternoon I decided to take the kiddos for a walk to take in some of the fabulous cooler air. I put Elsbeth in the Moby, Andrew in the jogger and Shiloh on the leash. I was quite a sight. I wanted to capture Nibblet's cuteness all front-facing in the wrap with her darling hat on, so I asked Andrew to take a picture of us. I thought he did pretty well!

Ugh. I look like ... I don't know ... the Ghost of Christmas Pudding. Yikes. Get that girl some celery and a tan! And a hair dryer! Oh well. I did have brushed teeth and deodorant on, so we'll just be happy with that.

They Say No One's Ever Beaten The Van Wyck

2009-08-25T20:19:00.007-05:00

I love that face. "Now Mother, how many times have I had to ask you not to photograph me while I'm still in my robe?" She's nigh edible. Except at 3am when I'm dragging into her room for the third time and she's smiling up at me from her crib like, "Hey Mom, missed ya! I think I need another snack, and maybe let's rock a bit, too. Oh, and a diaper change! Sound good to you?" Actually, she's nigh edible then too, it's just my weary, weary eyes can't take in all the cuteness at that particular moment.

last week I decided to go crazy and try to get my Nibblet to take her morning nap in her crib. Just her morning nap, mind you ... the rest I still had her swinging away. Not only did she have me waving the white flag by the end of the week, she decided to make sure any such notions were fully banished to the depths by waking up 3-4 times per night on top of it all until I finally stuck her in the swing during the night as well.

Last night I tried putting her to sleep unswaddled, wondering if having her wee arms free would be a comforting and happy thing, but the tired lass could only think of clawing out her eyes, thus the free, flailing wee arms went back into the swaddling blanket. So this is how my girl is spending a great deal of her time these days:

But other than the whole sleep thing, she's been so happy and sweet! And big! At her 4 month appointment a couple weeks ago, she weighed 14 lb. 5 oz. (75th percentile)and 25.25 in. (50th percentile). She is tracking right where Andrew was as this age. It also appears she and I are losing our hair together. The hair right down the middle of her head and at the back is holding fast, but the sides are getting thin, creating what Phil calls her "mo-mullet." I, on the other hand, am losing fist-fulls every day from all over my head. It looks like the Yeti has been using my shower. Good thing I like wigs!

Precious is still complaining about his tummy, I'm sorry to say. For the last 2 weeks I've taken gluten out of his diet, but that doesn't appear to be the answer either. It did amuse me, however, when Andrew asked this morning if his plum had gluten in it. "No, no gluten in your plum." "So you could say it's gluten-free?" he replies. He's taken the removal of dairy, then gluten from his diet in stride, but does get excited when favorite foods are re-introduced. And other than his fairly mild complaints (and his runny nose this morning), he seems to be feeling fine. Diapers are still questionable, but I don't know at this point if I should continue to explore other possibilities or assume he's OK and perhaps just uncomfortable when he needs to go but doesn't want to.

I made him a little job chart on Monday and he loves it! He now helps with breakfast dishes, waters the plants, picks up his toys before bed, and puts his clothes in the hamper. I think I'll re-do the chart next week to include mopping the kitchen floor and ironing clothes since he's so excited about housework.

Our weather has been super nice for August in Georgia, so we've had a few fun playground days. Marjorie Stewart-Baxter was there this last time, which made it all the more fun.

He was even inspired to ride this sea-saw (is that how you spell that?) and loved it, which is unusual for him. Miss Cutie Stewart-Baxter can be very convincing.

And here's a little snippet of dinner conversation with the boy for the grandparents and aunties who miss his little voice.

Be not alarmed that I put off his deep, spiritual question (Phil was offended). I have answered it - best I could - several times before, and tried again that night. It's funny to me how he still sounds so young with those lisped S's and L's that sound like W's, but then I'll find myself trying to explain what "the glory of God" means or listening to him explain that the glass door to the deck is transparent while the door to the pantry is opaque. Because of him, I now know the proper definition of "translucent." I imagine I'll learn a lot from this little guy over the years.

Kettle Chips: The Perfect Snack ... for Revenge!

2009-08-09T20:44:00.008-05:00

Well, My Precious and his whopping three years have been fully celebrated. Balloons and streamers were arranged, hot dogs were grilled, and cake was consumed. Andrew was violently opposed to having the birthday song sung to him (when we tried to sing it during playgroup, he ran and hid in the hallway), but he allowed everyone to (silently) watch him blow out his candles. His first attempt at flame ousting was a bust. I told him to try again and, much my amusement, he decided whispering the word "fast" near the candles worked really well. I don't know where that came from, but it was funny.

He's such a big boy. Phil and I have been noticing his conversation becoming more and more mature, which is so very cool. We're working on getting those pronouns straightened out ... he's the only 3-year-old ever who has never screamed, "Mine!" When someone snatches a toy he's playing with, he cries out, "It's yours!" He says really funny things all day (which I promptly forget as soon as Phil walks in from work), and he's gotten very intersted in understanding what everyone is talking about around him. He's so sweet and affectionate, often looking up at me and saying, "Mommy loves you so," before giving me a huge hug.

So here's to you, my darling boy! You have made my heart so full. Mommy does love you so.

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com