More Common Sense Advice from the Peanut Gallery

If you think its a good idea to drive to the Galleria with your whole family on a Saturday afternoon so you can eat at the Cheesecake Factory, just stick needles under your fingernails and wiggle them around instead.

It is so much fun trying to create diversions for two whining hungry children for an hour while you marvel at your optimism and wonder, "How did we both agree to this madness?"

That'll be our Galleria experience for the next five years.

What was the last thing you can't believe you paid for?

Just like that, I've been Ousted

My son came home from Vacation Bible School today and informed me that the Angel of the Lord, named Summer, is the most beautiful girl ever.

"Even beautifuler than you, Mom."
"Really? You mean Summer, the girl in your class?"
"No, Mom. I'm talking about Summer, the Angel of the Lord."
"oh..."
"And iCarly. She's beautifuler, too."


***My little Romeo will be five years old [silent scream] in less than a month.

Updates

In case you were wondering, I'm not thinking about selling cars.

My last post was written on a day when we were in the midst of car shopping and I had just had enough of the sleazy run around. I actually felt sorry for car salesman in general at that point thinking about the base tactics those guys have to engage in day in and day out. In the end, MMA handled it beautifully and it all worked out.

My brother and sister-in-law are safe. She's already back in the US and I owe her a good home-cooked meal very, very soon. I also need to know the latest on my brother's plans and when he's coming home.

I'm not a vegetarian and I doubt I ever will be. I just like meat so darn much. Darn it.

The sleep is good.

Baby Brother seems to slowly be weaning himself. In any case, when that first tooth pops out, its over.

Decluttering has stalled out a bit. I need a reason to jump start again. I should throw a party.

More news to come, just not right now.

And, thank you, new comers to my blog. I feel a little guilty for not showing much B-love lately (that's blog love...not what every else you might have been thinking.)

Random thought: when is Young House Love going to pop? I mean, "WOW!" She's all baby! I know the desperation of that "almost there" time. Hang in there all you almost-there-moms-to-be...Heather, that's you!

Ten Things I'd rather do than Sell Cars for a Living

Pick the gunk out from underneath the toe nails of perfect strangers

Work the 4 am bathroom clean up crew at House of Pies

Work at the MAC counter (just making sure you're listening...)

Sell just about anything else

Work the fry side (or the grill side) at Denny's

"Beeeeeer and PEEEE'nuts!"

Survey-taker at the mall

Road kill disposal crew

Carnie

Nose hair groomer

On the Other Side of the World, Right Now...

As many of you know, my brother Lee and his wife Shawn are serving in the Peace Corp in Kyrgyzstan.

Earlier this week there was a violent uprising over government corruption spurred by a 200% increase in the cost of fuel (as I understand the situation.) There was rioting in the streets and many people were injured, some killed.

And just like that, the old government is out and a new regime has taken over.

Lee and Shawn have been evacuated by the PC and are safe but they've been asked not to disclose their location and they currently have no internet access. Our family is praying that they stay safe. But for now, we have no idea what this means for the remaining few months of their two year commitment.

You may never have heard of this little country that borders China and Russian. But I expect we'll all be hearing more about it, because it houses an American military base where our troops and supplies converge en route to Afghanistan.

It goes without saying that taking on a volunteer assignment in that part of the world is inherently risky. Particularly for Americans?

Please say a quick prayer for Lee and Shawn and their colleagues. I know they would also appreciate us thinking, too, about the friends they've made in the Krgyz locals and what this will mean for their future.

Have you Ever...

Had one of those days where you went to the store specifically to buy something, but then your kids turned your trip into a complete circus and you forgot everything that you intended to buy?

Then suddenly its the night before your kid's Easter party at school and you have no candy. So you have to raid your pantry to find something to stuff in the 16 eggs that you must send to school, perfectly sharpied with the classmates' names on the outside. (All the while thankful for a good neighbor who just happened to have extra eggs.)

So at 11 o'clock you're cursing the size of those diminutive standard drugstore eggs and wracking your brain to think, "what will fit?"

So you pull out all the gummies and fruit snacks you can scrounge but you have to prick a tiny hole in each bag and squish the air out to make it work. And you marvel at your own ingenuity under pressure.

Then your son gets home with his 16 eggs and you can't help but peek at the booty you'll soon be getting your hands on. And you feel some sisterly connection to the mom who put silver wrapped gum and spare change in her kid's eggs.

Ever had one of those days?

Freecycle 2 U, My Funky Junky Sista

MMA is starting to notice all the bare spots where stuff used to live.

But has my spring cleaning gone too far?

I had this old sumpin' or other laying around my house that was a gift that I loved and enjoyed for years. Then it sat in a cabinet collecting dust. I never had the heart to get rid of it. So I loaded it in the car today and dropped it off on my SIL's front porch. When she was suppose to be at work.

Hee Hee.

I figured she'd find it and wonder about the secret benefactor that knows her tastes so well. Warm fuzzies. (Or call me and say, "what the hell?")

In truth, I really thought she would appreciate the little re-gift because the colors compliment her lovely house.

Well, before I could even pull off the street she was pouncing my cell phone to ask "What the drive-by do you think you're doing?"

We had a little laugh before she affirmed what I already know...we're just two junkaholics trying to stay clean and take it one day at a time. The last thing she needs is me offering her my knick knacks, much less dropping them off.

I promised to pick it up on Sunday.

Maybe she'll change her mind.

More confessions from the Closet

Literally, I'm the girl with junk in the trunk [of my automobile...right this minute.]

There's an old telephone, a flip flop (just the one) and various magazines, plus other stuff that looks like trash to everyone but me.

What you need to know about my issue, people like me, the Cluttery among us, WE are a little schizo.

Rational me knows I'm not right . Irrational me wants to hang on to that flip flop just a little longer because the other one might just show up. Rational me says, "So what! Throw it away and be done with it. You have other flip flops WITH MATES." Irrational me says, "One more year. Just one more year."

So you see what I'm dealing with? They don't make medicine for this. Not that I'm aware of.

So, cold turkey, I have been getting rid of things that are not enriching my life. Its like a little game: What will I throw away today? Usually it feels empowering, but not always.

Do you know how hard it is for me to put an old blue Tiffany box in the trash and walk away? Did you ever see that scene from Sex in the City where Miranda puts the cake in the trash and then goes back to eat a bite?

This is the year I lose my pack rat, thing. That's why I'm putting it out there. Accountability, baby. So when you see me you will (however uncomfortable it may be) ask me, "How's your clutter today?"

I have an idea for a reality show in the same vein as the Biggest Loser. Because I get why a morbidly obese person would go on TV in the most unforgiving spandex and bare it all for help.

Here's the premise: Your husband/partner signs you up. Producers come to your house and verify that you do have a clutter issue. They take video of your deepest darkest closets, under your beds, they count how many junk drawers you have. They record your house at its worst. Then they send over an organization expert to get you in shape. They outfit you with the latest Stacks and Stacks technology. Unified hangers in every closet. No socks unturned.

Then, they lie in wait. They can and will come back unannounced at any time. It could be 2 months later or it could be 2 years later, but you never know when it will be. You keep your crap in order because you live in fear.

If your house is a wreck when they come, you get stuck for the extreme makeover bill and they show the clutter cam on prime time. But if your house is organized and clutter-free, you get to keep all the stuff AND you get a fabulous vacation to somewhere off the charts. I'm still working on the pitch...but getting my house in shape is really prize enough (and I can't do that on my own, WHY?)

I should publish a picture of my dining room table to prove my candidacy. But then I'd feel so naked.

And, in random news that made me laugh this week, I spied a guy driving around in a blue Dodge Caravan with a "Tap Out" sticker on the back.

P.S. Good luck to MMA who's doing the Conoco Phillips 10K Rodeo Run tomorrow. He hasn't been able to train as much as he would have liked because life gets in the way. We would love him even if he hobbled across the finish line, but he won't. He'll charge through like a warrior.

Who me? Junkie?

Decluttering Chronicles: Step I - Declaration

I'll never live in a model home for the same reason I will never be a swimsuit model.

Well, besides that.

Details, Details.

I keep things flexible and clean my house a-r-o-u-n-d whatever else is going on in life. Sometimes I ask Big Brother,

"Hey, what do you want to do today? Anything you want, we'll do it."

Because his preschool days are numbered AND because avoiding chores around the house is so naughty in the SAHM world.

My avoidance hit a high note last year when I was pregnant enough to really sell it. And the resulting chaos in my home is proof of how good I've gotten. (Or bad, if you want to be a glass half-empty kind of person.) I looked around last month after the Christmas stuff had been put up and things still seemed cluttered, unorganized, JUNKIE. My stuff has reached critical mass.

I started by giving things away. Little things at first. One big thing. Things on Freecycle. I cleaned out my husbands side of the closet to avoid working on my side. I fell off the wagon, but I'm back.

And there's this one thing, a purse, that's a metaphor for my "stuff problem." I know I will love myself more when I get rid of that dusty Coach purse I haven't used in ten years. It's cluttering up my life, err, uh, my closet. I've shaken it off a half dozen times over the years and thought,

"I really need to let this go." Hmm. Hmm. Hmm. "I wonder if my sister will want this?"

Junkers, you see, always want to keep "it" close. Its not familial generosity. Its actually a selfish security thing -- in case somewhere down the line I have a crazy urge to spend some time with my lovely old purse and hold it close once more. Not use it as a purse, but just know its there if I wanted to see it again.

We'll call that phenomenon charitable storage and if you love me you'd never, EVER, let me get away with it! That's called enabling.

Maybe you understand me because you have pile somewhere... A little something in a closet you pretend to forget about or excuse yourself for on a sentimental basis... Maybe its a whole closet when you only have four in your whole house... No? Oh, that's called projecting.

I like my stuff, but I'm not one of those crazy hoarding people that that you see on TV and think,

"My God! She looks so normal."

They should make a made for TV movie about those freaks. No, I just collect, recreationally. Years ago, MMA set down a rule that if I bought a pair of shoes, another pair had to go. I've kept up my side of the bargain on the easily quantifiable. But girls have their ways of getting around silly roadblocks. And we had a smaller house then.

That doesn't sound like justifying AT ALL.

To Meat or Not to Meat

These biological urges are the real deal. First, we decided it was time to start going to church exactly a year before I got pregnant with my oldest son. Now we've hit our mid-thirties and the clock says, "time to take a serious look at what we're putting in our bodies."

MMA and I are curiously in tandem, again. We've both been feeling ambivalent towards meat. (We've also broached our high fructose corn syrup and MSG problems, but that's for another day.) I don't think this is an accident. I think there is a greater force at work, a beacon of light that's even brighter than the fast food neon.

If you'd asked me a few weeks ago where I was in my vegetarian walk (because none of us are getting any younger) I would have said, "I haven't laced up my shoes." I love me some Texas BBQ, bacon nineteen different ways, elaborate burgers that fall apart and drip down your hands...I could go on Liz Lemon-like about our meat fetish. Didn't I list bacon bits IN THIS VERY BLOG as one of my favorite things?

Well. All of the sudden, meat is starting to gross me out even while I'm enjoying it for dinner. MMA, too!?!

What has gotten into us?

My 4 year old just realized that the "chicken" that we eat almost daily was once an animal just like the chickens at the zoo. And thanks to Chick fil A's brilliant marketing, he has worked it out in his little head that a hamburger was once a cow. And he's got a healthy pensiveness about it.

I, myself, made a conscious decision years ago to put that inconvenient truth out of my head and just enjoy steak night with a little garlic butter and beer. I do my best not to waste meat, you see, and so I feel better about eating the flesh of another animal.

Thanks to MMA, we stopped eating most bone-in meats because he found it unseemly. I never understood that until now because everyone knows that meat cooked on the bone tastes so much better. But, its a little harder to deny what you're eating when a bone makes your dinner an identifiable body part.

And by that token, it is so easy to reconcile the standard frozen chicken tender in your head. It's just a preformed meat-like substance supped up with hormones, saline solution and encrusted in God-only-knows-what to make it pleasantly palatable. I mean, did an actual chicken have to die?

It's virtual chicken. My marketing guy is already working on the T-shirts.

I'm no tree hugger. I'm not even an animal hugger. There, I said it. I don't even like live animals that much. I will not be carrying a PETA card or trading in my leather shoes anytime soon. But it cannot be coincidence that I have been bombarded with such disgusting meat imagery lately. To the point that I must reconsider my diet of probably thirty percent meat. (Don't judge.)

Exhibit A) There is a ziplock bag of turkey left over from Christmas in my fridge. I meant to spin it into some kind of casserole and never did and now I feel too guilty to throw it away. I wish an elf would magically take this problem off my hands. (MMA will not make it easy and throw it away because he told me not to make a whole turkey in the first place.)

Exhibit B) I got the pink slime email...did you? Regardless of what I should have known and/or chose to believe before reading the NY Times article, I now know too much. I heard somewhere that a typical fast food hamburger was literally made from the meat of hundreds if not thousands of cows. I can now fathom how this is possible.

Exhibit C) I also saw the show discussed here about a guy eating roadkill. BY CHOICE. My eyes were tearing up as a precursor to dry heaving before he even loaded the carrion into his car. By the time he served up his badger head and seagull stew, I was asking myself what starvation scenario would it take?

Urp coming on.

Since I'm not really motivated by environmental or moral considerations this must be the weakest embargo ever:

Meat is gross (right now.)

Awww, Schucks

The New Normal

I've missed you all, bloggers. I occasionally log on to catch up with what is going on in your lives. But until I can catch a real night's sleep, I can't justify much computer time.

Plus, its so much fun to play with my new baby. I remember Picky saying after her first baby was born that she loved everything about being a mom. Even the feeding and diaper changing. Admittedly, its all work, but its like the Peace Corp...the hardest job you'll ever love. I'll have to compare notes when my little brother gets back from his Peace Corp assignment in Kyrgyzstan (and then has a child.)

MMA has been insistent that I give my loyal mo fos an update.

Things are good.

Big Brother is adjusting, but its a process. He so wants to be both the big boy I need him to be and also my baby. He pretends to be a baby in the safety of our home but he is clear, this game is for our eyes only.

Today we wrote a story about a boy who gets a new baby brother; I wrote as he narrated. To paraphrase, the character in our story loves his baby brother, but gets grumpy and sometimes acts naughty because of all the changes in his family. Our little activity helped us both, I think. I'm reminded how much Big Brother loves me. Almost daily he tells me he is going to marry me when he grows up. I could just cry...can I bottle that stuff up?

Baby Brother is plumping up nicely. I love every fat roll on his little body. He's got those tight baby wrists where his hand meets his chunky arm. 'Love those wrists. So many kissable places, so little time.

He's also starting to follow me with his eyes. Sometimes I'll see him looking at me from across the room. When I turn my attention on him he just lights up!

We achieved a goal that I am very proud of, breastfeeding success. We did it! Around the three month mark, I realized, "Hey, we've got the hang of this" (more or less.) I don't know why this one deed is so tantamount to my feelings of adequacy as a mother, but it is. And I was not about to allow it to elude me this time.

I well know...we're not suppose to beat ourselves up about these things, but we all do. If it's not breastfeeding, its the "working mom guilt" or something else. This is not a new subject for me.

I think part of the problem is life zipping by. I'm still trying to juggle everything I used to do before and care for a baby. I keep telling myself, "I will do this" or "I will do that" when life gets back to normal. As if I could make a new little person, with his own agenda, quietly fit in to who we were as a family before he emerged.

Suddenly, it dawned on me, this is my life now. Baby brother changed us, and this is normal. Life just got busier and I need to make difficult choices about how I spend my time. Get in shape, so to speak. Whine less. Eliminate clutter in every form.

Superstar has no resolutions this year! Just a promise to myself to blow lots of raspberries on a soft round tummy and play trains for at least a few minutes every day with full enthusiasm. And to stop worrying about things that don't involve God and family.

Peace out.

(Pictures to come)

HOUSTON: We have sleep

I am happy to report that things are coming together in Infantland. Little Bro is becoming quite a team player.

We are easily up to four hour stretches of sleep at night and we enjoyed a fluke last Friday. It snowed in Houston and the baby slept through the night for the first time. Just once, but an early Christmas gift all the same. A gift of hope.

I'm starting to feel human again. And I'm rested enough to enjoy delightful moments with a precious baby. Is there anything more sweet in the world than those first few smiles and soft coos or the way they crumble in your arms and fall asleep? Entirely trusting.

Big Brother is so protective and loving. I am getting to know a whole new side of him, as well. This is going to be my best Christmas ever. I'm looking forward to it as if I was the four year old.

As life settles back into place, I'm missing my blogging. My computer got an STD so I haven't been able to log on in weeks. I had to borrow my brother's laptop to get my "fix." It took a day to go through emails. Maybe I'll get to do a real post this week. My hands are shaking, this feels so good.

The end of Superstar as we know Her

These last six weeks have been busy to say the least.

My beautiful baby is a monster between the hours of 3 am and daylight. His longest stretch of sleep is 2 hours but from 3-7 am he's been waking up hourly. Its enough to break the strongest of wills, which means MMA and I are crumbling like cornbread.

Seriously, sleep fragmentation is our Kryptonite.

I'm ready to give him cereal to "hold him over." But the studies say that it doesn't really help them sleep longer. It has to do with neurological development. What do you parents out there think? Should I spike the milk with a little sumpin-sumpin? I'm desperate. The bags under my eyes are the real thing.

In other news, my beloved Jeep is in the dog house. I loved it, but I'm ready to leave it. A few months ago, it still looked good to me, but with a new baby in the picture, I see it in a whole new light. I don't have time to deal with the kinks and rumbles of an aging car. On Friday I had to pile car seats and babies into a two door sports car because I didn't like the noise the Jeep was making. I'm done with it.

We spent Saturday car shopping. Yuck!

Superstar was not ready to admit that the practicality of a mini van supersedes her self image as a woman with a cooler ride. "BUT, from the inside of a minivan, looking out, they are sweet!" she keeps telling herself.

I'm probably going to be driving a minivan soon. I can't wrap my mind around that. My mojo just went out the window of Caravan, or an Odyssey. Or a Town and Country.

Halloween Decorating

Little Bro gets his first sponge bath.
(Don't you love the smell of baby wash?)

There's no rest for the weary these days. All I have time for is feeding and pumping...every two hours, like clockwork. (And lactating is not my idea of a good time.)

A friend had planned to bring us a meal yesterday, so I finally got dressed and pulled my hair into a ponytail around 5 pm, (if you can call slipping into a jogging a suit and never changing out of the tank top I wore to bed "getting dressed.")

I've lowered my already loose standards of personal grooming. I'll try to do something about my hair before Wednesday. Wait, what day is it?

Maybe I'll be a witch for Halloween. That wouldn't take too much imagination or effort. My other option is to be a dairy cow.

I thought I'd share some pictures since we managed to get into a seasonal mood. Cute huh?

And the pièce de résistance...

That cute little onesie was a gift from Picky. It looked so big three weeks ago when we brought him home from the hospital. And now it fits. Did I mention he eats non-stop?

If you want to see what Little Bro's nursery looks like, check out Girly Stuff. She was kind enough to help pull it all together and then post pictures, too! (You can't see the detail on the curtains from the pictures, but they are the cutest...cream and khaki houndstooth print fabric.) We still have to hang something great over the crib and maybe bring in a rug, but we have time since he won't be sleeping in there for a few months.

I'll post again before Christmas!

Meet the Fockers

The New and Improved Family

Introducing,


Baby Nicholas!

Born Monday, September 28th
9:31 AM (translation: all-nighter)
20 1/2 inches
7 lbs 12 ozs

I knew he was big compared to my first, who weighed in at 6 1/2 pounds. All ten fingers and toes are right where they should be and he is sweet and charming. So far, Nicholas is not fussy unless he's wet and then its mayhem. Well, we all have our peeves. I think he's going to resemble me (holding my breath.)

You know the best thing about being one week out from having had a baby? You know, besides the cuddling and bonding and drinking in all of that sweet baby smell... I feel like a supermodel compared to where I was just seven days ago! I keep pulling out my regular clothes thinking they're gonna fit...they don't...yet. In fact, I feel good enough to pop out a couple more babies if we can swing a night nanny.

The one formerly know as Only Child is doing great. (Any suggestions for a new moniker?) He's been excited and giggly at all the baby's antics. He's not the huge helper I'd hoped for, mostly because he's too lazy to fetch me a diaper if he's watching TV or otherwise engrossed. But he's definitely sweet on his little brother and he's good at checking up on the baby and reporting back to mommy. We also made him the the hand-washing police when company comes over and he takes that responsibility very seriously. Now if I could just get him to stop talking about my nipples to our visitors...

My husband went back to work today and we were both a little sad about that, but I know we'll manage. If you had asked me what we needed, I would have said nothing. We have every gadget, bouncer and baby holder made. But people keep giving us little things that prove me wrong: a big box of diapers that I won't have to lug home from the store, a plate of home made tamales that meant we didn't have to cook or clean up, new wash cloths and the tiniest socks that fit right now...a saved trip!

We sure have appreciated all the thoughtfulness and love! It makes a sweet and wonderful time that much more special.

God is good! (But time is short.)

LATE: an update

It's so much fun being in your last month of pregnancy that I thought I'd extend my delicate state for a while. Yes, that's right, my due date came and went, but the enormity of the situation has not really sunk in yet.

I'm still growing and stretching as a person and I thought it would be fun to grow just a little more before I get so tied up. The little guy is apparently very shy. Besides, the purple character lines on my stomach are so becoming. And, they double as a racetrack for my four year old to play hot wheels on while Mommy's passed out from exhaustion during his nap time.

Since I have so much time on my hands to think (because, if you can't clear your schedule for when you think a new baby is coming, then when, right?) So as I was saying, between hormonal breakdowns and cramping, I've been planning my bathroom remodel. I've been doing lots of research during Toilet Tour 2009. That's what I like to call it because each of my bathrooms gets equal love right now. (If I'm walking by, I might as well.)

Who knew I'd get this extra time for myself? I finished another book. A big one, maybe you've heard of "What to Expect When You're Expecting"...its sort of a cult classic.

And since I'm beyond pregnant, I am liberated about what I should and should not be eating. "Yes," to two-fisting sour cream and onion Lays and Milano's. "No," to prenatal vitamins. I am post natal, but for a technicality, so I graduated to Flintstones. They taste better and I don't want to end up on the cover of the Examiner, or whatever, with the next 19lb baby. Can I get an Amen?

Wouldn't it be funny if I pull the "Using the whole fist doc?" and "Mooooon Riiiver?" thing from Fletch the next time I get checked for dilation? Note to all of you that might one day have a baby: forget where they went to school, chose the Ob-Gyn with the smallest hands. You'll thank me someday.

Women really are the stronger sex. If a man takes a little kick or punch to the jewels, he's ruined for days. But women can walk around with a person punching and kicking her and literally pushing her innards, out. (My crotch hurts, but you don't see me pale on the floor.) That is to say nothing of the torment and havoc of birthing the thing... Which women have the capacity to do AND to love the little bugger with all her heart after he's defiled and left stretch marks all over what God made so beautiful. It's a mental strength; we slip into Navy Seal mode or something. I don't even remember much about the labor and delivery of my first child, just that I knew I could endure anything for the sake of a healthy baby. And I chose to do this again? I amaze myself, really.

As I was saying. I have way too much time on my hands with no where to go.

But out.

Nobody puts Baby in a Corner

Don't cry because it's over.

Smile because it happened.

Good-bye to the one and only Johnny Castle. AKA Patrick Swayze.

Those hips, that movie... Was there a middle-school girl in 1987 who DIDN'T want to dance with him? I never got to reprise Baby's "Time of My Life" number with him!

He was my favorite metrosexual...before there was even a word for it!

And then, when he came out strutting on SNL and made fun of himself alongside the late, great Chris Farley...that was just endearing!

Who could forget this memorable skit?


Let's talk about Kanye.

If only his cojones were as big as his head!? Honestly! Stealing a little girl's spotlight? He wouldn't have pulled that on Lil' Kim. I'm just saying...she woulda.cut.him for that! (And don't cry about it after the fact, wussy.)

Did you catch the lovely date he brought to the what-ever awards?


(No baby yet. Trying to keep myself amused so I don't count the seconds...)

Thank Heaven for Little Boys

My sister Blanche just sent me the sweetest email with parenting reflections and advice. When she was a mother of young kids, I was still in high school and didn't notice what an amazing job she was doing until...hmm, about four years ago.

Now my sister's kids are in high school and college and all that love and patience has resulted in what anyone would call an enviable relationship between the parents and the children. They are a very close family.

I want that! So I thought I'd open the floor up for more wisdom.

What do you want to share with me about going from a one-child household to splitting my energy between two (actually three) boys? Or any other parenting advice you'd like to give me; I'd love to hear it!

(I should warn you, I've already mastered the "let the housework go" advice.)

On a silly note, my friend Kitty has a 4 year old named Boston. He's cute enough to be a Ralph Lauren model (both of her kids are) and his sweet nature is just as lovely. He's being pursued by a little girl, Hailey, at day care, but he already has a sweetheart named Bailey, so he told Hailey in a little kid way that he's off the market.

This tidbit is taken directly off an email from Kitty and I think its priceless!

So I told you all about Hailey asking Boston to marry him. Well,

On Tuesday, September 1 (our 8 year anniversary), my little baby boy got his first kiss on the lips from a girl !!!!!! (PS, I asked, he liked it). Of course, it was Hailey, she ambushed him behind a bookshelf. (Little hussy)

Well, on Wednesday I picked him up and asked him if he played with Hailey today and he said "No, she told me she had a headache and didn't want to play with me"

Then Hannah [7 year old sister] adds, "That was nice, she didn't want Boston to get her headache"

'Fast little girl!

And God knows what he's doing giving me two little boys.

Favorite Things

I had a rough few days. I was plagued by all these different aches and pains that made me realize my pregnancy has been pleasant overall, until last Friday.

Then it was a miserable few days where I could hardly walk or move around. MMA was wonderful and did his best to knock out his weekend chores, take care of me and keep Only Child from bouncing off the walls.

As of Wednesday, I am happy to report I am feeling much, much better.

My mind's not into blogging right now on account of the the 30 pound baby I'm carrying around. He's due any day now (actually Sept 24th, but if I keep saying "any day now" I feel more proactive in willing this thing to happen sooner.)

I'm predicting I will go into labor on September 14th.

I made a special exception to participate in Girly Stuff's OurFavorite Things link-up.

Is it any surprise that when I think of favorites, all that comes to mind is food? Even still, I'm going to cheat a little...

Here we go.

1. MMA! Sorry, he's the only one and he's not for sale! I just found out today that he's been shopping for my push gift. Now I don't even need the gift. The thought alone makes me happy. I think I'll have his baby.

2. Girly Stuff is one of my favorite people in all the world. She showed up at my house on Saturday at 9 am and didn't leave until I practically pushed her out the door at 10 pm. She was helping me get my former guest room all dolled up for the new baby. This involved shopping, putting up hardware, making drapes...and all the brilliant ideas she had been mentally banking for months. Seriously, I could hardly get her to eat or call home all day. The amazing thing is that she would do this for anyone of us that she calls a friend; very beautiful and generous heart, this one!

3. Kitty, my BFF for 25 years and counting. When we were little girls, we talked about being Olympic synchronized swimmers AND college roommates. We realized one of those dreams. Kitty is quirky and silly and so much fun to be around! She will probably be the first one at the hospital (again) when I have this baby. We've hit every major life milestone together...except sex (she was doin' it way before me.) What? That's the hormones talking, I don't know what I'm saying. She has been good to me in a dozen different ways just this week. (I hope our sons end up being BFFs, too.) We heart Kitty!

Favorite things, favorite things, (think Oprah...)
4. HEB...'love that store! Lately I've been doing what I'll call cold-turkey shopping (with no coupons, and no mapping out the deals.) No question, my grocery bill is always lower at HEB. Plus, Only Child thinks its a great treat to go there. Not sure why. So HEB, we salute you as a favorite thing!

5. There is an HEB brand product that we like so much, it merits its own shout out. HEB's frozen chicken chunks (in the black bag, frozen, in the fresh meat department.) They are so good, they rival Chick fil A's. Need I say more?


6. Blue Bell ice cream. And no, that is not my freezer.

7. Oscar Mayer Bacon Bits. Bacon is a distinct food group in this house and as a family, we eat a bag of these every week. We use them in every variation of eggs you can imagine. We put them on salads, baked potatoes, Butt Burners. Maybe I should add 4 bags of these to my baby registry.

(OK, non perishable favorites; let's see...)

8. Author, Tom Perrotta. I mentioned once before how much I love the movie, Election. I didn't know it was a book or who might have written it until my friend Red, chose Little Children as her book club pick for the year. I adored this book, only to learn that the genius behind both works is one and the same!?! I have to get my hands on some of his other stuff. Any hack can slap you in the face, ala the Farrelly brothers, but smart and subtle satire is, to me, much more delightful. So yah, Perrotta. New favorite.

9. Half Price Books. Another family favorite.

10. The newly renovated Children's Museum of Houston. Wow!