A. I'm too trusting.
B. I'm not keeping a watchful enough eye on these two.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
I HATE SAND
Insomnia hits me square in the face this morning. I lay in bed staring at the clock at about 2:30, finally getting up and dragging myself downstairs an hour later. I've done some laundry, cleaned off the bar counter top (where everything ends up and is never put away unless I have insomnia), put away some of the kids' toys, Googled gift ideas for my tween niece's birthday, and blogged.
Nature calls, so I walk into the bathroom. My sensitive naked feet complain about a dirty floor. I look, and yes, yet again there is sand encroaching on the white tiles and grout.
A couple years ago, we had our back yard relandscaped. Paul and I thought it would be a great idea to designate an area for a future swingset/jungle gym for the kids. We had a sandpit put in measuring approximately 15 by 18 feet. There is no swingset yet, but the kids do love to play in the sand (so do the cats, but more on that later).
My mother warned me early on not to have a sandpit. "Your going to find sand everywhere in your house," she would tell me over and over again. The woman never let up on this, and I would reassure her that we'd strip the kids down and shake sand out of their clothes before letting them enter the house.
Ha. Perhaps it's laziness, but that just doesn't happen. Most times we remember to take shoes off, but we forget to check pants and shirt pockets. Oh, and let's not overlook the potential for sand collecting in diapers (you'd think the wearer of such a diaper would complain, but alas, no).
The kids sometimes have a mind of their own, and will run into the house unannounced while wearing wet sand covered shoes. Ian has a knack of leaving a beautiful set of prints leading from the back door to the bathroom.
I have swept and swept and power-washed the patio and pool deck, and still sand can be found - not a comfortable thing to walk on in bare feet. We have found sand in every room of the house. There is sand in the van. Paul and I even find sand in our own clothes thanks to the sharing of laundry machines. You can imagine the surprise when putting your hands into your pants pockets and pulling out a small pile of sand.
I HATE SAND!!!
Thankfully, my mother is not exactly internet savy, lest I get a phone call today pretty much stating, "I told you so."
Nature calls, so I walk into the bathroom. My sensitive naked feet complain about a dirty floor. I look, and yes, yet again there is sand encroaching on the white tiles and grout.
A couple years ago, we had our back yard relandscaped. Paul and I thought it would be a great idea to designate an area for a future swingset/jungle gym for the kids. We had a sandpit put in measuring approximately 15 by 18 feet. There is no swingset yet, but the kids do love to play in the sand (so do the cats, but more on that later).
My mother warned me early on not to have a sandpit. "Your going to find sand everywhere in your house," she would tell me over and over again. The woman never let up on this, and I would reassure her that we'd strip the kids down and shake sand out of their clothes before letting them enter the house.
Ha. Perhaps it's laziness, but that just doesn't happen. Most times we remember to take shoes off, but we forget to check pants and shirt pockets. Oh, and let's not overlook the potential for sand collecting in diapers (you'd think the wearer of such a diaper would complain, but alas, no).
The kids sometimes have a mind of their own, and will run into the house unannounced while wearing wet sand covered shoes. Ian has a knack of leaving a beautiful set of prints leading from the back door to the bathroom.
I have swept and swept and power-washed the patio and pool deck, and still sand can be found - not a comfortable thing to walk on in bare feet. We have found sand in every room of the house. There is sand in the van. Paul and I even find sand in our own clothes thanks to the sharing of laundry machines. You can imagine the surprise when putting your hands into your pants pockets and pulling out a small pile of sand.
I HATE SAND!!!
Thankfully, my mother is not exactly internet savy, lest I get a phone call today pretty much stating, "I told you so."
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Call Me Alligator
Every night, our little family climbs into Paul's and my king sized bed for stories. Ian jumps upon the mattresses with book in hand, crawls past my feet and suddenly stops. "Mommy, I want that."
I follow his gaze to see what he's looking at. He's staring at my feet.
"What, Ian? What do you want?" I inquire.
"Mommy, I want that," he replies, pointing at my big toe.
My toenails are not painted, so I'm not exactly sure what he means yet.
Confused, I ask again, "Ian, what do you want?"
"I want that," and he touches the bottom of my big toe. "I want those lines."
Ugh, he wants to have calloused, scaly feet like mine. Yup, it's definitely time for a serious pedicure.
I follow his gaze to see what he's looking at. He's staring at my feet.
"What, Ian? What do you want?" I inquire.
"Mommy, I want that," he replies, pointing at my big toe.
My toenails are not painted, so I'm not exactly sure what he means yet.
Confused, I ask again, "Ian, what do you want?"
"I want that," and he touches the bottom of my big toe. "I want those lines."
Ugh, he wants to have calloused, scaly feet like mine. Yup, it's definitely time for a serious pedicure.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Welcome Home Grandma and Papa!
Great news, Grandma Ann and Papa Dave have returned from Scotland. Laurel and Ian were excited to go visit them last night. "I love Grandma and Papa, I miss them sooooo much!" Ian would tell me.
We took dinner over to their house. Ian knew we would be doing this. As soon as he woke up from his nap (yes, he's four and still takes a nap, otherwise his name would be Mr. Cranky), he reminds me, "Mommy, don't forget to take dinner to Papa and Grandma's house. As soon as Laurel wakes up, we have to go get food so we can eat."
I guess he was already hungry, although lately, he's been very food oriented. At any party we've gone to or had, he's always talking about what we're going to eat. He's all about the food, especially when it involves his favorites: pizza, cake, cupcakes, ice cream or popcorn.
As much as Ian and Laurel missed their grandparents, you'd think they'd burst out the van as soon as we were parked and run inside the house to get hugs and kisses. The opposite happened, they hung back, waiting for Paul and I to walk them up to the door. Once we were inside, they were quite shy and it took some coaxing to get the kids to say anything and give hugs.
After dinner, Grandma and Papa gave us a truckload of gifts from Scotland. There were tons of books, many involving a certain cheeky little blue engine. There were tons of clothes, including a new kilt and blouses for our ever growing Laurel. Ian got knee high socks, kilt flashes and a beautiful vest to go with his kilt (Ian also already has a belt with a thistle on the buckle, and a sporran). We are attending the Arizona Highland Celtic Festival in Flagstaff next weekend. Laurel and Ian are going to look fabulous!
Grandma and Papa, welcome home! We sure have missed you. We're going to have a blast up in the mountains next weekend.
We took dinner over to their house. Ian knew we would be doing this. As soon as he woke up from his nap (yes, he's four and still takes a nap, otherwise his name would be Mr. Cranky), he reminds me, "Mommy, don't forget to take dinner to Papa and Grandma's house. As soon as Laurel wakes up, we have to go get food so we can eat."
I guess he was already hungry, although lately, he's been very food oriented. At any party we've gone to or had, he's always talking about what we're going to eat. He's all about the food, especially when it involves his favorites: pizza, cake, cupcakes, ice cream or popcorn.
As much as Ian and Laurel missed their grandparents, you'd think they'd burst out the van as soon as we were parked and run inside the house to get hugs and kisses. The opposite happened, they hung back, waiting for Paul and I to walk them up to the door. Once we were inside, they were quite shy and it took some coaxing to get the kids to say anything and give hugs.
After dinner, Grandma and Papa gave us a truckload of gifts from Scotland. There were tons of books, many involving a certain cheeky little blue engine. There were tons of clothes, including a new kilt and blouses for our ever growing Laurel. Ian got knee high socks, kilt flashes and a beautiful vest to go with his kilt (Ian also already has a belt with a thistle on the buckle, and a sporran). We are attending the Arizona Highland Celtic Festival in Flagstaff next weekend. Laurel and Ian are going to look fabulous!
Grandma and Papa, welcome home! We sure have missed you. We're going to have a blast up in the mountains next weekend.
Friday, July 04, 2008
In-Dependency
Happy Fifth Anniversary, dear sweet husband. I love you immensely, and love our roller coaster life we have together!
Happy birthday, America! You are still quite young, and have many, many lessons to learn ahead of you. Please be considerate and flexible in your thinking.
Five years ago, Paul and I decided to lose our independence on Independence Day. With a week's planning, we bought a dress for me, rented a kilt for Paul, booked a flight and a room, and happily followed our hearts to Vegas to elope. It was all very romantic, very low stress and TONS of FUN!!!
Paul and I consider ourselves a team. We work together to get things done. I can't tell you how much I depend on that ideal. Knowing he is there to help out with anything, whether it be changing diapers, cleaning up vomit, or listening to me vent, is worth more to me than all the money and desirable tangibles the world has ever known.
Too often we are told it is not good to be dependent on anyone or anything. I like that Paul and I depend on each other, that we can count on each other to help out. Obviously, Laurel and Ian being wee tots depend on us to provide them with food, shelter, and love. That dependency is what makes us a family. We rely on one another to help out. The burden of chores, the loving and caring, should not rest on one person, but all of us. It is much easier to tackle those undesirable tasks when there is someone by your side.
Will someone always be there for assistance? No, that would be impossible. But knowing later someone will listen to you vent about loathsome tasks is quite comforting.
To Paul I must say, thank you. Thank you for always listening. Thank you for lending a hand when you're home. Thank you for numerous back and feet rubs. Thank you for encouraging me to rest when dog tired and I don't know better. Thank you for ignoring the irritable side of me. Thank you for letting me make mistakes and learn from them. Thank you for encouraging me to go out and have fun with my friends. Thank you for Ian and Laurel. Thank you for letting me depend upon you. Thank you for journeying through life with me.
Happy birthday, America! You are still quite young, and have many, many lessons to learn ahead of you. Please be considerate and flexible in your thinking.
Five years ago, Paul and I decided to lose our independence on Independence Day. With a week's planning, we bought a dress for me, rented a kilt for Paul, booked a flight and a room, and happily followed our hearts to Vegas to elope. It was all very romantic, very low stress and TONS of FUN!!!
Paul and I consider ourselves a team. We work together to get things done. I can't tell you how much I depend on that ideal. Knowing he is there to help out with anything, whether it be changing diapers, cleaning up vomit, or listening to me vent, is worth more to me than all the money and desirable tangibles the world has ever known.
Too often we are told it is not good to be dependent on anyone or anything. I like that Paul and I depend on each other, that we can count on each other to help out. Obviously, Laurel and Ian being wee tots depend on us to provide them with food, shelter, and love. That dependency is what makes us a family. We rely on one another to help out. The burden of chores, the loving and caring, should not rest on one person, but all of us. It is much easier to tackle those undesirable tasks when there is someone by your side.
Will someone always be there for assistance? No, that would be impossible. But knowing later someone will listen to you vent about loathsome tasks is quite comforting.
To Paul I must say, thank you. Thank you for always listening. Thank you for lending a hand when you're home. Thank you for numerous back and feet rubs. Thank you for encouraging me to rest when dog tired and I don't know better. Thank you for ignoring the irritable side of me. Thank you for letting me make mistakes and learn from them. Thank you for encouraging me to go out and have fun with my friends. Thank you for Ian and Laurel. Thank you for letting me depend upon you. Thank you for journeying through life with me.
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