Not quite four years ago, I celebrated my last birthday as a DINK (double-income, no kids). A short 22 days afterwards, my precious baby boy was born. Watching him grow and change over the last four years has been one of the most rewarding (and occasionally frustrating) experiences of my life. As I approach my 39th birthday and his fourth, I find I love him more now than I did when he was born. In so many ways, he brings joy into my life every day.
There is this cartoon he watches, "The Imagination Movers," and every episode ends with the same song and dance routine. They sing "Jump up! Get down! Stand up! Turn around, turn around, turn around, turn around." Well, every time we hear the song, Andrew and I get up and dance to it while holding hands. We jump up and down, drop to our knees, stand back up, and then turn in circles until we are both dizzy (Andrew's favorite part). I always take the opportunity to dance with him to this song because I know the day will come when he will no longer want to dance with his mom. It is one of our special moments.
In addition to dancing, Andrew loves to sing. Now, he usually prefers to sing at the top of his lungs and to make up his own words. But he also started recently singing with me. There is a little song from Maggie and the Ferocious Beast that starts off "Paper flowers bloom, On the Walls of my room, When I sing my song." I was singing it recently and I sang "Paper flowers bloom" and then Andrew filled in "On the walls of my room" and then we both sang "When I sing my song." It was so sweet. I love the song, but I didn't think he had paid any attention to it. Sometimes he surprises me.
These are just two examples of the sweet things my son surprises me with every day (not including the hugs, kisses, and giggles). So as my birthday approaches, along with the fabulous gift my husband has gotten me...and while we are on the topic, not a single one of you has found out what the gift is and called me, shame on you! But as I was saying, as my birthday approaches, along with the fabulous gift my husband has gotten me, I have discovered that my little boy gives me a gift every day.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
My New Space
About 3 years ago, I quit my day job and became a stay at home mom. Not long afterwards, my friend Staci (she has a great name but she spells it wrong) invited me over to her house for an afternoon of scrapping. That's scrapbooking for the uninformed. While I had seen scrapping before I hadn't really done any before that afternoon. Well, I was hooked. I thought "What a great hobby! It's fun, creative, and all you really need is a pair of scissors and some paper. So it's cheap too!" And here I am, a couple of thousand dollars later, addicted to scrapping. Turns out you need (seriously people, need is the right word) all kinds of things in addition to scissors and paper.
Once I got started, I needed a space at home to scrap in. Basically, I needed a desk and a book shelf to hold my stuff. No problem. There is a sitting room off Adam and I's bedroom. It's a strange shape, sort of L-shaped but not exactly. We already had a chaise and a large chair and a few antiques in the larger portion of the room, so I just stuck a desk and some shelves and in the smaller section and, voila, I had my scrap space. When I showed Staci, she predicted that eventually the furniture would get moved out and the entire room would become my scrap space. I laughed, there was no way that would happen. Well he who laughs last, laughs loudest. Staci, you can start laughing.
Over the past couple of weeks, the chaise and other furniture have been moved out and Adam built me a huge desk to use for scrapping. He did a lovely job, don't you think:
The desk is L-shaped. The long part is 8 ft long and about 30 inches deep. The short part of is about 3 feet long. I do my actual scrapping on the long section and the short section holds my computer and printer. Adam did a really great job. So nice to have a husband who can build stuff.
And I love my new desk. I have grand plans for the remaining space too. I definitely need more storage...so I can buy more stuff. Makes sense to me!
Once I got started, I needed a space at home to scrap in. Basically, I needed a desk and a book shelf to hold my stuff. No problem. There is a sitting room off Adam and I's bedroom. It's a strange shape, sort of L-shaped but not exactly. We already had a chaise and a large chair and a few antiques in the larger portion of the room, so I just stuck a desk and some shelves and in the smaller section and, voila, I had my scrap space. When I showed Staci, she predicted that eventually the furniture would get moved out and the entire room would become my scrap space. I laughed, there was no way that would happen. Well he who laughs last, laughs loudest. Staci, you can start laughing.
Over the past couple of weeks, the chaise and other furniture have been moved out and Adam built me a huge desk to use for scrapping. He did a lovely job, don't you think:
The desk is L-shaped. The long part is 8 ft long and about 30 inches deep. The short part of is about 3 feet long. I do my actual scrapping on the long section and the short section holds my computer and printer. Adam did a really great job. So nice to have a husband who can build stuff.
And I love my new desk. I have grand plans for the remaining space too. I definitely need more storage...so I can buy more stuff. Makes sense to me!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The Great Blizzard of 2010
That's right folks! The Great Blizzard of 2010. We just had snow here, a lot of snow. Big, fat fluffy snowflakes. It was a huge blizzard...by Texas standards. It was awesome!
So, on Tuesday morning about 7:00 am, it started sleeting and quickly turned into snow and it snowed on and off all day long. This was the view out my back door at one point.
At one point, I was talking to Andrew about the snow and I said "Let's go build a snowman." And he replied "No Mommy. I don't want to build a snowman. I want to throw snowballs!" That's my boy!
It was fun though, getting to do all of those traditional snow activities wiht Andrew that we so rarely get to do here in Texas.
We caught snowflakes on our tongues:
We made a snowman:
And we had a snowball fight:
And after we were nice and cold with frozen hands (we do not have the proper snow equipment!), we went inside and had hot chocolate:
It was a great day!
So, on Tuesday morning about 7:00 am, it started sleeting and quickly turned into snow and it snowed on and off all day long. This was the view out my back door at one point.
At one point, I was talking to Andrew about the snow and I said "Let's go build a snowman." And he replied "No Mommy. I don't want to build a snowman. I want to throw snowballs!" That's my boy!
It was fun though, getting to do all of those traditional snow activities wiht Andrew that we so rarely get to do here in Texas.
We caught snowflakes on our tongues:
We made a snowman:
And we had a snowball fight:
And after we were nice and cold with frozen hands (we do not have the proper snow equipment!), we went inside and had hot chocolate:
It was a great day!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Don't Call Me, I'll Call You
It happens every two years. That song plays (you know the one), the torch is lit and I am instantly glued to the t.v. for the next two weeks. I LOVE the Olympics. The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat. I love it all.
I am currently recording about 8 hours of Olympics each day and watching most of it (thanks to the DVR, I actually only have to watch about 6 hours). And it really doesn't matter what they show, I watch it all. Curling, cross country skiing, biathlon. I don't discriminate.
Now, as a rule, I root for the Americans. I am completely nationalistic. I don't care what your story is or how hard you have worked for it, I am cheering for the American, not you. Actually, if you are in the American's way, I am generally rooting for you to fall, slip, drop your curling ball, whatever. I don't want you to get hurt, just lose. The exception is when there aren't any Americans in contention. Then I get completely sucked in by the little stories and find myself cheering for some obscure Estonian competing in their 5th olympics whose uncle's dying wish was that they win a gold medal and this is their last chance to fulfill that wish. Go Marit or Petra or whoever you are (I generally can't pronounce the last name so it's first names only).
I get all worked up. I can feel my blood pressure rising as I scream at the t.v. The other night, I found myself leaning foward, back, side to side, all in a bid to help Seth Wescott win the goal medal in snowboard cross. He won by the way, thanks to my help.
So for the next week and a half, I am watching the Olympics. Don't call me, I probably won't answer the phone.
I am currently recording about 8 hours of Olympics each day and watching most of it (thanks to the DVR, I actually only have to watch about 6 hours). And it really doesn't matter what they show, I watch it all. Curling, cross country skiing, biathlon. I don't discriminate.
Now, as a rule, I root for the Americans. I am completely nationalistic. I don't care what your story is or how hard you have worked for it, I am cheering for the American, not you. Actually, if you are in the American's way, I am generally rooting for you to fall, slip, drop your curling ball, whatever. I don't want you to get hurt, just lose. The exception is when there aren't any Americans in contention. Then I get completely sucked in by the little stories and find myself cheering for some obscure Estonian competing in their 5th olympics whose uncle's dying wish was that they win a gold medal and this is their last chance to fulfill that wish. Go Marit or Petra or whoever you are (I generally can't pronounce the last name so it's first names only).
I get all worked up. I can feel my blood pressure rising as I scream at the t.v. The other night, I found myself leaning foward, back, side to side, all in a bid to help Seth Wescott win the goal medal in snowboard cross. He won by the way, thanks to my help.
So for the next week and a half, I am watching the Olympics. Don't call me, I probably won't answer the phone.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Regressing
Ahhhh, Valentine's Day. Flowers, boxes of chocolates, romantic dinners and Scooby Doo valentines. This year, Valentine's Day has taken on a whole new...angle. Andrew's class is having a Valentine's Day party. So, I gamely trooped out in the freezing rain (and I mean that literally) to pick up a box of valentines for Andrew to hand out at school today. I sat down at my desk to insert the temporary tatoo that comes with each one (can't give just a card these days) and fill them out. Then the instructions from his teacher arrived.
1. There are 21 kids in the class.
2. Each child shall bring 20 valentines to school (no more, no less).
3. The "from" section of each valentine shall contain the child's name.
4. The "to" section shall be left blank.
5. The valentines will be distributed....
Wait a minute! "The "to" section shall be left blank!!!!" What the heck is that all about??!!
I must say Instruction #4 ruined all of my fun. For a minute there it was like being back in first grade and getting to decide who got which valentines. Alissa is my best friend so she gets this pretty valentine. Suzie is mean and the teacher's pet so she gets this ugly one. And Johnny smells bad so he gets the valentine that is torn. (Admit it, all of you did the same thing.) If the I don't get to put names on them how can I insure that people get the correct valentines??!! For heaven's sake, Johnny might think I actually like him!
Eeeewwwww!
1. There are 21 kids in the class.
2. Each child shall bring 20 valentines to school (no more, no less).
3. The "from" section of each valentine shall contain the child's name.
4. The "to" section shall be left blank.
5. The valentines will be distributed....
Wait a minute! "The "to" section shall be left blank!!!!" What the heck is that all about??!!
I must say Instruction #4 ruined all of my fun. For a minute there it was like being back in first grade and getting to decide who got which valentines. Alissa is my best friend so she gets this pretty valentine. Suzie is mean and the teacher's pet so she gets this ugly one. And Johnny smells bad so he gets the valentine that is torn. (Admit it, all of you did the same thing.) If the I don't get to put names on them how can I insure that people get the correct valentines??!! For heaven's sake, Johnny might think I actually like him!
Eeeewwwww!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Where's the Beef
My grandparents owned a farm and raised cattle, so growing up I ate a lot of beef. In fact, you could say my family epitomized the phrase "Beef, it's what's for dinner." And I have carried that on in my adult life. We eat a lot of beef in this house. In fact, we eat a lot of meat. Almost every meal features some kind of meat.
I had not realized how central meat had become to a meal until I made soup the other day. I made a lovely green chile soup with potatoes. No meat. So Andrew and I sit down for lunch and Andrew starts picking through his soup.
Andrew: Mommy, where's the meat?
Me: What are you talking about?
Andrew: Where's the meat? There is no meat in my soup.
Me: This soup does not have any meat any it.
Andrew: Well, there is supposed to be meat in it.
Me: Just eat your soup!
Clearly we need to eat vegetarian more often.
I had not realized how central meat had become to a meal until I made soup the other day. I made a lovely green chile soup with potatoes. No meat. So Andrew and I sit down for lunch and Andrew starts picking through his soup.
Andrew: Mommy, where's the meat?
Me: What are you talking about?
Andrew: Where's the meat? There is no meat in my soup.
Me: This soup does not have any meat any it.
Andrew: Well, there is supposed to be meat in it.
Me: Just eat your soup!
Clearly we need to eat vegetarian more often.
Keeping Secrets
My husband is a wonderful man. He is kind, caring, funny, smart, and handsome (to name just a few of his many wonderful attributes). However, he is keeping secrets from me.
My 39th birthday is coming up in March (f.y.i., I am partial to diamonds and emeralds) and my husband has already purchased me a gift. I do not know what this gift is and Adam won't tell me. And, quite frankly, it is killing him. That's right, it is killing him that he can't tell me. He is soooo excited about it and he just wants to share the excitement with me. But he also wants it to be a surprise. It is quite the conundrum for him.
Actually, he goes through this frequently. Birthdays, Christmas, he is always offering to let me open my gifts early. Or giving me hints about what he bought. After he bought my engagement ring (but before he proposed), he showed it to everyone he knew. He invited one guy into our closet to "look at his new suit" just so he could show him the ring. He is doing the same thing again, telling everyone he sees about the gift.
I love surprises and really don't want to know what he bought. But that being said, I am a mean person and there is a prime opportunity here to torture my husband. So I am constantly asking him for hints and making guesses about the gift. It is making the wait just that much harder for him. I know, I know, I am just a cruel person.
So, if you should pass Adam on the street during the next few weeks, I am sure he will tell you all about my gift. If he does, call me.
My 39th birthday is coming up in March (f.y.i., I am partial to diamonds and emeralds) and my husband has already purchased me a gift. I do not know what this gift is and Adam won't tell me. And, quite frankly, it is killing him. That's right, it is killing him that he can't tell me. He is soooo excited about it and he just wants to share the excitement with me. But he also wants it to be a surprise. It is quite the conundrum for him.
Actually, he goes through this frequently. Birthdays, Christmas, he is always offering to let me open my gifts early. Or giving me hints about what he bought. After he bought my engagement ring (but before he proposed), he showed it to everyone he knew. He invited one guy into our closet to "look at his new suit" just so he could show him the ring. He is doing the same thing again, telling everyone he sees about the gift.
I love surprises and really don't want to know what he bought. But that being said, I am a mean person and there is a prime opportunity here to torture my husband. So I am constantly asking him for hints and making guesses about the gift. It is making the wait just that much harder for him. I know, I know, I am just a cruel person.
So, if you should pass Adam on the street during the next few weeks, I am sure he will tell you all about my gift. If he does, call me.
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