He has a designated Chair in the living room. How do you know which one? Look for the stains all over that I desperately try to cover with a strategically placed blanket when guests visit. Or, you could also just look for the one holding the snoring hairy man.
And then there's The Hair. Poor kiddo- she looks like Carrot Top when Daddy tries to dry it after a bath.
The Bates Family
And we thought this would be easy...
Back in 2007, when we got married, we thought we had it down. We'd bought a house, kept our jobs long enough to call them careers, and were managing to raise a kid without people staring at him in WalMart....
Then, life happened. And we discovered God has a sense of humor. While it took us bit to laugh along, we find things are easier nowadays if we just go with it. Things are about to get funnier, thanks to our brilliant idea of pooling our genes and gifting the world a mini version of our well honed insanity. We're going to chronicle this so there's proof if ever we need it. Want to come along?
Then, life happened. And we discovered God has a sense of humor. While it took us bit to laugh along, we find things are easier nowadays if we just go with it. Things are about to get funnier, thanks to our brilliant idea of pooling our genes and gifting the world a mini version of our well honed insanity. We're going to chronicle this so there's proof if ever we need it. Want to come along?
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
A study in contrasts
A woman's closet is supposed to be a reflection of the many facets of her personality. It should show the many different ways a woman presents herself to the world. What, then, does my closet say about me? I mean, besides the fact that I still wear my maternity jeans and that breastfeeding dominates my choices in tops? Seriously, how many tank tops does a gal really need? I think it's not so much what MY closets says about me, but what JOHN'S side says about me.
It says I have a husband with a problem. Dude's got some clothes.
It says I have a husband with a problem. Dude's got some clothes.
Signs
Cooperation
Wednesday saw our first Pack Meeting of the school year, with a theme of "Cooperation." The boys were split into their respective Dens and given the task of creating a collage with a single message- without speaking. They had to ask for supplies and communicate with each other without voices. I love this picture- the Webelos are asking for glue from their Den Leader- and they are having a ball! I love this picture because the boys had a challenge in front of them, and were not able to use their most familiar tool... and they were happy. They enjoyed themselves, had fun, and were kind to one another in the process. How often have I failed to follow their lead? How many times have I found myself unwilling to think creatively to arrive at a solution, but instead sat and pouted that there was a challenge in the first place? THIS is why I love Cub Scouts; I honestly believe it prepares the boys to face life's challenges with grace and a willingness to be part of the solution. That, and they look freaking adorable in their uniforms.
Monday, July 19, 2010
A change in habits...
Jordan used to love being carried in her Moby Wrap. I cooked dinner while wearing her, nursed her while pacing the house, kept her warm and cozy at Cub Scout pack meetings. It was great, keeping her happy and making my life easier. Then the heat wave came (and yes, I am aware that our version of a PNW heat wave is drastically different from those experienced by the south or east coast, but still- it was HOT!). I worried about all the stories of babies overheating in their slings and wraps, and gave her a break from the Moby for a couple weeks. Now she has no interest whatsoever in being worn. She wants her hands and legs free to wriggle, and to be constantly changing position and perspective. Great. I will give it another week and keep trying, but if she keeps refusing I may be forced to wear Tyler in it just to justify having the wrap :)
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Raisin' them up right...
That's my boy. Approximately 45 minutes before he cleaned out all 3 groomsmen at our wedding, and got them drunk in the process. Kidding. I hope. After all, I wasn't there- I was busy throwing up from nerves in the bridal cabin. Who knows what happened while I was frantically trying to remove the faint smell of vomit from my dress?
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