What Others Have to Say About Me is None of My Business

I turned off the water, grabbed a towel and opened the shower curtain. I was startled by the oldest boy who was quietly sitting on the toilet, and he got a kick out of my surprised squeal.  Apparently he had been sitting there a while and I did not realize it.  This is just one of the benefits of being Mom; you are never alone.  While stepping out of the shower I teased the boy that he scared me and I didn't know he was there.  Why can't they be this quiet when I want them to be?

I am drying off as I step out of the shower and he hits me with it.  "Why do you have a tattoo on your butt Mommy?"  In an attempt to stall the answer, I remind Mr. Observant that I have another one...right there.  Like many other times I am caught off guard by a question by one of the boys, I simply fly by the seat of my pants. "Why do you ask buddy, do you not like Mommy's tattoo?".

This is one of those many times one of the boys teaches me something.  They are constantly making me stop and reflect on myself and my beliefs, making me a better person. My little man, wise beyond his years, looks at me and says "Mommy, it doesn't matter if I like it.  It only matters if you like it.".

All I could do was smile with pride.  Where does this kid get it?  I know he does not get it from me, and Daddy is less open minded than I am.  Little Man then proceeds to tell me about a picture he drew at school that one of his classmates did not like, and evidently was not shy about sharing her opinion.  The incident with the picture at school had made an impact on Little Man.  He told me he liked the picture and did not care if others felt differently. YOU GO BOY!

I am not sure how long he was sitting there, waiting for me.  After my schooling on confidence and what others have to say about  me, he got up and walked out like nothing happened.  If he only knew.

Seperation Anxiety

In the twelve years hubs and I have been together, we have spent a number of nights apart that I could count on my hands. In the twelve years hubs and I have been together, we have only had separate careers for all of a year, maybe two. Most responses I get from others hearing this for the first time is something like “wow, you must really like each other” or “I could never tolerate my spouse that much”. We will both readily admit that hubs has the patience of Job and should be sainted for dealing with my antics, so he is really the one credited with our success all this time.

Like many couples, hubs and I met at work. However, after that organization moved us around the country together for a couple of years, we started a business together. Now it just feels odd to get up and do separate projects. We have a good rhythm to our routine; he has his strengths, as do I, and they fortunately compliment each other’s weaknesses. We are a good team.

It is really odd when you temporarily lose your right hand. The left hand tries to pick up the slack but can never fully complete the task. The man has a semi-annual fishing trip with his family friends at The White River. The trip is so good for him. He bonds with his man people; doesn’t shave for days, smoke cigars, plays cards, and occasionally gets a line wet. He comes back better than when he left; with his axe sharpened. He tells me bits and pieces of stories that he feels are acceptable for my “virgin” ears and he counts the days until the next trip.

This year he threw in an extra special trip to Canada with one of his brothers and his step dad. He was gone A WHOLE WEEK. I was a little worried (read: freaking out) when I heard how long he would be absent from our daily routine. My saving grace was the fact that the boys do go to preschool a couple of days a week. I knew I would be able to get some things done, or stare off into space like a zombie while they were gone. In preparation for his departure, I cleaned the place like my mother was coming to visit, freeze some easy to reheat meals and plan lots of activities to keep us busy and make the time fly.

Funny thing happened that week though; it wasn’t bad. Sure, I missed him; and so did the boys. Much to hub’s dismay we only had one night of dramatic “I miss Daddy” theatrics; and frankly that was because they were in trouble and think Daddy will save them from Nazi Mommy. Things ran as they normally would, some days even better (don’t tell Brad). I was even able to do some things I normally wouldn’t be able to do with Brad around. Most of you that know us might ask “what on earth does he not let you do”? First thing I did was go to the store and stock up on wine; then I came home and rearranged the furniture and finally….wait for it….it is s a biggie. I let the boys play with the shaving crème in the bath tub! As far as the three of us were concerned, the week was a success.

Fast forward to my girls trip to Florida this week. I too, will be gone A WHOLE WEEK. My already high anxiety level has now doubled. I know I will have a blast in Florida even though I am missing all my friends at Blogher. I also know that I cannot wait to start counting waves while catching up on my vitamin D therapy and my stack of books. I am, however, a little worried about what I am going to come back to when I get home. I know hubs is completely capable of caring for himself and the boys and the house, but have some issues with how effective they will be trying to do all of it at the same time.

The whole idea of these trips got me thinking about that saying “absence makes the heart grow fonder”. Although it is the case when I am apart from Brad, it is not always true with other scenarios. Does absence truly make our hearts fonder, or does the separation just give us the opportunity to learn that we are just in a situation of convenience. I suppose that is where the saying “out of sight out of mind” originated. When I presented this idea to hubs he laughed and asked, “are you worried I will learn to like to live without you while you are gone?”. Once my nervous laughter was over, I reminded him that he may be able to do so, but he doesn’t want to.

What do you think? Is it the subject matter (people, place, or thing) for which you long, or is it the fact that you just are away from it? From what have you recently been separated and what was it like when you reunited; was it what you expected?

Get It While the Gettin's Good

If predictions by the Oxford Hair Foundation come to pass, the number of natural redheads everywhere will continue to dwindle until there are none left by the year 2100. The reason, according to scientists at the independent institute in England, which studies all sorts of hair problems, is that just 4 percent of the world's population carries the red-hair gene. The gene is recessive (and therefore diluted when carriers produce children with people who have the dominant brown-hair gene. Dr. John Gray's often publicized explanation of his foundation's findings: "The way things are going; red hair will either be extremely rare or extinct by the end of the century." The gene responsible for red hair - known as the melanocortin 1 receptor, or MC1R - was only discovered in the late 1990s. People have a good chance of being born with red hair if they have a mutation of that gene. Red hair is found in all ethnic backgrounds but is most commonly associated with people of Celtic descent.Maybe I need to have my friend the rocket scientist (ok, ok, genetic researcher) look into this…let me know your thoughts T.

I have a few thoughts about this possibility:

~Thank god I will be gone because a world without Red is no place to live!
~“Studying all sorts of hair problems”; who decides that is what they want to do with their life? ~Recessive my arse: My dad, me (obviously) my brother, and now my son. I won’t even get into my dad’s 7 siblings. (some of which are shown here)
~As I read the article about my people’s pending doom, I thought back to the ridicule I experienced as a young child and then the near celebrity I received as I reached adulthood. I have grown to love my red hair and “angle kisses” (now that I have the sharpie off my skin from my sister connecting the dots in an attempt to see how many I had as a youth; why did I let her do that?) and consider them my trademark.

Quotable and red:

A young man marrying a redhead asked his father for some marital advice. The father said, "Just remind her who wears the pants in your family." The evening arrived; the new husband tossed his pants to his bride and said, "Here put these on." She did and said "I don't fit into these." "That's right!" he said, "and don't you forget who wears the pants in this family!" With that she flipped him her panties and said, "Try these on." He looked at them and said, "I can't get into your panties!" She said, "That's right - and you won't until your attitude changes!"

Waxing Poetic

****The content below is for adults only; or for those that can handle direct language about body parts and the maintenance of said body parts.  If you are related to me, go to church with me, work with me or the hubs, come back later.****

First things first. I have never had to password protect a post. It seems, however, that the hubs thinks the content provided herein is not appropriate for all audiences. Word has it that my father in law has spread the word around town about my little piece of internet and now my damn priest reads the crap I write. I suppose the man of the house does have a valid point when he further mentions that some of his colleagues and my clients read the site too; I can only imagine what they would be thinking about at the next meeting after reading this. So in an effort to keep us both happy; we have protection. What I really wanted to tell hubs was to take off his panties and hose the sand out of his vagina.

Speaking of vaginas; well mine particularly. In all my years I have never waxed any part of my body. I am very fortunate to have not only very light hair but hair that grows very slowly. The down side to my good luck is that if I do not wear mascara, I look like a am nine years old at best. Imagine if you will, me at the age of twenty-nine with braces and no makeup; hubs felt a little awkward at times. He once came in the house to tell me the new neighbor girl had come over to ask if I could come out to play. He is so funny; just ask him, he will tell you.

Back to my vagina. For some reason I got a wild hair to get waxed. Many of you know that I am an all or nothing kind of girl though; if I am doing this I am going all the way. Brazilian baby. The first question I asked myself is whether I should go to someone I know, or a complete stranger. I determined a referral was more important than anything. I called one of my girlfriends and asked her advice. Having moved her business from a local salon to her home last year, she immediately sent me to her former place of business. She informed that the aesthetician was awesome and since I believe everything my friend/hair stylist tells me, I hung up and called the salon.

I had three days to wait after making the appointment. Your imagination can do a lot in three days. I was excited and petrified. My final thought was “how bad can it be really, you have given birth twice for god’s sake”. I wanted it to be a surprise for hubs so I did not tell him. The neurotic in me then starts thinking; “do I even want him to notice, that means I needed it”. We will get to his final reaction later.

Upon entering the salon on Friday and greet my girlfriends that work there and take some Advil; I had been told that doing so might be beneficial. This is one of those things I did to be safe and not sorry. I don’t know if I did not need it but I really did not want to find out if I needed it but didn’t take it.


The aesthetician greets me and escorts me to the servicing room. She explains the process and instructs me to disrobe from waste down and place a towel here and some paper there. I can do this. Towel here, paper there. The irony is that she leaves the room for me to undress but is about to explore places with a magnifying light the way only my gyno has done.

Upon examination and a test run it is determined my “front” hair is not long enough yet. Remember the fact that I am blessed with slow growing hair; it can suck at times. It also doesn’t help that I shave it all off anyway. No sweat. I am still a little nervous anyway and think I may back out of the back side if the front is agony. Kim proceeds to tell me to “hop up” on my hands and knees. The only way I can provide a visual for this position is to describe it as “child’s pose” in yoga but with your butt in the air. Or maybe a frog. The thing about this position is that is perfect for what she is doing, however, the wall that I am facing is all mirrors. Normally I would consider this hot, but in this scenario I do not care to watch, I lower my head.

So I have to admit that the hot wax was not bad; actually quite nice. I have the need to hold a conversation during this process in attempt to keep breathing. What I find out during the dialogue intrigues me. I live in what most would consider a conservative area of the country; otherwise known as “The Bible Belt”. My new best friend Kim moved here from Vegas five years ago and tells me she has seen things here that she never saw or even heard of in Springfield. How about that; I am not the only one in this town after all. I am not sure if that is good or bad.

Rip. Huh. Not so bad. Certainly not the vision from the 40 year old virgin I was imagining. “Blah Blah Blah”. “ Yeah I have two boys, 4 and 2.5; the picture of your girls is cute, how old?” Rip. How about that, it gets easier every time. Rip again. What the Hell! “Did you literally just rip me a new one?” She thought that was funny. Hubs is not the only funny one around here.  Like any quality aesthetician, Kim wants to be thorough, so out comes the lighted magnifying glass. Jesus; my gyno doesn’t even use a magnifying glass. She completes the examination of her work and sounding very proud says “looks great”. I have to take her word for it since I cannot see it. I am going to spare the details about how she applies the aloe in an attempt to prevent any male (or female for that matter) readers from getting entirely too excited about one woman rubbing cream all over another. That was the best part though.

I admit that I am happy I only have to do “maintain” every few months; but in end, hubs and I highly recommended this service.

As I am wrapping things up and paying, I asked Kim out to dinner; it seemed like the next step in our relationship.

*For those of you considering a Brazilian and are curious; there was little if any pain during or after the procedure!  Take off your panties and hose the sand out of your vagina and get it done!

Inside Scoop

Some people are born to do something, while others may follow in the footsteps of their parents.  Some people are fortunate enough to have some sort of talent that provides them a catalyst to their future.  Then there are the lucky ones that have a passion for something that drives them from birth.  You know the ones I am talking about, the one in kindergarten that knew he wanted to be a doctor; or like a classmate I had, a male stripper.  I did not fit any of these molds.  Sure, I had some musical talent, but not without too much effort as far as I was concerned.  My parents did not really have profession to pass on to me, and I am still looking for my one true passion.

When I was a kid though, I loved to snoop.  Not only did I love trying to read my sister's diary; I loved to interview people.  I had a little tape recorder that I carried with me everywhere.  I would imitate Howard Cosell and berate my family and friends with questions.  Don't get me wrong, I am still nosey; but I wonder what would have happened if that had been nurtured as a child?

Anyway, in my attempt to get some scoop; I asked my four year old some questions about his mommy.  This is what I found out:

1. What is something mommy always says to you? I love you


2. What makes mommy happy? Hugs


3. What makes mommy sad? Kicking


4. How does your mom make you laugh? She smiles


5. What was your mom like as a child? She played with toys


6. How old is your mom? 15


7. How tall is your mom? 40 feet tall


8. What is her favorite thing to do? Play with toys


9. What does your mom do when you're not around? Go outside


10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for? A Rock star


11. What is your mom really good at? Going to work and bring me food


12. What is your mom not very good at? Remembering her wallet (not sure what this is about)


13. What does your mom do for her job? Play with toys (gadgets maybe)


14. What's your mom's favorite food? Pizza (that is his favorite food)


15. What makes you proud of your mom? How she hangs pictures (we just hung some new pictures before the interview)


16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be? Wonder Woman (no kidding!)

By George I Think He Got It

We were listening to the radio in the car this morning with the boys in the back.  The DJ requests that the women listeners call in and tell him if they liked to be considered mysterious.  The question was whether or not the claim was good or bad.  Hubs turns to Little Man and says "do you think brother is mysterious?".  Little Man says yes in fact, brother is mysterious, after which he proceeds to ask "what does mysterious mean daddy".  Hubs describes the term as meaning "difficult to understand".  Little man confirms what he had already stated about his baby brother and then added "my states puzzle is mysterious too daddy".

Who you callin' fragile?

Yesterday hubs and I drove the boys about an hour north of town to some land where hubs hunts.  Not only did Brad need to pick up his blind, we thought it would be fun to explore the 80 or so acres with the boys.  It wasn't too cold but when the wind whipped I was happy that we all had on our hats.  We parked the truck in front of the gate and got out.  The boys were easily excited about having to climb said fence and quickly flew over it before I had time to even spot them.  Hubs had mumbled something about forgetting his boots and I thought nothing of it until I saw the creek and realized that although I wore my gortex, the boys did not.  We found a spot where we could cross the creek and keep the boys dry but not without effort.  Where would the fun be if this was effortless?  Brad heads down the approximately eight foot cliff first.  Not a big feet for an adult but you can imagine Little Man's horror when I told him he was next.  LM was next, the the Babe without a sound.  Now it is mama's turn.  Brad laughed at me as I slid down on my backside which initiated a chorus of laughter from the guardians of my honor.  What happened here?  I thought my boys were supposed to laugh with me, not at me!  So we head to the wood line to get Brad's gear and the boys get distracted by the cows that occupy the land.  Brad steps it up and we tell him we will just catch up.  The boys and I hang out with the cows and talk about four wheeling on the land and camping and such.  About this time Brad is back and laughs.  He seems to think I need to be toughened up before bringing the bikes or ATVs out here.  I guess he is under the assumption I am a little too fragile for such things!  Not that I am keeping score, but I reminded him about the 18 or so months I have given of my body to carry his children, then the two days of labor I gave up to give birth to them (there is a reason God has the women do the childbearing).  If I had the pictures of the inside of my knee with me at the time, I would have pulled them out to illustrate what I overcame before and after two knee surgeries.To bring the point home, I merely pulled up my sleeves and showed him the guns I had acquired over the last 3.5 years picking up our boys that currently weigh 80 pounds together, and "playfully" punched him.

English as a Second Language

English is a really tough language to learn. We have words that have multiple meanings, some spelled the same, others not. We have the weirdest slang, and some weird dialects. I can only imagine what it i like to be 2 or 3 and trying to absorb it all. Take for instance:

When I told Little Man that hubs was going to shoot his bow, Little Man gave me a very concerned look. He said Mommy, don't let Daddy shoot brother! I tried to explain that is a different kind of bow...that is a Beau!

Little Man was picking out his clothes for the day and I mentioned he had two pairs of the same pants in his closet that were different colors. He looked at me and said "pears like we eat?". No honey, I am talking about pairs, or a set. He said oh like two! Woo hoo! He got that one.

Now, if I can only explain the difference between pin and pen. I am still trying to explain that one to hubs.

Y...Y...Y

Since I am the proud mother of two of the cutest and craziest boys ever and the wife to the most handsome and patient man on earth, I often find myself pondering genetics and hormones. No matter how much society wants to wussify boys these days, there is a clear difference between boys and girls and I believe they should be raised differently. Don't get me wrong, I think it is great that Little Man loves High School Musical and Annie, and that The Babe only talks about football, soccer, and baseball. Although they have different likes and dislikes, even at their early ages, they are both all boy all the time.

The personalities of the boys are complete opposites. Little Man, as first born, is much like his mama. Neurotic, animated, cautious, and a just a little goofy. The Babe being the second born is just like hubs. Not only is The Babe almost an identical replica of hubs in physique, he is just as laid back as Brad. If I told Little Man there was no more milk he would throw himself on the floor and wiggle around until I somehow made milk come out of the faucet. If I told The Babe we were out of milk he would shrug his shoulders and say "ok" and walk off to play. Learned behaviors or genetics? A little of both I am sure. Although they have conflicting personalities they have one thing in common; beyond their parents. These two boys will find any reason to touch, knock down, run, collide, jump, climb, wrestle or drag something or someone.

What is it about little boys that makes them so physical? I was at work the other day facilitating a field trip in the museum and I watched the kids closely. What I noticed was that the girls stood calmly and talked with their friends while waiting to board the bus while the boys were screaming, wrestling, kicking, punching, and being obnoxious. I had to tell one pair to get off of each other a number of times.

I had mixed feelings as I experienced this. I was happy to see it was not just my children. I was concerned to realize that it doesn't seem to stop after preschool. I struggled to find some sort of logical explanation for boy behavior. The only thing I came up with was there was a reason they named themale chromosome "Y".

Bathroom Banter

Kids really do say the darndest things; especially at 4am. Little Man is going through what I hope is a phase. He wakes in the wee hours of the morning and calls for one of us. When the first one doesn't answer he starts calling for the other. Hubs is usually the one to go in. Hey, stop calling me names; he and I both know that I have to get up much early than the kids should so there is no point of me going in and falling asleep.

Last night was no different. Little Man called, Hubs answered. Little Man said he had to go to the bathroom. As Little Man is peeing and hubs is holding him up so he doesn't fall asleep in the toilet Little Man says "Daddy, you should go too, you don;t want to have an accident".

Then in true neurotic fashion he points out "we should really clean out that trash can".

He is my boy.

Bathroom Banter

Kids really do say the darndest things; especially at 4am. Little Man is going through what I hope is a phase. He wakes in the wee hours of the morning and calls for one of us. When the first one doesn't answer he starts calling for the other. Hubs is usually the one to go in. Hey, stop calling me names; he and I both know that I have to get up much early than the kids should so there is no point of me going in and falling asleep.

Last night was no different. Little Man called, Hubs answered. Little Man said he had to go to the bathroom. As Little Man is peeing and hubs is holding him up so he doesn't fall asleep in the toilet Little Man says "Daddy, you should go too, you don;t want to have an accident".

Then in true neurotic fashion he points out "we should really clean out that trash can".

He is my boy.

Trick or Treat

Although I am fairly competitive; I really try not to get caught up in competitive parenting. You know, when one parent says "look what Johnny can do." Or better yet, "Johnny, have you showed Suzie how you can...?"; I love it when folks talk through their kids. I know we are all proud of our kids, and no one blames us for wanting to show off their new tricks. It is kind of funny though, when the kids get tired of being puppets. Take for instance, Little Man. He has a new puppy trick that I have been "practicing" with him. He loves to do it with me but has a hard time doing it for others; even Nana! The whole reason I taught him this "trick" was to (a) capitalize on his fabulous memory, (b) try to supplement the silly tricks "we" (meaning hubs) teach him like saying "pay up sucka" while pointing to his hand, and of course (c) teach him the states.

Just remember Little Man, unless you are going into organized crime, I think my trick will serve you better than "pay up sucka".




(By the way; I know he has GA and FL swapped. Give the kid a break! We still have 35 to go so I will of course add more as applicable!)

What tricks do your kids have? You know you want to tell me....

Trick or Treat

Although I am fairly competitive; I really try not to get caught up in competitive parenting. You know, when one parent says "look what Johnny can do." Or better yet, "Johnny, have you showed Suzie how you can...?"; I love it when folks talk through their kids. I know we are all proud of our kids, and no one blames us for wanting to show off their new tricks. It is kind of funny though, when the kids get tired of being puppets. Take for instance, Little Man. He has a new puppy trick that I have been "practicing" with him. He loves to do it with me but has a hard time doing it for others; even Nana! The whole reason I taught him this "trick" was to (a) capitalize on his fabulous memory, (b) try to supplement the silly tricks "we" (meaning hubs) teach him like saying "pay up sucka" while pointing to his hand, and of course (c) teach him the states.

Just remember Little Man, unless you are going into organized crime, I think my trick will serve you better than "pay up sucka".


(By the way; I know he has GA and FL swapped. Give the kid a break! We still have 35 to go so I will of course add more as applicable!)

What tricks do your kids have? You know you want to tell me....

She's Got The Look

As I am sure you can imagine, when I was younger I never got in trouble. I was an absolute angel and parents could only hope their kids would be half as good as I was. OK Mom, stop laughing. I know you stayed up many nights while I was in high school just praying I would make in home in one piece, or even make it home. I recall that I may have been a little sassy at times to my mother and although I deserved a slap in the mouth for my tone, my mother never used physical force with me. Well, except when we were in public. You see, rather than embarrass me, my mother would do me a favor by kicking me under a table or pinching my arm. This was her way of saying, "straighten up miss thang", without having to say the words. Mom was gracious like that, but I did not realize it until I became a parent. Not only did mom use the under the table kick or pinch, she had a look. You know the look. The one that says, "you know you are doing something wrong or stupid and need to stop before you get in trouble or I embarrass you".


I had previously mastered this look with hubs for public settings. You know ladies, when your husband says something inappropriate or embarrasses himself and you are trying to tell him without words. Hubs is pretty good about recognizing this look but I recently realized that Little Man recognizes it too.

It is a glorious day when all you have to do is give the look and get results. Now I don't have to give him instructions multiple times. I don't have to worry about his hearing, because I know he sees me! Today I utilized the look at the dinner table and received an instant response. I heard angels sing and my mother's voice.

I know there will come a day the Little Man, like me, will get a little too big for his britches. He may do what I did to Mom and decide to call my bluff while in public. I was known to say to mom after one of her "reminders", "why are you kicking me mom?". This was not received well but mom rarely if ever pursued the issue until we got home. I am not sure I will have that much will power to keep my mouth shut. I may have to pull him by the ear to the ladies room and really embarrass him.

So tell me. What techniques do you use to get your kids attention without words?

She's Got The Look

As I am sure you can imagine, when I was younger I never got in trouble. I was an absolute angel and parents could only hope their kids would be half as good as I was. OK Mom, stop laughing. I know you stayed up many nights while I was in high school just praying I would make in home in one piece, or even make it home. I recall that I may have been a little sassy at times to my mother and although I deserved a slap in the mouth for my tone, my mother never used physical force with me. Well, except when we were in public. You see, rather than embarrass me, my mother would do me a favor by kicking me under a table or pinching my arm. This was her way of saying, "straighten up miss thang", without having to say the words. Mom was gracious like that, but I did not realize it until I became a parent. Not only did mom use the under the table kick or pinch, she had a look. You know the look. The one that says, "you know you are doing something wrong or stupid and need to stop before you get in trouble or I embarrass you".


I had previously mastered this look with hubs for public settings. You know ladies, when your husband says something inappropriate or embarrasses himself and you are trying to tell him without words. Hubs is pretty good about recognizing this look but I recently realized that Little Man recognizes it too.

It is a glorious day when all you have to do is give the look and get results. Now I don't have to give him instructions multiple times. I don't have to worry about his hearing, because I know he sees me! Today I utilized the look at the dinner table and received an instant response. I heard angels sing and my mother's voice.

I know there will come a day the Little Man, like me, will get a little too big for his britches. He may do what I did to Mom and decide to call my bluff while in public. I was known to say to mom after one of her "reminders", "why are you kicking me mom?". This was not received well but mom rarely if ever pursued the issue until we got home. I am not sure I will have that much will power to keep my mouth shut. I may have to pull him by the ear to the ladies room and really embarrass him.

So tell me. What techniques do you use to get your kids attention without words?

What Is In His Bed Tonight?

When the boys were infants, hubs and I didn't let them sleep with anything in their cribs. The fear of them getting tangled in a blanket was just too much for us. As they got older they acquired blankets that they sleep with and sometimes uses for comfort when they are sick, mad, or sad. Little Man's is a lot like the blanket I had a little girl. It is green and white knitting that provides him the ability to makes "holes" where he puts his fingers like a bowling ball. This is the reason he has affectionately named it his "holes blanket".

The Babe started with a little square "silky". It has a baby blue silky side and the other side is some sort of fuzzy material. As he got older we offered him a full size version but he still has an affinity to the mini blanket. He doesn't suck his fingers like his brother but when he is sleepy, The Babe will get the blanket and smell the blanket. I am not sure I would suggest this feat to anyone; who knows why the blanket smells the way it does.

Little Man had a birthday recently and he really wanted a "grab nabber". You know, one of those things used to pick up trash, or help the elderly or injured handle daily activities. One of his friends has one, and of course, Rocket from Little Einsteins uses one. This was the happiest I have ever seen someone for a mere four dollars. Although I am not sure what the allure of the product is; Little Man takes this thing everywhere. At times it is useful. In the car when he drops his cup he uses it to pick it up. He helps brother get things The Babe can not reach.

It becomes annoying at bed time. Little Man grabs his blanket and his grab nabber and heads to bed. Each night for the last week he asks the same question; "can I sleep with my grab nabber?". We had some fits and crying but when I finally got myself together he agreed that it could sleep next to him on the floor. Of course, the nabber has it's own pillow and is easily accessible when he wakes.

When he enters our room to wake us he is carrying the nabber and the blanket. I know this too will pass. He could be sleeping with much worse I suppose.

What Is In His Bed Tonight?

When the boys were infants, hubs and I didn't let them sleep with anything in their cribs. The fear of them getting tangled in a blanket was just too much for us. As they got older they acquired blankets that they sleep with and sometimes uses for comfort when they are sick, mad, or sad. Little Man's is a lot like the blanket I had a little girl. It is green and white knitting that provides him the ability to makes "holes" where he puts his fingers like a bowling ball. This is the reason he has affectionately named it his "holes blanket".

The Babe started with a little square "silky". It has a baby blue silky side and the other side is some sort of fuzzy material. As he got older we offered him a full size version but he still has an affinity to the mini blanket. He doesn't suck his fingers like his brother but when he is sleepy, The Babe will get the blanket and smell the blanket. I am not sure I would suggest this feat to anyone; who knows why the blanket smells the way it does.

Little Man had a birthday recently and he really wanted a "grab nabber". You know, one of those things used to pick up trash, or help the elderly or injured handle daily activities. One of his friends has one, and of course, Rocket from Little Einsteins uses one. This was the happiest I have ever seen someone for a mere four dollars. Although I am not sure what the allure of the product is; Little Man takes this thing everywhere. At times it is useful. In the car when he drops his cup he uses it to pick it up. He helps brother get things The Babe can not reach.

It becomes annoying at bed time. Little Man grabs his blanket and his grab nabber and heads to bed. Each night for the last week he asks the same question; "can I sleep with my grab nabber?". We had some fits and crying but when I finally got myself together he agreed that it could sleep next to him on the floor. Of course, the nabber has it's own pillow and is easily accessible when he wakes.

When he enters our room to wake us he is carrying the nabber and the blanket. I know this too will pass. He could be sleeping with much worse I suppose.

Everyone's A Critic

I admit, I was one once too. Prior to having my own children you would find me looking at parents in the mall or park, or grocery store. I had all sorts of insights to provide them, if only they would ask. "They must give him a full can of soda each morning, how could anyone have that much energy?" is what I thought of some kids. "Don't reward him for that behavior", I would think to another. "Who runs the show at that house?" I would wonder to another.

Since becoming a parent, my outlook has changed. I empathize more than criticize. I realize they all have their moments, just like adults. We have good days and bad, and sometimes just need to eat and take a nap. Sometimes we just need alone time, or some time with Daddy.

The boys and I went grocery shopping today. I normally look forward to this outing with them. Little Man helps pick out items and The Babe helps put them in the cart. Today was no exception, all was going as planned, until The Babe saw the yogurt!

The Babe, being all of 20 months, still hasn't found all of his words. When he wants something he usually signs and says the word "more". Today he broke my heart while it melted when he added the word please and used the sign. He knows how to work it.

I have been known to let the boys eat while we shop. Who doesn't dip into the grapes, or open a box of trail mix while meandering down the aisles deciding what to have for the next meal, which is usually within the hour. Since yogurt is not on my approved list of items to eat while shipping, I tried to divert The Babe's attention to string cheese. "Do you think I am dumb woman?" is what the look that he gave me said.

A woman in her grandmother years was in the aisle with us and started to giggle. I mistakenly took this giggle as one of empathy but I was wrong. I soon heard her say "I'm glad those aren't my children". Although I too, was happy they were not her children, I laughed and said something to the effect of "You would think I didn't feed them". We parted ways. The three of us and the woman. Not me and the boys.

We see the woman again a few aisles later. The Babe had calmed down but the annoying attention he is getting from the woman makes him a little irritated and begins to whine. He is, after all, hungry and I did not give into to his yogurt whine so she is just a reminder of this fact. We part ways again.

The Babe calms down with some string cheese and we check out. Little Man helps place things on the counter while The Babe flirts with the checker. All is well again. We head to the in-store Starbucks after Little Man informs me we have been very good at the store and Mommy deserves a White Chocolate Mocha. I kid you not, he said that. He also added that he would like some milk and a donut. He orders for us; again, I kid you not. Tall nonfat WC Mocha for Mommy and too Chocolate milks for the boys. Here she is again. This time she notes the milks and says "Looks like you won this one buddy", she says while looking at The Babe. "Mommy shouldn't reward you for that kind of behavior". I love it when people talk to me through my kids.

In unusual form, I looked at her and said "It is too bad we have to be parents to be grandparents isn't it, being a grandparent is so much easier".

Everyone's A Critic

I admit, I was one once too. Prior to having my own children you would find me looking at parents in the mall or park, or grocery store. I had all sorts of insights to provide them, if only they would ask. "They must give him a full can of soda each morning, how could anyone have that much energy?" is what I thought of some kids. "Don't reward him for that behavior", I would think to another. "Who runs the show at that house?" I would wonder to another.

Since becoming a parent, my outlook has changed. I empathize more than criticize. I realize they all have their moments, just like adults. We have good days and bad, and sometimes just need to eat and take a nap. Sometimes we just need alone time, or some time with Daddy.

The boys and I went grocery shopping today. I normally look forward to this outing with them. Little Man helps pick out items and The Babe helps put them in the cart. Today was no exception, all was going as planned, until The Babe saw the yogurt!

The Babe, being all of 20 months, still hasn't found all of his words. When he wants something he usually signs and says the word "more". Today he broke my heart while it melted when he added the word please and used the sign. He knows how to work it.

I have been known to let the boys eat while we shop. Who doesn't dip into the grapes, or open a box of trail mix while meandering down the aisles deciding what to have for the next meal, which is usually within the hour. Since yogurt is not on my approved list of items to eat while shipping, I tried to divert The Babe's attention to string cheese. "Do you think I am dumb woman?" is what the look that he gave me said.

A woman in her grandmother years was in the aisle with us and started to giggle. I mistakenly took this giggle as one of empathy but I was wrong. I soon heard her say "I'm glad those aren't my children". Although I too, was happy they were not her children, I laughed and said something to the effect of "You would think I didn't feed them". We parted ways. The three of us and the woman. Not me and the boys.

We see the woman again a few aisles later. The Babe had calmed down but the annoying attention he is getting from the woman makes him a little irritated and begins to whine. He is, after all, hungry and I did not give into to his yogurt whine so she is just a reminder of this fact. We part ways again.

The Babe calms down with some string cheese and we check out. Little Man helps place things on the counter while The Babe flirts with the checker. All is well again. We head to the in-store Starbucks after Little Man informs me we have been very good at the store and Mommy deserves a White Chocolate Mocha. I kid you not, he said that. He also added that he would like some milk and a donut. He orders for us; again, I kid you not. Tall nonfat WC Mocha for Mommy and too Chocolate milks for the boys. Here she is again. This time she notes the milks and says "Looks like you won this one buddy", she says while looking at The Babe. "Mommy shouldn't reward you for that kind of behavior". I love it when people talk to me through my kids.

In unusual form, I looked at her and said "It is too bad we have to be parents to be grandparents isn't it, being a grandparent is so much easier".

Ribbit Ribbit

If you have looked at any photos of me and the family, you already know how fair we are. To add to our summer woes, the boys and I are prone to bug bites. No, really. Little Man and I open the door to go outside and they swarm us. We start itching and swatting before we can get to the car. We now have protection ! Bullfrog Mosquito Coast Sunblock! Yippee!

I normally don't use my blog to make advertisements but this is just a testimony to a great product. If others like us can gain reprieve, then I feel good about all the other crap you have had to read here.

The tag line says it all: Bullfrog Mosquito Coast just makes summer easier.

It repels the sun and bugs at the same time! You can't beat that with a fly swatter!

Now go get some!

Some trivia about the bullfrog:

The American Bullfrog is the State Amphibian of Missouri (how about that?) and Oklahoma.

Two Bullfrogs were launched into orbit in 1970 on the Orbiting Frog Otolith spacecraft.