Sunday, April 27, 2008

Seven things

My good friend Stephani tagged me a while back and I'm finally getting around to it. So here are the rules:

-Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
-Share seven facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird, whatever you are brave enough to share.
-Tag seven people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
-Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

So here it is:

1. I am a huge Anne of Green Gables fan. I love L.M. Montgomery and have all twenty-something books of hers. Someday I would like to make a pilgrimage to Prince Edward Island. Steve thinks I'm crazy, so it will have to be a "girls only" trip. Anyone want to go?

2. I am the great, great, great, great granddaughter of Porter Rockwell. Perhaps I really can blame my tendency to say naughty words on genetics. (Sometimes heredity comes in handy. If I ever decide to become a gun-slinging cowboy, I can blame it all on my wild forbears.)

3. I ran a half-marathon two weeks before I found out I was pregnant with Lindsay. I find a great deal of humor in this--especially when I get winded walking up the one flight of stairs in my house.

4. I get to sleep on the couch tonight. SOMEONE decided to have an "accident" all over my bed and I am currently washing all the sheets and mattress pads. Steve is working, and I find my couch strangely comfortable.

5. That someone was NOT Steve. Or Lindsay. Or me.

6. I am so excited to start planting this spring. Steve made me some beautiful window boxes for my birthday and I've spent hours trying to decide what to plant in them.

7. I love my babies so much. Today in our leadership training one lady talked about how lucky we are to be able to teach such valiant children. It really hit me how lucky I really am. I am grateful to have such beautiful, good little girls. They are smart and happy and fun. I am such blessed woman.

Whew! That was harder than I thought. I'm going to tag my family here. But if anyone else is running out of blogging ideas, consider yourself tagged.

I tag:

Kori and John
Karen and Joe
Rachel and Jesse
Carol and Dave
Serena and Dave

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

All I wanted was some chocolate ice cream . . .

I thought we would play a little game tonight. It's called the Bad Mommy game.

Are you ready?

The other day I took the kids to the library. (Good mommy!) I left the library holding a large stack of books and my purse in one arm and Lindsay in my other arm. Lindsay decided to pretend like she was a limp noodle and start sliding down one leg. I reached the car just as she was dangling by her arms and neck under my tightened grip. (Bad mommy!) I threw the books on the hood of the car and started to scoop her up. Forgetting that I had another child practically glued to my leg, I turned, tripped over Allison, and started to fall. I somehow managed to hold on to Lindsay, but I knocked Allison down and then fell on my back. I also managed to land in the dirtiest part of the parking lot, right in the oil drippings from someone's car. (Bad mommy!) We were all fine, just very dirty.

Note that I kept my calm and did not use any naughty words. (Good mommy.)

Last night I ran to the grocery store with the kids. Once again I tried to carry too much stuff. I grabbed my groceries in one arm and Lindsay's car seat in the other. When I got to the door, I realized that there was no way I could open it. So I sat the milk down on one of the posts for the deck and unlocked the door. I turned to pick up the milk and accidentally bumped the post with the car seat. The milk toppled to the ground and exploded. (Bad mommy.)

It was lovely.

Allison was screaming and crying, "I sorry, I sorry, I sorry, mommy." (Oh, bad, bad, mommy.) I finally calmed her down and started cleaning up the lake of milk on my porch and deck. I was able to hose most of it off pretty easily, so I figured "why cry over spilled milk?" (Sorry, I had to get that out of my system.)

Note that I kept my calm and didn't say any naughty words. (Good mommy.)

I started to put the groceries away, and I picked up what I thought was some low-fat chocolate ice cream thingies. I realized that I had picked up coffee flavored ice cream instead. So I said it. "Oh hell."

Then I heard a little voice from clear across the house, "Oh hell. Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell."


Monday, April 14, 2008

In case you were wondering . . .

Yes, we are still alive. I've felt like I have the creativity of a flea lately, so I haven't felt much like writing. So since I don't feel very creative, here are the vital statistics.

I'm LOVING spring. Our trees are blossoming and I look outside and say a little prayer of thanks for the warm weather. I've been quite happy and content the last few weeks. It may be the warm weather, it may be that my wonderful mother came for a two-week visit, or it may be that I'm currently hyped up on anti-depressants. I don't know, but it's a great feeling.

Steve is back on the night shift on the trauma service. Every night is a new adventure in saving lives. These beautiful glasses are his most recent purchase for work. Apparently they are all the rage in the operating room. I don't even want to talk about how much they cost.

Allison has recently taken to calling me "Mother." Not "mommy," not "mom," just "mother." I don't know why, but it really gets under my skin.

We've been trying something new at our house to help Allie pick up her toys. I found the House Fairy online recently and have been trying it out. The House Fairy comes every night and checks to see if all the toys are picked up. Then she leaves a sticker on a chart we made. After Allie gets so many stickers, she then gets a prize. The jury is still out on whether or not it works, but my little girl is now fascinated by fairies.

Allie is also getting quite good at riding her little bike. She wants to wear the elbow and kneepads around the house all the time.

Lindsay is getting more mobile. She can crawl backwards, but cannot seem to move forwards. She has also perfected the banshee screech. We went to a restaurant last weekend with some friends from Steve's work and Lindsay blessed us with her full-pitched wail for a good part of the evening. I don't think his friends will be wanting children any time soon.