Things my kids say

Anderson, who needs glasses soon, has been told that they can be expensive.
"How much?" he asks.
We say, "Around $150."
He shouts, "Cool! I can trade them in for a DS!"

Rosalie, in the process of potty training, chants "I'm going potty trained!" over and over down the hall past the open doors of the Sunday School class, despite repeated shushings from Mom.

Grandma gave us a bag of Valentine's Day candy to share. I was eating them enthusiastically, in preparation for a month long fast from sugar starting the next day (in support of Anderson, who gets $100 from Grampa S. if he can do it.) Meredith (age 5) said, "Mom, don't you think you should save some of those for the other kids? I think you've had enough."
When I tried to remove a jelly bean that was stuck in my molars, she got suspicious and said, "You'd better let me hold the bag, Mom."

Those Crazy Inanimate Objects

Our microwave has started to show its age. It has become moody. It began by flashing the word SHELLFISH across its readout every morning, followed by asking us to enter the serving weight.

Poor thing has never yet been asked to do anything involving seafood. Have we been thwarting its life's ambition?
We simply pushed cancel and continued cooking our cheese roll-ups.

Then it began beeping insistently in the middle of the night. It would take Casey or me a few minutes to wake up sufficiently and stumble downstairs in the dark to investigate. Each time we were greeted by glowing green letters alternately flashing BEEF PORK BEEF PORK BEEF PORK!!!
We mostly eat chicken. And cheese-roll-ups.
This time the microwave refused to be canceled. We had to pull the plug. After three or four nights in time-out, the microwave backed down.

We've reached an uneasy truce. The microwave no longer wakes us up in the night. And we look the other way when it swears.


Some of the objects in our house have entirely too much personality.


(pillow monster by Meredith)

Mini Man

This was Lissa's present to her Dad for Christmas.
It's a replica in miniature of his desk! And himself!

The resemblance is uncanny.

She was going to do one of me, too, but she didn't want to have to make a miniature couch.

Sing Along

This is how Anderson harmonized with the family as we sang carols on the way to town yesterday:

Angels we have heard on high, I just wish that they would die. Hah, hah hah hah hah (etc. in place of the glorias.)

Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer (Stupid!) had a very shiny nose (like my family!). And if you ever saw it (So Annoying!) You would even say it glows (This song is stupid!)

The first Noel, the angels did say (you guys are so annoying!)

Jingle Bells, my family smells. Oh I hate this song!

And yet, this morning he was looking at Space Station Nathan's latest entry for the 12 days of Robo-Santa. And singing along. In tune.
When he got to the Six Geese-o-matics he sang, "These geese-o-matics are just the coolest!"



Thanks, Nate. The rest of us just aren't awesome enough to bring the Christmas spirit to some people.

Toddler Times

How to appreciate your two-year-old in the middle of a high-power tantrum: Dress them in stripey tights.

That's all it takes for me.
There is just something hilarious about the flailing blur of stripey legs that brings up all my childhood Suess-induced giddiness.

Rosalie did not appreciate my levity. Nor my photography. She took steps.


My doom approaching.

I recognized the danger, but was unable to remove myself due to paralyzing spasms of laughter mixed with trying to hold the camera steady.

I've heard this age called pre-adolescence. It's the mood swings. Just the other day Rosalie told me, after a bit of mom-initiated snuggling, "Mom, you love me soooo FAT!"

Yes, I do.

At Peace

I have finally ended my search for the perfect Christmas stockings!

(For those of you who live back east, these come from the Christmas Tree Shops and they are cheap. (Though they seem well made.) For those of us who live in the West, the only way I know how to get them is ebay. For more than cheap. But still way less than most wool knit stockings. )
Casey doesn't believe this will end my obsession. He thinks this is simply a yearly itch I get that will never go away, like my quest for the perfect swimsuit.

But look at these--they fit all my criteria: same size and shape, same color scheme, seven different patterns for ease of identification, and a nice chunky hand knit (or looks it) in wool! They do have floating strings inside, but like my mom's handmade stockings, they don't seem to get in the way. I plan to line them anyway to be sure they don't snag.

You'll have to admit they are a vast improvement from my former lineup.

Plus this year I attached all the stocking hangers to a board to make them more stable and keep them spaced. I may anchor it to the wall. You can see how the green present is dented on one side from being pulled down by some child who thought she/he could swing on the stocking. Luckily no one was concussed.

Having children with opinions means that I don't get to hang them in the order I would prefer--red cuff, green cuff, red cuff, green cuff, etc. But that's just my OCD kicking in and, luckily, I'm easily distracted. Maybe that's why it took so long for me to find the perfect collection.

Happy Christmas Season!

(With our teeny-tiny amount of snow, Lissa made a teeny-tiny snowman.) (He looks quite festive, don't you think?)