Three 3

My third is Three!

The biggest of my babes, by 1 lb 6 oz, she rang in at 8 lbs 5 oz. She had the most, darkest, and craziest head of hair that her auntie loved to smoothe into a faux-hawk.

She was the baby that caused many people in my church to reconsider thoughts of having one/another one. She was very content, rarely cried, but she let you know if something bothered her.

She is never clean. Her face is always dirty, her clothes are always dirty. That is, IF she is wearing any. She likes to get dressed, but doesn't tend to stay that way. She has a very serious side, but at the same time is so hilarious. Mostly she doesn't know it, or doesn't try, she just is. She cracks us right up. Sometimes she laughs right along with us, sometimes we get the equally funny "mOOooom. Don't laaay-yaaaff."

The child who still sucks her two fingers, on the left hand. Who still carries around her blankie, and has passed this behavior on to her successor. She's about as easy to convince and as spacey as they come. She can tell you that green beans are yucky, but you reply with a "no, they're yummy." To which she replies, "they are?" and then procedes to eat them, fully convinced.
 

Her spacey-ness causes her to fall all. the. time. Usually gashing her poor little lips. The only child of ours of yet to have necessitated a bloody trip to the ER. Twice. I don't even blink anymore. I just grab a washcloth.

She loves to laugh, pretend, dance, and play dress up. She very much loves the color pink, but she's not picky and is usually happy with whatever comes her way (which balances out her older sister quite nicely for the mama).

Happy Birthday, sweet Cheeks!

I love Mondays, husband edition

I love Mondays. You may think it's an illness. Or an unsquashable tendency to look to hope.

Lamentations 3: 17 I have been deprived of peace; I have forgotten what prosperity is. 18 So I say, "My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the Lord." 19 I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. 20 I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. 21 Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: 22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. 23 They are new every Monday morning; great is your faithfulness.

And this Monday is dedicated to my hubs, dear sweet, ever grumpy King Kong, who lovingly tidied up the house yesterday, even scrubbing the puke out of the toilet, and was smiling when I got home.

Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

I love... his sexy legs. Yup. They're niiiice. I'd show you a picture, but I'd have to take a pic of him in his "shorts" and he might balk at that.

I love... seeing the wedding ring I gave him on his strong rough hands. Diamond in the rough (or gold, as it were). It looks like it belongs. We belong.

I love... his boyish enthusiasm, as much as it also drives me nutso. His sceming and planning and dreaming.

I love... how he's not shy about loving on his kids.

I love... and admire how he speaks of my good qualities to others, not about how he's frustrated with a messy house or my complaining ways.

So... this is my own bloggy concoction that hasn't caught on. Too bad. If you'd like to write your own list of things you love, feel free to put a link in the comments on this post. I'd get a Linky, but I doubt anyone would link, and I couldn't handle the rejection. So link, or not. :D

That's how I roll. Well, sometimes.

Hello Monday. It's been a while.

I have missed you, Monday. It has certainly not been me who has been cranky and crotchety, too much so to blog. But I'm here today. With bells on. Not really. We put all the bells away yesterday. Not really.

Moving on.

I got a new under-the-cabinet radio for Christmas. LOVE. IT. And thanks to my dear sweet hubby who finally installed it. It has been nice to be able to listen to music while slaving away in the kitchen. I have enjoyed all kinds of stations. Most recently it has been set on "80's, 90's and Today." You know the kind.

It was not my firstborn, George, who was doing some kind of dance moves reminiscent of break dancing. I did not wonder where in the heck he even saw that kind of stuff. And when he told me this was "guy's music" I did not nearly choke on my coffee when I realized that the song being played was "Talk Dirty to Me," by Poison.

Why yes, pal, it is. Because that would definitely fit daddy's tastes more than mine. Too much hairspray and spandex for me. I was more of a black with eyeliner kind of girl. Throw in some Chuck's and I was there! (too cute!)

Shortly after the break dancing incident, I did not find Baby Boots (who should be renamed Baby Holy Terror) sitting on top of my kitchen table chewing on a plastic tampon applicator. Yes, you read that right. No, I do not know where the rest of it went.

Koko recently told me she wanted to be a judge. I found this interesting and wondered if she even knew what a judge was. Naturally, I asked her what a judge does. She did not reply, "you know, they have one of those little hammers they wave around and stuff."

I get a little bored, despite the mounds of stuff that needs to be attended to, or the little monkeys  hanging off my apendages. We have a Bookmobile that visits our little town (conveniently parking just down from my house, which is a good reminder as I'm usually washing dishes when I hear the rumble and see it's lights while I'm washing dishes) but with the Christmas holidays and the weather we've had recently, she hasn't come. Desperate for something to read, I purchased a book at the dollar store. Set in London, about a stay-at-home-mom and all her escapades. The mom is horribly unorganized (in a way I could never be, seriously) and just when I thought of ditching the book, her happenchance mishaps had me nearly rolling on the floor. My monkeys did not look at me like I'd fallen off my tree branch - who is this lady who's laughing so hard? After a minute or two of my crazy outbursts, they were not laughing right along with me, nevermind not knowing about what.

At one point in reading this book, I did not have to take it to read sitting in the bathroom, to prevent any further accidents. mhm.

I can't say I'd recommend the book, but I haven't laughed that hard in a looooonnngg time. Nor have I been so happy to finish reading a book. Fa realz!

I came home from church yesterday to find that King Kong had taken my not-so-subtle suggestion and picked up the house. Not actually believing he would do it, I did not cry with relief as seeing one less thing on my plate for the day. He does not probably think his wife is a loon. About which I could care less because my living room was clean and he even scrubbed the toilet.

As for Cheeks, she is a never-ending amusement in our household, but one I sometimes have trouble finding humor in. Especially in the absent-minded accidents involving her face, the floor, and blood. But nevermind that. Lately she has been very interested in "ponytails" (otherwise known as barrettes), though they still only stay in about 10 mins tops. And I am not very excited about her upcoming third birthday, even though I don't have a darned thing planned. I'm just excited to see her grow. And last night at supper, she did not keep asking for more aweful. This is the only time I have found it amusing to have my homecooked meal (read full turkey dinner with homemade pie and everything) called aweful. aka olives.

Oh, and about the bells, it's not me who has yet to take down the Christmas tree that never even got decorated.

Now, go (read more fun not tales at MckMama's place) and prosper.

We have Progress!

I cleaned something!

Really!

Isn't that awesome?!?!

My "pantry" has needed some dire attention for quite a while. It has basically been the place where I shoved certain things I had no idea what to do with. It was not a place you could walk thru, and most things were essentially unaccessible. It's been a forgotton, abused space, and is still in need of walls etc. But it's so much more enjoyable now. 

I wish I had taken before pictures. I hauled out all the junk and took pictures of that, though.

From this angle of the table you can see boxes filled with all the random stuff that was collected in there. Turtle supplies, paper towels, aluminum baking pans, potty chairs, serving dishes, extra food pantry items I couldn't fit in my "cupboard", and a miriad of other things.

More pantry items, craft items, 2 boxes of my "good" dishes that we have barely every used, table cloths, and a couple different little shelving/storage units to house more random things.

I managed to put it all back in by moving the white storage cabinet (which houses spices, some baking goods, and things I don't want the kids to see/get into like extra candy canes) to the end, and put in 2 tall metal shelving units that a friend gave me. By creating the extra storage space, I was able to move some items from my curio/cupboard in there, cleaned off another short metal shelf that was just outside that area, and put all that in the pantry. With the free space I cleared out from my cupboard, I was able to put one of the boxes of good dishes there - MUCH more accessible. I threw out a little coffee table that was stored in there, brought the small white shelf unit to the thrift store, and disassembled the blue shelf thing and used it as baskets for paints, paper, etc. and put that on the shelves.

The best part... I can walk thru it. Woohoo! Still! And I did this 3 weeks ago. The papers you see in the bottom right corner are coloring books, workbooks, and cooking magazines that each have their own magazine file, set on it's side. I moved my flour/sugar to here also. The baby boxes are stored out of reach of small hands that have disassemble them too many times. I have one shelf that has extra boxes of cereal, cake mixes, crackers and granola bars. The 3 bins have playdoh, paint and scrapbook/journaling/retreat info in them. There are a few things I could still throw out do something else with, organize better. But this is such a grand improvement. I feel so good! And the kids love to go in there "just to look at stuff." LOL I may need to move the plastic spoons and cups, though, as a certain little boy is just at that height and loves to drag them out.

Now. What's next?

Probably tackling all the piles everywhere. But hey. There IS progress.

Sunnyside up, please!

I have sent the children out to play. PTL* for silence. Just the clicky clack of the keyboard, and some 80's song on the radio in the kitchen.

I feel a bit guilty that I am not enjoying my children. That I don't enjoy them all day everyday, or even most of the day some days. I'm very caught up in the work of it all, and I'm forgetting to see the sunshine. I fail to frolic and giggle and notice the grass grow (or the snow pile up, as is the case). Most of the time. Which is a shame, really. And I know this. I know I'll get old and wish I had just paused more, enjoyed more. But I don't.

This too shall pass, this strange and difficult season of my life. Eventually I'll get my rear in gear, climb out of the funk, find some fun. I'm working on it, but I haven't quite figured it out. I'll get there.

I have been struggling of late with the concept of Bold Blogging (for at least two reasons), which seems to have caught like wildfire in certain circles of the bloggysphere. Showing your real life, your real struggles, and not living behind some facade of unrealistic mommy perfection. Anyone who knows me would probably be surprised that I am struggling with the concept of "being bold." My name means "Bold Warrior." It is not ill-fitting. In fact, I can be too bold, too forthcoming, too in-your-face, too here's-my-opinion. I have spent a good portion of my life learning how to temper myself in that way. I have caused myself problems in family relationships, work situations, and very possibly with friendships (though I can't think of any specific examples of that at the moment). It was (and is) a hard lesson to learn that not everyone needs to know what I think or my opinion. Being truthful can be hurtful. In everything we need to have grace and love. Apparently. ;)

Another of my wonderful characteristics is that I can be melancholy. Pessamistic. Critical. Complainer. Ok, that's more than one, but they sort of all mush into one big negative crap-ball. And my fall/winter has been shadowed by a sort of dismal, hormonal, melancholic state. Yuck. Really, yuck. I find myself complaining more. I have a harder time smiling, having fun, relaxing, enjoying life, seeing the beauty and blessings before me. Who wants to hear about that? Certainly not me. I don't even feel better when I write about it. More than once I have started a blog post and erased the whole darn thing because I felt guilty about spreading my doom and gloom. The world doesn't need more of that. That's not who I want to be. So I challenged myself to find beauty and blessings with my I Love Mondays posts. It was hard. It is hard. I haven't given it up. I just have found it hard to delight in something more than my blue coffee mugs and my own private bedroom with a door. I need to try harder.

I am generally a pretty transparent person, and I'm sure I share too much about myself IRL*. But to wage war against my negative side, I need to spend my time pursuing the good, the encouraging, the fun.

Phillippians 4:8 Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.

I need to remind myself of the exciting and amusing side of my life, the blessings which I have, and not more time dwelling on the stuff that's churning inside the walls of my heart. If you really want to know me, I'm completely open to friendship, and I'll be happy to bare it all there. I'm not scared of being bold. I'm being responsible with my less admirable parts.

*Praise The Lord
*In Real Life

Give up the ghost.

Oh









My









Gosh.

We are currently in a battle of wills the Baby Boots. And it's g o o o o o i i i i i i i n g


o o o o o o o o o n


fore e e e e e e vvvv e e e e e e rrrrrrr. Ugh!

You'd think I was torturing the kid. Kicking, screaming, flailing of arms, knashing of teeth. Not even King Kong has been able to work his magic.

Since it has come to the attention of Mrs. Bananas that one of her beloved children has been getting his way, waaaaay to much, I decided this morning to take a stand. So I am making him say "please" for his beloved nukie. He loves his nukie so much, it's scary. I don't remember any of the others being this attatched to it so fervently, but maybe it's like childbirth and your forget the "pain of labor." I do know, however, that NONE of the others have had such a strong testing of will. I remember the first time I made George say he was sorry. That took about 15 minutes. Which was long enough. Currently we are at about one hour and counting with the whole nukie thing.

Even though it is unpleasant, it is necessary. Good thing I'm fairly willful myself. ;) The problem lies in the fact that once you start a battle, you MUST see it through to the end. You must NOT give in. Or you will battle this will forever. Desafortunadamente, Dr. D, aka Baby Boots, also has quite the will, which I'm sure I have also helped to create. No mo', mama! It's game on!

**So my last attempt was successful, or at least good enough for me. There was some sort of eee sound, so I called that success. I'd say that took only about 70-75 minutes.

s i i i i i i i g h.

But really, it's much easier to do this now, than to wait til they're 4, 5, and then try it. I could. not. imagine.

loppy

Oh, doesn't this look cute? How fun and creative? I bet everyone enjoyed that!

Lemme tell ya. Looks can be deceiving. (insert eyebrow furrow)

Snowmen, seemingly psyched for a simple sledding excursion.

But wait... something is very wrong.

I see only sorta smiles, sagging sides, slipping sleds. There's sorrow in those eyes.

What was to be sweet, is suddenly slightly sullen.

My sight, my sight! Never to be seen again. sigh.

Because, see, a certain someone who's cheeks shall remain nameless, decided she needed a snack and mutilated the sad-as-they-were creations. (However, her own creation was left unscathed. Of coarse.) Some were shorter. Others lacked headwear. Some, eyes. And their smiles turned upside down. sniffle.

See? Sadness.

Note to anyone who is interested in their own snowmen / marshmallow creations: **please notice that the powder that coats the outside of the marshmallows so they don't stick to each other, also prevents them from sticking to anything else, even when you want them to. So you kinda need to "wash" the marshmallows, by dampening it with a towel, or your tongue (though if you use your tongue, you may not want to share these with your neighbors), but only on the side you need something to stick to.

**Also, this is not an age appropriate activity for young children. I would say 7 or 8 or better. 3, 5 and 6 experienced much difficulty under the instruction of their perfectionistic supervisor.

**Toothpicks help stabilize marshmallow creations,

and can easily be pushed into graham crackers.

Firsts

Tonight, King Kong and Mrs. Bananas will be knighted (is that the right thing? initiated? inaugurated? inducted? idk) as tooth fairies.

Little Miss Koko has finally lost her tooth. I has seemed to take ages to get to this point, as it was mid-November when she declared it was loose. The new tooth had already started popping thru, and now is as high as her other teeth, pushing it's way forward, and pushing out anything in it's way. So out pops tooth. With a little help from daddy's pliers.

But the tooth fairy is very small, you know. No one has ever really seen her. She comes when you're sleeping.

I think someone will be very interested in going to be early tonight.

Also in the line of firsts, this is my 100th post. Congrats Mrs Bananas. Maybe in another 10 yrs you can plunk out another 100 posts. Sorry, no giveaways today. I couldn't think of anything cool to give away to celebrate the occasion, unless someone was interested in a couple dozen of my homemade chocolate chip cookies. (Really, I'm just looking for a reason to make them.)

You know you're a redneck when...

... your birthday cake is a shotgun.

... your birthday/Christmas wish list reads like an artillery list for the military.

... your youngest child instictively knows what to do with a chainsaw. And how to make car noises. And gun noises.

We should have called this the "weapons of mass destruction" birthday. Yes, his cake was a shotgun.

**No, my cake friends, I did not, as evident, spend a lot of time or thought on this cake, as I was still frosting it when the party guests were arriving half an hour late. It was a last minute mastermind of "hmm, do you think I can actually do that? Let's give it a quick whirl", assisted by King Kong who was selling a gunstock on ebay and therefore it was available for me to "copy" since I have no idea in this world how to draw a gun in any sort of replicable fashion off the top of my head.

It's what he asked for. We have moved on from airplanes. At least it wasn't a request for deer antlers. I would have died then.

This year, we had the new experience of George making a specific list. I kinda liked it. Made gift giving really easy. Maybe next year, miss picky picky Koko will have one too.

Yes folks, they are playing a voluntary game of "Saw Me." He's wanted a chainsaw since we saw the "liverjack" (pronounced with a long e, like alive, not the organ) show at the county fair 3 1/2 yrs ago and again last summer. Daddy's "liverjack" show on our side yard this fall did nothing to add fuel to that fire. And as a testment to his elephant-like memory, he saw a hedge trimmer, that to him was a chainsaw, at a local farm supply store 3 Christmases ago, and has NOT. FORGOTTEN. He asks all. the. time.

In my seach at Wally World, he and I ran across the "tool" section, where, while they didn't have the chainsaw, they did have a really cool weed trimmer that got added to the list.

He also got a Nerf airblaster gun (thank you Happy Meal for that inspiration - not. I'm finding those stinkin' bullets all over my house), plus more bullets in his stocking because it only took a week for those first 8 to be goners, and he had asked for a new bow and arrow (he has a nice bow, but destroyed the arrows LONG ago), which he recieved, but due to it's less than durable construction, it only made it a day. No tears shed on that one from Mrs. Bananas.

So, to tally up, he got a Nerf gun, Nerf bullets, a chainsaw, a weed whacker, and a bow and arrow. Add that to the arsenal of 2 light sabers, 2 nerf guns that shoot balls not darts, a slew of various water guns, and a random pistol or two, (and I would have been able to count his lever-action shotgun but it sadly broke and was finally thrown out about a month ago, and PTL* he didn't think to ask for a new one) we have quite the arms stockpile. Oh, and a log that you can set "beer cans" on and "shoot them off." Though the gun for that found it's way to the sandbox and did not survive the trip. We just use the tv remote instead. The log, however, now has found it's new purpose... being a log. Haha.

*Praise The Lord

Oh, and not to be forgotten is the sword of endless torture.

Sorry MckMama, I did not steal this post title from you, you just posted first. But great minds think alike, right? :o)