Happy Monday, Ya'll

Our weekend started Thursday night as HH had taken it off to use up a holiday. HH and I had fabulous weekend plans that were altered Thursday night by a cold visiting our house. We didn't get as much date time in, but we still managed to have a restful weekend.

Friday was our busy day that turned into my busy day so that HH could stay home with the sick child. (My SIL had the three older kids.) In the morning I had a meeting with a friend, but the rest of my day was to be filled with shopping, shopping, and more shopping. As I got ready for the day I decided I'd wear my yoga pants to my friend's house since it was a cozy meeting.

When I checked myself in the mirror before I left I thought, "Man, I look confused. I'm all dressed nice...and then there's the yoga pants." Instead of embracing the shame of wearing my yoga pants outside of the house, I decided to name my outfit.

The Mommy Mullet

 Business on the top, Mommy on the bottom. (I'm still not good at taking my photos.)

Lesson here: Embrace the cozy and then give it a name. Happy Monday, Ya'll!

The Absentminded Tooth Fairy Strikes Again

Last week Abiah started complaining about a loose tooth that was bothering him. I promptly directed him to the floss and a door to slam and left him to his own devises. I don't do teeth pulling. It's a job I gladly leave to anyone else.

Though Abiah was unsuccessful that time, he did find relief late Saturday night. It was after we had told him to go to bed and I'm half convinced he sat in his bed and wriggled his darn tooth loose just to stay up longer. When he came out to let us know "it was close" HH escorted him to the bathroom where the tooth finally came out.

Abiah came out proudly displaying his hole-y mouth and a tooth held between his fingers. Having become accustomed to our Tooth Fairy's preferences, he put his tooth in a ziplock bag and asked me if he should place it under his pillow. I answer yes and whispered to HH that we had to remember this time. And we went back to our episode of Once.

But we didn't remember.

I went in to Abiah's room Sunday morning to wake him and the first thing he said, "The Tooth Fairy didn't come." Thankfully his back was to me so he missed the look of dread that passed over my face. I mumbled something about it being the weekend so maybe she was off and hoped he'd let it go.

The thing is, the kid is almost ten. He knows who the Tooth Fairy is, but he still likes to play the game.

In the car on Sunday we hear Abiah telling his sisters about his lost tooth along with his theory that "the Tooth Fairy was just up too late the night before watching too many movies." Busted.

Fast forward to Sunday night. It's late. I'm getting ready for bed. I go into the bathroom and this is on the door:

So, he's still willing to play along, but he doesn't want to wait half the week for his dollar in quarters to magically appear under his pillow. I was thankful for his note, though, because I had, of course, forgotten.

Monday morning he asked, "So did the note help you?"

For the fun of the game I pretended not to know what he was talking about.

You know you're a mom...

I mentioned my crazy Sunday in my post on Monday. We had be having a productive weekend that I was going to share with you all and then Sunday happened.

Our weekend started Friday morning when HH got home from work. We hung out around the house visiting, doing school, and making plans. Friday afternoon and evening ended up being a date with the kids in tow. We made some fun purchases and did some errand running. To me running errands is a love language of it's own so I was elated. Especially since this was weekend #2 of errand running.

Saturday I started my day with brunch with a friend in a quaint town nearby. We talked marriage, kids, and life and I left encouraged, convicted, and inspired.

When I got home HH decided to pull our washing machine apart to replace some parts since it had pretty much given up on spinning clothes dry no matter how small the load. This is what we learned about our washer when he took it apart:

I was beyond disgusted. I use my washer ALL the time! How does it have time to mold and build up gunk like that?! Anyways, I googled it and apparently it is semi-normal and you just clean it out and run a load of bleach water once a month. This is forever on my to-do list now because eeeeew! Gross!

HH ran out to look for parts and didn't find them locally so we had to wait until the next day to finish the repairs. We got up Sunday morning and rushed out the door. This is what the girls tried to wear:

HH said en emphatic NO! about the outfit on the right. Teehee! We took the kids out to breakfast and had a great time. Then we headed into "the big city" to run more errands and get parts. I'm gonna condense this part by saying: it took a sweet forever! But we accomplished most of what we set out to do. By 4 in the afternoon the washing machine was back together and running like a pro.

In the course of the previous busy week and the weekend of plumbing issues we had used up all but two towels in our house. We had lots and lots of laundry to do. Thankfully my washer is running better so loads take less time to dry. This makes me so many kids of happy. HH is amazing.

Sometime after coming home Jackson needed to be changed. In a smelly kind of way. Never in his life have I experienced what I did when I quickly took his pants off. Poo everywhere! All down his legs. On me. On the floor. On his diaper bag.

I cleaned up as much as I could with wipes and then got both of us into the tub. We took a bubble bath together and came out smelling much better than when we got in. After that I went on a mini cleaning spree and picked the house up and mopped the kitchen. Being pooped on has that kind of affect on a person.

HH left for work around 7 that evening and shortly after that Jackson and I were playing together in the kitchen. He kept coughing and I was a little concerned. I knew he had a small cold but he hadn't been coughing so much. Suddenly he gagged and started throwing up. All down my shirt (inside and out), leg, and foot. All down himself. And all over the kitchen floor I'd just mopped.

I stood frozen for a few minutes unsure of how to handle this situation exactly. Hazel and Amelia were loudly letting me know there was puke on the clean floor. I couldn't ask Abiah to help me because throw up makes him throw up. I thought about calling my mom who's 5 minutes away but figured I could think of a way to take care of it by myself  as long as the other kids cooperated.

I quickly stripped Jackson to his diaper. I wiped me feet on the kitchen rug. It needed washed anyways, I'm sure. I headed to the bathroom while asking Hazel to run and grab my robe from upstairs, Amelia to grab pajamas for Jackson, and Abiah to get me a clean diaper for Jackson. I also threatened the bedtime of any child who dared walk into the kitchen. Hazel is really into being a big helper and all I could picture was her smearing the puke all over the floor in a sweet attempt to help mommy.

Once again we were in the tub but this time we were taking a shower. I got us both all scrubbed down and cleaned up. Again. Hazel brought me a robe, but it was a short robe. Meant to only cover a person down to their hips. Not gonna work. The kids finally got my long robe and Hazel brought it in to me and absent-mindedly laid it on my pukey clothes. It would have to do. We had other problems I had to figure out.

Since HH had showered before he left for work we were down to one towel. The one Jackson and I had used after our bath earlier. I decided to stand Jackson in the tub while I quickly dried myself off so that I could then dry him off and get us dressed. While I was drying myself off I had on foot in the tub and one foot out. Suddenly I felt water dropping on the foot that was still in the tub. Not only had Jackson managed to poo and puke on me in one day. Now he was peeing on me!

Thankfully I was able to see the humor. I got cleaned up and we were done. I got the kids to bed, relaxed by watching a few shows and was in bed by 11.

Jackson then woke up at 11:45 with an ear ache. I think his cold turned post-nasal and was bugging his ears. We were up most of the night. He was happiest down stairs playing.

He slept the longest from 3:30-6:00 and then we were up for the day. I felt so bad for him. Ear aches are no fun especially when you can't understand things that will help like laying on a heating pad. Monday mid-morning I rocked him to sleep and took a nap myself.

He rested for 45 minutes that time but later slept for 2.5 hours and 11 hours that night. I'm so glad he's feeling better.  It's amazing that you can love someone so much even when they've pooped, puked, and peed on you all in one day.

To Burn or Not to Burn

So, I have a..."friend" whose three year old daughter just decided that she is a big "gwill" and is therefore old enough to wipe her own squishy tushy while using the restroom. Because this "friend" is rather caught up in taking care of her house and managing her multiple Facebook Words with Friends games, it was a few days before she was informed (or aware) of this change in protocol.

My "friend" accepted the new change on account that it gave her the perfect opportunity to get rid of the sippy cups that the three year old had been clinging to with an iron grip. Or just her pretty blue eyes and heart melting smile. Same difference.

 Anyways, my "friend's" point was this: if you're gonna be a big "gwill" in one area, you can be a big "gwill" in all areas.

It was with some shock, and retching, that my "friend" recently learned the horrid details of her three year old's bathroom time routine. Which consists of washing her hands. In the TOILET!

My "friend" consulted her three year old about her actions.

"Friend": When you go potty do you wash your hands?"

Three Year Old: Yes!

"Friend": Where do you wash your hands? In the toilet or the sink?

Three Year Old responds with a tone and look saying she's totally confused why her action would even be called into question: The toilet!

"Friend": shock and retching begin...

The three year old has been informed of the error in her choice of hand washing station, but my "friend" is at a cross-roads as to what action she should take next. Since there isn't anyway to know how long the three year old had been acting in such a manner who knows where the hands-of-doom have been. So, she should burn the house down or not?

Please, if you have any helpful advice for my "friend", share.

Also, in my "friend's" defense: since she had already spent the last year training the three year old how to properly wash her hands after using the facilities, there wasn't a question that there would be confusion in this area. Just sayin'.

Airing My Dirty Laundry

Here's to a fresh new week! Happy Monday, Ya'll!

The Story of We: Part 7 or Jackson's Birth Story

In Part 6 of "The Story of We" I just found out that I was expecting. And I was elated! Still am. We'll, not pregnant, but elated.

Confused yet?

Me too!

It's taken me a while to figure out how I want to relate Jackson's birth story but I think if I break it down into sections we'll be good.

Just a little FYI: This post is bound to be a little lengthy and also contains some "details" that might make men and women with an aversion to birth stories squeamish. Just sayin'.

The Decision
To induce or not induce...that was the question. Though the idea had been tossed around when Jackson was head-down at 38 weeks I had decided to wait and "let things happen on their own."

But then 41 weeks got closer and closer and knowing that Amelia was 9lbs 7oz with a 14 in head at 41 weeks and 3 days I was sure I couldn't do that again. But all I had heard about induction seemed scary and unknown. I "knew" what it was like to go into labor naturally. This, not so much.

I sent my sister, Summer, a text one day asking, "Is the pitocin THAT bad?"

She called me laughing. Which is rare (the calling part, not the laughing) since we both are NOT phone people. We likey text! And we both homeschool...'nough said. She said I reminded her of an addict looking for a fix.

Truly, I felt like one. When you've tried every at-home remedy you can find (Minus Castor oil. I forgot about that one.) and your body is in so much pain and the toilet is the only "comfortable" place to sit it's time to "GET THIS BABY OUT!"

I was desperate.

So desperate that I took all of our bags to my appointment the day before I was officially 41 weeks and begged them to keep me. They couldn't, but they did let me make an appointment to be induced the next morning (Tuesday, May 3rd) at 7:30. It's funny to me that I could be disappointed and relieved all at the same time.

Being Induced

After Summer assured me that the pitocin wasn't horrible and I had a long talk with the midwife about how I wanted the induction to go, we made a date and kept it. Well I did.

The Birthing Center called me Tuesday morning saying they had a surge of activity and needed me to wait to come in until 11. Though I was once again disappointed I was able to take that time to calm my nerves and Hot Hubby and I got to have breakfast with my parents.

We arrived at the hospital around 11 and by noon I was hooked up to the pitocin. The plan was to be on pitocin to start contractions so that Jackson would move down more. At that point they could break my water without the risk of a prolapsed cord and they would ease me off of the pitocin allowing my body to take over. Which is what happened.

The contractions weren't horrible. Though everything seemed to move along normally I was confused by my seemingly sporadic contractions. It felt like they weren't consistent enough to be progressing much. But I was wrong.

I don't know the time line of events since I was distracted by labor pains. I seem to remember that they broke my water around 3-ish. Then around 5:30-ish my contractions started getting stronger and more intense. I thought they seemed a little "back labor-ish" but wasn't quite sure.

Around 6-6:30-ish I told my mom that I just needed to sit on the toilet because that was the only thing that sounded comfortable. Up to this point I had tried standing, sitting on the bed, birthing ball and toilet and anything else that seemed like it may help.

This time when I got on the toilet it felt like I was getting close to pushing. The feeling wasn't super strong so I hesitated to say anything, thinking that I was just going to find out that I wasn't as far along as I felt and I would be disappointed.

When I finally did say something to my mom, the midwife was called into the room and I got back onto the bed. When she checked me she said I was only a 6 and not completely effaced. Like I figured I was disappointed. I was also confused because I still felt like my body was telling me something else. Since the back labor was getting more intense I didn't know how I would hold out through the pain. At this point I figured that Jackson's head was turned sideways. I was right. Thus the back labor.

The midwife had me get up on the bed and lean against the back of it so as to help Jackson move down more and in hopes that gravity would help me dilate. At this point the pain was more intense than I remember with either of the girls. I moved around and tried to "help" my body in any way that I could think of that was also bearable. Finally I told the midwife that I needed to sit because the pressure was to intense and I felt I needed something to push against.

She checked me at this point and said I was now an 8 but was less effaced then she had originally thought. The problem for me was that my body was starting to push on its own.

I don't know if you've ever experienced these kind of contractions but they are intense. I had them with Hazel but not so much with Amelia. Basically my body was physically contracting so strong that I was pushing without even meaning to. I call them "involuntary pushing contractions" but I don't know what they are really called.

I have a love/hate relationship with them. Love: because it means I'm getting closer to the end and because they are so helpful. Hate: because both times I've had them I've been told not to push because my cervix wasn't fully dilated. And when your body is pushing and you are being told NOT to push it's easy to feel like you're doing something wrong.

The midwife wanted me to use a bar that they put on the end of the bed to help Jackson's head turn and help me finish dilating. I kept saying, "But I can't!" Which, in labor speak, was supposed to mean, "I am about to have this baby and there is NO time for that!" But since I wasn't able to communicate through the pain (and I was still doubting my progress for fear of disappointment) I consented to trying the bar. At this point though, I was feeling more pressure in my rump and started to feel "the ring of fire" burning.

The bar didn't make it into the room.

The midwife turned back from asking a nurse to get the bar to find Jackson starting to crown. As I held myself up off the bed through the "involuntary pushing contractions" to try to lessen the pressure and "not push" like I was told, Jackson's 14&1/2 inch head came out followed quickly by the rest of his 20 & 3/4 inch, 9lb 6.6 oz wiggly body. He was born at 7:39 pm.

So much for a smaller baby. Compared to Amelia he was half an ounce smaller and his head was 1/2 an inch bigger!

Nathan helped deliver him and quickly handed his slimy, squirmy body to me.

First Impressions

When I first saw Jackson his body was a purple/blue color, he had a head full of dark hair and his lips were swollen making him look very African. My first thought: How did that get in there!

Which is funny because a few months ago when I asked Hazel who she thought Jackson would look like her answer was, "Ummmm...AFRICA!"


This picture doesn't do justice to the color he was at the time but you can see how swollen his lips are.

The swelling in his lips went down right away and his coloring, though very red-ish, is very much like his dad's. Meaning Hot Hubby. My husband. Just to be clear!

The other thing I noticed right away was a tooth! He was crying instantly and as Nathan handed Jackson to me I could see a tooth just under the surface of his lower gum.


The tooth!

Post Delivery

Usually after a baby is delivered the mommy's pain lessens right away. This didn't happen when Jackson was born. My pain gradually got worse and worse. Even though the midwife told me I didn't need stitches it didn't feel that way to me. In fact I kept jokingly asking if maybe there was another baby in there because I was having all the "feelings" I had before I delivered Jackson: intense pressure, ring-of-fire burning & contractions.

After about an hour (ish) I told the nurse that I thought I was bleeding too much. When she checked me she and the midwife found that my uterus had stopped contracting and had filled up with LOTS of blood and blood clots.

The next half hour or so was intense and painful. After giving me a shot to curb the pain and using a catheter to drain my bladder, the midwife had to "knead" my tummy to get my uterus to drain and contract down to the size it should have been. I was put on super high levels of pitocin and given more pain killers. When the process was over they measured that I had lost 1&1/2 pounds of blood.

Though there are many details I can't remember or have a hard time putting into words the main thing about this part of Jackson's birth is this: he is here and I am fine. I didn't require surgery or a transfusion. I was put on two weeks of "doing nothing" rest. Not quite bed rest but I basically have just sat and held Jackson the whole time. Which I really wanted to be able to do for at least one week anyways.

Hot Hubby has had the last two weeks off and has this week off also which has been perfect. He has, once again, been my Knight and has taken care of everything! Jackson and I slept in every morning while Hot Hubby got up at the crack of dawn with the girls and Abiah, made breakfast for us all and got the day started with the kids. I have a few words to say on this subject but will save it for another post. Point is this: Hot Hubby is amazing! And HOT!

Jackson Post Delivery

Jackson's bilirubin count was high and we had to stay an extra night so he could stay under the blue lights. He handled the whole thing much better than I thought. Though at first I was upset that we had to stay longer I took the opportunity to take a few extra naps and take few baths in the jetted tub. Good call, if I do say so myself!


First pair of "shades".



Baby tanning bed!

The Party

Right before Jackson was born someone from my room heard one of the nurses comment that we had, "men, women and children in there!" And we did! It was great!

Hot Hubby and my Mom

Nathan was the only man in the room during the actual delivery but my dad was in the room when we first got there and then after the delivery he and my FIL came in to meet their new grandson.

My Dad, Mom and MIL

FIL, Hot Hubby and Jackson

During the labor and delivery we had 12 people in the room. NOT counting the nurses! This was the first of my kids' deliveries that my mom and sisters (3) and Hot Hubby's mom and sisters (2) were all able to be at.

Rachel, Nicole (SIL) and my MIL

RoxAnne and Hannah

We were also joined by my niece Naomi, my Aunt RoxAnne and cousins, Rachel and Hannah. My friend Erika made it at the last minute also. If the room was bigger I would have had more ladies join us.

I don't have pictures of everyone on my camera, but they were there. I promise. Also, because of the hemorrhaging drama not everyone got to hold him that night and we didn't get pictures of all who did.

Something about a tree falling and no one hearing it comes to mind here...


The Coping Mechanism

Since worship music helps me relax and focus in any situation, I created a list for my ipod of about 50 songs that I really like. I purposely chose songs that are calm with lyrics that are focused on the goodness of God and who He is. I don't mind listening to instrumental music occasionally, but most of the time I prefer songs I can sing to.

I also purchased a 3x5 card book and wrote out scriptures that speak of the Lord's strength and goodness, a few snippets from a devotional and a list of people to pray for. This idea came from a birth story I read here. The people I purposed to pray for are those whose situations in life are harder and last longer than childbirth. Some have chronic illnesses. Some don't have answers to their pain. Some want children and haven't been able to have them. Some have sick babies. Some have recently lost loved ones. I LOVED this idea when I read about it and it really did help me through my delivery.

Aside from the last hour and a half (or so) when the pain was the worst, these things really did help to keep me focused. In fact, the times when I was using these the most were some of the sweetest times of the delivery for me.

Other sweet times for me:

Nathan being my constant support and our Court Jester
The comradeship of the women in the room
My niece want to be involved and finding things to do like giving me sips of water
Laughing with the nurses and midwife
The surprise of a friend
Remembering loved ones who I wish could have been there
Hearing the click-clicking of the keyboard and looking over to see my sister posed, waiting to update my friends on Facebook.

There are many more I can't think of now. Overall Jackson's delivery was an amazing, joy filled time.

We are enjoying the sweet little bundle that he is and looking forward to knowing him better.

Lack of Something

Christmas Eve morning I let Nathan know that we only had enough coffee for that day and then we would be out (A Christmas Miracle!). Neither of us weere too sad since we were leaving for the weekend and would be able to "get a fix" at the houses we would be at.

However, when Monday rolled around we were both jonesing for a cup of strong coffee. I managed to semi-satisfy my craving with tea (what?) but Nathan had to go without since he won't come within 20ft of tea of any variety.

(I should keep that in mind the next time he suggests we add another member to our family six months after I've just added one...)

Anyways, back to the coffee!

When I asked him to stop for milk on his way home this morning I reminded him we were out of coffee. Apparently he thought I meant doughnuts too because he came home armed with both. He's such a good hubby!

When he went to grind the coffee he grabbed the container we use to put our beans in only to find that it had about 4 cups of beans in it already!

I have no idea why I didn't think to look in the coffee bean canister for coffee beans. It's not like we've not had the same canister for almost six years! Now I know where to look though. Also, we have plenty of coffee!

It's Official!

I guess it was official when the second pink line appeared.

Or when I started feeling nauseous in the evenings and threatening the life of anyone who dared touch me (Sorry, Hot Hubby!).

Or when I started craving spicy foods.

But it didn't feel official.

I was waiting for the first sonogram. And the thu-thump sound I love to hear. That would make it official.

But, no. Official showed it's face in a completely different way this time.

Tuesday mid-morning I set out with Amelia and my friend, Robin, to do my monthly grocery shopping.

At the first stop (Fred Meyers) I:

Get cash (it makes Dave Ramsey happy).

Pick up a few items that I can only find at Freddy's.

Go to the self check out.

Scan items.

Bag them.

Put them in my cart.

Walk out.

Walk down to Starbucks (it's a treat for all the hard work of grocery shopping).

Order drinks.

Pull out wallet.

Have a strange feeling.

Pay for coffee.

Recognize strange feeling as an uncertainty of whether or not I paid for my groceries.

Realize I didn't pay for my groceries.

Grab a $20 bill and groceries and hurry back to the store leaving Amelia and Robin to wait for our coffee.

Explain to the clerk at the self check what happened.

Realize I need two more dollars than what I have.

Race back to Starbucks and get wallet.

Go back and fully pay for the $22 of groceries I almost stole.

Blame it on pregnancy brain.

It's official! We are expecting number 4 to join us towards the end of April.

When P-Dub Came To P-Town

or Why Mommy Needs To Get Out More


I've been a recent follower of Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond, and her multi-dimensional website for only a few months now. From the beginning I have pitched my tent smack dab in the middle of her blog and ingested every delicious morsel I could get my should-be-cleaning-something eyes on. From this obsession (because, if I'm gonna be honest, that's really what it is) and her honest writing I have grown to feel like P-Dub is a close friend. Apparently, from the comments and chatter I overheard at her cookbook signing yesterday from the other 400 (give or take) women in attendance, I'm not the only one.





Everything anyone had to say to each other about P-Dub the others already new because, hello!, we're all reading the same blog! Even when the MC tried to tell us her plane got delayed in Seattle we all new he was lying because we had all read her post from that morning saying she was in Portland in her hotel already.


From left to right: Person to close to camera, Mom, Summer

My Mom, sister Summer, and I have been planning for this night since P-Dub announced the new addition to her book tour a few weeks back. If you follow her blog (which you should) and have read any of her posts about her previous book signing engagements you would know:

• Babies are her weakness
• Especially if they are cute
• Pregnant women are another weakness
• Previous book signing attendees have brought homemade treats for her
• She's hilarious
• She does an amazing Ethel Merman impersonation

So, in making our plans my sister and I took this knowledge into consideration. Although I do have the most adorable kids on the planet...





I knew that by the time we waited for our turn to have our cookbooks signed not only would they be be sleepy, cranky, and disheveled, but I would look like I'd been through a tornado and barely survived.

They have a bed time for a reason people! ME!

So, no kids. Decision made. Only slight wavering because of extreme cuteness that I am faced with everyday. Especially when Hazel discovered Charlie's pictures in the cookbook and my mom taught her to say, "Poor old Charlie" while making this face:


Poor, old Charlie

So we decide to bring our "bestie" homemade goodies. I made Sleepy House Cookies which are a family (and anyone else who's ever eaten them) favorite. Summer brought a bottle of wine and Fudge Decadence (another fav). It wasn't long before a "friendly" sister competition started between the two of us as to which one P-Dub loves the most. Because she knows us so well and all.


cookies for my "bestie"


Who will win P-Dubs heart?

While we worked our way through the crowd to snatch spots to stand in the back I realized we weren't alone in our idea to bring gifts. Plus we were one-upped by all the cute babies and adorable pregnant women in attendance. Cheaters.

When P-Dub arrived she happened to walk down the isle where we were and I have to say that woman is as beautiful and friendly as she seems in her blog posts and interviews. When she was next to us my mom kept telling me to reach out and touch her. I didn't. I so missed out on an opportunity of a life time. Dang it! Let this be a lesson to you young whipper snappers: Always listen to your Mom!


Summer offering me abc gum (funny face)


Summer offering me abc gum (practiced posed face)


Summer trying to ignore her irritating younger sister

I enjoyed the Q&A time before the book signing commenced. Especially the Ethel Merman impersonation. We had a long wait before we got our books signed. I was number 307 out of 340 tickets.


Person to close to the camera with her cookbook (Does anyone else notice the phone holder the lady in the green shirt has? Reminds me of a few of my aunts...)

We used that time wisely, of course. We got coffee at the Starbucks where P-Dub's MIL and daughter got their coffee. I know. Cool, huh? You envy me. Admit it.

We were then grateful to find three empty chairs in the event area. While we waited we: looked through Cake Wrecks book and laughed so hard I cried, tried to decide if the person sitting in front of us kissing the woman next to him/her was a him or a her (Welcome to Portland, ya'll!), and counted how many times the woman behind us said, "Well, like I said" when she was talking to her friends. Loudly. But she stopped playing my game and I got bored with her and so we came up with ways to make a lasting impression on P-Dub. These are the ones I can remember:

• Faint when I get up to the table (There may be a story about that happening at my Gpa's funeral. Not on purpose, of course. But I was wearing a short dress.)
• Use my "extra skin" to make myself look pregnant
• Make a list of the similarities between me and P-Dub (ie. excessive seating when nervous, habit of taking pics of hubbies tush, love for butter and wine, her name is Ree which is the last part of my name and one of my nicknames, Broadway show tunes etc. ect. ect.)

I'm sure she would have enjoyed my list. I decided, instead, to ask her about her plans for a children's book staring Charlie and told her about Hazel's face she makes when talking about his pictures. Hazel is going to be so excited when it comes out in the next year. I also asked her to sign Charlie's picture for Hazel.

Summer tried to out do me by having P-Dub sign her book to: My very best friend Summer Bryan. Though that's what Summer's books says, she doesn't have proof that it was signed by P-Dub because P-Dub didn't actually write her own name. Also, if they were best friends P-Dub wouldn't be using Summers last name! Amateur.


Ree-United and it feels so good


Notice the use of first name only. Hmmm...I wonder who her best friend is?


Poor, old Charlie

We had a great evening together and can't wait for the next one. Here's that cookie recipe:

Sleepy House Cookies
Cream together:

3 C brown sugar
2 C butter softened to room temp
2 eggs
set aside

Combine:
4&1/4 C flour
2 tsp soda
1 Tbl cinnamon
2 tsp ginger
1 tsp salt

Add to creamed mixture then add:
2 C chopped pecans
3 C chocolate chips
2 tsp vanilla
Mix well

Refrigerate dough for about 2 hrs.
Roll 1'' balls into powdered sugar and bake at 375 for 10-12 minutes.
We like to make all the dough into balls rolled in the powdered sugar and then freeze them to use when we have company or an emergency craving. Enjoy!

Another Reason Mommy Doesn't Go Out Much

Last Friday I was given a day off. Well, I took the day off, but my friend gave it to me since she came and watched my kids. For free! (This is a huge miracle since there were only two people who would watch me for my mom when I was Hazel's age. My poor Mother.)

So I went to lunch and did some returning of Christmas presents and shopping of little items I needed or wanted. And I used gift cards so the day was way cheap. Anyways, lunch was nice except for the people who stared at me the WHOLE time I was eating because I was eating alone. Or maybe I had a booger hanging out my nose and didn't know it...we'll say it was the alone thing.

After lunch I went over to Target to return and shop. After browsing for about 45 minutes I stopped to pick up a new tube of lip stick. Mine was at that "gonna have to dig it out with your nail" stage. Since I don't know what brand or color I wear by heart I had to pull my old one out of my purse and check.

I pick out the new tube and place it in the basket I was carrying and put my old one back in my purse. The thought came to my mind that someone was gonna see me and think that I was stealing. And that would be embarrassing. But I checked out without a problem and headed out the door.

And then the door alarm went off.

I stopped a no one came to check me or my stuff so I slowly walked to my car. While in my car I pull my new lip stick out to try some on. It looked good. I made sure to place to wrapper in my ash tray/garbage pile. I then headed over to the mall across the street.

When I finally found a parking spot I had to take an outside escalator to the Barnes & Noble I was headed to. But there was a mall cop at the top of the stairs. I think, "Oh great. Something bad happened." No. The escalator had stopped working. Thankfully they has just restarted it. I have to admit though, the thought that went through my head was, "Yup. That's what mall cops are good for."

I learned my lesson two minutes later. I was on my way to B&N and I hear someone yell, "Get down! Get down! Right now!" I looked around and there were three or four mall cops running through the court yard I was passing to stop four guys who were coming out of the Macy's store.

After gawking for an impolite amount of time I continue on my way and think, "That could have been me at Target!" Then I walk through the doors at B&N and the alarm goes off. I threw my hands up in the air and said, "I just got here!"

Once again, no one came to check me out so I went on my way. I had to stop at the lady's room first. No one was in there so I went to the large stall. 'Cause the small ones make me claustrophobic. A few seconds later someone enters the bathroom and quietly walks up to the stall I'm in, of course, and shakes the handle.

And then does nothing.

I'm thinking, "Crap. They followed me up here to check me out because there are two stalls open still and if they really had to go they would use one of those." But no. That lady is apparently scared of small bathroom stalls too. I don't feel so alone in the world now.

Anyways. I browse B&N and find a book. I purchase said book with said gift cards and go to leave. And wouldn't'cha know it? Those darned alarms went off. AGAIN!

Again I throw my hands into the air. But this time a sales clerk comes and re-scans my book for me. And yet when I went to leave the alarms went off yet again. I told the clerk that they went off when I came in and have no idea what the deal is. He says I'm fine and remarked that if I was wearing Old Navy or GAP clothing I could still have one of their alarms tags on me.

I pictured one of those white plastic alarms that are on clothing and was like, "I think I would know if I had one of those on me." I was indeed wearing Old Navy. But it was a shirt bought at a second hand store and given to me by a friend. So home I went.

And then it hit me...about 45 minutes later. Call me slow. I blame it on motherhood.

I had new pants on. From Old Navy. And Old Navy puts these irritating little square tags in the hip of their jeans that you have to cut out so it doesn't cut into your hip. And apparently so you can get in and out of stores without the possibility of a strip search. Because that's what it would have taken to figure out what was setting those stupid alarms off!