A Grand Debut.

I had a lot of expectations/assumptions about what recovery would be like after getting myself un-pregnant.  Pretty much NONE of them came to fruition.
I'm in more pain.  Duh. 
I'm a lot more tired than expected.
I get faint walking up the stairs.  Lame. 
I haven't been able to jump into mothering a brood of three.  All I've been able to jump into, is the never ending supply of food and chocolate in my house.  
So, my grand plans of staging a full on newborn shoot for Zore after a few days at home SO did not happen.  I've pieced together a small one, in three different days.  Today, armed with percocet, I managed to get some edited.

Merry Christmas - I bring you my third and final offspring.  Baby Holden Lee.
"Mom, that's the baby.  We should call him Toy."  Kenny.

Yes.  There are a lot of face shots...
It's hard to be original when stoned out of your brain.

*Heart melting*

Good way to get older brothers to laugh?
Have the baby poop.
Loudly.
For an extended amount of time.
Punctuate it with an "Ah poop"
Ala Minion style. 

Because I don't think I'll make it to the computer again in the next 24 hours, Merry Christmas.
From all of us.

How I Wasn't There for my Son's Birth.

So, here's the story.
But first, some background:

My first two labors were cake. Telling my story would get responses like "bitch, please" or an evil glare and a view of their backside getting smaller. Easy, peezy.
I, like a jackass, assumed the third would follow suit. And couldn't have been happier about it. 

More background (but more recent backness):
A week before the eventual arrival, I ended up at the hospital for severe back pain and bleeding - with clots.
Back pain = sunnyside up, face down baby. Nerve is being pressed.
Blood = unexplained, but "normal". Don't ask me how...
Sent home in gads of pain. Waiting for "real" labor or 39 weeks.

Sunday before arrival, we head back to hospital. Contractions are more intense, 3/4 minutes apart and lots of pressure.
No cervical change, and I'm still 36 hours from 39 weeks. Sent back home.
Hubband is starting to make noise about taking me elsewhere.  Knowing Hubband, this means he's worried.
I am, at this point, an angry, hurting, bitch.  Excuse my french.  

I manage to eat my way to Tuesday morning.  December 14th, 2010.

So, the first part started out pretty normal.  Except my pleas to start with breaking my water instead of pitocin, because I'm already contracting, are nixed - and pitocin is started.

I champ it out for a few more hours, until I feel like if I go longer it may be too late.  Quick check, only to discover there is ZERO progress.  None.  (Still sunnyside up, face down).

So, I get the epidural.

It works beautifully for about half an hour.

Then I started having a pretty acute pain.  Acute does not mean cute and fuzzy.  It means sharp and ouchie. 


The anesthesiologist is called in.  More drugs are given, assesments made, and my last coherent rememory is this:
Anesthesiologist to nurse: "Dr. Wittich needs to get in here now and evaluate her."

The pain, had started in the middle part of my lower belly.  Everything around it was numb to my boobays.
With each contraction the pain "grew" in a straight line across my belly.

This is where I am retelling the story from what I was told by nurses, docs and Hubband.  


Baby Zore started having decels.  Way low decels.  Down to like, 15bpm.
I started throwing up, and became "incoherent" with pain.  Also, no progress yet.
Doctor came in, witnessed a baby decel, and my pain and said something to the effect of:
"We need to get her into an OR.  She's abrupting."  


Hubband was given scrubs.  I, apparently, signed consent forms.  Seriously?  Hopefully I got puke all over them.  


So, I remember being wheeled into the OR, and them giving me more drugs - only to do a poke test, where I definitely felt every poke.
So, under general anesthesia it had to be.

And that is how I was not there for my son's birth.
Neither was hubband.

We have no awesome pictures.  I have no awesome first moment memories.
I have the job of telling myself "it's better that we're both healthy, and alive".
Which, of course, I totally believe.  But, I missed my son's birth.  And that's hard.  


I met him a few hours later, but under a heavy haze of drugs, and intense pain.
Pain?  Really?  A ten inch slice from hipbone to hipbone, and I'm feeling pain?????  


There are a few pictures of it all, and I'll lay 'em down here.

Very last time in my house being pregnant.
And I'm stoked that I'm taking pictures of it.
Can't you tell? 

I was not there for this.

Or this.

Or this.

But daddy was.
So, that's somthin' at least.

I swear I was looking at the camera and that I was also smiling.
This is the first time I remember meeting him.
The first "official" time - I don't remember.
This was, however, the first time I "held" him. 

Potato face! 

Our trip home.
He's saying:
Excuse me? Get outta my face! 

And we're home.
And doing well.
Him, much better than his mommy.
But she'll get there.  

So bear with bare blogging for a little while.  Pleaseandthankyou!

He's here.

7lbs 10oz. 19 and 3/4 inches long.

It was rough, but we're both safe.

I'll post the story later. It's a good one.

Oh, and his name is Holden.

I am Definitely Ignoring You.

I am ignoring anyone who has the audacity to ask if I've had my baby yet.

Here are two rules for a lady who can go at any time:

1.  If you are important, you will get the call.
2. If you are less important, shut yo' mouth and wait until an announcement is made.

I promise if you are my sister, brother, dad, bestest, mother, MIL, FIL, BIL, SIL, etc. - you will get notification.  Even if it comes by way of tree.

Pretty much everybody else will have to wait until I post his potato-like face and stats like a proud new mother.  Little do they know I just like keeping up with social norms...


I will not be real-timing from the delivery room, and after my 26 hour round in the hospital to warm up for Turkey day, and a shorter adventure last night (obviously no baby.  Just blood, pain, and a generally pissed off me) - I'm even more hesitant to make any kind of call to anybody.
Kimberly Williams-Paisley, I am not.

So barista at starbucks, No - I haven't had my baby yet.  Not sure what gave that away. 
Yes, I understand you're anxious.  Imagine how I feel! 
To anybody else, it's just mean to ask if it's baby time yet.  M.E.A.N.

So please, shut yo' face and tell my I look awesome.

Pulling My Weight.

Right now, there is a lot to pull.

However, what I mean is, this pre-holiday season I pitched in a bit with the finances and got myself some gigs.
Two shoots a weekend.
It wasn't a whole lot, but it helped with Christmas expenses, kept my brain busy, and was a ton of fun.

These are just a few of my personal favorites.
Now Hubband - I've shown I can make some cash... It's totally time for a camera that isn't taped together.  

I'm Bleeding.

Black and Orange, that is.
Jeesh, don't freak out - this isn't some nasty birth story, or real time blogging birth event.  


Remember how I said some of what was on my mind was football?

This week is Civil War.

Can't you just hear the jaws theme song?

The seventh oldest rivalry between universities in the United States.
Made more intense by the very short 30 miles in between the two.
Also, when you name your rivalry game something like "Civil War" - you're going to get impassioned.  It feels a lot more intense than the "Apple Cup".

Seriously, who wants to say they won the "Apple Cup"?

Anyway...  Today is the big day.

University of Oregon vs. Oregon State University.

Alright.  I'm not going to get into which university is better.  Obviously, mine is.

I love my OSU for all the reasons I do. (Plus, my first kid was born there.)
I hate UO for all the reasons I do.  (Plus it smells bad.)

I have stated, and will state again - I do not care where my children attend college - as long as it's not University of Oregon.

My kids scream "boo ducks" anytime they see a duck.
Stuffed ducks.
Ducks in a pond.
Pillow pet ducks.
All booed.
We have rubber hippos. 

I love the rivalry between the two universities.  Well...  I like to rival with TRUE rivals.  As in those who have a legit tie to the school.  (Because those who don't love their alma mater are lame.)

This lady does not.
And now, because she's a "bandwagoneer", I no longer
want to marry her.
Or see her movies.  Ever.
She will be a fan while they are on top.
As soon as they are not - That hat will be replaced with something
else.  Something much more couture, I'm sure.
Apparently, there is a reason Jake left her.
He doesn't like bandwagon fans, either.

I will always be a Beaver Believer.

Even when we lose to WSU.  Which, my reaction to, is much like this: 

They don't have to be on top for me to support them.  They just have to be.

With that, I say:

Go Beavers!!!!!!!


And leave you with this youtube video.

Swimming In Jello.

I stole that idea from the Accidental Olympian.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm swimming in Jello. Green Jello.  With a pouch of curry flavor.  (If anybody can tell me where I got the curry jello part, I'll give you a mental hi-five)   At least when it comes to understanding the species that is male.
I just so happen to live with three of them.  Almost four.

A couple of weeks ago, the boys were in the shower and I was keeping an eye on them.  Because kids can drown in a spoonful of water.  (At least, that's what they tell me.)
There is this phenomenon in boys, that at least 4,279 times a day, they must make sure their junk is still there.
For some reason, watching the boys in the shower, getting in the last 278 times for the day, exasperated me.

Me: Do you guys always have to hold onto it?
B-rox [very matter of factly, and slightly exasperated I would even ask such a question]:  That's what it's there for mom.

That was SO not the day to have the talk about what it's really there for.  So I just shook my head, and left the room when Hubband nodded his head and said "Yep, pretty much."


Tuesday, I took Kenny into the doctor.  He'd been coughing for a while, and it was no longer "drainage" cough sounding.  I became especially worried when his nose wasn't even running - and he was still hacking.
(Yes, it was pneumonia.  But we caught it early - so he's fine now.)

Sitting in the exam room, he starts hitting himself.  Really smacking the side of his head.  Then laughing.

Me: Kenny, why are you hitting yourself?
Kenny [holding out his hand]: Because I have a hand.

But of course... why didn't I already know that????


Next time, I won't forget the crayons - so he can go back to passing the time drawing on the white sani-paper they put on the beds.

But do you see what I mean?  I. Am. Drowning.

At least they're cute....

Things I Like

I started this post yesterday, as a way to get myself out of my funk.

There are many things going on in my brain right now, and pretty much all of them have to do with having a baby.  Some of it has to do with football, as it is Civil War week... 


However, I didn't post yesterday.  Because my thoughts still felt dark, dreary, angry and slightly snarky.  My true intention was to express some joy over things in my life I like.
Last night I slept, Kenny slept (for the first night in a week), Mark slept - it was a night of sleeping.  Something my family hasn't seen in quite some time.  Talk about one hell of a mood lifter.

Today, I finally packed my "Go bag".  (Procrastinate much?) 
I've done three loads of laundry so far - with one more to go.
I've cleaned the floors.
I've done the dishes.
I will be baking bread in about an hour.
I got B-rox to and from school.

I am a rockstar today.
I also have this weird niggly feeling that is telling me to get off my giant bahookus and get ready to go - because as planned out as I have it, it's not going to work that way.  
So getting off my bahookus, I am. 


Anyway, to the meat of the post.  Things I Like.
Pretend it's like Oprah.  Except I'm not giving anything away.  Because, I'm not rich. 


1. My friends.
I just want to thank each and everyone of you who has said "Oh, your family isn't coming out to be with the boys?  Well, let me step in however I can.  I have beds, I will race up there as soon as you call, Don't call me crazy - I can handle watching them."
I am blessed to know you.

2. Modern Medicine.
I like that when B-rox had sepsis, he was able to be quickly diagnosed, treated and is still with me.
I like that Tuesday, when Kenny was diagnosed with pneumonia, there were antibiotics, inhalers and cough medicine - to make him better.
I like that (And yes, you'll call me weird for this one) medical tools and gadgets have been improved so much in the last decade.  I like the no needle hep locks for IV's.  I like that it keeps the nurses and patients safer.  Told you you'd call me weird...


3. Granola, Raspberries, and Yogurt.
This  particular combo is fabulous. Try it.  Use greek yogurt and Bear Naked's "Pure Protien" mix, and it's an honest to God meal.  When there isn't a problem with fruit fly outbreaks on east coast bananas - I like to add those as well.

4. Pedicures.
How can you not?
If anybody knows where I can find OPI's line from the movie "Burlesque" - specifically "Ali's Big Break" (Bright sparkly red) please let me know.  I MUST have this polish.

5. B-rox's Teacher.
She's a wonderful lady.  She's made school this awesome, huge and big bright thing for him.  Which is exactly what it's supposed to be - and why we originally enrolled him at this school.
She understands him and is a perfect fit for the person he is.  Thank you, Mrs. P.

6.  Running.
For my birthday, bestest sent me a pair of running gloves.  I CANNOT WAIT TO START USING THEM!
As sad as it is, there is something seriously lacking from my life without a morning run.  It's like that itch on your back you can't reach.  Except, without running, your arms just get bigger and it gets harder and harder to get to it.  It's awful.


7. My husband.
I do.  He's pretty awesome.
This past couple of weeks he's been completely supportive of the blahs that come at the end of pregnancy and of me dealing with them in anyway I can conceive.    Conceiving... I'm pretty good at that. 
He hasn't even complained that he's had to cook - because I've been too damn tired.
He is wonderful.  As he should be - I am about to give him his third male progeny.  


8.  Netflix.
Streaming, video... whatever.  Love it.
Though, I don't love that TV series' will be going to two episodes per disc.  It is taking FO-EV-UH for us to make it through Dr. Who.  


9. Socks.
I can't wear them right now, but I still love them.  I'm looking forward to releasing the inner child and getting back to my love affair with them.

10. Shoes.
I can't wear those either.  There are 50+ pairs in my closet just crying, crying to be worn.  And I can't.  Because my feet don't even fit in slippers.
But, I still love them...

I'm going to stop there, before my head explodes with little daisies and blue birds and I start farting rainbows.
I'm much happier today, and I wanted to share a little of the happy with the masses.  All 17 of you.
Plus all those who have me in Google reader.
And then anybody else.  I like you too.  So here's some happiness.

Things I Like.

I started this post yesterday, as a way to get myself out of my funk.

There are many things going on in my brain right now, and pretty much all of them have to do with having a baby.  Some of it has to do with football, as it is Civil War week... 


However, I didn't post yesterday.  Because my thoughts still felt dark, dreary, angry and slightly snarky.  My true intention was to express some joy over things in my life I like.
Last night I slept, Kenny slept (for the first night in a week), Mark slept - it was a night of sleeping.  Something my family hasn't seen in quite some time.  Talk about one hell of a mood lifter.

Today, I finally packed my "Go bag".  (Procrastinate much?) 
I've done three loads of laundry so far - with one more to go.
I've cleaned the floors.
I've done the dishes.
I will be baking bread in about an hour.
I got B-rox to and from school.

I am a rockstar today.
I also have this weird niggly feeling that is telling me to get off my giant bahookus and get ready to go - because as planned out as I have it, it's not going to work that way.  
So getting off my bahookus, I am. 


Anyway, to the meat of the post.  Things I Like.

Whilst I'm in the Kitchen...

...I hear wrestling.  Which is normal.

Then I hear:

B: OOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!!
K:  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
B: STOP PULLING MY HAIR!!!!!!!
K: Stop pulling MY hair!
B: I CAN'T pull your hair.  You're too weird and cut it all short.
K: Oh.  Ok.
B: Thanks, let's wrestle more.

The Fatty.

I'd call it the "skinny", but I'm not skinny anymore.  So you're getting the "fatty".
Hey, it's Monday.  I can make stupid jokes. 


So, here's the deal.

Monday, Hubband came home from work with his intestinals all torn up.  45 seconds after getting off the train, he was yakking over the guardrail.  I also had a feverish B-rox, and a Kenny who had decided to try and kill my slipcovers earlier in the week.
I figured I'd wash my hands a lot, wipe everything down with a virucidal and anti-bacterial and wear a mask.

It didn't work.  About 4am on Tuesday, I woke up in crazy pain.  Which, it turned out - was happening every 2-3 minutes.

I sat in the tub and tried to drink some water.  The water didn't sit well - and the tub didn't comfort me very much.
Luckily, hubband was feeling better, and was already planning on being home for the morning as I had a regularly scheduled checkup.

When I got to the check-up, the nurse admitted me to LnD after a 2 second glance at me.
She did NOT listen when I told her it was so NOT baby time.  


Anyway, to sum it up fairly quickly - I spent 24 hours in the hospital against my will because my uterus was gung-ho for the contractions.
The doctors wouldn't let me go because of the contraction timing, my labor history, and the fact that this is my third.
The doctors wouldn't do anything to help labor along because I wasn't technically "full term" yet.  (The midwife was all about just breaking my water and letting me celebrate another birthday the day before Thanksgiving.)
The doctors wouldn't do anything to STOP the contractions, because I was too far along.
I didn't care.  I wanted to go home.  With or without baby.

It. Was. Hell.

The shot of "Nubane" lasted about two hours.
The shot of Morphine lasted 3.
Phenergen lasted about 4.

Finally, after 9 liters of saline, a bajillion different drugs - I passed the bug and my contractions slowed down.

We're now at a nice, comfy 10-15 minute pace.
And by comfy, I mean my groin, lower back and abdomen pretty much scream at me every time I move I'm so sore.  My feet and hands are now perma-swollen, and even ambien isn't helping me sleep much better. 


I'm crabby, sore and can no longer mentally deal with this symbiote.  After much google-fu I am now employing every "safe" method of getting labor going for realz.

Cross your fingers, make a sacrifice, pray, carve a totem, dance a special dance, and wear your lucky socks.  I'm hoping for this show to hit the road on Sunday.  


Otherwise, I might jump off of a cliff. 

A Little Snark, but Well Meant.

Here's a quick list of things I'm thankful for today.  My fingers and my brain and this blog couldn't possibly hold the entire list.
I've decided to add a hint of snarkiness - because I'm not very good at mush.

1. I'm thankful I have my children.  We live life in technicolor.  Sometimes, the color smells bad - but it makes it that much more exciting.

2. My husband.  Who, just 36 hours ago, slept in a chair beside my hospital bed, and didn't complain one bit.

3. My friends.  All of whom went out of their way (or offered to) this week to make MY life easier, make sure my kids were well taken care of and loved while I couldn't be with them.

4. Ambien.  I slept 8 hours straight last night.  If I got up to pee, I don't remember.  HUZZAH!

5. Glee.  Because when you feel like you've been hit by a bus, and have spent a full 24 hours in the hospital, it's nice to have something fabulous to make you smile when you get home.

6. BBC.  Otherwise, Top Gear and Dr. Who wouldn't exist.  Life would be sad.

7.  Jose Ole.  Because a morning without a sausage egg and cheese breakfast burrito is no bueno.

8. Her mom.  Because, she's my mom.  Duh.

9. Nifty hospital slippers.  Ugly as sin, but they keep my feet warm AND I can cuddle on the couch without taking them off.

10. People who are narcissistic, like me.  So I can read their blogs, and be entertained.

I'm going to stop at ten.

I honestly wish everybody a happy Turkey Day.  I hope it's safe, fun, and fattening.  Despite what the media says - this is a day to ingest MANY calories.  Don't take shortcuts - bring on the butter!

The Final Four.

Well, I should say, the final moments of being four.

The Final Four is a basketball tournament.

Anyway, the boys have been pretty sick this weekend.  I've been stuck in the house, at a level of inactivity I haven't seen in quite a while.

My brain felt like it was melting.

So, on the one weekend where I didn't have to go somewhere to take somebody's pictures - I stayed here and took pictures of us.
They're not great, but it kept me entertained for about an hour.
It also kept the boys from whining.  Which, was music to my ears.  (The silence, not the whining.  I'm not a masochist.) 

Jealous of the hawtness????

It's supposed to be a tender moment.

Ah, the smell of sibling rivalry...

Who farted?  Seriously. 

I just keep telling myself, if we have this much fun with two - three should be more fun.  RIGHT?????

Public Service Announcement.

I am two, maybe three weeks away from expelling my inner being.
(or, if the Braxton Hicks contractions are any indication - maybe only a week...)

Anyway, I am tired, uncomfortable, irritable and I've hit my "stupid" threshold for this pregnancy.

*On Thursday, a man driving a mini-van with three priests in the back stopped while I was in my driveway, and asked me what city we were in.
I told him.
Then, he asked me if I were sure.

I just got out of my car, in front of my house.  YES.  I am brother-tucking sure of what city I am living in. There is not even a city named what you just said, in this state.  


*Yesterday I had a dental cleaning.
This was my fourth appt. at this office.
Yesterday was my shortest wait of 40 minutes past my appointment time.
Then I left the cleaning before the dentist did her "check" or before my flouride treatment.  Because I had to pick up my son from school.
Conversation with hygenist:
Me: I have to pick up my son from school.  I won't be able to finish this cleaning.
Hyg: You should have scheduled this appointment with thought to your schedule
Me:  I did.  You decided to ignore my appointment time, and keep me in the waiting room for an extra forty minutes.
Hyg: Well, lets schedule your next visit.
Me: I will not be making another appointment with this office.  Have a nice day [in my head I called them all troglodytes]!
Hyg: Oh, I'm sorry.  We'll do better next time.
Me: Well, I heard that every other visit too.  To be fair, you did improve my wait time from 1 hr 35 minutes at the last visit to only 40 minutes today.  But I refuse to reward shitty service and scheduling ability with my continued patronage.  Good bye.

*I know this should not bother me, but I am tired of people telling me "It's not possible for you to be that close to your due date - you're too small".
I've put in my time, trust me.  I AM that close.  So shut up, and stop asking if its healthy, if I'm healthy, If I found out late and drank too much in the beginning, or if I'm starving myself.
-Yes, he's healthy.
-Yes, I'm healthy.  (though, quite irritable)
-No, I found out at the normal "find out your pregnant time - as long as you're not one of those idiots on the show 'I didn't even know I was pregnant'".   The alcohol question is just stupid.  I won't even get into that.
-No, I'm not starving myself.  I did however, until three or four weeks ago - when I dislocated my hip, run at least four days a week.  Logging at least 15 miles a week.  Which is more than it seems, at least when you're halfway through your third trimester.   When I stopped running, I started swimming at least a thousand yards an evening.
Oh, I also don't shove my face with crap.  Most of the time....
I have gained a very respectable 23 lbs at this point.  So shut it.

*Old ladies.  I know back in your day, you guessed gender based on silly pencil tricks, belly size/position and maybe some chanting and help from the other side.
These days we have this awesome thing called "ultra sound".  They do amazing stuff with it. 
This is, most assuredly, a boy.

I promise, that your promise of "I promise that's a girl, and you're going to be thrown for a loop" will be broken.
So, lets leave it at:  I'm growing a fetus and my belly looks like the belly of a person who is growing a fetus".

Thanks.  By remembering these things, you will keep the pregnant lady from being angered.
I do not like being angry.  It makes my hands and feet swell even more.


Public Service Announcement over.

Ramblin' Rod!

Does anybody from the WC remember that show?

Lil' sis and I were on it once. (Though, not at the same time.)  At seven, you're pretty convinced it makes you famous.  
Being one of the 30 screaming kids on a morning cartoon show does not, in fact, make you famous. Even if you win the smile contest...
That is the child's equivalent to being one of the people who hi-five the contestants on the Price is Right.  Hi-fivers, you're not famous either.  


*Bestest started talking about shoes on her blog this morning.  Dammit.
This is how my shoe death spiral works.
-somebody mentions shoes
-I start looking at shoes
-I see shoes I want
-I buy shoes I want to keep my bp under control
-husband makes this face:

Except, he doesn't wear a loin cloth.
Which, for me, is sad times...

-I feel guilty, but keep the shoes.
-I get pregnant
So, I figure its a good time to purchase the Birkenstock's I was ogling all summer.  They're now $45 dollars cheaper, and I can't get pregnant - while pregnant.  Win/Win/Win. [insert angry Gerard Butler]

*If you're starting to stress about the holidays, I have the perfect website for you.
-click here-
It's sure to help your anxiety.

*The bounce house was the most brilliant idea Mark and I have had to date.  No joke.  It takes 1 minute to inflate, I sit in a chair with a book, they get exercise...
Or, instead of sit in a chair, I can do the dishes and catch up on my "kitchen" tv.  (I'm too ashamed to list the shows I watch while cleaning/cooking in the kitchen...)

*Lindsay, I'd love to run "with" you.
As bestest will tell you, I'm also a solo runner.  This is how the race we ran "together" went.
Me, just a little bit ahead until mile seven (but still within sight).  Mile seven my legs gave me a speech:
Self, run faster.  If you don't, I'm gonna kill you.  
True story.  Because I was in fear for my life, I had to take a strike on the awesome friend tab and run ahead.
She still loves me.  Thank goodness.

*B-rox had his root canal and two crowns taken care of on Tuesday.  I was a ball of stress inside.  I'm still curious as to why Hubband felt the need to ask me why I was stressed.  Uhm. Duh.
He now has two silver teeth.  They told him this while under laughing gas, but failed to show it to him.
Conversation upon discovery of his two silver teeth:
B: Mom! My teeth are silver!!!!!!
Me: I know! That's the way they fixed them.
B: Wait - did they take my white teeth OUT???
Me: Yes.
B: WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT?!  THOSE WERE MY TEETH!!!!

Tooth Fairy - you're going to have one hell of a fight on your hands... 

*I like the word troglodyte.  It has an air of sophistication butt munch doesn't.

*Kenny, is like, a real human.  He has preferences, and tastes... and they don't always go with mine.
Outfit the other day:
Orange Benny the Beaver sweat pants
Orange 'Cars' t-shirt
Green and red holiday socks.

This outfit happens a lot.  I make him take it off at least every other day.  Because sometimes he's smelly.  


*And now a couple of pictures (I don't think I've already posted) of my two favorite sons.  (That have birth dates... jeesh)

Not the greatest pic.
Funny, none the less.

I'm pretty sure I've posted this before.
But I still love it.
So you get it again. 

{Insert loud Ramblin' Rod whistle to signal leaving}

If Money Were No Object:

Copying from My Goal is Simple.

These are the ten things I'd like to find under the tree:
Prepare to be underwhelmed by my selections...



1.

The Nikon D7000.
I expect to be getting the D5000 sooner, rather than later - but if budget weren't an issue, I'd be putting this baby in my shopping cart.

2.

To be in school, finishing school, or even able to remotely think about school.  Most of you should know I'd like to go into nursing.  If you don't, I'll tell you now.  I'd like to go into nursing.
In the interim (aka, while I'm stuck at home with another baby) I'd like to further my photog skills with some classes.
Actually, I'm so desperate to go to school - I'd probably major in history if it got me in!

3.

A new mattress.
Sadly, this is quite a ways off.  Due to the gremlin I'm due to spring from my inner self soon.  But it would be nice to not lay on a lumpy, broken one.

4.

Maid service.
Hubband has actually promised me that if we didn't end up with a new car - after the first of the year he'd spring for somebody to come in and clean my bathrooms once or twice a month.
I'll believe it when I see it...

5.

I need it to be at least 6 quarts, and I'd like it to have the automatic switch to warm.  Because sometimes, you just don't know when hubband is coming home.

6.

World Peace.
Do I need to explain this?
No, I have not decided to compete for Mrs. Virginia.  


7.

Less traffic.  More people carpooling.
Sadly, this is a stretch of road I've driven many times.  Also, I've been stuck in traffic like this on more occasions than I care to count.
Most memorably, when the Navy decided to fly Hubband out of BWI airport the Sunday after Turkey day.
My drive home lasted 8 hours.  The drive from BWI normally takes about an hour.  


8.

A big backyard for my kids to play in.
Maybe not quite this big...
B-rox has begun asking when we can move out of this house and into a house with a big backyard with a fence.  So he can play outside and have a fort and a slip 'n' slide.
I feel like a failure that I can't give this to him.


9.

Enough money to please my husband.  Finish his car, pay the grocery bills that turn his face bright red, and buy him shoes without spending two weeks fighting about how he really does need new shoes.

10.

Run more races.
Entry fees, travel, time all make it impossible to run everything I want to run.
Some of the races I WILL run are:
NYC Marathon
Rock 'n' Roll something - hopefully with a bestest ging?
Dewey Beach Triathalon
Hood2Coast... that one is going to be trickiest, I imagine.
Cascade Lakes Relay
Zombie Run, in Old Town
A Turkey trot 
Cherry Blossom Festival 10 Miler


Also, Looking like that girl would be awesome.