When We Get Our Own House

One of the big upsides to moving, and the whole uprooting our entire lives, is that we hope to soon buy our first house.  I don't want to put the cart before the horse, or jinx ourselves in anyway, but we hope to be in a new home of our own before the next school year starts, if everything goes according to plan.  Big if, but still, that is what I am hoping for.

My husband and I have been married for twelve years, and we have always been renters.  We are renters, though, who have always dreamed of being owners.  We do dream, a lot.  We talk about what we would do to every home.  Now, I dream with The Girls, too.  I would consider myself at least a little crafty, and there are a thousand things we want to do to our own home, together.  The Biggest One and I often make trips to paint departments just to look at color samples and get more ideas for her room.  We see tons of aqua and turquoise things headed her way.  While it is true that we could have done many of these things before we buy, I don't want to put a lot of time, effort, money, and especially love into things that we may not be able to fit into her room once we actually buy.  She has a very large room right now, once the master of this house when it was fist built.  So, if we create for her room, it may mean pairing down when we move to our own house, and i don't want that.  Instead, we build ideas.  Pinterest is getting going to get a ton of pins from me in regards to ideas for each of their room, because for the first time, I actually feel like we may be close to a real dream.  

I will say I am scared, but not of being a home owner.  I realize that comes with a lot of responsibility and work, but I am totally up for that.  I'm scared of having the dream taken away from us, again.

We all want to finally find a house that we have have to make do with as home, but a real home of our own.  

How did we get here?

This morning, when I woke up, something was wrong.  There was a disturbance in the force, of sorts.  I got ready, came down stairs, and there was The Big Little One, eating her weird concoction of 5 different kinds of cereal, and I realized what it was.  I now have two school age children and only one baby.

Today is The Big Little One's birthday.

While I knew it was her birthday, I am the one who gave birth after all, it really hit me that in a few months, I will be sending two girls to school, and not one.  I'll suddenly be back to just one child with me all day.  I'll be able to do things you do when you have only one child, and that child is younger.  We can go back to the toddler story time.  I can go hang out at a park, and not have to worry constantly about trying to keep my eyes on all my children at once.  Things will be different.  This time around, on her first day of school, I won't have nearly the anxiety about her that I did with her big sister.  I've done this once before and that helps.  More importantly, I know she is ready.  She is so independent.  She wants to go.  She talks about going to school almost every time we walk by the kindergarten classes as we drop The Big One off at school.  Probably most importantly of all, I know she will not only thrive, but she will flourish.  She is a smart kid.  She loves to learn.  She will love school in general.  I'm sure there will be challenges along the way for her, there are for everyone, but I expect her to do very well, and tackle them head on, just like she does everything else.  I can picture her being my athlete, and competing in every sport each of her schools have to offer as she grows.  I can see her being the one with the soccer, softball, and maybe even basket ball games year round, while perhaps her older sister is a cheer leader.  They are just so different, it amazes me.

Today we will have birthday cake and ice cream.  There will be presents.  We will celebrate how wonderful and amazing she is.  Today, it will be about her as much as it possibly can be.  Next year, there will be new friends, and a party with kids from class for the first time.  She is growing up so quickly, I can't believe it.  I swear just yesterday she was taking her first steps, and learning to use the potty.  Now, she is about to enter the world of the big kids, and really start a major new phase in her life.

I love you, my sweetheart.  You are amazing and fantastic.  You are funny and ferocious.  I am thankful every day that you chose me to be your mom.  I love you forever.  Happy Birthday!

The Breast Kind of Meal

Yesterday, I finally gave The Littlest One food.  I was going to hold off until 6 months, but she just kept reaching for my food, and so I gave in.
Truth be told, I've had the food and stuff for weeks, along with the go ahead from her Dr some time ago.  I just couldn't do it.  Part of me just doesn't want her to grow up so fast, especially knowing that she is my last.
However, let this be a joyous post in celebration of her major milestone: Eating.
I opted for baby oatmeal cereal.  You know, that noxious smelling pasty stuff that we give our babies in lieu of real food at first.  I always make mine with breast milk.  Generally, I will pump enough milk for the cereal, the pour it into a bowl and mix it.  With the first feeding, though, you give them so little, that I felt the pump wasn't warranted.  I could just quickly, and privately, express enough to make that little bit of cereal I needed.  I've done it this way in the past, too.  However, in the past, I've never had a child old enough to really question it.  Let me just say that adding an older child into the mix really changes things up.
As I was prepping The Littlest One's food, the big one comes in and looks at what I am doing: mixing a little cereal into the breast milk I had in one of the baby bowls.  She stopped, stared at the bowl for just a second, then looked at me with huge eyes.

"Did you squirt milk into the bowl?"
Yes.  I just expressed some milk to make the cereal with.
"Oh that is so gross, mom!"
What?  She gets breast milk all the time.
"No, mom!  That is just gross.  Into the bowl mom?!?"
Well, what do you want me to do?  I have to give her milk.

At that point, she started doing that laugh, head shake thing you do when you have just witnessed someone do something that you think was ridiculously gross but still kind of funny, like the kid who licked paste in school,  and just walked away.
It wasn't the fact that I gave the baby milk in her cereal, but the fact that I expressed it directly into the bowl that bothered her.
I guess I could have used the pump, but for only a couple of ounces the first feeding, why bother?  I did it privately, I just used a funny receptacle.  Same difference to me, but apparently not to The Biggest One.
The Littlest One liked it no matter where it came from, and I don't think she will care in the future, either.

It's The End Of The World

I really do feel fine.  In fact, I'm rather looking forward to it.  Tell you why later.  ; )

Eight Years and Torture

For the last two birthdays, The Big One has begged me to have a sleep over for her birthday party.  This time, when she begged, I gave in.  I'm not sure why, but I think most of it was guilt because her Dad was going to be gone at the time, and I wanted to make sure she still had a wonderful birthday.  That, and there must have been some sort of temporary insanity that allowed me to to agree to do this a)by myself, b) with an infant to care for as well, and c) with 6 other little girls.  Actually, we invited 9, knowing that not all of them would come.
I ended up with 6 guests, plus my three children, all by myself, for a very girly, Hello Kitty themed birthday party sleep over.
As I am actually blogging about this, you may assume that I survived.  You would of course, be correct, but don't assume I survived unscathed.  I'm pretty sure that the amount of stress that I incurred cost me years of my life.   I would guess one year for each guest.  Six years are gone that I can never get back.

I planned the best I could for this party.  I bought a new Wii game that they all could play, Smurf Dance Party, and it was also physical.  My idea was to get them dancing for hours so that they would be exhausted before bed.  We picked out a movie to watch once they got settled in bed.
Though, some of my planning caused more stress than it should have.  I should have had pizza delivered, but instead I opted to let them make their own.  I should have just had cake and ice cream, but instead I made the cake and decorated it myself, then we did make your own ice cream sundaes to go with it.  Those two things probably cost me a good 2 months of the year I lost, but by no means was it the worst part.  That falls squarely on the shoulders of the girls themselves, in particular, three of the girls who did the greatest amount of damage.  Three little girls that I will very generously just call "high maintenance".  Let me assure you none of them were maliciously bad, but they each have their own personality twists that I should have taken into account when planning, and didn't.  In all fairness, I didn't know one of them at all until after the sleepover.  One of them would not participate with the group.  She was constantly somewhere else, no matter what I tried to get them to do.  If the other girls were smurf dancing, she was in the back playroom, trying to go through every bin of toys, toys for younger children mind you, that she could.  If the other girls were playing "Don't Say Hello Kitty", a game devised by my own child and not unlike the baby shower game where you can't say "baby", she was in the back room (again) playing with the play kitchen.  If the other girls went to the back room, she was pacing back and forth between my stair well and me, repeatedly asking me why she couldn't go upstairs and play.  When it was time to lay down at night, the other girls all gathered together to sleep in their sleeping bags, and she would inch worm around the room in her bag, until she hit the guinea pig cage.
And oh the poor guinea pigs.  This event probably cost them time off or their short lives as well.  I swear that I must have said "don't touch the baby" and "don't touch the guinea pigs" at least 40 times each in about a 18 hour period, that did include some sleep.
And by some, I mean a very few hours.  When it was time for bed, I couldn't get them to sleep.  It wasn't so much that they weren't tired.  I just couldn't get them to stop talking.  Again, one in particular, ad different one, wanted desperately to talk ALL NIGHT LONG.  Finally, about midnight, I told her to actually zip her lips, and that she wasn't allowed to speak again.  I lay on the couch, and "shhh"ed her every time she started talking.  After about 40 minutes or so of that, they all fell asleep.
Since most of the girls stayed up very late, I expected them to sleep at lease a little in the morning.  I was wrong.  Very wrong.  They were all up by about 7am.  The Big One was mainly the cause because she was up, and ready to go instantly.  She ran to her room, threw on a dress, because she needed to look snazzy at 7am on a Sunday, and was ready to go.
I was prepared for the morning.  I had cereal, muffins, fruit, and croissants all lined up so that they could get what ever they wanted.  I'm may be crazy, but I wasn't crazy enough to think I was going to cook.
By the time i got them fed, dressed, and then put everything away, we only had a little time left.  Score one more for thinking ahead, I had a craft project.  I had them decorate frames with hello kitty pieces I cut out with my cricut.  Then, when I get back the pics from the party, I'll give each one a framed pic along with their thank you note.  Anyway, that project was a huge success, and was the quietest my house had been for since the whole thing started.  Lesson learned, keep them busy!



Still, this was certainly a learning process for me.  Sleepovers of more than two children at a time are hereby prohibited until a girl reaches the age of at least 14 where I will no longer be cool or needed by her.  At that age, I will be able to set food out on the counters, lock the doors to the house, set the house alarm so that no one can get in or out, and then go hide in my own bedroom, with door locked, until everyone is gone.  That I will do anytime.

The Only Way to Watch

My Husband, love his heart, loves to see movies.  I, though, am not a movie person.  It took me years to figure out why I dislike going to see movies so much, but I finally got it.
First, I'm cheap and movies aren't.  I thank my mom for that one, because as we grew up, she would always tell us she wouldn't pay the money to go see anything, she would rather wait until it came out on video, and that stuck.  I much prefer the little red envelopes that come in my mail box over going the movies.  For less than what it would cost my husband and I to go to the movies once a month, we get a ton of different things coming in those envelopes constantly.  There is almost always one going out, and one coming in.  Much better value.  However, if I really like something, I am willing to pay for it.  I still dislike actually going to the theatre, though, and that brings me to reason two.
I hate the sound systems in theatres because they always shake me and make me have to pee.  Yes.  It all really comes down to a hatred of needing to pee during the movie.  I have great anxiety about that.  I hate getting up in front of people. I hate public bathrooms, and I really, really hate not being able to enjoy my Coke Zero because I know it will end up making me need to pee.
So, he and I would only rarely go.  Since we have had children that low frequency has managed to decrease even more.  We only go to the movies shown on base, after they are pretty much out of theatres.  They are free, they don't have loud sound systems, and everyone gets up to go pee at some point since they are always movies meant for kids.  While I appreciate that lack of bladder shaking sound, and the fact that no one really cares if I have to get up and take them, it also amounts to a sucky movie experience, if you like the movies.

This year, it just so happens that My Husband's favorite comic book character,  and he is a super fan, has a movie coming out.  Captain America is in theatres now.  He couldn't believe they were going to make it a movie.  Then, he thought it was suck.  As more info and some pictures started to come out, and he began to realize that it wouldn't suck, his level of excitement went through the roof.  He needed to see this movie.
We are back to our movie watching hurdles, though, with my hating to go and then dealing with the kids.  I don't think The Littlest One would be very good in a theatre, and we can't leave her with a sitter just yet.
So, we found a fantastic alternative to just about every thing.
The drive in.
Yes, they still have those.
I know because we went to one.
We gathered up a ton of blankets, pillows, and my boppy just for The Littlest One, and threw them all in the trucks.  We went by Sonic and got some dinner to take with us.  Then we drove over to the drive in.
This particular place requires that big trucks like ours park in either the first four or last 4 rows.  We got there very early, and were able to get an incredible place up in the front.  I mean it was a killer spot.  The screen is huge.  We let the tail gate down, rolled the cover off the truck bed, threw all the pillows and blankets back there making a nice bed, and got the girls to climb in.  They loved it.  Unfortunately for me, the first few rows meant for trucks also have these humps built in that put you at an angle so that other people can see over your vehicle.   What this specifically meant for me was the the tail gate was now above my waist when let down, and I had to climb in.  I won't go into great detail on the spectacle I made of myself, trying to get up into the bed, but finally, with a large push in my large rear from my husband, I made it into the truck with the girls.  We got comfy and finished our dinner.  Even The Littlest One didn't mind eating al fresco since I had the boppy for her to lay on like she does at home, and I didn't make her use the nursing cover thanks to better shirt planning and the truck bed walls.
You may think that the sound out there, just coming out of the truck speakers, would sucks, but you would be wrong.  Think about how far sound systems in cars have come since the days of the first drive in theatres.  People even have Bose speakers now. Not only that, but you have every stereo there playing the sound, quite loudly.  It was actually pretty good.  In fact, I love it.  The sound had a great quality, without making me need to pee.  Perfect.
When it was time for the movie to start, he was so excited.  The Girls were, too.  Well, the big ones were.  The Littlest One was only in it for the boobs.  Furthermore, it was only The Littlest One whose excitement lasted.  The Little Big One was out with in 20 minutes, and The Big One only made it half way.  The Littlest One stayed up through most of the movie, just snacking off and on. and hanging with us.  The best thing about being in the back of the truck was that we could just let them sleep.  We got to watch the rest of the movie pretty much in peace.  I think it was by far the best movie experience we have had with them.  IF we weren't so old, and exhausted form having a newborn, we could have even stayed for the double feature while the girls slept, and been able to actually watch two movies.  Maybe next time, because there will be a next time.  I don't mind this movie outing at all.  In fact, I think it was kind of great.

Hey Congress, You Get to Tell Her

Today, I am writing what will probably be my most hate filled, and immature letter ever to my elected Congressional representatives.  I'm taking a cue from all those angry people who called in to the call center I used to work at, the first year that Toys R Us did online shopping (yes, I was there, and no, please don't speculate on my true age because of it).  So many orders did not go through for Christmas, and we had to deal with the parents.  I will never forget the calls we took where the parents would demand that we tell their children Santa won't be coming.  We weren't even the ones who caused the problems, we were just the messengers, aka customer service.  Congress, and be sure that I mean the entire of those elected, not just a particular party or particular house, are actually the ones who have continuously failed to do their own job, and because of that, as of midnight tonight, our pay, the pay for those who fight and risk their lives to keep our nation free, is vanishing.

We had decided to wait until my husband would be home from yet another training mission that forced him to miss The Little One's birthday, one of the many his job and commitment have forced him to be away during, to have her a belated birthday party.  We realize now that he may not be here next year, and wanted to give him that small opportunity to actually be a participant in his own child's birthday festivities for once.  I'm pretty sure that he has missed more birthday's for his own family than he has been here for because of his job.  So this, for us, was a big deal.  It certainly was for him, and for our daughter.  Now, though, because of your inability to work together on BOTH sides, your overall objective to only allow your own extreme fiscal idealism, and refusal to compromise, we have no choice but to cancel that party.  You see, My Husband and I discussed it, and because of the fact that we don't know how long this pay freeze will go on, and when he will start getting regular paycheck again, we felt it fiscally irresponsible to have a party that we would certainly overspend on, with no money coming in, or at least not knowing when it would start coming back.  Yes, we understand that eventually we would get paid again, but we just don't know when, and have no intention of floating our entire lives on credit until then.  Perhaps you, those who write the budget, should take some pointers from us.

I wish we were still being paid, and getting paychecks while this freeze goes on.  After all, my husband and those who stand beside him and work with him, have fulfilled and continue to full fill their obligations to their job.  They are all still training, deploying, fighting, serving, or what have you, and haven't failed to perform their basic job functions as you have.  Yet, you will continue to get paychecks while we, who make a pittance of what you do, don't.  I hope you are proud of yourselves for showing the world how much better and more important you are than those who serve in uniform.  I hope you feel good about yourselves when you lay down at night, and think of those who will be frantic to pay their bills, or even feed their families, something no member of the military should ever need to worry about.  I can't even imagine the anguish of someone stationed overseas, in a war zone, worried sick about whether or not his family was able to buy groceries, and being unable to even check on them.  I know I certainly could not sleep with that on my conscience.  At least, for us, at this point, it only means canceling a birthday party, but one that will cause great heart ache, as there will be no more time to reschedule after this, than you can imagine.
So, in line with many angry parents before me, you tell her.  I've already broken my husband's heart in our discussion, and I don't have it in me to break the heart of a now four year old little girl as well. So, email me, and I'll give you our phone number.  You tell her that she can't have the party her daddy promised her before he left.  You tell her she won't get to have a birthday party with him again probably until he retires, and that because you just couldn't do your job well enough, her parents had to cancel it.  Tell her it was your fault.  I'll gladly take a picture of her face the moment you tell her, her eyes filling with tears, so that image, along with many others, can fill your mind when you lay down at night.
Unless, of course, you would like to collectively do the right thing, and defer your own pay checks to those that serve so that our lives can continue on as normal, as they should.  I'm pretty sure, though, that I won't be getting that email offer.
When you get my letter, I really hope an aid passes it on to you, and you actually get to read it with your own eyes.  You should.  More over, I hope you read lots and lots of angry letters from parents, military personal, and citizens who are fed up with the way Congress is operations, and just won't take it any more.
This rant is certainly not over.

We Did It!!!!!

Throughout this whole Girl Scout Cookie ordeal, we have had a goal.  One of the things we, as leaders, try to teach the girls is about goal setting, and planning to reach them.  When we sat down with our troop, the girls collectively decided that they wanted to sell 3,000 boxes.  That is a whole lotta cookies for 6 little girls.  We had them do the math, and that meant each girl needed to sell 500 boxes.  While there are lots of little prizes that the girls can earn for selling cookies, 500 boxes is the first big one.  When you hit 500, you get to go to camp.  Each of our girls wanted to do that.  They decided they could.  Honestly, I wasn't sure, but our leader said we could do it.  So, we all set our goals.

When I talked to The Big One alone about her goal, she was adamant that she wanted to hit 500.  She really, really wants to go to camp.  If we had to pay for a camp, they aren't cheap, either.  They are a few hundred dollars to start with for the cheaper camps.  So, if she wanted it, she would have to earn it.
She has worked really hard during all this.  She did walk-a-bouts with her cookie mobile wagon just about every weekend.  Sometimes more than once a weekend.  She did every booth sale we could get to.  The child has honestly worked for her goal.

Of course, her mother and father have worked pretty hard, too.  We are the ones going to the booth sales with her.  We have to take her one the walk-a-bouts.  In particular, her father has busted his rump moving cookies.  They have a new nickname for him at work in regards to selling cookies.  I don't want to post it, after all, I don't want to use that kind of language in relation to Girl Scouts, but I will say that he is being likened to a special kind of "working girl" who would sell cookies.  One variation of the two words in his nick name might both also have a double "o" vowel if you need yet another hint.  The point is not how crass the people he work with are though, in fact, they are realy to thank for supporting her.  So, if they want to call him some endearing term like that, I'll let them.

We had decided that we wouldn't focus on the prize throughout selling, but keeping her focused on her job, by not telling her how many cookies she had sold until the end.  We told her to work as hard as she could no matter what her progress.  We would tell her after everything was all said and done.
I was so nervous about trying to meet her goal, and I didn't want that for her.  The last weekend before booth sales, her leader and I decided to take a huge risk.  As I was counting up the sales we had left, and the number of boxes we had  to take to each one, I realized that the troop didn't have enough cookies for both of them to make it their goal.  So, I went and picked up 14 cases as the very last moment.
Half way through that weekend, I realized that she made her goal.  I started crying.  I do that a lot, I know, but I was so happy for her, and so proud of all the hard work.  I told My husband and thanked him for working so hard, too.  Together, we all did it.
I still wasn't going to tell her until the money was in, and the camp was selected, though.
Finally, yesterday I finished everything up.  Got my paperwork in, and money all done.  I submitted my report on what the girls earned, and selected their camp dates.  So, this morning, I showed her what she ended up at on the computer.  She read the screen, said the number out loud, and then started screaming, jumping in place, and then turning in circles all at once.  She was also chanting about going to camp.  It was awesome.  She and her friend who also sold enough to earn camp will be going together.  They may not get to be together in the same tent or cabin, but at least they will each have a friend at camp.
I'm thrilled.  She is thrilled.  I'm so excited that she earned her very first sleep away camp.  I know that this is something she will remember for the rest of her life.  I hope she loves camp, and cherishes the experience always.

Thank you to everyone out there who supported her, and really to anyone who bought cookies from any Girl Scout.  You have helped to make the day of not only The Big One, but many other happy kids out there.  The money you spent will go on to great thing, not just for camps, but community service projects that will hopefully make a difference in your own community.  You are all fantastic!

One Decade Down

Today is my 10th wedding anniversary.

It is a pretty big deal. I have spent about a third of my life with the same person, sharing everything. We have had hard time and easy times, good times and bad times. We are here, though, through it all, together, to mark the big 10 year anniversary.

This also makes a different sort of anniversary for me. Today marks ten years that I have served my country in my own way, as a military spouse. This is just as big of a deal as hitting the decade of marriage. Ten years ago, when I said "I do", I also said "I will". I said that I will be there, when he is gone. I will take care of our home, and everything in it, when he suddenly leaves. I will go through our pregnancy alone, him leaving after we found out, and if I had to, I would even deliver alone, though thankfully we avoided that one. I will be a single parent when I have to, and learn to deal with that, even if I don't like it. I will try to comfort my children and make them feel ok, even though I know how much it hurts to be left behind when they leave. I will take care of the home front, because that is my job. I will be here, sending you positive vibes every day of my life, willing you to come home to use, safely. I will stand behind you, love, and support you, even when I don't like what comes my way, where it takes us, and what you have to do for your career, because I am a military wife.

That "I will" stands just as firm today as it did 10 years ago. Still today, and everyday, I, and every military spouse and family, give above and beyond the call of duty to do their part. We know, this is who we are, and what we do. We serve in our own way, each and every day.

I am proud today. I am happy to have survived the last decade together, and look forward to the next, no matter what it brings.

In Honor Of Chelsea

Today, many people have descended on a park in San Diego. They are there to finish a run that Chelsea will never got to complete. Chelsea King was a beautiful young woman who went out for a run one morning, and never came back home. Instead, she fell prey to a child predator that shouldn't have been out of jail.

So, today, the masses go to not only pay respect to Chelsea, and finish what she started, but to take a stand for her, and every child in our nation. A beautiful life was taken from us because the system failed her. No one can really say how many lives have been taken because the system fails to truly protect those who can not protect themselves, our children.

This is unacceptable. We as a society must take up the cause of keeping our children safe, and realize that if we don't take this stand, no one else is going to do it for us. We must be vigilant. We must be adamant. We can change the laws, and though it can never bring back the beauty of the those that were lost, we can honor them, by making sure it doesn't happen again.

Consider this issue, and when legislation comes that will give our children more protection, take a stand. Call your elected officials and let them know that you want change, you want to see laws passed that will keep our children safer. Be a part of the effort in any and every way you can.

So, today, while I can not be with those wonderful people running where Chelsea ran, I will instead go to the park here. The Girls and I will have a picnic lunch, and play, and then we are going to walk, and we are going to do it all in honor of Chelsea.

Christmas on the Other Side

As long as your particular religious view, or your parents views, allow it, we all grow up knowing Christmas. You know all about trying to sleep, when you really can't because you know Santa is coming. You know all about waking up before the sun comes up to try and force your parents to let you see if Santa has come.
If your anything like my brother and I, you know all about trying to sneak down stairs, after being told no and go back to bed, to see Santa anyway. You know which boards in the floor are creaky, and which step to avoid. You even know that the cushion from the small couch upstairs make a great silencer for sliding down the stairs unheard. You know the joy of that first peak of the tree on Christmas morning. You know how it feels to open your gifts.

You know all that and more, but, I honestly believe it isn't until you become a parent that you really know Christmas.

Christmas as a parent is totally different world.

Now, instead of trying to get downstairs unheard, I am trying to keep my girls upstairs in bed. I am trying to keep the magic alive and real for them.

Christmas is time of wonder and being a parent, you get to not only experience it through them, but help create the magic for them. I think that is an unbelievably cool thing to be a part of. Experiencing the magic is great, but making the making for other people is even greater. You get to be the reason for the twinkle in their eyes, the smiles you see on their faces, and their belief in the magic of the season. I honestly can't think of anything cooler right now.

It doesn't have to be through big, expensive things, either.

This year, I took the girls caroling with The Big One's Girl Scout troop. We looked at Christmas lights, and sang to people around us. The lights were awesome, and I mean that that in the truest sense of the word. The girls were all amazed by what they saw, and they were thrilled to be able to make people smile. We all walked away with a little more Christmas magic in our hearts, and it only took a little time, and a little gas.


We made magical reindeer food to put out for Santa's reindeer on Christmas Eve. A little oatmeal, some white, red, and green sugar all mixed with a drop of love make the best reindeer food ever. All of it was left over from last year, or out of the pantry. Again, just a little time, a little imagination, and the girls were part of something that I hope they will remember forever, and carry forward into their own families.



They left letters and pictures for Santa, who left them a letter back. The letter goes into the family scrap book so that they can keep it forever and treasure it always.



I really can't explain the feeling of making Christmas wondrous for a child, if you haven't been there, but I can tell you that it makes your heart warm. It feels like love a million times over. At least, that is the way it feels to me, and I hope for everyone else.

Peace and Love to you and yours this holiday season.

Buy Me Some Peanuts and Crackerjacks...

I don't know about you, but we had quite a night around here last night. Both girls were screaming, yelling, and generally being insanely loud, and it was totally fine. We took them to a baseball game, and I have to tell you, it was a ton of fun. We got tickets to see the San Diego Padres play the Saint Louis Cardinals. My husband used to be a huge fan of the Card, back in the Mark McGuire days, and I thought he might like the game. So, when I found a way to get us tickets for free, I signed us right up. The housing community that we live in sponsors great events for all the military families that live here. This was one of their fabulous events. We got free tickets to the game, and each person for a $5 food voucher to use. That was all totally cool to me!

We weren't really sure where we were supposed to go or park when we got down town. We muddled through and found a nice little lot on 8th Street. Then, we realized that the lot we had to find to get our tickets was on 13th. It was just a 5 block walk with 2 girls that didn't want to hold our hands, but did want to stop and look at everything in a crowded downtown area. No big. (Insert eye roll here).

We were told to go to the tail gating lot, which no one downtown seems to know exists. However, if you say the corner of Imperial and 13th, they get you and can send you in the right direction. We finally found this mysterious lot and the big red tent where our tickets were waiting. We hoofed it as fast as we could to the tent. There were lots of other families coming, and only the first 200 people got the food vouchers. I'm cheap. I told The Husband to leave us behind and run ahead of the others. He said he would stay with us and it would be ok. It was ok. They still had vouchers when we all got to the tent together. We go our tickets and baseball cards for the girls, and headed in.
Let's Go Padres!

Our seats were about 4 rows above the nose bleed section, but honestly, we didn't care. The girls just got a big kick out of everything. They love the Friar, and wanted him to be on the field more than the players. I tried explaining the game to Lilly, and she got it. Somewhat. She was cheering for both teams, but..ehhh..we didn't care. As long as they were having fun.
The food vouchers were awesome. They have this great 5 for $5 deal now that rocks. You got a hot dog, peanuts, drink, cookie, and something else that I can't remember all for $5. It was tailor made for my kids. So, we got them both that, and they went to town.
We let them eat, yell ,and be wild until they started to wind down. Shortly after the start of the bottom of the 7th inning, we took off. We had all had enough for the night, and even though we were leaving early, I think we were full up on fun. It was really a great time, and a great experience.

I am thankful to those who donated tickets, and let us have such a cool family experience, and create more beautiful family memories.

That's My Blonde Girl

If I haven't ever told you all this, my oldest child is a blond. She is very blond at that. Not only is her hair color as said, but sometimes, and this isn't as mean as it is going to sound, her level of awareness is pretty blond also.

Now, I have to tell you that she is not a dumb blond. Not at all. In fact, she really makes me think of my little sister, whom I love dearly and will not be mean to, as promised, in this blog, so that she won't cry while reading it. Shew. Disclaimer over.

They are a lot alike. Both of them are quite intelligent. My sister has a degree in sociology from a pretty snazzy university. She holds down at least 2 jobs all the time. She does very well at them. She can hold her own in a political conversation, if she chooses to, which I think is fantastic. That being said, don't ever, ever ask her for directions. Not even to her own home. Now, I could go from here, and tell you some fantastically wonderful stories that would make you giggle, but, as promised above, I agreed not to make her cry. The thing is, even though she is intelligent, my sis lacks common sense in some areas, and there are certain areas where she simply doesn't have a high level of awareness. Her mind just works differently. It isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it is a very special character trait that makes her who she is. I think that is the reason she is such a creative person, and she is.

The same goes for my daughter. She is very intelligent. I am often surprised by how intelligent she is. She is also incredibly imaginative and creative, just like I remember my little sister being when she was this age. Much like my little sister, though, I fear for my daughter sometimes. That lack of common sense and awareness can lead them to some situations I wish they could have avoided.

Today, for example, the big one walked into a pole. No really. Just like you see in the movies or on TV, she walked right into a pole. The pole didn't jump out in front of her, and it has been there long before she started to school there. It seems that on the way to snack time, which is held where they eat lunch outside, she began chatting with a friend, and when she turned to talk to her friend, she lost complete awareness of her surroundings and walked smack into a metal pole. It hurt. She has a knot and will have a pretty ugly bruise. They took her to the nurse's office and put ice on it. Then, they called me. I went to school and checked it out. I decided she was fine. While I did tell her the she was not allowed to rough play the rest of the day, the teacher had her sit in the sand box during recess, I thought she was fine to go back to class. Bless her heart, though, I doubt this will be the last run in of its kind. This is the reason that I keep my cell phone on me at all times when she is in school. You just don't know.

I could see my sister doing something very similar. In fact, just the other day, she managed to rear end a car at a red light, after they had both stopped. Similar concept. Neither the pole nor the other car had moved. They were both there before either of my loved ones got there. It just happens that way for the two of them.

I suppose, though, my sister actually gives me hope for my daughter. She turned out pretty well. She manages to get through most days mishap free. There are the occasional calls to her husband because she ran out of gas, or lost her keys, again, but all in all, it seems to be fine. That is part of the reason I love her husband so much. He is there to help balance out that character trait. I can only hope that when my child grows up, and isn't with mom and dad anymore, she finds someone similar, who will balance her out, and come to her rescue as needed when she locks herself out of the car for the 5th time that month, or what have you. Heaven knows every one needs someone to add a little more balance to their lives. These two just need it in a more certain area and they are both all the more endeared to those around them for it.

P.S. I will come and bring you gas, or pick you up when you loose your keys anytime, at any hour, both of you. Love you.

Ever have a touched by an angel moment?

You know those moment where something happens, and by some struck of luck, or whatever, you are spared some terrible woe in the nick of time?

Something like this:

Thanksgiving evening, I was helping to male supper at my brother's house. I was going to make potato casserole. I ask him to get me a large baking dish out before I started. He gets out one of his,probably my moms really, Pyrex dishes, and sits it on the stove since we are out of counter space. No one else is in the kitchen but me, nor have they been for a while.

I start working on the casserole. I get to the point that I need pepper. I look on the counters and in the cabinets, and can't find it. I just turned around to yell into the family room for him to tell me where the pepper is. Just as I turn around, BOOM! The Pyrex dish explodes into my back. I don't mean it cracked or broke into pieces, I mean it exploded into a million tiny shards and was completely unrecognizable. It was everywhere. We had to move the stove, and throw tons of things away.

This isn't my video, but it does look like my brother's kitchen after the explosion and will give you an idea of how scary it was.



I felt a ton of it hit me in the back. Thankfully, I was wearing 2 shirts and jeans. It only hit my back and some of the backs of my legs. I was so incredibly lucky. Had I not turned at just the right moment, it would have shattered in my face.

We later realized that my little sister, who hadn't been cooking for at least 20 minutes, had left the stove eye on, and neither of us saw it. We were all petty lucky not one of the kids was burned, either.

I have had a few of those moments in my life, where I know that someone was looking out for me. It makes me think that there really is a purpose for my life, and I need to be here for something special.

Those moments are gifts in so many ways. They make you appreciate your life, family, and the fact that you are who you are with a chance to be in this world and hopefully do some good.

So, to whomever is watching over me, Thank you. I appreciate you being there when the dish broke, I took the wrong subway train, I flipped the car, and every other moment I am not mentioning here. I promise to do my best to find and fullfill what ever it is that I still need to do here. I hope you are always there looking after me, and my family too. Thank you again.