Gracious...

The other night, I went to check on my children as I always do before retiring for the night. Aren't I a fabulous mother? I expect the Mother of the Year team to show up on my doorstep at any moment. At which point I'll have to try and explain the ginormous scratch marring H2's left eye, and frankly, I have no idea how it happened. All I know is, H1 was watching television, I was partaking in a much needed bubble bath, and H2 was safely gated in his room by himself. There was no crying (I would have heard it, I promise), so either it didn't hurt much or it completely knocked him unconscious, and he recovered by the time I was done communing with Calgon. And OK, so perhaps the Mother of the Year team isn't on the way, after all. As usual, I've digressed.

Now back to our story. So, I was checking on the little beasts, and as I entered H2's room, I could hear him breathing, but I couldn't find him anywhere. He wasn't on the bed, as is usual at least 50% of the time. He wasn't on the floor by the bed. He wasn't on the floor anywhere that I could see. I started to freak out a little. But I could hear him, so I wasn't dialing 911 just yet. And then I looked in the closet...


And there the little bugger was, fast asleep in his makeshift toy box.


Now how cute is that? It didn't look very comfortable, so after I laughed a lot and took pictures and called Daddy up to join in the fun, I did move him back to his bed. I'm compassionate, see?

This one is just because they are so cute. L says he has a fat chin, but it's just because he is in a funny position. I promise. Look at that saucy face on H1. Never a dull moment around here.

Merry Christmas From Slushville!

Since you can't all be on my actual Christmas Card List (yes, in all caps), here is a little taste of what you are missing. I know, I know. You're jealous at the 80 familial units who have made it the actual List, and I'm sorry. I really am! But I just can't do more. Maybe you could get on a waiting list if you are really bummed. It's a possibility. And just so you know, if I had it to do over again, I would have the boys sitting down for this picture. That way, H2 wouldn't look like a midget (little person?) next to his lanky brother, and perhaps H1's wrists and forearms wouldn't be so glaringly uncontained by his sleeves. On his 5T shirt! Note to self: quit feeding H1. He's getting much too big and I like him little.

Dear Friends and Family,

H1 and H2 here (mainly H1). We’re accomplished typists, and we think Mommy and Daddy are taking too long to get these Christmas cards out, so we thought we’d lend a hand.

2008 has been a pretty good year for us! H2 got his molars in and can now eat food that isn’t mush. He’s pretty excited about that. So excited, in fact, that if we don’t keep an eye on him, he climbs up on the kitchen table and helps himself to Mommy’s fruits and vegetables. That makes her really mad. H2’s also learning how to talk pretty well, and his favorite thing to say is “Cheese!”

I (H1) am almost 5 now and I figure I know just about everything there is to know. I’ve been learning about gravity this week, and we found a good book at the library that I’ve read about 100 times. I have my own library card now. It’s a big hit with the ladies. I’m hoping I’ve been good enough for Santa to bring me some Lincoln Logs this year, but Daddy says I might be getting a rock. I would just like to remind Santa, in case he is on my family’s card list, that it wasn’t me who broke that TV a couple of weeks ago. No sir, that was definitely and for sure, one hundred percent H2. So if Santa’s packing rocks for anyone, well, I think we all know who’s getting one.

Well, that’s about all. Merry Christmas to you all and a happy New Year!

Love in Christ,
The Residents of Slushville

God's Little Warrior

Hatchling has been having some trouble at the gym of late. Or rather, he has been getting in trouble. We've been practicing at home how to handle situations, such as being pushed, having toys taken away, or even being called "Bad Hatchling" by a bunch of kids. We're so proud. And while he knows what to do in these situations, he continues to forget to stop and think before reacting (read: knocking the crap out of the offending child).

This morning we were talking about the different kinds of things that might happen while we were driving to the gym. I reminded Hatchling that something someone does or says is not a reason to hit them, shove them, or do anything else that will land you in time out. In response, Hatchling told me the whole story that I've been hearing little pieces of for the last week or so.

"But Mommy! Some boy told me that God isn't real. He doesn't believe in Him! And I told him he better, or he can't go to Heaven. And he told me that I was stupid, and I'm going to die and just stay dead. And I told him maybe he would die and stay dead, but I'm going to Heaven to see my family, and to live with God and Jesus. And he said nuh-uh, so I pushed him. And then he pushed me. And then I knocked him down, and I had to go to time out. But why would he not believe (be-weave) in God? That just doesn't make sense."

And while pushing someone down isn't the best way to go about evangelizing, I'm proud of my boy for standing up for what he believes in. And I'm so sad for the little boy who doesn't believe in God. What a dark, dark world this would be without the knowledge of the one true Light.

Oh, and in case you are wondering, Hatchling spent a little time in time out today because he couldn't sweet talk some kid out of a toy he wanted to play with. We definitely have some room for improvement.

True Confession Thursdays...

Every time I see George Foreman's face on something, I spend a few minutes wondering how they made him look so good. I mean, he was looking pretty bad back when he lit the torch at the Olympics. And then I remember- different boxer. OK, and actually I'm not even sure they are both boxers. And I think we should change the name to pugilists. I like it better.

Hmmm... Hatchling just informed me that he'd be willing to forgo underpants so I don't have to do so much laundry. Interesting.

Send Help

Apparently, turning two really flipped a switch in my good child. Oh, I know, both of my children are basically good. But one is, well, quite a handful. Don't worry, I wouldn't change him for all the boring good kids in the world. But it was nice to have an easy one. H2 has always been that easy one. Until now, when all bets are off. For example:

This was the sight that greeted me after I got up from my Sunday afternoon nap. We're used to H2 making a lot of noise, so it really didn't phase us when we heard lots of banging and slamming. Kind of like last night, about 3, when he opened his door, turned his light on, and started yelling, "Helloooooo!! Dadadada!!!" The little bugger never, ever says mama. Why is that? Where's the love H2?

Here's a closer look. This is the changing table, minus the topper. The drawer was opened so all the socks could be spread about, which is one of H2's favorite pastimes. You'll notice the big basket? There are usually two of those full of diapers, which are also spread out all over the room each time I leave him unsupervised. They're blessedly empty right now, but in about a day I'm going to have to break down and open the big box I got at Sam's the other night. I'm so looking forward to picking those up again and again and again and again... I would just leave them on the floor, but our house is on the market so I have to clean his room every time I go get him. And every morning and after every nap, his room looks pretty much like this. Minus the spilled furniture.


H2 was clearly exhausted by the havoc he had wreaked. I find pulling over furniture and spreading socks around (notice the new pair by his little head?) really tires me out too. Oh, and the drumming. Now what could I have possibly been thinking when I purchased him a drum last Christmas? Not that I'm opposed to drumming in general, it's just when it's happening at 6 in the morning, like it did today, that I have issues with it.

Too bad I didn't take a picture of his dresser while I was up there. He has actually managed to remove and dismantle the second one from the bottom. For days, every time I would go into his room he would pick up a screw and hand to me and say "no, no" while shaking his head sorrowfully. I had no idea where they were coming form, till one morning I found the drawer removed from the dresser with the little rolly/slider things off. I have no idea how he managed that. He was actually sitting in the drawer when I caught him, and I can only assume he was acting out the three men in the tub, as Curious George and Bear were also present in the drawer. I'm not sure which one was the candlestick maker.

In Which I've Gone All Kinds of Crazy

Do you guys remember back before I went to Hawaii, when I said I might have to give up Coke for a year if I didn't lose a lot of weight before Christmas? I bet you thought I forgot about that, eh? But no! I did not. And my rear is still much, much larger than I would like it to be. OK, actually it's my belly- I think I would have to weigh 84 tons before my flat little rear gained any weight. It's a sad, sad story. But I digress...

While thinking about how fat I am, I of course had to consider how I wanted to lose some weight. Work out? Of course. Count calories, WW points, carbs, fats, widgets and thingamabobs? No thanks...I have time, but not particularly inclination. Gasp.

At the same time, I've been reading a zany little book called Nourishing Traditions. And I warn you, don't pick this up unless you really want to despise your french fries, soda and milk. Yes! Milk. The premise of this little gem is that until approximately 60 years or so ago, there weren't many degenerative diseases, people weren't fat, and the world was a happy and good place. I may have made up that last point, but it's my blog, so get over it. Anyway, this dentist (Weston A. Price) did a bunch of studies looking at people groups all over the world and what made them healthy- and they all ate butter, lard, raw milk and grains. But our American diet of unsaturated oils and margarine, pasteurized milk and cheese, and refined carbs was making us more unhealthy, rather than making us more healthy like people thought it should. So, you guessed it, the book is full of ways and recipes to return to a more healthy, wholesome diet. Are you still with me?

I've actually been working on our diet for years now. I switched us over to whole grains, organic butter and eggs, and lots of fruits and veggies, organic if I can find and/or afford them. And have you noticed that organic berries stay good and firm for days, while commercial berries are smooshy and half gross the day you get them? Why is that? Also, have you noticed how hard it is to crack an organic egg, while regular eggs often break in the carton? I find this interesting. By the way, I'm sorry I'm so rambly these days. If it makes you feel any better, this is what it is like inside my head all of the time. I can't imagine why that would make you feel better. So, I've been working on our diet, and now I'm taking it to the next step. Some would call it the "off the deep end" step, which is what L told me the other day when I asked him if I could keep a milk cow if we moved to the country. Then I remembered that I'm scared of cows, and L was off the hook. It all stems back to the time my grandpa let me ride with him into town to deliver a cow named Hamburger to a special place. Hamburger got wind of what was about to go down and jumped out of the back of the truck, and the whole town was involved in the containment and catching of said cow. It was a small town, and this may have been the decade's highlight. I was scared and emotionally scarred and full of cow issues. So, not much different from today.

I already make all of our bread. In fact, I have some hamburger and hot dog buns rising right now. Mmmm.... I'm going to the hippy store for organic hot dogs later this week. I love me some organic hot dogs. Now I'm also trying to soak our grains before using them (and thinking about starting to grind my own once I work my way through the 50 lb bag of flour in my pantry), making my own stocks (wow, was I ever surprised that you could make your own stock and get a free chicken out of the deal! I had no idea chicken stock had such a mark-up on it!) and other zany things like that. I currently have some yogurt tied up in a towel in the fridge so I can collect the whey from it, and supposedly the yogurt will magically turn into cream cheese. Who knew? And tomorrow, I'm going to pickle some garlic, because apparently lacto-fermented vegetables are important, but most of them looked kind of gross so I'm starting with garlic, which is always good in my book. I've been making our own salad dressings too, which are cheap and healthy and super duper easy to make (though I will warn you, they are no Hidden Valley Ranch. But they are pretty good!). I even have a guy's number where I can buy some raw milk, and I just might do it if it isn't too cost prohibitive.

Lately, my diet has looked something like this: Steel cut oats with ground flax seed, some fruit, and honey on it for breakfast. I can't believe how much of this Hatchling can eat. The boy's a maniac. H2 just has some of mine while he runs around screaming "Choo! Choo!" It's his new thing. Then we have black bean burritos (from my own soaked and simmered beans) for lunch, and a healthy dinner usually consisting of a salad, some vegetable, and a then something else. Last night we had baked halibut and roasted asparagus. Tonight we are having the last of the hamburgers I froze over the summer.

As for Coke, well, I've almost completely weaned myself off of carbonated beverages. I've been having a cup of tea in the morning when I get up, and some days that is all I have that isn't water. Don't get me wrong- when it's Friday Date Night at Sam's, I will absolutely be getting my two cups of Mr. Pibb, and boy will I be relishing it. But at home, I've got nadda. I've decided to focus on healthy choices, rather than being 130 pounds by Christmas (you know, except for the whole Mr. Pibb thing...). And I'm feeling pretty good about it. Except only my fat jeans fit right now, but life is never perfect, right?

In addition, I started a new weight lifting program at the gym today and my legs are already so sore that I want to cry every time I have to stand or sit. That's never a good sign. But I'm sure I'll be strong and buff in no time. Or something like that...