This I Believe: 3

Similar to the NPR broadcasts only in title...

In this, a third in a series of posts, I am going to write about something that I believe to be true. It may be my mother told me that it was true; it may be that I read it on the Internet; it may be something that I saw with my own eyes, but somehow, somewhere, I've picked it up along the way. Dispute or support the reality, likelihood, or feasibility of it in your comments.

And No Fair researching the matter before you come to the table. That just wouldn't be as much fun.
I'm a librarian. I can find information on anything and twice, but I'd like to hear about your gut instinct.




This I believe:

I believe that you should leave the heels of the store-bought bread loaf in the package of bread until The Very End. It's sort of upsetting to me if it doesn't happen this way. For example, last night, F opened a new package of bread. He was eating the heel. How unsettling. I'm still upset.

Miss M's official portrait

Now she can crawl.

And I've told her she'll have to start picking up her room better now that she's mobile.

I'm serious.

Frustrated

I drug the kids to all the thrift stores this morning, seeking pieces for my Corelle/Pyrex Compatibles collection. The third (and last) store I went to had little tiny aisles. As I was maneuvering the giant Cadillac stroller past the clothes to the bric-a-brac, I got caught on an end display. I was working to get free, and trying not to get irritated when I heard a gleeful exclamation. I looked up, and saw an Indian man, in a blue checked shirt, with a pocket protector (I'm not making that up). He was smiling down upon an entire set of Spring Blossom Green mixing bowls. They were gorgeous and shiny and looked to be in perfect condition. I was aghast, and I said to him, "Do you collect those?", and he said "Yes. I'm sorry." and walked away, still grinning.

I will not forget your face, good sir, and if I see you at any thrift stores, I shall ditch my children, let them fend for themselves, and I will sprint past you to get to the good pyrex before you.

My favorite video

I find the beginning of this video to be hilarious. I laugh each time I watch it. I like these freaks. And one day, when they are dating, or trying to act too cool, I will show this to their friends.

Post Birthday Post

My random thoughts, In list form, for easy reading:

Two years ago today-ish,

• I would have been back at the new job for about a week.
• We would have been at the old house with no plans to sell.
• Miss M would have been in the plans but not any sort of actual reality yet at all.
• I would have just figured out that Taran should go to sleep with us in our bed.
• Our bed would still have been canted in the corner, but soon I would give the 4 poster to J and order us the new black set.
• J's room would still have been the library.
• T would have just started at the horrible daycare where they accosted me as I fed him.
• I would still have been drinking caffeinated coffee.
• F also would have still been drinking caffeinated coffee.
• I would not have been working out at all, because I knew we would be trying for the "new baby" and getting back into shape prior to that would not have been worth it.
• T wouldn't even be cool yet. No talking, no rolling over, nothing yet. He would have still been squishy.
• The frightening red vinyl chair (soon to be glorious chair) would still have been unnoticed by me and hidden under boxes in the old garage.
• Tigger and KoKo were still alive and living with us.
• We wouldn't have started creating the basement pantry yet.
• F's students would still be coming in the side door.
• We would have just started planning the giant kitchen project.
  

Shame on CNN

There are so many things wrong with this article.

Water

It stormed last night. It was just beautiful outside this morning, although I feel sorry for the folks who had wet basements. This tiny creek down our road was quite a bit fuller than usual this morning. Our bridge was also washed out, but we have another way to get to work, so we're not horrified. We're enjoying the tiny stream because it can't help the damage it did. It didn't know any better. And it's pretty.

The Beginning of the End

Yesterday I sold a rather large baby item; the infant papasan seat that Momo got for us, when I discovered that I would need another place to set Big T, when he was a tiny, squishy, soft infant and I was nervous about what should be done with him when we weren't holding him.

He had sat in the infant seat, and listened to the music while it vibrated his teeny little body. Then, when he was too big for it, which came very quickly, I dutifully cleaned it (okay, I didn't really clean it), but I did dutifully and carefully pack it away, knowing that very soon we would have someone else using it. Someone else of ours would be listening to the music, staring up at the little round mirror, while the seat vibrated beneath them.

I did this with all of T's items, large and small, as he stopped needing them. He did eventually stop needing all of them, even the beautiful swing that was a gift from one of F's students. The swing was an integral part of our lives for his first year, and one day I had to wrest the swing away from F as he tried to put T's too big body in the little supportive and soothing cocoon. It was time to let it go. T was too big.

I packed up T's blue and white striped jammies with the hideous bunnies on them, the onesies that Grampa got him, all of the clothes and baby goodies that Grandma brought for us from Minnesota, the bottles, the pump, the other vibrating seat, the mobiles. This packing and storing was not a problem for me. I love to save things.

I have my Mom's woodland corelle. I have all of the letters my sister ever wrote to me. I have every single email my Dad sent to us from law school. I've saved all of my first communion cards, my speech critiques from high school, the "good luck" package that John Davis made for us when we went to state (minus the kool-aid drinks, of course). I have a guest book from the funeral of a man I never met who is my father-in-law. I save everything I can.

Now Big M is growing out of the things she uses. The swing, an integral part of her life too, I gave away to a family at our daycare. I felt good about this. I heard the woman mention how her "dream swing" would be the baby papasan swing, but that she hadn't gotten it as a shower gift. That was the swing we had! It was like it was "meant" to go on to the next person. I gave this to her with an open heart.

Big M is growing out of many things now. I looked over in our den and saw her infant papasan seat, and her other bouncy seat, and realized that she hadn't really used them in weeks. Well, once a baby stops using an item like that, it's not like they are going to return to it later when they aren't tired of it anymore. She wasn't tired of them, she'd outgrown them. Slowly but surely now, I have to go around the house, and decide what will happen to these outgrown objects. I can't help but want to save them all. The "save for posterity" pile is so much larger though, than the, "okay to get rid of" pile. I have to let some go. It's time.

The infant seat papasan seat, I suspected, would sell quickly. I was right. Not a day after I had put it up for sale, I had a buyer. I hated her at first. I hated having to respond to her email and say that, yes, I would meet her in a parking lot and exchange one of our baby things for her money. But I can't keep everything, even though I'd like to, so I met her.

She was adorable cute, and puffily pregnant. Even as I was bittersweetly sad to be handing over our seat, because we won't need it anymore, I was also thrilled and gladdened to see her smile and to hear her say, "Oh, it's so very sweet!" I shook my head to agree with her, it is indeed, so very sweet.

Gratuitous photo of Miss M.

And she crawls now.

Big T's Playhouse

Big T got this plastic monstrosity for his birthday. I never wanted a plastic monstrosity in my yard. Never.
And now I have one.
I actually helped select it from the giant toy store, and arranged to have it brought to my home. I did this, because I'm fond of the child and he was tired of weeding and watering the plants. I think he figured out that weeding and watering was not a game.
He really likes the playhouse, and therefore, so do I. It has four sides, each with a different play theme; gas station, schoolhouse, market, and sports center. Here we are playing with it the first time after it was assembled (Thanks Frank!).

Much of T's time that evening was spent trying to bite on this tiny jar of faux mustard that is intended to be used with the "market" side of the thing. Hopefully he'll grow out of this.

In addition to playing with the faux mustard, he also really enjoyed opening the pass through market window. But when one would try to pass him the faux mustard through the market window (as the manufacturer intended...), he would shake his head violently, and nasally shout, "No, no!"

Here is a photo of our trip back to our actual (and minimally plastic) house. Not a happy boy. However, one must be taught that you can't stay outside and bite on faux mustard all night long.

It's a hard lesson to learn.

The Bee's Knees Or "Not for the Faint of Heart"

Click on a photo to view a larger image (if you dare...)

J's doing well so far.

The Battle of Phillip James III (by J)

Once upon a time there was a coward in a village called Barracuda. The cowards name was Phillip, and he became a knight. After 5 years of training he was a prrrrrro. Then he went out to slay a dragon. The dragon was green, hairy and big with delocate wings and had eyeballs the size of a helmet! The knight eventually slayed the beast and was named Sir Phillip James III.
The End.

Big T

These are some of T's 2-year photos. We had his picture taken in Dad's favorite shirt. The "Harry Potter" shirt, as F and J call it. It's cool to have an HP shirt, ya know.

M

Give 'em Heck J!

Big surgery today. As of 8:41 this morning, he's "not worried" but also "not excited".

That is all.