A Blissfully Boring Plane Ride

Yesterday, the kids took their first airplane ride. We flew to the San Juan Islands to visit my aunt & uncle on a five passenger plane from our local airport. An 8 minute drive to the airport and a fly time of 25 minutes sure beats the hours spent driving and ferry waiting that is typical of travel to the Islands. We left at 9:00 a.m. and were home by 4:00 p.m., with none of the usual weariness after a day of schlepping it by car and ferry.

We were lucky there was no turbulence, and we slipped in right before a serious wind storm...otherwise, this might have been a much more interesting post. Of course, I was nervous taking our babies in such a small plane...but I kept telling myself that planes are safer than cars. When the pilot pointed out the door handle poking into my side and told me to keep my daughter away from it, all I could see was that door opening and....well, I just held on tight to my little girl. Happily it was an uneventful, pleasant flight and the bird's eye view of your hometown gives you such a different perspective. I had no idea just how many rusted out car collections exist in this county!

And it's New Year's Eve! Exciting parties, thoughtful resolutions? Stay tuned.

The kids had a great time being carted around by their 12 year old cousins (also twins) all day.

"Wave Bye Bye"

The last time my sister (right) & I lived together.

My sister moved out on Saturday. She drove away at 1:00 p.m., leaving my husband and I standing in the driveway holding our children and waving goodbye. My head was turned helping my daughter say "bye bye", so my sister couldn't see my tears. She left for Eastern Washington where the excitement of school and a new life awaits her.

She had stayed with us since September, helping us with childcare in exchange for room and board. I know she was ready to move to her own place and we were ready to have the house again to ourselves, but I was surprised by how sad I felt when moving day arrived. No more warnings of the baby hazards that lurk in our house, no more of the constant "thank you's" for dinner, for coffee, (for everything it seemed!), no more sharing TiVO space with her TV shows, and no more of the easy and sometimes profound conversations that arise in day to day life...the kind you don't get when someone is just visiting. No more of anybody saying "T, I want you to know that your blog is very important to me." I had to laugh when she said that, I had only asked if she had read it!

Best of luck to you E on your new adventure, and you are hereby relieved of your sisterly blog-reading duties!

Crow Never Tasted So Good

Sometimes, things are different than you expect. Sometimes, a moment sneaks up on you that takes you by surprise. You can't plan it; it just happens and you savor it. My mother and I shared that last night. There was no discussion of my lack of makeup, no encroaching of boundaries; only a solidly green Christmas tree that desperately needed trimming and a mother and daughter sorting through memories disguised as ornaments. We oohed and aahed over the fancy ones and lovingly admired those crafted by my late Grandmother (my mom's mom). Meanwhile, my husband and father watched a reality show involving hot babes and mama's boys. It was all so normal and delightful.

Snowed in with the Parents

Now we're really snowed in. Pacific Northwesterners from Oregon to Washington are stuck in airports, train stations, bus depots and ditches. Best laid plans are biting the dust.

My BFF was supposed to fly here from Vancouver B.C. before returning to Hawaii; and after waiting for hours at the airport decided to fly home. It's so unfair that it was easier for her to fly across the Pacific Ocean than catch a plane to SeaTac.

My nephew and his girlfriend spent eight hours driving in the snow (with my sister white knuckling the wheel), only to find themselves stranded twelve plus hours the next day at an Amtrak station, waiting for that repeatedly promised "next train" home. All this to spend a few hours at an early family Christmas gathering. I'm not sure we're worth it!

And...my parents are visiting. Very nice, don't get me wrong, I love to see them and have the kids get to know their grandparents. My daughter is in awe of my mother's long, red nails and sparkly diamond rings (she's never seen such a manicured hand before). But even well-meaning mothers can be, you know, mothers. Since they've been here I've discovered: I need a new bra (because I'm looking a "little saggy"), my ranch dressing is runny, and using fresh spices is a stage I'll grow out of. Maybe today I'll hear about how I "would look so much nicer with just a little more makeup". But she raved about my blog, and even though it's from my mother (I mean, mothers have to love their kid's blog...right?) it felt great. So what can I say? I gotta love her, she's my mom!

Who Didn't Want to be Bionic?

Flashback Friday
Jamie Sommers: She had it all...the career, the hair, and could serve up whoop-ass like nobody's business. They just don't make role models like her anymore.

Snowed In

It's official. We're snowed in. Seniors are scared, kids are excited, and us...well, we're just hanging out.

We stay in pajamas all day.
(Don't ask why my son is wearing pink ladybugs & my daughter is wearing blue, it's called "what fits". Besides, it's my parental responsiblity to give them future therapy topics.)

...and eat WAYYYY too much Christmas toffee.

Sorry, I'm not a food photographer, it tastes alot better than this picture looks.

This toffee is so easy to make. So easy, you can binge on it & make more so nobody knows you've eaten any & you look really disciplined. Of course I would never do anything like that.

Super Easy English Toffee

• 1 cup chopped pecans or almonds
  
• 1/2 c. butter
  
• 3/4 brown sugar, firmly packed


• 1/2 c. chocolate chips
  
• grease a 9 x 9 pan, a pie pan works great
  line the bottom with the chopped nuts
  melt butter in saucepan over med. heat
  add brown sugar
  bring to boil, lower temp. and simmer, stirring constantly for 7 minutes (don't stop stirring!)
  pour mixture over the nuts in the pan


• sprinkle with chocolate chips
  cover with a plate for 1 minute (this will melt the chocolate)
  spread chocolate
  quickly cut into squares (very important, otherwise you'll have one giant piece of toffee)
  
  If you are feeling extra Martha Stewart-ish, you can always sprinkle the top with crushed almonds.
  

Refrigerate and keep them there.

Enjoy!

Scrapbooks. They seem like a good idea at the time.

I sent my husband to the crafts store yesterday. The image of him walking into this estrogen soaked space filled with notions and charms; a place where the word "cute" is uttered dozens of times daily, made me crack up. It was probably worse for him than buying tampons!

This all started with my Christmas idea for our granddaughters: a mini photo album of their summer visit. Nothing elaborate--I've been down the scrapbook road before and I'm savvy to the expensive detours---brads, stickers, corners, charms, pockets. You get sucked in, all in the name of cute. So this time I knew better, I bought a scrapbook kit that contained everything I needed.

This would be a quick project: order the photos, glue'em on the pages, slap on some stickers and "viola!" a cute (there's that word again) souvenir album. I was congratulating myself for being so crafty about it's simplicity, that in my excitement I wrote each girl's name in glitter on her book.

Inevitably, I had more pictures than pages, and since scrapbook makers are evil, to expand your book, you must purchase additional pages from the same manfacturer. Are any of them the same? Of course not! I couldn't even return the kit albums since I'd already decorated the covers. Dammit. My dilemma: drive forty minutes for extra pages, or see what I could scrap (pun intended) together locally. Hence, my husband going to the crafts store, there was no way I could go with two 1 year olds in tow.

So at this late hour I'm hunched over our kitchen table peeling apart teeny tiny corners that I must hold at arm's length to see (when did my vision get so bad?). I stick these teeny tiny sticky squares to teeny tiny photo corners that stick to my fingers, then stick to the photo. I curse, try to carefully peel it off and tear off part of the photo with it. Now I'll have to cover that spot with another photo corner! You get the idea...

One down, one to go. But I must say, it really is cute.

Let it Snow...

A whole three inches that is....

No matter, we still got the white stuff and we're thrilled! It might even stick around awhile. They say more on Wednesday or Thursday. A fringe benefit of staying home with the kids is all the morning news "Winter Storm" drama doesn't affect me. I can kick back and drink my coffee. For a few seconds anyway, until somebody is laying on the cat, about to do a face plant on the tile, or I smell poop.

Well, maybe the city commute isn't so bad after all.

P.S. On Saturday night, we turned the lights off and peeked out the windows to watch the snow fall. As we looked out, we discovered a coyote on the front porch! He didn't see us, so we watched him trot around in the snow, sniffing here, lifting a leg there. All the while, our German Shepherd dog slept peacefully at our feet. (He would have gone bullistic if he saw it). We actually see coyotes quite a bit where we live, but never one this close to the house.

70s Moms Knew Best

Babies' Birthday Revisited

First Birthday

The night before the party, so much to be done,
a special one too, the kids turn one.
Gifts still to wrap, & the hour was late
“Geez, I still have two crowns to create!”

While Sis wrapped the gifts
I sat down to think,
“Why am I making these?
They'll be yanked off in a blink!”

The next morning was a blur,
the vacuum roared, beaters whirred.
We got the kids napped & dressed up cute,
guests began arriving with lots of loot.

The table was full of wonderful dishes,
the babies made rounds, giving everyone kisses.
Finally it was time to give them their cake.
The candles were lit, just a wish to make.

I made a wish for them, as they dug in to taste.
“May their future be bright, & please keep them safe!”
After the cake, it was time for their crowns,
which I placed on their heads & chased them around.

I wanted the perfect picture you see,
to post on my blog and, you know, for memories.
A lovely day, it was worth the wait.
The food was wonderful, the mimosas were great.

But our best gift ever was the two of you,
with your ear splitting shrieks & heart melting coos.
Here’s to celebrating one year gone by
A whirlwind of gurgles, poo, and cries.

To our little babies, so very, very loved,
we give you our best, and a thousand million hugs.

Happy Birthday, Love Mommy & Daddy

A Day Without Gays-Fight H8

I'm not usually a political activist, in fact, this is probably my first act. But I want to spread the word, even if it's only for awareness.

Tomorrow, December 10th, is 'A Day Without A Gay'. The day we can show support for our gay, lesbian & transgender friends & family.

In light of the many recent anti-gay ballots initiatives in California, Arizona Florida, and Arkansas this is a way to show tolerance and love, instead of hate.

from their web site...

"NOW, it's time to show America and the world how we love. Gay people and our allies are compassionate, sensitive, caring, mobilized, and programmed for success.'

'On December 10, you are encouraged not to call in sick to work. You are encouraged to call in "gay"--and donate your time to service!'

Please visit these sites & see how you can support the gay community, even if you can't call in "gay" to work:

http://www.daywithoutagay.org/

http://jointheimpact.wetpaint.com/page/Day+Without+a+Gay

P.S. I changed my settings on my blog, and now anyone can comment. Not just those with Google accounts.

Baby Boot Camp is Done, the Kids are Now One.

Then.

Now.

(sniff, sniff)

Happy Birthday Maui Lulu

Today is the day. Your day. The 1st day of your 44th year.

You said you're not a "pretty young thing anymore". Do you really want to be? I can't believe this is my strong, beautiful, killer chef, book lover, expert gardener, flower arranger extraordinaire, speed demon driver, cat lover, music collector, puts-Nate-Berkus-to-shame-interior decorator & legs-that-go-on-for-miles friend talking here? You've got to be kidding.

Here are a few other 44 sisters who aren't pretty young things either...

• Michelle Obama: No description needed


• Diana Krall: Incredible jazz singer & mom of twins


• Vanessa Williams: Queen of come backs, Ugly Betty boss from hell


• Mariska Hartigay: Law & Order diva who helps crime victims in real life


• Me...in a few months: Mom of twins & we'll see what happens
  

A toast to you, my friend. This is your best birthday ever. Celebrate your 44-ness and your killer abs. I'm right there with you (except on the abs part, but a girl can dream).

Aloha...

Raising Literary Connoiseurs

Must my children love the BoohBahs? Of all of the books they could choose, why is it one based on a TV show? Alright, I'm a snob, but I had higher literary hopes, even at this stage.

"Scrunch up, stretch out, BoohBah's shaking all about..."

Complaints aside, whispering this simple phrase instantly stops my son's fussing. I don't even need the book anymore, as long as I can quote it verbatim (which I do, I'm no fool), he stops crying, looks up...."Do I hear BoohBahs?" and smiles. It works nearly as well as breastfeeding, which is handy, since mine aren't used for feeding anymore.

When I was pregnant, I dreamed of the books I would read my children: the Caldecott medal winners, the Polar Express's, the Cat in the Hat's. My fantasy didn't include these bald, staring creatures dancing around like a wild public service announcement for circumcision. Look again, you'll see the male anatomical resemblance.

I know what you're thinking, "lighten up Mommy Dearest, they're babies". I know I'm going a tad overboard here, but I'm learning an important lesson in Parenting 101: they'll like what they like, in spite of what I think. So I'll buck up and change my attitude. (I must say, it's a colorful public service announcement!).

So we'll continue to grow our library of books prized for their early literacy building power, and the BoohBahs will sit quietly staring on the shelf. So smug. Damn them.

A Modest Squat

One year ago today, I rode in an ambulance (no sirens, damn) to Tacoma General Hospital, with two 8-1/2 month old babies inside me (who were fine BTW). Diagnosis: pre-eclampsia. I felt fine, but my high blood pressure and Pillsbury Dough Boy ankles were a dead giveaway for the condition, which can be very serious for the mother's health. Hence, me riding to the big city hospital in an ambulance. A ride without any exciting ER drama. The word "STAT" was never shouted, nothing beeped or flashed inside the cold & dark cabin. Nope, it was just me...unceremoniously hoisted (hard to feel dainty when you are hoisted) into the vehicle, a stone faced driver, and a Wilfred Brimley look alike who reminisced about small town ER calls. I spent the previous night in our local hospital, so was already dressed accordingly: a tidy bowl blue open backed johnny gown. As pregnant as I was, and this being a two hour trip, I had one overriding, panicky thought on my mind: How would I go to the bathroom?

"Oh, don't worry, we have a bedpan," shouted Wilfred over the road noise, gently rocking in the swaying vehicle.

As I imagined heaving my whale sized body up from the stretcher, I had a vision of how modest and squat really don't go together...at all. Walking was difficult at this stage of pregnancy, let alone balancing and aiming, and in a speeding, swaying vehicle. Ever try not spilling an open cup of coffee in the back seat? I had to keep some diginity.

"Um, I'll be fine", I said through gritted teeth.

So I held it, held it and held it, and then held it some more, and a little more after that. Pretty soon, the only one saying "STAT" was me.

I won't bore you with the day-to-day details of my ten day hospital stay. After seeing the insurance co-pays, I prefer to remember it as my $1000 per day suite, complete with room service, scratchy white towels (sanitized for my protection), and a bottomless glass of ice water. (If you can call a big gulp sized mauve plastic cup with the obligatory straw, a glass.) There was even a plastic chair in the shower, in case I grew tired of standing, which I did.

The best thing about it though was at check out, they handed me two healthy, perfect babies.

The Turkey Soup That Never Was

Yesterday was one of those days where two very clingy, cranky babies never let me: wash my hair, vacuum the carpet, catch up on the dishes or get any sort of domestic duty accomplished. I did start some turkey soup, but the key word here is start. To top it all off, a cake sat on the counter all day calling my name.

Consequently, the kids crawled around on a dog hair covered floor, while a greasy haired mom snuck bites of cake in the middle of a messy kitchen that smelled like turkey soup.

When Hubby walked in the door, he took one look at me and said , "Whoa, I'll take care of the babies tomorrow, you just sleep in." Then we ordered Thai food. Thank God for freezers.

Sorry, no photos of this day, you wouldn't want to see them!!

Does Santa Outsource?

Sweet E. with her sister, Teeny G.

Thanksgiving is over, I'm done being thankful and can get back to my harried list-making, bank account checking, & list-revising self for the holidays. As a season kick off, I'd like to share this story from my stepdaughter D. about our 8 year old granddaughter E.

E. is changing before our eyes. It freaks me out sometimes because I don't want her hormones to kick in anytime soon. It makes me appreciate the little time left where she still thinks I know what I'm talking about.

She came to me the other day and asked "Why does my bike from Santa say 'Made In China'?"

"Santa doesn't want everyone to know where he lives," I answered.

She immediately shot back with "but everyone knows Santa lives in the North Pole, that doesn't make sense Mom."

I was at a loss for words. Her brain works so fast all of a sudden!

I ended up telling her that if she didn't believe in Santa, he would stop bringing her presents.

"I believe Mom! I'll always believe!"

...to which my response was "Good, then he'll always bring you presents. "

I told her sometimes things that are magical can't be explained, that's why they are "magical". I also told her with so many kids in the world, sometimes Santa has to outsource.

She seemed satisfied with that, for now...

Happy Thanksgiving!

• the curl of my daughter's arms around my neck
• my son's 2:00 a.m. baby breath
• coffee
• hand massages from my husband
• a warm house at the end of the day
• a stepdaughter who never laughs (out loud) at what's on my ipod
• another stepdaughter who is a great mothering role model
• dogs that are excited to see me
• a toilet paper roll shredding cat
• another cat that patiently tolerates our kids "love"
• a granddaughter who tells jokes
• another grandaughter who shrieks if you pick her up
• buttered popcorn with brewer's yeast
• Six Feet Under on DVD (goes w/ the popcorn)
• two extra hours of sleep courtesy of 'Daddy time'
• family that can drive you crazy, but you'd be lost without them
• a husband who gets grumpy on the outside, but has a heart of gold
• local friends, far away friends and computer friends
  
  ...a few things I'm grateful for today.
  

KISS Kitsch

When the laundry has piled up and the closet is bare, I reach for my secret favorite shirt. One I would have proudly worn daily when I was 13. The only problem is, I didn't find it until a couple years ago. Now it's kitschy. (If you don't know what that means, look below. I had to look it up too.)

I'm not ballsy enough to wear it in public, but wearing it at home inspires me to play a little air guitar. And my kids love the glitter. Now if only I could find a Donny Osmond shirt.

Kitschy: So tacky or lame that is has a certain ironic appeal.
Lava lamps, and trucker hats are very kitschy.

Morning Memories

I hope our kids will always remember frosty mornings like this one..

...and breakfast a'la Dad.

Thankful

I was going to do a post on the super hot teenage vampire book Twilight (which I'm currently reading) but my stepdaughter V. thankfully stepped in and told me to wait. Apparently, I won't know what I'm talking about until I finish it. So I will follow her sage advice and keep my mouth shut. There's always tomorrow to embarass myself.

Very quickly, on to my post, because it's late, I'm tired and my fingers are freezing! We had our Thanksgiving today, it went very well; from Hubby & I negotiating kitchen space (always tough), entertaining babies, and cooking (1-2-3-4-5!) side dishes. I've had better pecan pies, but this isn't my year to do pie crust. Hey, there was a pie.

Whether it was less stressful because today is really just Sunday, not Thanksgiving, or maybe I'm just getting better at it, I'm thankful. Thankful for the day, thankful for family.

and thankful for the tip V.!

Are You Practicing?

Tonight I visited an open house hosted by a woman who designs jewelery. Talking with her, I asked if she had a graphic design background, and she answered that, in fact, she was a graphic designer.

"So am I", I replied.

"Are you practicing?" she asked nonchalantly. Like it was a religion.

I was a bit flustered by her question, so I stammered something like..."well, not like I used to. I mainly do it for our business now."

Hmmmm, am I practicing? Her comment really outed me. The jig is up, she saw through my act. The fact is, I've been feeling very un-graphic designery for quite awhile now. In fact, I've been feeling very un-anything (career-wise) for awhile.

Being pregnant for most of 2007 and raising little babies during 2008 have been filled with tremendous joy and I wouldn't trade the experience for anything...ANYTHING! But there's a part of me that feels very out of touch with my career and my creativity, something I didn't expect.

However, there's a shift happening, my own tipping point. It sounds crazy, but this blog is part of it. There is something cathartic for me about writing in it every day. It's a discipline: just do it and don't overthink it. Just get it out there, even if you feel nervous. A door has opened.

The Family Hostess' Creed

In lieu of the upcoming holiday, I offer inspiration from the 1947 Modern Encyclopedia of Cooking, "this modern cookbook, complete in every detail brings the latest developments in home economics to your kitchen..." (sorry about it being crooked)

Family Photo

Last August, I thought it would be fun to get a picture of the grandkids with the kids. Our lovely granddaughters...Teeny G & Sweet E with
& their aunt & uncle (hee, hee) Little Missy & Dr. J

Sleep

I need it. Bad.

Dr. J & Little Miss tag teamed me all night.
11:46 p.m. (Dr. J)
2:08 a.m. (the Miss)
2:48 a.m. (Doc again)
3:30 a.m. (Miss)
4:00 a.m. (Doc)
4:30 a.m. (both- Hubby got up for this one & brought Dr. J into bed w/ me).

This Guantanamo type schedule is brutal. Where is Hubby in all this? I let him sleep most of the night since he gets up early and he watches them in the morning giving me an extra 30-60 minutes of shut eye.

I can't wait to smash my face into a pillow tonight, throw the quilt over my head and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Until 11:46 that is.... (please God, no)

Diaper Duty

Last night, my Hubby offered to get Little Miss ready for bed. I gladly tossed him a diaper and got into position to change Dr. J. Things were going well, Dr. J was happily mouthing a tube of diaper rash ointment (a special object guaranteed to hold interest for a few seconds) and holding still while I changed him.

"For God's sake....this…..it's…arrgh!" Little Miss was twisting and arching her back, not at all content like her brother. The iphone Hubby gave her had a frozen screen (hmmm, wonder why?) and was no longer entertaining. Desperate, he offered her the case.

"Whoever designed these things never had babies," he grumbled, trying to snap her onesie closed (he always says that).

Meanwhile, Little Miss squirmed and whined…loudly. I watched alongside, smug in my diaper changing skills since Dr. J was very quiet. When I turned back, I discovered to my horror the ointment cap had opened and he was happily mouthing white goopy stuff! Mental note: babies + quiet = never good.

“There…OK…she’s done,” Hubby sighed.

“Well not quite, she still needs her sleeper” I replied and tossed him the one piece body suit from the couch.

“Grrrrrrr….”

So it began again, Little Miss writhing, and Hubby attempting to fit arms and legs in the right places. (There is an easier way…but I kept my mouth shut.)

Later, after bottles, after lullabies, as we steathily left the two darlings asleep in their cribs, Hubby said, “sometimes I love them so much it hurts.”

Could there be any better ending to a day?

Teletubbies Obsession

Tinky Winky, Dipsy, La La, Po.

Two years when I first watched the Teletubbies with my nephew, I couldn't keep the names straight. Now I can rattle them off in my sleep --I even have a favorite! (sick, I know...it's La La.) Tubbies have a way of working themselves into your brain, and nesting. Maybe it's because they play everything twice ("again, again!") and when you've seen those episodes again, again that adds up to...well, you get the idea.

It started out innocently, I let my children watch Teletubbies just to see their reactions. They responded immediately to the baby face sun, the giggles & shrieks with shrieks & giggles of their own (it was so cute, I wanted more). The Tubbies couldn't be TOO bad, I rationalized...it's public television, and they'll learn British phrases like "dollop" and "well done".

I confess, now I've come to depend on the Tubbies when Mum needs a break. The music starts, Tubbies prance out and I, at the kitchen counter, sponge in hand, get to pondering about the real Teletubbies...

Tubbie drama: "Dammit La La, you knew that was my scene!"

Tubbie pay: Is there a guild?
Read between the lines here...

Tubbie status: "Oh god, there's Byron Kerley, he brought such depth to Po."

Tubbie scripts: "We want edgy-- but how 'bout giving Tinky a purse?"

better yet, Tubbie auditions: move over, American Idol Rewind

Tubbies on DVD: Can you get director's commentary?
...grab my outstretched hand....

"Get a life!" you say, to which I reply....
"The sun is setting in the sky...Teletubbies say goodbye!"

Tinky Winky: "Bye bye"
Dipsy: "Buh bye"
La La: "Bye bye"
Po: "Byyyyeee Byyyee"
Camera pans back as each Tubbie waves and pops down into the rabbit hole. Baby sun sinks behind the horizon, credits roll. Fade to black.

...hear my desperate cry for help!

Forty Mamas...

Forty Mama: a woman with a new baby/child after the age of forty; any fortyish woman who is mothering young children.

Mamas of any age share...

• lack of sleep


• never ending laundry


• a sudden interest in Jon & Kate Plus 8


• MOTHER BEAR protectiveness. On certain sleepless nights I have fantasies of "Ninja Mom." Most involve shrieking & jumping on the would-be abductor kamakaze style (you've gotta psyche 'em out). It usually ends with "you picked the wrong house buster!" (no, of course, I wouldn't say buster, but I'm keeping things clean here)
  

A Forty Mama...

• doesn't bounce back from sleepless nights as easily


• discovers that backs get zinged simply by picking a baby or toddler up incorrectly (core strength is the new mantra)


• is forced to deal with her age; she may be the oldest mom in the room


• can afford a sleek washer/dryer combo to deal with all that laundry, and a much nicer bed than the futons from our 20s.
  

Whether she stuggled with infertility, waded thru lengthy adoption paperwork, or wrestled with the idea of bringing a child into the world alone, a Forty Mama has done alot of soul searching by the time she has her child.

So I have a little crow's feet. I'm more patient, less fussy, and more self accepting than my 25 year old self. Isn't that a wonderful gift for my children?

If you build it they will come...oh hell, can you just visit me?

Calling all BFF's. I have a blog now. I can't promise you much of interest...yet, but there's always tomorrow, that's the beauty of bloggin'. For now I only ask for your friendly support and posting skills (a blind eye to grammar helps too).

In case you're interested, last night was a pretty good! We had the 4 a.m. bottle, then back to bed. Dare I hope for more nights like this?

Blogging Virgin

I've done it...started a blog! My first post...oh the pressure for it to be a monumental, witty piece of writing. Forget it..it's 10:30 p.m, too late for that kind of thing.. especially since I'll be getting up around 4:00 a.m. with our son (if that's the only time, it'll be a good night). So forgive me if I'm not that creative right now. I just spent most of my precious computer time picking a background for this thing and getting sidetracked looking at baby photos. Speaking of which, here are a couple of our little ones...aren't they the cutest!