Cheesy Balls

Usually when Jon's cousin visits we spend at least part of the time drinking adult beverages and having large gatherings of assorted people. This time before she came down she expressed a desire to hang out with just us (with or without adult beverages one night) and not have a group encounter other than Layla's birthday party. So we enjoyed our time with her when she was available and found other things to do when she went off to spend time with her friends or Jon's sister. It was really mellow for our house. I liked it more than I anticipated.

On the last night she was here we decided to have a "date night" which really wasn't a date for anyone but me and Jon. We went to a nice adult dinner where there was no drama and a designated driver who didn't need to drive because we never got that far. Then we swapped cars while someone swapped into warmer clothing and played a quick round of putt putt golf.

Anyone who knows me knows I can NOT putt putt golf. So imagine my suprise when I was the top score on the top half of the course, making 2 hole in 1 shots and coming in second overall. My excuse for doing so well? I think it might have been the giant purse I toted through the entire experience.

And as for the hanging out in small groups? LOVED it! I never book Jon's cousins time for her and even more so because I knew we were getting solo time Saturday night, I got to enjoy the rest of my time without worrying about how I booked MY time.

Once Jon's cousin headed home, I clicked through the 30 pictures I took that night, and I found this one. I decided to only post one. The giant purse...who gave me 2 hole in one shots!

LaylaBugs 1 Year Well Baby Check Up

Today was the dreaded 1 Year baby appointment where they poked my daughter with 4 (yes I said FOUR) needles and checked her from the top of her fuzzy little head to the bottom of her big little feet. She decided to celebrate the occassion by waking up a different shoe size. She literally went to bed a size 3 shoe and woke up a size 4 shoe. The shoes she wore yesterday would not fit even over her feet. Luckily I had another option.

She's 30 3/4" long and 20.1 lbs. That's 95% for height and 23 % for weight. She tested perfectly for all the other things we measure, talking in "mini sentences" and walked for the Dr when asked. (she likes Dr Scott)

After her shots she screamed for Daddy for 20 minutes straight when we got home. So I packed her back into the car and we went to see Daddy at work and grabbed a quickly breakfast (her lunch) before bringing her home for a nap.

When reading off the milestone marker list... she'd done most of the things on the 15 month old list already. Dr Scott said "that's super awesome" because he's Canadian and they say silly things like "super awesome".

He was also very entertained when it came time to check her throat and she stuck her tongue out like a rock star when I asked her too (think Kiss). I guess for most kids the gagging wooden stick is a horrible part... so we got lucky there.

All in all he said she was "brilliant" and "super healthy" and that I was doing an "awesome job" because she was "comfortable, smart and very friendly"

Yay for us!

10 EASY WAYS TO BURN 100 CALORIES

I don't know about you but I sometimes think back to the body I had before baby and think "why me god why me"... "why are my boobs looking downhill?"... "why aren't my abs hard anymore?" ... I mean afterall... I weighed nearly 40 lbs MORE than I do right now before I had the baby but carrying a baby made me look deflated and flat.

The reason? The baby keeps me busy doing things that aren't so "busy".

So here are some easy ways that take less than 30 minutes to burn calories during one of the nap times or quiet times in your day. Remember... if you do one of these calories while HOLDING a baby you will burn MORE calories and also qualify to be a martyr. Ok maybe not that last part... I might have made that martyr thing up.

So here are 10 easy ways to burn 100 calories today...

1. Steady cycling for 10 minutes
2. Doing a fitness video for 10-15 minutes
3. Brisk walking for 15 minutes
4. Stair climbing for 15-20 minutes (IN A ROW... 1 trip up or down every 5 minutes doesn't count)
5. Housework for 20 minutes (by housework we do not mean making a to do list for the hubby)
6. Gardening for 25-30 minutes (Or picking up 1000 lawn toys for the same amount of time while shouting "stay away from the street!!")
7. Washing and waxing the car for 20-30 minutes (or cleaning the floor of food debris on your hands and knees for the same of time (briskly))
8. Dancing for 20 minutes (this includes the Wiggles "where's jeff" or "dance like an emu" songs)
9. Grocery shopping for 30-40 minutes (Target counts too)
10. Pushing a lawn mower for 15-20 minutes (Or a stroller, filled with a screaming child who is throwing their weight around)

When Company Comes

Do you ever get that overwhelming urge to change your entire house because company is coming? Yea, me too. Clean it up, stack it nicely, put your bath tub ducks in a row.

Well... now I have a 1 year old. It just doesn't work out the way it used to.

So this week when Jon's cousin Sarah came to visit we didn't really clean up much. You know we washed the sheets and what not but no deep cleaning the carpets. We also didn't focus on being the biggest best birthday party around this year for Layla's first birthday.

The combination of which was a great weekend. (despite people trying to get the best of me) We managed to have a great time, we spent some time alone with our guest, some time out with friends and everyone went to bed at a reasonable hour.

Layla's party... it was wonderful. But that's another post. Pictures of it are up on her blog starting now (and probably trickling in for the rest of the week).

Regrets? I didn't eat until much too late yesterday. I didn't get a picture with my Dad and Teri holding the baby at the party (I'm hoping someone else did). I can't find my favorite underwear (unrelated but I still regret it).

Not much considering it's been a busy four days. Now I'm going to call my BFF and get my BS on.

To Layla @ 1 Year Old

My Daring Little Laylabug,

You are one now (well not now but tomorrow). One. A whole number of years. Such an accomplishment for a baby who everyone told me wouldn't make it. But, we prayed for you. We prayed everyday. Some of us still pray today.

I blame the fact that you spent your quiet womb time fighting for survival for your overwhelming determination to be able to do everything. You just HAD to talk. You just HAD to walk. You have this little force inside you that seems to push you to keep exploring, learning, growing, adapting.

When things don't go your way you prove you have both mommy's impatience and Daddy's temper. Usually you shake whatever isn't working while you growl at it (that part you learned from your Godfather) and then you either bite it or head butt it. And then you take a deep breath and try again. (That part is a lot like your Papa Glen...the big breath before you start over)

You are wickedly smart. I know some people would say that I'm bias but you've proven them all wrong with your 75 word vocabulary (at least 75...that's where I lost count) and you little steps across the living room and the way you communicate what you want and need.

This month you deciphered the difference between "ya" and "no no" which you enjoy flexing your power with. "do you want to go upstairs baby?", "ya", "do you want a green bean baby?", "no NO no". You have your father's love of pushing the limit, insisting on doing everything you're told not to at least 3 times before you cry and stop. You have your mother's love of trying new things...especially new spicy foods.

You love TV shows with music, objects you can put into and out of other objects, buttons, and Nana. Oh my how you love Nana. Every day you look for Nana. Every day you talk to Nana on the phone. You are very in LOVE with Nana.

You're going through a Daddy phase. You get very upset when Daddy leaves for work and EXTREMELY happy when he comes home from work. You scream his name and run after him, only to see him for a few seconds and then run back to what you were doing.

You and I have a very special bond. You trust me with all things comforting. When you are sick I am your medicine, when you are tired I am your lullaby, when you are hot I am your dealer for bath tub time with an over abundance of plastic ducks.

You have some things I would call your favorites now. The blankey Jeromy gave you for your crib. Your singing dog from Nana Susan. Your swimmy sticks in the bath tub from Nana Lorrie. Your bottles the way mommy makes them. Playing jump, bounce, throw with Daddy in the big comfy chair. You like Jacks Big Music Show, Johnny and the Sprites, Handy Manny and Jon and Kate plus 8. You like the movie Cars and your toy cars. You like to drum on things, sing and dance. You like to go fast, explore and be chased. You like to push buttons, sort things, and steal my share of the blocks.

You also have made your hate clear on a few things. Green beans top the list of hates. Doesn't matter how I get them on your plate, they always end up on my floor. Sometimes they find the floor via projectile spitting. That's never nice. You hate when people you don't recognize walk away with you. You don't like it when other children playing turns into chaos. You don't like it when reading time is over, when bath time gets cut short because you won't sit on your hinney or when Daddy sneezes. You also dislike cats, which is funny because you're allergic to them, and I always wonder if you know that.

For the most part you love everything. You love the smallest things. Things I never even noticed before now give me great joy because i see them through your eyes. Your a toddler now, a word using, floor walking, game playing, read me that book againing, toddler. In some things it's obvious how big you are, your size in old pictures, your newly found love of trying to feed people with spoons, your ever developing knowledge. But you'll always be my baby.

The baby I prayed for. The baby I swelled up with love for. The baby I fought for. The baby who gives the best kisses, the sweetest hugs, and the reason I am. You are daddy's little rocker, mommy's little princess and your own little self.

And I love you.

Layla's little list of firsts!

First smile 1 month old
First Sleep through the night 2 weeks old
First roll over to tummy 6 weeks old
First out loud laugh 7 weeks old
First grabbing items with hands 8 weeks old
First baby food @ 3 months 2 weeks
First Out Loud Laugh @ 4 months
Rolling tummy to back & back @ 4 months
First 3 teeth @ once 4 months 2 weeks old
First Solid Food & Juice @ 6 months
First Sitting Up Unassisted @ 6 months
First Feeding Herself Snacks @ 6 months
First Word (Hi!) @ 6.5 months
First Rolling/Scooting across the floor @ 7 months
First Wave @ 7.5 months
Crawling @ 8 months
First Pull Herself Up to Stand @ 9 months
First Free Kneeling @ 9 months
First Free Stand (no hands) @ 9 months
First 2 steps @ 10 months \
First real walking @ 11 months
First 65 word list was made @ 11 months
First feeding self with utensils @ 11 1/2 months
First kisses @ 11 months

1 Year in Pictures- Layla

Happy Birthday Mel!

I've been redoing the pictures in the babies room. By redoing I mean that I have taken down the old pictures and hung empty frames while I wait for new pictures to print. The old pictures are in a pile in the kitchen.

Two days ago Layla found the pile and toted Auntie Mel around for about an hour. She kept giving her open mouthed kisses and the picture didn't survive but watching her was worth it.

I tried showing her other pictures. Grammi Chris, Aunt Mandi with Cousin Nevaeh, Papa Glen, George, random other people who used to be on the wall that are getting re-printed. Nope... only Auntie Mel got some love.

Perhaps, that is due to the fact that Auntie Mel used to watch her while Mommy was at work and they have some deep unspoken bound made over the disney channel reruns and scheduled feedings. Or maybe, she just knew it was almost Auntie Mel's birthday.

Either way... She loves her Auntie Mel. And so do we. I totally miss Mel now that she lives far away in WA. (why do the people I like all move to Washington?) Anyhow, I click over on Auntie Mel's blog at least once a day if not more.

Today is Auntie Mel's birthday. So Happy Birthday Auntie Mel. Click the link in the side bar and go wish her some birthday love. (Jeffery's in WA)

Remembering Almost a Year with Layla

I will of course be doing a letter to Layla at 12 months old on her ACTUAL birthday but I thought it would be fun to remember the letters I've written her in the past so here's a look back at the last year with my Laylabug...

Just last month you were an 11 mo old and with that came a lot of walking, talking and general havock making around the house. At 11 months old you knew about 75 words, you could cruise along furniture (and eventually just walk), you could crawl up the stairs and feed yourself with a spoon (although not well...on that whole spoon thing)

I was shocked really at how much you had changed since you turned 10 mo old. I mean it just seems like moments ago when you were learning to explore, finding those first words and developing your little diva personality.

At a whopping 9 mo old you had already developed your sense of adventure and spent a good deal of time climbing over things, jumping off the edge of things and touching things with one finger to see if they were a button which would perform some wonderful trick for you.

That was a huge change from you as an 8 mo old, I mean you were just sitting up one day and then a month later you were crusing furniture. I remember you tiny sitting in your big car seat for the first time waving at people in the street and talking gibberish behind me along with the radio.

I almost remember it as clearly as when you started taking bath in the big bathtub at 7 mo old and you discovered warm bath water could be fun. Oh that month was such an adventure of pretend swimming, splashing and chasing that little rubber duck in circles.

It was almost as fun as when you were 6 mo old and you suddenly discovered the singing dog puppet and you would giggle and giggle and roll and kick and giggle. I thought you were the coolest thing since sliced bread when you did that. And then it just kept getting better.

It seems like the montn you spent at 5 mo old I barely remember now. I barely remember you trying to flip yourself over on the floor. I barely remember when you waited patiently while I made bottles and then snuggled in next to me to drink them. I barely remember, probably, because you spent a lot of time with Auntie Mel while I was working. But what I do remember about being 5 mo old were all the dang teeth. Boom! Out of no-where...teeth. You didn't even teeth first.

When you were 4 mo old Mommy went to work for awhile. When she would get up in the morning she would juggle your morning bottles with her showers and getting ready until Auntie Mel or Daddy took over watching you and then the minute work ended she would rush home and feed you dinner and give you a bath in the sink. Then we'd cuddle and play and I'd hoard you and not let anyone else touch you.

At Christmas time you turned into a 3 mo old and you were one of the most athletic babies I'd ever seen. You could do things no other kid could do at 3 month old. You could hold toys and play with them, pull your pacifier in and out of your mouth and roll on to your back from your tummy. It was crazy to watch.

During the Thanksgiving season you turned 2 mo old this meant Mommy and you did a lot of Christmas shopping and Christmas themed events. But NO memory will ever compete with the day Daddy put up those Christmas lights. It was love at first sight. You cried when they were turned off and you whined when we went inside even though your little hands were cold. You'd lay on the floor with the Christmas music playing and the twinkly lights on and just zone out in the most comfortable loving way I've ever seen.

That first month of your life you had more company than any 1 mo old I've ever seen. People would come over and hold you. When Daddy and Papa would laugh you would giggle and you wrapped us all around your tiny fingers. You co-slept with Mommy and Daddy and sometimes even now I wake in the middle of the night and miss your tiny hands laying on my skin seeking comfort and safety.

But that's just how you are. I remember bringing you home how comfortable and safe you must have felt because you instantly were just the happiest baby. You were content to be held, or to be put down. You just enjoyed being so much. Perhaps it was just a happiness brought on from your hate of the NICU nurses. That was probably a bad 3 days for you.

It was a long labor and your birth was well worth it. I never thought I'd be so happy to be cut open and thrown into instant drama. But, you know what, I barely remember the drama now. I remember going to the NICU and holding you while you ate, I remember putting you in your pink polka-dotted sleeper to bring you home, I even remember the moment Daddy and I baffled over "what do you do now that your home??" but other than spending lots of time staring at your beautiful face... I don't remember anything. Perhaps it's because there is nothing more important than the fact that you are here. Nothing at all.

In 5 days you'll be 1 and I'll write some lovely post about how wonderful you are at 1. Truth is you've always been wonderful. Adorablistic as your Nana says. Smart as your Papa says. Charming as your Daddy says. Daring as your Mommy says. Loved as God says. And most of all... ever changing... because you said.

On the move

Sunday the hubby and I cleaned the house, top to bottom and left to right. By the end of the day Monday, it looked just the same as it did Saturday morning before we started (well with a little less clutter). The babies on the move. She's reaching new things, toddling around and dare I say that a week before her 1st birthday she's become quite the little walker, explorer, say "no no" and do it anywayer (that is so totally a word).

This morning she got up early and with the onset of Autumn in the near future we stumbled downstairs in the DARK. I mean DARK people. I set her down, flipped a light switch and turned to ask her if she wanted a bottle. She was half way up the stairs in the DARK!

After I put the gate at the bottom of the stairs, while I made her morning bottle she practiced drumming on the trash can lid for awhile, emptied out my entire tupperware drawer and crawled into the fridge to explore the soda cans on the second shelf. That was um... 30 seconds of play by play.

While she ate her banana breakfast I recovered the kitchen floor from under the plastic debris piled everywhere and did a load of dishes. Within 2 minutes of getting out of her chair she had sprinkled raisins all over my clean kitchen floor, pulled every straw we own out of the cabinet and pulled the blinds partially open in the kitchen.

I left it there. It's not a battle I feel like facing this morning. Tonight when she goes to bed I'll get the joy of cleaning graham cracker out of the living room rug, getting the finger prints off my stereo face, putting all the toys away and trying to locate my keys (which she stole today around 11 am).

Suddenly, going to work every day seems a lot easier than staying home. Perhaps, if she wasn't so fearless it wouldn't be so bad. I mean some kids don't jump face first off of things, some kids don't climb into their toy box to reach the window blinds better, some kids don't knock down baby gates to get up the stairs or into the kitchen. But, my kid does.

And I love her. I love her more than you could possibly imagine and I'm proud of her every time she makes me want to scream and cover my head with the blankets and pretend to be invisible... I love her.

I love that she drives me crazy singing the same song every day for at least an hour, I love that I've read the same 4 books about 4 million times in 4 days. I love that she's climbing and walking and jumping. I love every broken english sentence and every wiggle worm moment. I just wish they were more like 45 seconds apart instead of BACK to BACK. So I could appreciate them more.

A morning

I awake at 4:32 am, peeling my eyes open to look at the clock as a baby screams "mommneeee" for me from the room at the other side of the upstairs hall. When I find her she is covered in tears, red faced, wet diapered and totally freaked out. I'm not sure what woke her up but whatever it was, Jon and I were going to sleep through it. I sweep her up and change her diaper but when I try to calm her back into her crib it becomes clear she will be joining us in our bed. Still on the two hours of sleep I had over the previous insomniac night I try. And when I give up and bring her to our bed at 5 am Jon opens one eye, mumbles a half asleep "it's ok" to acknowledge that I feel bad about bringing her to bed with us and rolls over a little to make room.

Over the next thirty minutes I watch 20 lbs flip itself in every direction so as to successfully kick both myself and my husband in every funerable piece of soft tissue we have exposed. In a last ditch effort to fight sleep she flips herself upside down placing her feet on my boobs and her head against my left thigh and crashes out with my stolen covers wrapped around her. Cold and exposed with tiny toes on my chin I fall asleep from sheer exhaustion.

I am told that around 6:30 am she woke up and started bugging the hubby. I slept through that part and awoke around 7 am as he was talking to her in the bed between us while she practiced 11 month old gymnastics and toddle walking on piles of comforters. It takes another 12 minutes before it becomes clear I will not be conscience any time soon and as Jon reaches his fully awake point at around 7:20 they make their way to clean diapers and a bottle downstairs while I drift back to sleep.

I awake at 9 am to the sound of whining downstairs. I glimpse at the clock and yell downstairs (in the nicest way possible) that it is nap time and I hear a few minutes later the clonk of baby knees climbing stairs with an encouraging daddy behind them. Minutes later a tired hubby lumps into the other side of the bed and quickly drifts back to sleep as I hear the baby bedtime noise maker playing music in the crib over the baby monitor.

I awake near 10 am and decide I should get up before the baby does. I make my way downstairs and determine they had waffles for breakfast. I decide to make myself some waffles and put on CMT while I drink a cup of tea. When the baby wakes up from her nap at 10:30 I rush up the stairs to get her so she doesn't wake up the slumbering Jon across the hall from her.

We do a round of diapers, clothing for the day and head downstairs with the promise of a snack and juice cup. While she snacks I talk on the phone with my mother and BFF in WA and then she plays for awhile by herself until she lures me into the floor to play too.

She has a lunch of ham and cheese and apples while I clean up some of the kitchen and then when we go upstairs for another diaper change Daddy wakes up at around noon. We talk a little and then they play on the bed while I finish doing some upstairs clean up.

In the beginning of my life as a mother I never got to sleep in. I was always the one up. Recently, after the cough illness that just passed here, Jon has started getting up with the baby on occassion. It's probably the 2nd best gift he's ever given me... ok maybe the third best. It's wonderful to know he's down there loving on her and that she's calm and happy while I snore LOUDLY alone. It's better than going to the bathroom with out a toddling audience of one. And that my friends is saying a lot.

Third grade

Hot sun on my face I look up towards the sky squinting as the heat of the noon day seems to steam my clothing. All around me swirls of children run in every direction and I can hear them laughing and talking as they chase each other around in a carefree blur on the greenest grass I've ever stood on. My shoes are too tight, my hair too messy and I am instantly not one of them so I stand alone in the sun trying to decide what I should do next. Part of me wants to pull a book out of my bag, sit in the shade and transport myself off to far away place where they don't matter. I've seen what happens to the book worms during recess though so instead I wander to the only empty swing. It is empty, I quickly discover because it has been in the hot sun all day and it burns the back of my legs through my jeans but I sit on it anyhow. I pump my legs with rhythm and determination until the swing begins to soar and the breeze in my hair dances across my sweaty face and cools me. I am above them all looking down and I am free.

In the wind I can hear the song that was playing on the radio that morning. I'm not sure if I hear it in my head or perhaps it is gently gliding in from one of the houses near by but I humm it inside my head as I continue to methodically pump my legs in and out. As the lyrics of the song pick up my empty little soul, I begin to play with fate, my arms stretched out to both sides I swing now without hands. Then quickly grabbing back onto the swing chains with my hands and feeling their rusty hot metal indent my skin I lean back with all my body weight and soar almost upside down feet pointed towards the sky.

Somewhere in my flight I hear a whistle, faintly first and then louder and I open my eyes which I hadn't even realized where closed. The color of the playground, the brightness of the sun and the sounds of children running back to line up for class flood into my head again. I jump off the swing before it stops swinging and hang for a second in the air before my ankles clud ungracefully to the earth and run after them.

The new girl. Last in line, last in role call, last to be picked until you make friends at the kick ball field. And so I walk behind them in line to whatever we're doing next as a class and I day dream. I am in a tall tower and I am doing magic. The magic that I do makes people think I am invisible. And that's how I stay... invisible... at the back of the class, at the top of the swings, at the end of the lunch table up against the back wall of the cafeteria.

In my tower the breeze whips through my hair dancing off my sweaty face. In my tower the music of the town whafts up to me in the breeze and I can sing along without anyone hearing me. In my tower I am waiting for the spell to wear off and to become visible again so I can join them in a great feast like the books I read from the library talk about. Books that smell of old paper and abandonment which tell me that I will not be forgotten in my tower, someday, someone... will rescue me.

Walking...

She was at the baby gate, shaking it in frustration like King Kong. She was yelling out in frustration a mesh of baby talk and real words. I called out to her "Layla come here baby" thinking she would crawl over and I would give her the last of her formula before I put her down for a nap upstairs.

Then it happened. In a matter of seconds she turned around and took it. A clumsy little step which rocked her whole little body a little. Undetered she picked up the other foot and took another with her legs spread wide like an upside down Y she plugged ahead. Left. Right. Left.

By the fourth one I was clambering for my camera with one hand hoping she wouldn't notice and then realized I had taken my camera upstairs yesterday so I tuck my hand into my lap while she is standing there looking at me and pull out my cell phone.

"nan na" oh shit she's gonna stop and come get the phone...

But just as I click a picture she takes step number 7. Once she's in the middle of the room she realized the TV had Mickey Mouse Clubhouse coming on and she danced to the intro music. And then sat down to watch it.

That was it. She didn't even technically fall. She just stopped. And of course now that Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is on I can't get her to do it again. But I have one fuzzy picture and a memory that will last a lifetime.

In typical LaylaBug fashion she did it on her terms. It wasn't a clumsy step to Mommy or Daddy's outstretched arm or a careful set of steps next to something stable to hold on to. It was an adventure...and she took it on without a safety net.

Go Eat

Today at Fat Girl Eats there is the recipe for the goodness that is above this sentence in a wonderful picture. Go there... eat things... leave comments.

Just call me Isreal

I read a blog over on Mel's site today and I started to write a reply in the little comment box. My reply became this twistedly long blog post which I didn't want to subject her to in the comment section of her blog so I decided to post it here.

Mel was talking about how in her authentic relationship with God (and that of several people she knows) she struggles with doubting God and then feeling like she's making God "prove himself"... if you want to know more click the link HERE.

So I immediately started thinking about the story of Jacob in Genesis. Jacob had lied to his brother and was planning on going back to make ammends with him. Just before he got there he stopped alone alongside a stream and started to wrestle "a man" (no one knows if this is God or an angel but it was a biblical man with the power to bless him).

Jacob struggled all night and in the morning the man knocked Jacob's hip out of joint and told Jacob to let him go but Jacob wouldn't. Jacob kept wrestling. The man asked Jacob his name and when Jacob told him he told Jacob... "no longer...now you will be known as Isreal which means God wrestler".

Jacob begged the man to bless him before he let him go and kept asking the mans name but the man would not tell him. In the end the man blessed him, Isreal (Jacob) was let go to go talk to his brother and he limped off to do his task from God.

He named the place Peniel because it means God's face and he said in that place "he saw God and lived to tell the story". (Now if you want the exact story you can click HERE which will take you to the Biblegateway verses for Genesis 32:22-32)

I'm a lot like Jacob. I think we all are. We have this task in front of us and we struggle with either wanting desperately to know we are blessed before we move on or wanting desperately to know more about our relationship with God and his plan for us before we can take another step in our journey.

The thing is, in this bible story we learn that God knows that in our authentic relationship with him we will come to points in our journey and we will struggle. Some of those struggles will change us (Jacob got a new name and a limp) but in the end we will know more about ourselves and God (even if it's not what we expected to know- Jacob never learned the name of the person he was wrestling with but he was blessed).

God expects us to be human. He expects us to make choices and he even expects us to struggle over what choices to make. God knows we won't always be comfortable with our relationship with him. It is human nature *just like Mel says in her blog*.

But where my opinion of human nature differs from some is that I don't think God wants us to feel guilty about being human. God's entire existence is constant proof that he wants us to desire to know him and love him. And he wants a restored relationship with us... that's what he calls it "a relationship" and for those of us in any type of relationship (marraige, friendship, love, family, hate) you know that the struggle to understand and know each other is ever changing.

God uses those changes *just like our friends and family* to know us deeper, to understand us more, to reveal to us the desires of his heart, and to show us how the desires of our hearts can reflect his love to others.

God would rather call us Isreal than take us to a place where we have no relationship with us.

So for now... he can call me Isreal whenever he wants.

Hello J-O-B opportunity, it's nice to meet you

Today I had an informal interview for a job I'd really like to get at a local school district running the after school program for TWO elementary schools. It would combine my overwhelming desire to work with kids and run my own day care with my real life skills of organization, implementation and planning.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up but I'm in the final running and I find myself day dreaming about what might be. So before the interview when my stomach was tumbling I said a little prayer in the car and texted some people to pray for me as well.

Then, to my best friend I sent the test "me = nervous" and recieved a text back as I was walking into the office "me= confident in you".

My confidence swelled a little knowing someone else truly believed I could make it and I spent the next half an hour talking, laughing, discussing and trying to peg all the necessary job skills off a mental check list...one by one while not seeming too obvious.

And now I wait...

So the next text might read "me = not confident while waiting impatiently"

But at least I got the chance to try.

Why Me?

Yesterday wasn't a great day. The baby barely napped, I never got to take a shower and dinner didn't happen for the adults until well after 8:30 pm...and even then it was a crappy dinner I threw together at the last minute.

So I thought...tomorrow will be better... and I went to bed.

By 9 am... my sink decided to reinacct Hurricane Ike or Noah's Flood or perhaps that scene with the pea soup coming out of Linda Blairs mouth in the exorcist.

At this point... 9 am... tomorrow (today) will not be any better.

This week on FatGirl Eats

This week on FatGirlEats we've had recipes for the Aunt Lois' Angel Food Cake (shown above), Barefoot Contessa Turkey Meatloaf, Just for Katie- Brocolli Cheese Soup, Pumpkin Fudge, Pork Chops with Apples and Onions, and Stuffed Bell Peppers...

Go check it out

Sicky Mc Sickerson

Yesterday I found myself half way up the stairs coughing so hard I couldn't breath and unsure of what to do. So by last night, I finally conceded to everyone's request that I go see a Dr.

$85 later...

I have SEVERE bronchitis and tonsillitis...he said 1-2 more days and I would have had pneumonia.

Jon called in sick to work today and stayed home to take care of the Laylabug. I slept most of the day in a blur of penicillin drugs and cough syrup with codeine.

The baby just went to bed for the night and I think I'm next in line for the pillows... still in my clothing from yesterday smelling of won ton soup and sickness.

Tomorrow will be a better day... I'm sure.

When Relationships Change

I recently got invited to something that in previous years I would have been excited to go to. But, you see, now my relationship with that person is changed. It's not a bad relationship (I don't think) but it's just different and now I'm not sure it's good enough to warrant me going.

(Because I know the maker of Oktoberfest is reading this and thinks it might be her...it's not you... I totally still love you darling LOL)

I hadn't really thought about dealing wiht this different relationship. I figured things would just go on the way they had but as time brought up an opportunity I find myself laying in bed thinking of all the things that "could go wrong" and make things worse in this broken relationship.

Plus, now my trust is gone so I assume in some part of me that this might be a trick or trap even though it could very well be nothing.

It's a strange thing when a relationship changes because you spend a lot of time looking back on the way it was...and the truth of the matter is it may never get back to the way it was. So then you're stuck there wondering if you even want to deal with what it's changing into.

The Cold Epidemic of 2008 Part II

After the nap, which really didn't happen until closer to 10 am, my daughter woke up whining and needy. After lunch and a bottle she moved in to overjoyed and bouncy (with the occassional snot bubble)...

That was until I threw up...

too much coughing...

Then she cried hysterically at my feet and I lost my parent of the year award as I shoved her out the bathroom door into the kitchen so I could puke in private and listened to her hit the door with her tiny little hands crying for Mommy.

Mommy was crying for her mommy too. And, counting down the hours until Daddy got home.

The Cold Epidemic of 2008

Otherwise known as the story of my night/morning.

Last night I went to bed at 9 because I couldn't handle hacking up my lungs any more. The
baby and Jon both got a head cold but me I was lucky enough to have the same cold go directly to my weak bronicial tubes. I've always been a sucker for a good case of bronchitis.

So the baby who has been sleeping in her own bed in her own room for well over a month ended up in bed with me a few times the first couple nights that she was sick. And then she slept in her bed alone two nights and I thought we were on the uphill stretch for her.

Then midnight came... and I awoke to a crying baby covered in her own snot (despite getting cold meds before bed) which I got up, changed her diaper, cleaned her up and moved her into the spare bed (where I've been sleeping since she got sick because she's very restless and it's just easier). She immediately goes back to sleep and I think "phew that was easy".

When 2 am rolls around she thinks it's time to wake up for the morning. She proceeds rolling over me which makes me cough and then mimicing my coughing noise. She also makes the elephant noise whenever I blow my nose and in general has a great time staring at me because she's wide awake and I'm still fighting the cough syrup coma.

When daddy gets into the shower for work around 3 am she spends the whole time he is in the shower screaming "dad-dEEEEE" until he comes out and I have him watch her for a second while I go pee because listening to the shower almost did me in. Then I change another diaper and mysteriously she goes back to sleep without a fuss.

That gets us through until 5:45 when it becomes clear she will NOT be going back to sleep so while I go to the bathroom she empties out two bathroom shelves and then we go downstairs leaving a trail of baby rubble behind us on the floor.

She has a bottle and a waffle because I am too tired to make an egg. Then we settle in for some Disney shows...and then at 7:45 she loses her sh*t... still haven't figured out why. The scream scares me so much I jump up forgetting a glass of tea was sitting on my lap and shower myself and the couch with hot tea....

She screams the whole time I strip naked, I leave the couch for later and rush to her to find that she is screaming.... why? guess?

Because you can't pull the wheel off tonka trucks.

sigh.

I think it's time for a nap.

2 MIMES in 1 Day...

Ok... I got hit for two of these in email so instead of bombarding my friends with crap I thought I'd put them here where you can read them or skip them.


Here is the first one which I got from two lovely people. It's just a question and answer forward thingy...

1. What is your occupation right now? Official CEO of Nose and Ass Wiping (Mommy for short)
2. What color are your socks right now? Socks are not my friends
3. What are you listening to right now? The cieling fan, the baby breathing through the baby monitor while she naps in the next room
4. What was the last thing that you ate? Butter & Garlic Club Crackers (which I HIGHLY recommend)
5. Can you drive a stick shift? Yes, but I wouldn't want to
6. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Lynn, last night...
7. Do you like the person who sent this to you? I got it from my mom and Teri and they are both swell
8. How old are you today? 29...dear god... I'm 29... that's...You are 29 years old . . .
354 months old or 1537 weeks old or 10760 days old or 258240 hours old or 15494412 minutes old or 929664760 seconds old
9. What is your favorite sport to watch on TV? wrestling...duh...GO Jeff Hardy...Wooo HOooo
10. What is your favorite drink? Pepsi with lots of ice
11. Have you ever dyed your hair? Yes and I have the roots to prove it
12. Favorite food? Crab and Shrimp Boil
13. What is the last movie you watched? Across the Universe (totally not worth it)
14. Favorite day of the year? Christmas Morning
15. How do you vent anger? I call Lynn and I use swear words with wild abandon
16. What was your favorite toy as a child? My dog Princess & my imagination
17. What is your favorite season? Autumn/Winter
18. Cherries or Blueberries? Blueberries
19. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back? usually if I email someone I expect them to email back.
20. Who is the most likely to respond? Lynn...she likes a good blog prompt
21. Who is least likely to respond? Mom and Teri they already did this
22. Living arrangements? close but comfortable
23. When was the last time you cried? Day before yesterday
24. What is on the floor of your closet? shoes and clothing the baby pulled off my hangers
25. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to? Lynn
26. What did you do last night? I watched Jon and Kate plus 8 then talked to Lynn on the phone
27. What are you most afraid of ? being a disappointment to my family.
28. Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburger? Spicy with cheese
29. Favorite dog breed? Brussels Griffon or German Short Hair
30. Favorite Day of the week? Saturday
31. How many states have you lived in? 1
32. Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds
33. What is your favorite flower? Callalillies

And then I got this two things one...

Two Names You Go By

Allie

Mommy

Two Things you are wearing right now

nightgown

hair tie

Two of your favorite TV shows
NCIS

Criminal Minds

Two Things You Did Last Night
Blew my nose repeatedly

Slept in an uncomfortable bed

Two Things You Ate Yesterday

Mustard Chicken

Waffles

The last 2 people you talked to

Laylabug

Lynn

Two Things You're Doing Tomorrow

Grocery Shopping

Taking care of the baby

Two Longest Car Rides

Turlock to Oklahoma

To Mexico with Friends

Your Two Favorite Holidays

Christmas

Thanksgiving

Two Favorite Beverages
Pepsi with Malibu

Pepsi without Malibu

Prompted by God

So I can't think of anything to blog about today so I go to my favorite random prompt generator...and this is what I get...

describe a family member who you used to be close to and no longer are...
has a family member ever lied to you, how did you deal with it...
what bothers you most about YOUR religion...
describe your relationship with your in-laws or step-parents...
explain one thing about your family that other people might mis-understand...
desribe a time a person you looked up to disappointed you...
what topics do you have a hard time blogging about...

"phew" for a second there I thought I was going to have to write something real and deep and personal. I almost gave in and did it.

I have a hard time blogging about my relationship with my family lately. I have a hard time blogging about when I am struggling with something and I can't wrap my head around it. I have a hard time blogging about sex, politics and the weather.

Mostly, I have a hard time picking a topic when I have a head cold, a sick kid, and I'm out of milk so I can't make myself a nice cup of tea with milk and sugar. That's a real pisser to blog around.

I have also for the most part stopped blogging about books I have read or will be reading because know one ever comments on those so I think no one reads them. I moved all the recipe blogs over to fat girl eats and there has been one a day there for the last 2 weeks that no one is reading and I have a hard time posting a sentence like that because I feel like I'm fishing for comments.

I have a hard time blogging about blogging. I have a hard time blogging about nothing and I have a hard time not resorting to a week straight of bullet point blogs and lists about nothing.

Lately, I just have a hard time blogging. It's like back when the entire church read my blog and I had to worry about them judging me only now I'm worried that I'm not allowed to be me and the person I'm "allowed" to be isn't someone I want to blog about.

But, I'm almost over it.

Now I pray myself to sleep

I am alone. It is quiet. I find my mind racing so fast that it trips over itself causing it to skip from topic to topic like a tattered old record on an over excited turn table. I should be sleeping. Several times in the last 6 hours of restless quiet I have come to that very clear thought... I should be sleeping.

Instead of sleeping I wonder about the state of the world, the state of my marriage, the state of my daughters head cold, the state of the basket of laundry I forgot to put in the washer, the state of my runny nose, the state of the clock that keeps clipping along without my eyes closing to peaceful slumbers and even in a moment of desperation the state of my hair even though no one would be seeing it.

Anxiety.

Alas, I thought for awhile you were gone but insomnia, restless mornings in a haze and this long evening remind me that you are in fact with me. You are ever-present and like satan himself you taunt me with mission impossible thoughts I can not erase at 3 am.

Tonight, I will not solve the worries of the world, I will not determine what is so wrong with my recipe for corn bread, I will not answer the age old question of why mother-in-laws plague your thoughts once you are married... but I will think about all these things and a thousand more.

Somewhere in the incomfortable silence I will find comfort and drift to sleep. I'll lull there between the babies heavy breathing on the monitor, my husbands rhythmic snores and the sounds of the ceiling whirling above and I'll stop thinking so hard about nothing. And in that moment the panic will awaken me. Just 3 seconds of panic. Like a bad dream kicking on in high volume and for a second I'll forget how peaceful I was...

And then I'll lay back down with my anxieties and pray myself to sleep.

A little running

The first morning I had to peel her little snot covered face off my pajamas when I woke up I knew we were going to be headed downhill quickly. Three days in, life is a blur of snot, red medicine dropper stains, and making arrangements to have someone watch a sick kid scream and cry while I was at a job interview only to find out she neither screamed or cried while I was gone.

Day four ends with my throat scratchy, my head dizzy and yet another full day of activities that can not be rescheduled tomorrow.

Luckily... people rarely die from the cold...

So I'll probably make it.

Anniversary

The greatest thing he ever gave me was the freedom to be nothing important. I was sitting there broken and pretending to be more than enough and he sat me down and told me in one short list that I was exactly enough just the way I am.

He keeps me respectful, most of the time. He keeps me honest, except when we play cards. He keeps me talking, even when he wishes I was upstairs sleeping so he could go up a level on his video games. He keeps me.

He is stubborn, competitive, and gets passionate about things I sometimes don't understand. He baffles me with his ability to remain calm when I am boiling over. He is the reason my cup runneth over, the patient moment at the end of a day when no words need to fill the room, and the only reason I am starting to understand the concept of "dealing with siblings".

He never expects me to be perfect and yet calls me the perfect thing when I least expect it which makes me sometimes wonder if he is. He makes me feel sexy when he is witty with me and lets me express my over the top, curse like a sailor and act like a 17 year old side.

Because of him I am a better mother, a better wife, a better daughter and a simplier friend. He has become the voice of reason in my moments of panic, the voice of forgiveness in my moments of anger and the voice of love in the moments when I lose my faith.

You would think that's why I married him... but the truth is that who he is has been amplified by our marriage, his becoming a father and our growth together. Who he is has become defined by moments of chaos, moments of pain, moments of struggle.

He has aged so much more gracefully than I have in this two years of marriage and now I know that I loved the man I married... and I love that marrying him made him into a man I can love even more.

I love that he is part of what defines me. He is part of what makes me who I am. For I am his and I always will be. His love is... undefinable.

2 Happy Years of Marriage Slideshow

The Chase

She is laying on the floor with her feet in the air singing "i-e-i-e-o" and when I correct her she shakes her head no at me and sings it again. Defiant.

After the third verse she turns her head slightly to my direction and flashes me a wicked little smile. A smile I have seen before but never on her face. The light dances in her eyes and the corner of her lips curl up as she sings a little louder... "i-e-i-e-o".

"E-I-E-I-O!" I sing loudly, thrusting myself down on to the area rug next to her and attacking her with kisses and tickles. Then I quickly crawl away and sit in a corner where she chases me, pretending to tickle my legs and give me open mouth kisses on my thighs.

I pretend to squeel and giggle and run away again. This time she sings out "i-e-i-e-o" instead of chasing me and as I crawl towards her I growl out " no it's E-I-E-I-O" and she shakes her head a playful no.

Wickedly sarcastic giggles errupt from her torso and her body grows taller as she throws her hands up in the air and yells "all done" and then she collapses on the floor again with her feet sticking out in each direction.

Defiant, confident, playful, sarcastic, energetic with a touch of witty. She is our child. His sarcasm, my joyful teasing and both of our twinkle. The most beautiful twinkle I've ever seen.

Wednesday

There was a time when I sat with my once weekly pedicured toes, and perfectly manicured nails wearing a fitted top over my "look how good my ass looks" jeans and a pair of perfect little heeled strappy shoes. There was a time with highlights and barrel curls and long hair that wafted in the wind when I turned and picked up the scent of my perfume and sent it out drifting on the breeze. There was a time when the makeup on my face accented my big eyes and perfectly waxed eyebrows and I carried that makeup around in a little black bag in a big trendy purse with a bounce in my step on the way to my freshly washed car to rush out to eat and then to entertain myself by throwing away money at the local pool place.

I think it was a Wednesday.

Most days, I find myself still in my pajamas (a frumpy old lady nightgown) when Jon gets home from working the opening shift at work, with my greasy hair up in a pony tail and no make up on. I am plopped down on a chair watching the light of my life play comfortably in her PJs alternating my role between playmate and Alice from the Brady Bunch making snacks and bottles at just the perfect moment.

My husband says I still clean up nice, which- by the way, is one of the nicest things he could have said to me as I sat with what was left of my physical self esteem in a wasted heap of pity beneath me.

Then it changed.

I think it was a Wednesday again.

I got angry about something and I did a little exercise. That little voice in the back of your head that tells you when your shoes look sexy kicked itself in high gear and started whispering to me. You can do this again.

Two days later I'm still exercising and I've even left the house all cleaned up and dressed up nice. That is, dressed up a little... my nice tshirt and my new jeans. But I had make-up, straightened hair, trendy shoes and earrings and dang it I liked it.

Perhaps that little voice in my head that sends my confidence soaring needs to just get out more...

So I will...

Maybe on Wednesday.

Humble with a side of Hummus

I sit downstairs eating lunch exceptionally late in the day, partially due to laziness and partially due to the fact that I forgot in the rush to get a deposit to the bank and get the grocery shopping done before the baby wanted her lunch. I remembered to feed her and marveled a little while I unpacked my shopping loot while watching her eat so easily and so comfortably with her hands. Now it's supposed to be my turn.

Her fingers were nimble at lunch and agile, taking what she wanted and putting it directly into her gnashing teeth with out so much as an injury at her lunch time. Now she's not afforded that option. I've made home made pita chips with cayenne pepper on them and dished myself out some doctored up store bought hummus and she's all over my lap.

I jokingly call her Helen Keller a lot because she reminds me of that old black and white movie where the little girl playing Helen Keller banged around the kitchen table trying to grab handfuls of food off of everyone's plate and get them into her own mouth.

But, I digress, so now I'm sitting in the livingroom, batting away sticky fingers and shooving small bites of hummus covered pita into her mouth as she laughs and taunts me ducking below my line of sight and popping back up with an "a boo" and another rabid hand seeking another yummy bite.

My lips are warm from the Cayenne and my tongue is pleasantly cool from the hummus and I look down at my long and lean child eatting foods I know some of her friends and cousins have never even heard of and I am slightly proud of myself. She is not detoured by the spice of it, or the warmth of the pita directly from the oven, she is not shy of the creamy hummus or the bright green chives.

She is honestly and openly willing to try something new and different. She is daring and bold. She is confident and kind. She is loud in her comfort zone and peaceful but shy when new people are around.

She knows she is loved. It is evident in the amount of trust she has in her own abilities and in our ability to protect her. She is not scared to fall because she knows that even if we do not catch her we will help to take it better. She is not scared to taste because she knows that we offer things that are safe to try and that will be interesting and new. She is not afriad to be herself because she knows that we will love her... she just knows.

And then as I poke another pita chip into her mouth and watch her eyes twinkle as she does a yummy food dance at my feet and flirts with Daddy on the couch and think... dang I did a good job.

Right as I think that she leans over and bites my thigh with her hummus covered mouth.

At least she's in alliance with God on that whole keeping me humble thing.

Nana's Birthday

It is almost 8 am when the phone rings out from it's place on top of the piano and Layla's eyes dance across the room when the sound starts, "nan na" she says and crawls next to my chair to wait for me.

Every day they talk, sing, and laugh on the phone. Layla spreading gibberish sentences laced with song lyrics and clearly spoken words. "I lou you" she tells her a few times... "nan na hi nan na" a couple more.

I sit usually serving as a partial translator; narrating the things the baby is doing so my mom can interact with her better. I sit and watch as my daughter dances to "round and round it goes" a song Nana made up for her.

I watch as my mother evolves into Nana and although I can picture her as a mother, now when I think of her it is to marvel at how quickly she adapted to being a grandmother. I think of her in terms of the way my daughter giggles at the thought of her.

Today it is her birthday. She's...well... it doesn't matter how old she is... she's a Nana now it's part of the Nana mystery is to be both old in age and mystically youthful in play.

She is one part the woman who sat in a lumpy bed with me and read that Nana Upstairs, Nana Downstairs book for the 20th time. She is another part the Nana who stops everyone at work to brag about her baby for the 20th time each day showing them pictures on her PC.

Happy birthday mom Nana! We love you!

Reflections and Shadows...

Is it just me or the shadow almost as cute as if not cuter than the baby in this picture...

The Saga of Mother In Laws

I've had a couple emails and comments about the fact that there was never another post about the mother-in-law "situation".

There won't be one.

This has always been a place where I have talked about anything I wanted to. That's part of what made it beautiful and pure like those strange people who make art out of other people's trash. But the truth is, I can't make this pure.

I am muddled. I can't even talk to her about it. For many reasons, I doubt my own ability to stay calm and focused. I doubt my own ability to believe what I am told based on what I was told 2 years later last time.

Basically, I have doubt. Most of it lies in me. I doubt that I am Christian enough to not break things further by trying to fix them. My husband who is much calmer and much more rational took a second pass at trying to know what was broken... and came back more broken from the journey.

Not everything in life needs to be fixed. Somethings are nice when they are broken. Perhaps someday God will make this into one of those things.

So I leave it with grace and love and a shut mouth (which is rare for me) until God makes it clear that this is something I can't avoid any longer.

And he will...

Because he's God and he likes to shake things up...

So I wait.

Funny Shit

Today I sat down to sort through bills and found a notice from our Drs office that was about 30 days old (sent to the wrong address and forwarded) which said that if I didn't make a payment in 30 days I could be DISCHARGED from our primary care physician.

Oh my F-ing God!

So I do what every person does when they find they about to be beaten over the head by the system. I panicked and called my Doctor. Who told me in fact I was in collections. Ok...shit happens... how much I ask? Guess... Come on Guess....

You guess I'll carry on with the story...

Not enough to be worth the amount of time they were about to spend on me...that's how much. So I call the billing office, which has be call the collections office, which has me call back billing, and then finally after 35 minutes I lose my shit.

Crying, cursing and being otherwise unbearable I demand to talk to a supervisor. So...

I've made a scheduled payment for Friday. I'm not being discharged from my doctor (or so they tell me) and I am calling back Monday to confirm they didn't mess anything up and to re-schedule my daughters 12 mo checkup which is not for another 25 days but for some reason they insisted on canceling until my VERY SMALL balance was paid in full.

Oh drama... thou art my middle name...

Sigh.

So what do you do when you're pissed? Normally I eat a whole bag of dorritos but it's been a bad month so I stopped letting myself buy them. Sometimes, I eat other things but nothing today looked like it could cure PISSED BEYOND MEASURE so I got out the exercise ball.

The baby had a grand time laughing her tucus (how do you spell butt anyhow?) off. (does anyone else love the fact that I dropped an f bomb already but I used the word tucus instead of ass?) We bounced until I started to worry about shaken toddler syndrome...what you've never heard of STS?

Oh well it's when you shake a toddler so much that your arms hurt too much to cook dinner and you have to eat stale fishsticks and processed cheese products instead.

So fearing STS I moved to doing reverse sit ups using the exercise ball. We did 100 in increments of 10. Gosh my tummy hurts.

I figured while I was torturing myself I'd go for the tri-fecta of "mommy why me" and I called the church and RSVP'd for one of those SAHM brunches and bible study introduction events. I know... I think I might have exercised to the point of disillusion.

Then, I took some video of the baby to post over her blog the next several days and started looking through recipe books for FatGirlEats (btw there is my honey mustard merinade over there today) and I came across an "April Fools Day" recipe in my holiday candies book which is posted above. They call it Kitty Crunchies. I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. My kid thinks I'm nutter.

Thanks God... for the little things... like Christian Confection Cookbooks with Kitty Poo shaped chocolate treats laying in a bed of rice litter. I always knew you had my sense of humor.

Bugs Over It

So a month before her birthday my daughter has decided she is pretty much done with most of the toys we currently own. When you hand her a toy she'll quickly go through the motions of doing everything it does once and toss it aside. I think she's ready to shake things up a little.

Up until now I've had a stash in the closet (things I paced out from Christmas that she hasn't been old enough for) and that's all empty. I find myself offering token items to entertain her while I do dishes or clean up.

Who wants to play with a stack of tupperware and plastic spoons? Your kid... well... not mine.

There are 24 days until Layla's birthday but Jon and I have already talked about getting her present from us and giving it to her this weekend to entertain her for awhile. It's not like she'll know she got it early.

On an upside all the decorations for her party are purchased and the basic party supplies. Now I just need food (which I'll be making the week of) and a cake (which I'm SOOO going to have to buy being as I don't have cake skills like Sarah).

Road Trip- Columbia State Park

Today the hubby and I opted for a much needed long drive just to get out of the house. While we were at it we took the baby to Old Town-Columbia to get some giant Lollipops for her birthday decorations and to get ourselves some incense. Columbia was a ghost town mid day on a HOT Tuesday in September.

On the way back we had Doc's Texas BBQ in Sonora and there will be a review up at FatGirlEats just as soon as I finish it. There are also pictures on LaylaBug's photo page for those with access.

The Fly Hunter

This week I had the bright idea one morning to open up my front door and air out the house. I totally forgot that I live in a communal environment now and that flies thrive near apartment complexes so for the last 3 evenings our TV enjoyment after Layla goes to bed has been plagued by fly batting, fly swearing, and general fly hatred.

Today I had had enough. Being the green person I am around my daughter I didn't want to pull out a can of liquid death and go on a fly holocaust so instead I got out the dollar bin fly swatter no one ever uses and started a stealth like overview of the entire house while Layla had her morning snack.

Twenty minutes and eleven flies later I feel much better. I've only seen one since them. But, don't you worry... that one's days are marked as well.

FatGirlEats Recipes

Today at FatGirlEats I have the recipes up for Chocolate Chip Banana Pancakes and Muddy Buddy Mix.