The Scrapbooking Beast and Taking Time to Dance

So the Scrapbooking Beast has taken over my brain and my room for the last month or so. It took a short hiatus while I attempted to scan all my old negatives with my new handy-dandy negative scanner. (If you look at the second picture, you can see my new scanner under a pile of miscellaneous papers, candy bags and a box of Kleenex.) After I finished that, I  scanned some VERY, VERY OOOOOOLD pictures of me and various family members. After I did that, I decided that I just HAD to order some prints. When the prints came in, I just HAD to start scrapbooking again, even though I still have my professional wedding pictures to scan (I know, I know. Copyrights, blah, blah. But our photographer DID give us the negatives and, I'm sorry, my scanner doesn't take the larger size negatives.) and both my babies' ultrasounds to scan.

After getting all the pictures I (currently) have scrapped and in binders, I remembered rather suddenly that I have over twenty years of old cards and letters that I could put in the scrapbooks too. I mean, what else am I going to do with them? Honestly? Why did I keep them?, you say. If you don't already understand, I'll never be able to explain it to you.

So, I have spent about 6 hours during the course of this day sorting, dating, cropping, adhering and sheet protector-ing all those cards and letters (for the first 20 years of my life).

Needless to say, my kids were feeling an eensy bit neglected. Oh, I wasn't ignoring them, but I'm sure that the "Don't TOUCH that!" and "Rwaaar!" responses from Mama didn't make them feel especially loved.

I decided that a short break in the kids' room might make everyone feel a little better. I turned on the radio, fixed Audrey's snap beads and sat back in the recliner.

I was treated to an interpretive dance show by my daughter who happily told me "Yes!" when I asked if she wanted to be a ballerina.

Eventually she got into a hip shaking groove and the ballerina was all but forgotten; replaced with the Rock Star.

All this time, Hank was just looking for a little attention.

I love the funny little skeptical looks that he was giving. Truth told, that was just his reaction to the flash of the camera. Cute anyway, though.

After the playroom boogie was over with, we adjourned to Mama and Dad's room where, in spite of all our efforts, has turned into the kids' domain as well.

Why are all the free toys the favorites?

We got this moth cutout at the Rio Grande Botanical Gardens. We took a night tour the year Audrey was born. It has lost the Popsicle stick it was taped to, but the kids fight over it and carry it around everywhere.

Working too hard and hardly working.

Okay, so I teased you guys a bit at the end of my last blog. So here is the news whether you find it good or not, depending on your fondness of Ben's occupation.

Three months after he applied, Fedex called Ben for an interview. We talked it over and determined that the pay would be similar to what he is currently making, however, the commute would be a third the distance. So, he went in for the interview and they pretty much said he had it as long as he could pass the background check. I hate waiting...

He got a call this morning. As it turns out, Ben isn't a criminal and Fedex invited him to work tomorrow morning. And by morning, I mean MORNING.... 3am, morning. This is after working his full day at Sundance. Ah, to be young again, when sleep was optional and kids were something that OTHER people had... and we laughed about both...


Anyway.

For the next week and a half, Ben has two jobs since he wasn't about to leave Sundance high and dry during the last part of the busy season. He'll be working four or five nights a week there until about 10pm, come home, try to sleep, get up at 2am (or so) and head over to FE for four hours (or so).

The benefits as I see them:

1. Ben will no longer have to work on Sunday. YAY!!
2. Ben will be home for dinner every night, which means I won't have to flake out on helping with dinner and I also won't have to pack Ben a lunch. Woot!
3. Ben will be home to help get the kids in bed.
4. Date Night now becomes optional again.
5. Less wear and tear on Ben's car. (Yes, he has his own car. I'll let him tell you about that.. a car is a personal thing, you know.)
6. He'll be sorting packages, so his arms are going to get BUFF... oh, yeah.
And the list could go on...

The downsides include no more Sundance discounts, Ben has to get up at 3am, he'll have to figure out when he can catch a nap during the day, and this MIGHT cause some tricky scheduling with school in the fall... oh, and did I mention that he has to get up at 3AM?!?

On to the hardly working...

Yeah, my thyroid hardly works.

I finally went to see an endocrinologist today (well, her nurse, anyway). I've been trying to piece together the scattered information I've been getting about my issues and I finally decided that I needed to see a specialist.

After filling the nurse in on over ten years of medical history, (yes, she was impressed) I was pleased to find that not only does she not mind that I've been taking the ever so controversial drug Armour Thyroid, she was more than happy to give me the information for a compound pharmacy in Provo where I could get a compound variation of Armour any time the big chains run out of the still-spotty supplies of the brand name. I am thrilled, to say the least!

She also sent me for more blood work (um, yay...) which included antibodies testing. I don't think I've ever had anyone check this before, the goal being to find out what is actually causing my hypothyroidism. No one has ever given me a clear explanation.

I also have an ultrasound scheduled for next Wednesday. They mostly want to make sure that there aren't any freeloading nodules wearing out their welcome. Hopefully, they won't find anything other than my lazy thyroid hanging out in there.

After about 6 weeks, I'll go for more bloodwork and then another appointment with the nurse. So, more to come. Wish me luck. I'm not freaked out about it... yet.

Words are fun!

Whilst holding my post-nap cranky daughter, I was talking to Henry who was standing next to the chair.

"Mama?" I said coaxingly.

"Bfaa baa."

"Mama?"

"Da der dih dih dee da."

"Mama?"

Henry looks up at his sisters face, "Aaah deee."

!!!!!!!!!!!

Awesome!



Some funny things Audrey has said recently.

At dinner: "Daddy, you have red boobies!"
What??

Mom and I were talking about the Jews not eating bacon: "I don't like juice."

To my grandmother: "G.G., your hair is in the bath tub?"
Huh??

Hopping around on a green checkered rug in the kitchen: "Tree, tree, tree, broccoli, broccoli, broccoli!"


Just a teaser... For good or ill, there may be changes on the horizon for Ben and his Sundance fun... No, I won't say any more than that.

How would you like your baked potato?

With or without a little piece of Idaho?


Today is the second day of my new calorie counting die with a t. It might actually be considered a life-change but that might be too optimistic. I started the day off well: A banana-peach smoothie for breakfast which totaled a whopping 275 calories. Yay me! No wonder I was starving by the time Ben came home from school at 11:15.

One of the first things he asked me was, "So, when's your cheat day?"

"Uh... since I only just started this yesterday, I haven't really given much thought to a cheat day."

"Oh," short pause, "So, where do you want to go for lunch? Barty's Lard Cafeteria or Golden Corral?"

"Are those my only choices?"

"Well, I was going to mention The Cellulite Cafe but they're a little pricey."

Indeed.

So, off to Golden Corral it was. The awesome thing about GC is that we can get plates of sample style food for the kids and we don't care if they don't eat every little thing. Plus, they're free until they're 4! Woohoo, free food!!

Henry had a food orgy. By the time he was done, there was food all over the floor, his lap, inside the plastic bib pocket, all over his face and in his hair. He had his first try of juice as well, which REALLY excited him and so happened his first ever juice-stache.

Audrey enjoyed herself too. She was a bit pickier than Henry, but since she was free, I couldn't make myself care too much. She loved the juice too.



I blew my calorie counting efforts completely. My British blood called out to me and most of my meal consisted of fish and chips. I can argue with myself that fish is really good for me and I don't get it as often as I should, but I really can't justify the batter dipped and deep fried qualities. Sitting here, I just realized that I didn't even get myself any fruit. Shame on me. My thighs will be bubbling all night long. By my figuring, the only thing that would bring me back down to my calorie allotment for the day would be about 4 pounds of celery.

After the kids and I had our plates in front of us and were happily filling our tums, Ben wandered out to forage for himself. He came back with a pile of french fries and the fixings for a super loaded baked potato.

"Filling your starch quota for the century?"

"Yep."

Ben peeled the foil off his baked potato and I noted distractedly that he brushed a little dirt off the tuber. Not too unusual unfortunately. I can't tell you how many times I have been disappointed by the quality of potato washing at restaurants. The skin, honestly, is my favorite part of the potato. Load it up with butter and it's a heart stopping, juicy, satisfying pile of cholesterol. It always saddens me when I have to leave the skin because I just can't work up the nerve to eat a little dirt.
The next time I looked up, there was a little mound of Idaho on his plate. Ew.

"Erm. I wouldn't eat that potato if I were you."

"I wasn't planning on it. Do you think I should ask for a manager?"

"Oh yeah. The whole batch could be like that."

A few minutes later, we had a manager who asked us politely what he could do for us.

Ben smiled ruefully, "I really wanted a baked potato today," and showed the manager his plate with the unappetizing, grey mound resting on it.

Since he was standing at my left shoulder, I didn't see his face, but I can imagine his smile turning to horror at the sight.

"That's just disgusting. I'm SO sorry!"

He went on to say that he loved to eat the potato skin himself and was horrified that one of their potatoes looked like that. He took Ben's potato with the promise that he'd be back shortly, warning as well that the whole batch would be tossed so it obviously wouldn't be replaced with a new one.

When he came back he notified us that the person who prepped the potatoes that day was getting a serious talking to and that it would never happen again. He apologized again, asked for our receipt and left again.

Ben opted for a nice, big, healthy-ish salad, which he was kind of bummed about. But, since his meal, and mine ended up being free, we didn't complain much. Woohoo! Free food!

Bad Juju

Audrey and Henry have been brewing colds for over a week. As horrible as it is to have to wrestle with my boy to wipe his snotty face, remind my girl to cover her mouth when she coughs and worry that a fever may still be on the horizon, the worst part is feeling ineffectual when it comes to their recovery.

Yes, they get vitamins every day. Though, I often wonder how much good it really does to give Audrey half a Flintstones and squirt disgusting brown liquid that smells like a vitamin bottle from the 1950's down Hank's throat.

I make sure they get a good amount of water. They're both good eaters, even when they're sick.

I've even got them some children's cough and cold medicine to help them overnight with this terrible cough they've both developed. I give them each a fraction of a dose, though, so I wonder if it does anything for them at all...

Hank seems to be coming out of it for the most part.

Audrey is another story. She's got a horrible barking cough that just won't give up. She's the size of a four year old, but I hesitate to give her a full dose of the cough medicine... so, here I am, feeling the Bad Mom. Of course, I also just remembered 10 minutes ago to turn on their humidifier. That would have been helpful, right? Sigh.

I've always said that I am okay with my kids getting sick because it's normal and it'll make them stronger in the end. It'll boost their immune system so they don't get sick from any little germ they come in contact with. Yet, I find my resolve breaking when I hear my children struggling to sleep because of a nasty cough. It makes me want to go into their room and scrub all the walls, boil all their blankets and clothes, bleach clean their toys and set fire to anything that I can't possibly clean.

In a few days, they'll be fine, and I'll wonder why I was so worried. In the mean time, my heart breaks every time I hear my daughter whimper in her sleep.

Henry's Hoodlum Haircut

Though some would say that his hair was perfectly fine and not needing a haircut, it was starting to curl into his ears and just looking at it gave me the jibblies. So, Ben and I had discussed what we'd like to do to handle his curly wisps, coming to the same conclusion at the same time.

MOHAWK! Oh, yeah!

Before you gasp in horror, think about who you are talking to. Really. A woman who does this. 

A man who does this:

 

No, not holding a cat... it's the rare red haired rat attached to his chin.

But, have no fear. Our little Hank is darn tootin' cute no matter what. We could probably shave his head and stick it to his back and he'd still be cute... albeit a little disturbing.

So, without further ado... The photographs, if you please.

His hair naturally curls. So, here he was with a perfectly surfable pipeline wave.

Here, we had just rinsed his hair and he was trying to be happy about his bath again after getting water dumped all over him.

A little gel and finger combing and he's ready to join his grandpa at the Launchpad tonight. If he got on a plane now, do you think he'd make it? ;-D

Until next time. Don't underestimate us. Oh, yeah.

Pickle Eyes

Along with our dinner tonight came the option of pickle spears. I have never been a fan of pickles, or anything steeped in vinegar. Audrey expressed some interest, but the moment we offered her some, she refused, so I ended up with a fifth of a dill pickle sitting on my plate.

It was suggested that, perhaps, Henry would like a little taste. I inwardly rolled my eyes, thinking of gagging and spitting. (On his part, though I would likely sympathize.) It was when Hank decided that he wasn't getting enough attention to go with his graham crackers that I concluded his mouth could use a little puckering.

I cut off a tiny slice, which i then cut into 3 little sections. One minuscule bit was handed off to Papa who obligingly put in into Henry's open mouth....

.......

.................

.................................

Much to everyone's surprise, he didn't spit it out. In fact, he looked interested as he rolled the bit of soggy cucumber around in his mouth. It was when he looked toward me and started squawking again, that I figured I'd try more. After a few more pieces, I decided to go bigger. Maybe, just maybe, he thought it was good because he wasn't getting a big enough piece to really taste it.

In went a bigger chunk of pickle. Henry rolled it around and chewed. Wow.

Of course, all of this supplied plenty of amusement for the adults around the table. Every time he took a piece, we chuckled in appreciation as he inquisitively mouthed it and started to chew with his front teeth, occasionally taking it out, looking at it and putting it back in.

At one point Papa said, "It looks like you've been Pickle-ized."

A few minutes later, while Henry happily munched on more of the offensive vegetable, Audrey piped up, "Henry, you have pickle eyes!"

Audrey did end up trying a tiny piece of the pickle. It was only after I told her that she could have ice cream after she swallowed it that she stopped threatening to spit it out.

I guess Audrey IS my daughter after all.

Colloquialisms and Toddlers Don't Mix

Yesterday evening, before the dreaded bedtime ritual of screaming, crying, peeing of the pants, objects moving at high velocity at my head, more crying, threatenings from a harried parent, wrestling matches involving pajamas and flailing limbs, bare bottomed escaping pre-toddlers and, yes, crying, Audrey thought it would be funny to open and slam her bedroom door repeatedly in the face of her brother, who looked over his shoulder at me in utter bewilderment.

"Audrey stop it."

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" *SLAM!*

"Audrey-!" *SLAM!"

"Grrr! Audrey Renae, knock" *SLAM* "it off!"

*Stomp, stomp, stomp!*

I wrenched the door open to find my little girl chortling as she ran to her bed. I followed her and got down on my knees to talk to her.

"Audrey, I don't want you to slam the door like that. Henry can't get in when the door is closed, he's too little."

"Heehee!"

"Audrey," warning tone, "I asked you not to slam the door."

Audrey tries, mostly, to catch my serious tone and stops laughing.

Here is where I went wrong: "Please don't slam the door, it's not funny."

I watched the smile spread across my little girl's face and she dared a little giggle.

"Audrey it's not funny. You need to listen when I tell you things."

"Heehee..."

"Audrey, wipe that smile off your face!"

Audrey obediently bows her head, raises her hand and slowly wipes her mouth.

At that point I nearly lost it. Struggling not to laugh, I must have looked like I swallowed a lemon dipped in tabasco sauce;

my face beet red, my mouth puckered and twisted to one side. After a moment, Audrey looked up and, seeing my expression, started laughing. I don't know if she was laughing because she knew she had me, or if my face looked that ridiculous.

Probably both.

Guess what?

Not five minutes ago, I took Henry downstairs to play with his sister and her friend, Kylee. I put him down on the floor, but he refused to sit, locking his knees. He's been doing this a lot lately. He REALLY wants to walk. So, I made sure he was balanced and let go. He'll normally stand for a moment and then plop down on his bum. He stood for about a second and a half, then swung his left leg forward and leaned forward slightly, wobbled, set his foot down, wobbled, plop!

It took me a moment to realize that I had just witnessed Henry's first honest-to-goodness step. I sprinted up the stairs to find Ben who was getting ready to run to the bus stop to get to school.

"DAD!" I said a little loudly, expecting him to be at the door, not in the kitchen with my mom.

"Ya?"

"Guess who just took his first step?"

Ben's mouth popped open and then just as quickly turned downward in a disappointed pout. He has missed a lot of Henry's firsts lately. I explained what happened and then said, "Of course, his first step would be toward Audrey."

"Of course," Ben said, philosophically, "She's his big sister."

Audrey has been responsible for quite a few firsts with Henry. She was the first one to make him REALLY laugh hard; when she was crying. She frequently makes him cry hard; when she's laughing. She's typically the only one who can get him to laugh and be happy when he's sad.

I have high hopes for them being best friends as they grow up.