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Friday, January 22, 2010

Happy Birthday to Gabe!

My baby boy is 7 years old today.  All year long he has been telling us he wants IHOP for dinner on his birthday.
I told him he looks tired.  He said, "It's just been a rough day."
Me:  "Rough, like as in sad?  Have you been crying?"
Gabe:  "No, you know like, tears of joy."
Me:  "What do you mean?"
Gabe:  "You know.  It's just been rough."
Me:  (thinking to myself..."How rough a day can a 1st grader have?")
Gabe:  "I just had a lot of homework at school and it's my birthday, you know?"

Earlier today he said, "I don't feel 7 yet.  Maybe tomorrow when I've been 7 for longer."

Gabe and Chuck used to have Muddy Buddy days on Friday.  Chuck took Fridays off and they would spend the day together doing yard work and whatnot.  Sometimes they would go for pancakes to IHOP-POP (That's what Gabe used to call it.).


Off we go!

Monday, September 21, 2009

Gratitude Challenge Challenging

     Day 1 of my 21 day Gratitude Challenge has challenged my gratitude more than the past 21 days put together!  Here's what I need to find the silver lining in:  Breanna calls for me to pick her up from dance practice.  I load up the boys (no shoes or shirt required), turn ignition key...nothing.  Battery dead.  Lights left on.  Okay, no biggie.  I call another mom that lives in our neighborhood and ask if Bree can ride home with her.  Gabe jumps out, excited that he can now stay and play with his friends.  He runs inside to get his shoes on and takes off.  Gavin and I get out and turn the doorknob...nothing.  Door locked.  Hmmm...  

     I case the perimeter of the house to find an opened window.  Only one open is the one over the kitchen sink.  I find an empty ice chest in the back of Chuck's truck that I can use to climb in.  All the while keeping an eye on Gavin to be sure he doesn't dart out into the street.  After some tricky maneuvering I make it!  Now to the door quickly to run back out and get Gavin.  He was right where I left him, thank God.  
     We go inside to cook dinner.  I'm cubing tofu while he plays at the table.  Next thing I know I hear a thump.  He fell off the chair and landed on his head.  Grrr...  He's okay now, but I had to endure ear-piercing screams for a couple minutes while I comforted him.
     Does it sound like I'm complaining?  I hope not, because I hate whiners.  Hate.  And that's a word I reserve for very special occasions.  
     Here's the silver lining:
     Didn't have to go get Bree, so I didn't have to get out of the truck in my knee highs and slippers.  Got to see how much CrossFit has helped me in my attempt to break into my own house.  (Pulled ice chest out of truck- strength.  Carried it around the side of the house- stamina.  Backed myself up into the window with a pretty awesome tricep dip- more strength.  Contorted self into rolly polly to wiggle through window without knocking down shelf, dish soap, candles, plant pot, and picture frame- flexibility, accuracy, balance, and coordination.  Jumped off counter, bobbed and weaved around toys strewn across kitchen floor, bolted out the door and around the yard to get Gavin- agility, coordination, balance.)
     Here's the tough one- what's good about Gavin falling on his head?  Um, hopefully that he did it before he got too big and would really hurt himself?  Maybe at that precise moment, I was ready to be popped with a splat of oil from the tofu and him falling off the chair forced me to rush to his side, all the while, avoiding being scalded.  Yeah, I'm going with that one. 

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Argentina, not Appalachians, silly

     Ay, yie, yie....Another unfaithful politician.  Surprised?  

     These men of such high stature, I believe, are only being pegged because of who they are.  They happen to be people in the public eye who hold a public office.  They are human.  By no means am I making light of this-Lord knows if it were my husband he'd be short one body part when I found out.  He's well aware of that, too.              
     We've been faced with a similar situation in Portland- when our openly gay mayor confessed to his sexual relationship with a much younger (some say underage at the time) intern.  (Now I need to go and get one of those new Voodoo donuts named after the scandal, "Breedlove's cock").  
     Is it that they simply believe they are invincible and can get away with anything?   Possibly that they'll be forgiven by the general public and their wife?  That they've done such a wonderful job in office that the citizens will let it slide?
     I don't think so.  I think they were just overcome by the heat of the moment.  They weren't concerned about the repercussions at the time.  It happens everyday.  Everywhere.  It's just big news because these guys are supposed to be upholding their professionalism.  It doesn't mean they're super-human.  
     I won't even get into the impact these situations will have on their community- the wife and mother in me can't get past how his family will suffer.  
     Why/how is it that a man can be sooooooo committed to and soooooooo in love with his wife, yet still allow his desires to get the best of him?  I really would like some feedback from the male perspective, please.

Friday, June 5, 2009

The love of a mother

     I read this story today in the latest edition of People magazine while standing in the checkout line at Fred Meyer.  I was almost in tears and it made me want to just rush home to nurse my baby.  If I could, I would be next in line to offer my help to this dad and baby.  I know how passionate I am about breastfeeding and I am just so touched that this dad understood how important it was to his wife to nurse their newborn.
     Gavin is now 21 months old, and while he has greatly decreased his nursing frequency, he is definitely still very interested in "mama milk".  When it's all gone he will say, "other side".  I'm not ready for this chapter of his life/our relationship to end.  Chuck is always asking "when?".  I tell him that Gavin will definitely be weaned before he goes to Kindergarten. ;)











Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Celebration of Life

     May 17th, Sunday night, we received the news that one of our dearest, most wonderful friends, Carmen Martinez, succumbed to cancer.  Carmen was diagnosed in September with stage IV colon cancer.  She was 46 years old, healthy, active, vibrant, with no family history.  By the time the cancer was detected the tumor was the size of a grapefruit.  Despite the chemotherapy and radiation, in the end all that could be done was to just make sure Carmen was comfortable and pain-free. 
     When we first learned of the cancer back in October and Carmen's grand plan to host a "Pre-Chemo Party" at one of the swankiest hotel ballrooms in Portland we didn't believe it for a second.  Leave it to Carmen to come up with ANY excuse to throw a party.  And once we arrived, upon seeing her, we were absolutely convinced it was all a big joke.  The woman was stunning, as always. 
     I think when someone dies, his/her friends think back on all the wonderful times they shared, all the flattering adjectives that could be used to describe him/her, all the funny stories about him/her...  Well, you could truly write a book with all the amazing things Carmen's friends, family and students would want people to know about her.  As breathtaking as Carmen's physical beauty was, multiply that by a gazillion and you might get close to the beauty of her soul.  
     I first met Carmen many moons ago when I just started teaching kickboxing Saturday mornings at Bally's (2003, I believe.  6 weeks after Gabe was born).  I don't remember ever meeting anyone who so enjoyed punching and kicking a bag more than Carmen did.  She came with her boyfriend du jour, Paul, but once she quickly realized he couldn't hang with the big girls, he was out.  As a matter of fact, in all the time I was blessed to know Carmen, she was never in a serious relationship.  It seemed as if she was always looking for that one perfect guy who could match her depth, intellect, physicality, humor, sense of adventure and athleticism.  Although, she was on that never-ending quest for her Prince Charming, he never came.  
     Carmen was a girl's girl.  Always up for happy hour, sushi, dancing, or just hanging out at home hosting a (wink, wink) "Naughty Girls" party.   Soon after she became a student in my kickboxing class, she decided she was ready for some one-on-one butt kicking, and thus began our journey into personal training/counseling sessions/gut-busting laughter/weird looks from people across the gym because we were way too crazy for 2pm on a weekday/sometimes doubling up with Chuck for "two-trainers-for-the-price-of-one" sessions (really just because we both wanted to be with her and couldn't decide who would get to train her that day).   Once, as a gag gift, we got Carmen this funky bib/towel thingy because the girl could sweat like nothing I've ever seen.  Picture a hand towel with a big hole in the middle to put your head through.  Man, that was funny.  Good times.
     Through the years, even after we stopped the personal training, our relationship continued to grow.  You know those friends you may have that, even if you go months, or even years without seeing them, once you reunite, everything falls back into place as if no time had passed?  That's how our relationship was.  She would call up to invite us to a party and we were always there.  Once she was hosting a bbq at her apartment in Lake Oswego with 25 or so of her closest friends.  It was on the lake, middle of summer, lots of food and drinks.  Carmen was tromping around in her verrrrry low cut bathing suit for quite a while before she realized the clip that was holding it together across her chest had broken.  (Picture Hally Berry at the Oscars-down to the belly button v-cut).  She had had a few drinks at that point and probably couldn't care less, but I wasn't about to have any of it.  I took my big silver hoop earring from my ear and hooked her suit back together.  I wanted to tell this story at her memorial service, because I think it just epitomized who Carmen was- a carefree woman who didn't care what others thought of her, a natural beauty who was comfortable in her own skin, who just wanted to have a good time.
     Anytime I think of Carmen, the image I get is of her throwing her head back, laughing with her entire face and body.  Her warm, consuming hugs.  Her thick, beautiful Puerto Rican accent.
     Carmen's one true love was science.  She was a chemistry instructor at Portland Community College.  Although I didn't have a clue what she was talking about, she was so passionate about it that I just loved to listen.  She made atoms and molecules sound so fascinating.  She so richly related science to life and spirituality.  She taught me that we all are really one body that is connected through energy.  
     Carmen was raised Catholic.  Just recently, in the past few years, she converted to Buddhism.  I didn't know anything about it, so one day, after a workout, we spent about an hour in the sauna at the gym while she explained to me everything she had been learning.  From what I gathered, basically it seemed as though she was simply practicing 'love'.  
     When Chuck and I had left Bally's and began working on opening PPT we ran into her one day when we went back into Bally's for some reason or another.  Carmen was, unequivocally, THE most excited for us above even our parents!  Like, squealing and jumping up and down clapping, excited.  We got back in the car to leave and Chuck and I looked at each other and were like, "Whoa!  No one has been THAT excited for us about this."  Less than a month later we received the diagnosis.  
     After we attended her "Celebration of Life" party, I spoke with her on the phone for quite a while and although I tried my hardest to not cry, that didn't last for very long.  I was concerned that by my sobbing I was saying to Carmen, "I think you're going to die."  I felt that I would be sending her the message that I didn't have faith in her treatment plan and that I was afraid to lose her.  She said it was okay to cry and that my crying allowed her to show her true emotions, too.  That neither of us should feel we have to put up a front for each other.  That we could show that we were scared if we were.  To hear her describe her plan of attack and sheer determination to kick cancer's ass,  I was convinced she would beat this.  I felt sooooo much better after talking to her.  She told me that her doctor said her cancer cells looked very angry.  She decided she would talk to them (cancer cells) and ask why they were so mad and tell them that it would all be okay and that she loved them.  She would tell them that she wasn't angry with them.  
     Buddhists believe that after a person dies, they go through a "transition" period and then become "reborn".  I've heard that the transitional period is anywhere from 7 days to 2 weeks.  So, needless to say, I've been keeping my eyes open for signs of Carmen.  I don't really know what to look for, but I have a feeling that I should not be actively searching for her.  So far, the closest I've come is shopping with Breanna for her graduation outfit last weekend and coming across a pair of shoes named "Carmen".  While it did bring out a chuckle in me, I stopped for a moment to think about the deeper meaning behind those shoes.  My conclusion was that I don't think it was the actual shoes that meant anything, but rather a reminder to just stay aware and be open to any possibility.   








Friday, May 15, 2009

Dragging my heels

I consider my blog an online journal-a way to keep notes everyday on our lives.  But why do I find it so difficult to post more often?  I feel like each and every post must be super-exciting or, what's the point?

I'm going to try to get over that and post more often.

Let's play catch-up:
19 days of school left for Bree and Gabe.  Bree leaves for Georgia June 13th.  I just can't imagine her not being here.  She is just such a fixture here and although I have to respect her relationship with her father it's just so hard to let her go.  She won't be gone as long this summer, but nonetheless...

Bree's trying out for the Hilhi (Hillsboro High) Spartan Stars Dance Team.  She's been coming home each night to show me the dance she's learning.  This is the closest she can come to being a cheerleader without actually being a cheerleader, so she's okay with that.

Gabe. Gabe. Gabe.  Ugggg...  This little man is giving me a run for my money.  Constant battle of wills.  EVERYTHING is an argument.  "Why (fill in the blank)?",  "Can I just....(whatever)",  "How come I can't....(use your imagination)?",  "But MOM!!"  AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!  I'm saying the serenity prayer quite often these days.  I know it's just a phase.  Nap time doesn't come often enough.  

Then there's Doodle (Poodle, Pumpkin, Poopers, etc.).  Mr. Gavin!  Oh, this kid just makes my cheeks hurt and belly ache from laughing so hard at the things he says and does.  He understands absolutely everything and communicates very well.  He knows tons of words.  He knows how to get a laugh out of us.  He loves dance.  He loves his brother and sister and Daddy and Mama!  Each time I see him (getting him up in the morning or after a nap, picking him up from daycare) is like Christmas morning.  Probably because he can't talk back (yet).  

Mother's Day this year took on a renewed meaning to me.  I don't know if I can quite explain why.  Maybe because I've been so busy with work and  it gave me the opportunity to really revel in my role as "Mom", my most important role.   If I lost everything today I would still have more than I need in my kids, my husband, and my faith.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Kid Update

I went to watch Breanna's track meet yesterday.  As I sat there on the bleachers watching all these 7th and 8th grade boys and girls I was almost overcome with emotion thinking about how quickly she's growing up and that she's almost in high school!  I witnessed a girlfriend of hers (8th grader) with her boyfriends arms around her and in her pockets.  I could not believe it.  This is 8th GRADE, PEOPLE!  For the love of God!  If I saw a boy's hands on Breanna like that I would break both of his wrists.  Apparently a couple of Bree's friends have a boyfriend.  I DID NOT in 8th grade.  And the makeup some of these girls wear!?  It's Spirit Week at her school and yesterday was "Country Day".  She told me about a friend of hers (one of the girls with a boyfriend, I might add) was going to wear Daisy Dukes (with leggings underneath), cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat.  Okay, is anyone with me on this?  Am I being a prude?  I just don't want her to grow up too fast.  There will be plenty of time for boys and makeup.  

     So that song on the radio "Don't Trust Me"... have you heard it?  There's a line that says, "I'm a vegetarian and I ain't fu*%ing scared of him."  Well, they play the clean version on the radio, but the other day Gabe said to me, "Mom, I know what word they say there."  I asked him how he knew that.  "I just know", he said.  I asked him what they said and he told me he couldn't say it because it was bad.  So he spelled it- "F-U-C".  "Oh, what does that mean?" I asked him.  " I don't know, but sissy told me it's the worst word."  He's so lucky to have a teenage sister. =)
     My little man, Gavin is such a little parrot these days.  He will repeat ANYTHING.  Today as I was changing his diaper he said, "dow tuch, dow tuch" (don't touch).  I figured that was something he's learning from Aimee, his daycare provider.  Gabe asked him, "Gavin, what's that?"  (referring to his pee-pee) and Gavin replied, "dow tuch".  Great.  He thinks his penis is called "don't touch".  He hums the tune to "Dirty Little Secret".  It's Gabe's favorite song on Rock Band, so Gavin has it memorized.  He loves to play the drums.  
     When I put his food on his high chair tray he points to the drawer and says "fork".  He's learned "apple juice" although I don't think he's ever had it here.  So cute to hear him talk!  He thinks his sock and pants are called "sockson" and "pantson" because I say "let's put your socks on".  When he sees my coffee cup he says "hottee, hottee, hottee".  I ask him "what's Aimee's dog's name?" and he says "Beshie" (Bessie).  I can ask him who his friends are at daycare and he says "Sara", "Autin" (Austin), "Jack", "AIMEE!!"  He loves Aimee.  I hear my little Doodle waking up.  Gotta' go!

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Holy crap... I was this girl

Proof positive that I am NOT a morning person.. let alone, morning exerciser.  This was me this morning at the gym.  Hurt my ego more than anything.  The guy beside me had to hit my emergency stop button because all I could think was, "get up, Shelly, get up, Shelly" as I hung on for dear life.  Thinking back, it was pretty funny.  Thank goodness it was 7am on a Saturday morning and there weren't too many people there.  


Thursday, April 2, 2009

I.R.S B.S.

The Oregon Dept. of Revenue is attempting to withhold our childcare tax credit for our 2008 taxes.  They want verification of this and that to prove that we were both working throughout the entire to justify paying for childcare.  How do we prove that I was "working" from home while preparing to open our business?  How do I provide proof of the estimated $125,000 worth of duties that a stay at home mom's job is worth per year?  Chef, housekeeper, bookkeeper, babysitter, entertainer, educator, and all you moms know I could go on and on and on.  24/7 with no overtime pay.  Take Mom's Salary Test here to find out how much your mom job is worth.  Who do we complain to?  Is it worth it?  
I'll end here with a post of Grandma Wilson and her 5, count 'em, 5!!!! boys.  I've been learning more about her life lately and meeting some of my long lost 2nd and 3rd cousins from her side of the family through Facebook.  Lord only knows how much she would have earned taking care of those rascals.  And they were definitely rascals.  My daddy's the one on the left.



Thursday, March 26, 2009

Bootius Laximus

Here's what the kids are learning these days:

You'd never know that Chuck and I are trainers based on our latest conversation with Breanna about her education.  The girl is in 8th grade, for the love of God!  
She asked the other day, "What's the real name for your butt muscles?"  
Me:  "Don't you learn that stuff in health class?!"  
Bree:  "Mom, we don't have health class."  
Me:  "What do you think it's called?"
Bree's response?  Wait for it....
With 100% seriousness she replied, "Bootius Laximus?"
Oh, I cramped up and doubled over at that one.  
We need to pitch that to Beyonce.  Some booties are a little more laximus than others, I suppose.  


Thursday, March 19, 2009

Round boobs

Breanna told us a funny story the other day of something Gabe said to her.  A couple times a week she lets him sleep with her, which he loooooves.  So, this particular night, he got in bed and then she turned off the light and got into bed.  At this point, she pulled her bra out from under her shirt and threw it across the room.  Gabe asked, "what was that?"  Bree said, "nothing..."  To which Gabe replied, "was that the thing that makes your boobs round?"

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Who is this little Jewish man?

The other night Chuck pulled into the driveway after work and came in the front door-only it wasn't him... it was a bald, little Jewish man with a lisp.  


As my brain tried to process what the hell was going on and figure out who this little man was standing in my kitchen, I remembered him telling me that he was going to a lecture at the church that night presented by a holocaust survivor.  It began to make sense.  He said, "Mr. Wiener, meet my wife, Shelly.  Shelly, this is Mr. Wiener."  As I shook his hand, this sense of complete...curiosity/gratitude/sadness came over me.  This man, who survived and lived to tell about the most horrific experience of his life, was in my kitchen.  

Chuck promptly ran upstairs to change his clothes, leaving me and the kids alone with this stranger, my new friend, Mr. Wiener.  I grilled him for as much info as I could over the course of the next 5 minutes.  I was struck by how youthful he looked for an 83 yr. old man.  His teeth were just perfect (which is usually one of the first things I notice about someone-I'm pretty sure they were real), his posture was like that of a 20-something's, and he was as sharp as a whip!  I wasn't able to make it to his lecture that night because I was putting the boys to bed, but Chuck thought it would be a good learning experience for Breanna to attend.  He gave me his business card and told me this was his 400th-ish speaking engagement.  He is one of a handful of remaining Holocaust survivors in Oregon.  He has authored a book titled, "From a Name to a Number" recounting his story.  That night I Googled him to read some more about him since I had to miss his lecture.  I have his book in my "wish list" with Swaptree.com.
This is a great new site I found where you can trade your old books for new ones!  You just pay for shipping.  You enter in the bar codes from the back of your books and you get a list of THOUSANDS of books you could request for a trade.  

Back to my story... Speaking of the Holocaust, if you haven't seen Life is Beautiful, oh.my.goodness.  You must!  It is just so wonderfully (for lack of a better word) BEAUTIFUL how this man, the main character (Roberto Benigni-remember he won the Oscar and jumped up on his chair?!) creates this amazing adventure for his son.  One of my ALL TIME faves.  

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Nagging Women

There's a really funny Diet Coke (or Pepsi?) commercial on the radio right now.  It's a woman explaining how men may feel as though we are nagging or "know-it-all's".  She urges men to understand that it's really just us loving you so much that we want you to be the best you can be.  I was laughing out loud, all alone in my kitchen one day.  She goes on to say, "We care for you so much.... It's just us being unselfish with our knowledge of what you're doing wrong."  Oh my gosh, it took me a moment to compose myself.  Very, very clever.  And true. =)

Monday, March 2, 2009

Froot Loop necklace and Dr. Seuss

Gabriel made me this very nice Froot Loop necklace the other day at school.  He put a lot of elbow grease into it and only after I ate some of it did he tell me, "Uh, Mom...You're not gonna' want to eat those.  They've been all over the floor."  




In honor of Dr. Seuss' birthday, Gabriel made this super cute top hat at school.  I could see him on the bus as it was pulling up to the bus stop.  He was very proud of his hat and not the least bit ashamed to wear it all the way home.  He even shared it with Gavin.






Thursday, February 26, 2009

Pink Underwear




Seems like overnight Breanna has become a different girl.  As I unload her clothes from the dryer I reach into the sea of colors:  hot pink, florescent orange, key lime, sunshine yellow- and that's just one pair of underwear!  Boy shorts.  I think she knows they are going to peek out when she sits down so she wants to make sure they're cute.  I make her do the "sit test" in the dressing room before I "o.k." a pair of jeans.  "Crack kills" as she would say.  


She wants to switch her elective from leadership to art.  Chuck and I feel it's very important for her to stay in leadership.  She has had many great opportunities as a result of this class and while art would be beneficial, we want her to stay put.  Is it up to us?  How much freedom should she have with her schedule?
  
Chuck took her to mass Ash Wed. morning and then dropped her off  at school with a big cross on her forehead.  She came home trying to convince me that she sweat it off in P.E.  

The girl eats like a horse.  Loves to eat.  Nonstop.  She's on an oatmeal kick lately.  Like twice a day- big bowl of oats with frozen blueberries and brown sugar.  

She wore leg warmers to school today.  Leg warmers with skinny jeans and slippers.  She's asking when she'll be allowed to wear make-up. 

I had to ask her yesterday to stay downstairs with us.  All of a sudden, when she gets home from school she goes straight to her room and stays there (reading the Twilight series).  She comes down for dinner and unless American Idol or 24 is on she goes back up for the rest of the night.  I told her we miss hanging out with her.   

She told me tonight that she and her best friend, Lyubov, want to get a job at Subway when they turn 14.  

I wonder every day if I'm doing everything I can to be sure she has good memories of growing up.  What type of person will she remember me as?  Supportive and happy or bitchy and exhausted?  

She doesn't realize that I play dumb more often than not so she can believe she's smarter than I am.  This way I can catch her more easily when she tries to get away with things.  I can read every facial expression she makes and I KNOW immediately when she's lying to me.  Usually her conscience gets the best of her and she confesses without me having to push.

She was 4 and a half years old when Chuck came on the scene and convinced me that I should not be friends with my kids.  I didn't quite get that at the time.  Now I can see where there should be a line drawn.  That's not to say that we aren't "friendly" with them, just that we (and they) understand our role is as parents. 

She is a wonderful girl, daughter, big sister.  She relishes her role as "sis".  It's just amazing to watch her love for her brothers.  Genuine, pure love.  

I'm such a proud mama.

Friday, February 20, 2009

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Gabriel asked me today, very casually while eating lunch, "Mom, why do people's hearts stop beating?"  Rather than blurt out the first thing that came to my mind, "Because everyone has to die at some point", I took a moment to form my response in my head.  "Probably because God needed them in Heaven."  "Why?" was of course, the next obvious question.  "I don't know", I said (which I realize I'm using way too often lately which makes him usually defer to Chuck for the answer).  "Maybe because he needs a new angel."  He pondered that for a moment, then between bites of his egg burrito said, "I hope I go to Heaven."  "You will,"  I assured him.  "Do you know how I know you'll go to Heaven?"  I asked him.  "How?" he asked.   "Because you were baptized,"  I said.  A grin came across his face, then a split second later dissipated when he realized he'd thought of something.  "But you're not," he said.   "Yes I am.  Remember when I was baptized at BCC? (Beaverton Christian Church)"  "Oh yeah, " he replied,  "Just not in the Catholic church."

     Gabe takes being Catholic very seriously.  He prays the Rosary with Chuck at bedtime and goes to mass occasionally.   He has many gifts that were given to him when he was baptized such as his cute, very colorful fat-beaded rosary from Tom and Kayleen, lots of children's bible stories, etc...  And oh, his dinnertime prayers are so sweet!  "And God, we thank you for this wonderful dinner inspired by Mommy.  And for all the people who are hungry and cold, we hope they have food and warmth.  And that's all I want to say.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen."

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Fox Channel 12




So we ditched Dish Network and now only get local channels.  Totally fine by us- the only one who's really ticked is Gabe because we're cut off from SpongeBob.  He's learning to color and play ball instead like 6 year old boys should.  

We get the important stuff like '24' and 'American Idol'.  
Gavin's new word is "miiiiiiiiiiiine".  Imagine this in a cute 17 month old squealing voice while hugging object tightly to his body and running away.  All of a sudden it's not so cute.  We're learning "share" in sign language.  

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Mama Milk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FzEKVcwx6a4

WARNING:  Do not watch if you object to breastfeeding!  Obviously I'm in love with breastfeeding my baby so I thought this was absolutely beautiful.  If you are reading my blog and you object, please DON'T READ MY BLOG!!!!

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Sunday school and margaritas

Once a month I volunteer in Gabe's Sunday school classroom at my church.  Today was my turn, but Gabe decided to go to Costco with Chuck instead.  So I sat and had a picnic with Isabella and Matthew (one of my favorite-not supposed to have a favorite, I know-little boys there).  I asked Matthew if he could make me some chamomile tea, to which he replied, "Hmm, camel milk?  Let me see if I have any camel milk."  Isabella told me her favorite foods to eat for breakfast are gummy fruit snacks and sausage.  From the mouths of babes...

Just so you know, "The Reader," not so great.  I was really disappointed.  Sure, Kate Winslet won the Golden Globe for best actress, but quite possibly it's because she was nude through pretty much the whole thing.  Yeah, she's an awesome actress, but I could've written a better screenplay.  Thanks to Tori and Carlie for supplying the awesome margaritas and tacos!

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

I Love Wednesdays

Wednesdays and Fridays are pajama days around here.  I stay home with Gavin, drink LOTS of coffee and we play and do laundry.  Today I got up pretty early and made banana hazelnut pancakes.  Yumm!!  Fridays used to be "Pampake" day for Gabe and me when he was in preschool and nowadays we just don't have time in the morning to make a hot breakfast.  Chuck will usually make about a dozen eggs in the morning and we all just eat a little bit as we wake up.  Gabe and Gavin love eggs.  

On a different note, I think Gavin is getting ready to start the potty training process.  He recognizes when he's about to poop.  He pauses whatever he's doing and looks at me and says, "Aw, maaaaaaan."  Then Gabe will say, "I think we have a stinker!"  My sweet boys.