Being Little Is Exhausting

Tonight after a full-blown fling herself on the floor tantrum (all because she didn't get a Subway sandwich like Dad had.. apparently she prefers a foot-long.)Sophie finally settled down. About 10 minutes later she took me by the hand and said.."Can you come lay down with me? I'm tired from all that screaming."

It just never gets old..

So Snow White, a hippie, and a pirate, walk into bar...
(Actually.. they just walked into a school carnival, a donut party, and a whole lotta streets to trick-or-treat.) By the way.. I do have another child-- he just recently hit his 'too cool for costumes' year.

Kay.. this one made me laugh unusually hard..

Why do I insist on dressing up? (I must have skipped the 'too cool for costumes' year.) I just can't help myself..

Oh. This would be Jasens latest contribution to "holiday traditions". It just ain't Halloween without a little lighter fluid.

One More Angel's Watching Over Us

Last night, Jasens sweet Dad, suffered a sudden heart-attack, and has passed away.
We are so very sad. Please keep Jasen in your prayers this week.

How I will remember my darling father-in-law..

He was a project away from being done..
and football on t.v.--
he was a rancher in his heart of hearts..
but a business man, to raise a family.
He liked to stay up watching movies,
with his sons there all night long.
He'd joke,"Sounds like a personal problem"
if ya told him what was wrong.
But he was tender.. he was loyal.
Unwavering in times of fear.
And his arms were a favorite place,
for all his grandkids gathered near.
He loved steak made outside on the grill,
and "chocolate bagels" for dessert..
and when his loved ones suffered,
was the only time, you knew he hurt.
He was loving. He was gentle.
He was honest. He was fair.
He was making patato salad..
and glad to have you there.
Dennis. Husband. Brother. Son.
Dad. Poppy,and Grandpa.
In every part he played..
it was a great man that we saw.
And that is why we'll miss him.
In his jeans and white tennis shoes.
He was someone we love with all our hearts..
and that it breaks our hearts, to lose.

Have You Seen My Stuff??

The following items are constantly missing from my home.. or at least very VERY hard for me to find. I am convinced someone is rearranging my things to mess with my head.
1. Pencils with eraser still left.
2. Sophies OTHER "good" ruffle sock.
3. The new special spot I put my ipod at so I wouldn't forget where it was.
4. My single token spool of thread, with my single token needle stuck in it.
5. The checkbook.
6. The dog leash that retracts.
7. Jesse's lunch card, every morning, at 7:15.
8. A ponytail holder when I'm doing housework and my hair is making me HOT.
9. A safety pin when I'm late for church and my bra is showing.
10.The phone when it's ringing.

Apparantly, My Pants Are NOT Flattering.

Tonight, as I pulled on my navy blue velour drawstring pants from circa 2002 (because, let's face it.. not alot fits over the 2 layers of bandage wrap on my post varicose leg..) Sophie observed from the bed. When I finally had them up and on with matching jacket in place.. she clearly stated,
"Mom. Those pants do not look cute on you."
Good to know. Good to know.

My Life As A Stripper

It's true. I HAVE been stripped. But before you all go getting excited about my post 4-babies-body all naked for the veiwing.. I'll end the suspense and explain that I was indeed stripped.. of my big nasty varicose veins that is. Most of ya know (along with many of your small children that have been frightened by them..) that I've been plagued with a mess of old lady lookin' veins on the back of my right leg, for years. Welp.. I'm guessing, and hoping, that the 15 incisions-- and 2 hours of horrible, awful,terrible, very bad pain.. means they have been destroyed at last! 2 months ago I tried a less invasive, method (hot cathedar up the vein. Yum.) that I thought was pretty bad in itself, and included 6 weeks of wearing a compression hose after (the story just gets sexier, anad sexier..)didn't seem to take. So today I was suprised and terrified to experience exactly what goes down in a 'stripping'. It feels alot like it sounds. After a ridiculous amount of injections in the MOST tender inner parts of your calf and thigh.. they cut you in their strategic spots, and then proceed to RIP.. we're talkin' PULL, TUG, and YANK your veins outta your insides. So NOT totally awesome. I've always taken pride in my bravery in similar situations.. barely whispered a moan in 4 labors.. have had all kinds of large chunks a skin taken outta all places because of skin cancer.. but today.. I am ashamed to say I made sounds I've never heard come out of my mouth. Not even the People magazine I had plastered over my face to hide the gore, could muffle my displeasure. So. If you're in the market for a 'strip'.. just wanted to get ya good and prepared-- and reccommend demanding to be knocked out COLD for the entire procedure. Good night now!

Am I Wrong??

As I type.. my very awake, very noisy, but VERY happy kids are all in the basement.. screaming and squealing in delight. I couldn't tell ya exactly what it is they are saying or doing.. just that they seem to be having a great time. They are dinnered, desserted, bathed and brushed.. trottin' around down there in their jammies laughing really hard as they bang into furniture and wrestle, and then stop to discuss a super hero or annoying teacher. Did I mention it's 10:00 on a school night?
I know.. I know. Kids need their sleep.. and 7:00 am comes sickly quick for both Jesse and me when the painfully boring middle school classes call.. (Jesse cannot express just HOW lame his education is. Gone are the elementary school days of Dinosaur reports and field trips. It's all algebra and literary terms for miles..)and I realize that most kids on the block have been tucked away tight for at least an hour by now. But there's something about the magic of pre-tuck in moments.. that somehow turns daytime siblings complaining of boredom.. into the best of friends completely entertained by one anothers presence. I don't know if it's the fun of just knowing they SHOULD be in bed.. and aren't yet.. or the simple void of the busy days distractions.. but whatever causes the friendly bonding to erupt almost on a nightly basis-- is hard to disrupt. Hard to force to an end. Hard to break-up, for bedtime.
I think deep down I just know these precious minutes of giggles and impromptu games--can only happen, now. Before I know it they'll be dating and driving and off to be grown-ups.. have mortgages and jobs and kids of their own.. and now is their time to be kids. Be siblings. Be friends. In their jammies in the basement. At bedtime.