Pardon Me While I Climb Up On My Soap Box

It has seemed over the last year or so that the media is covering more and more child abductions. More often than not, they do not have a happy ending. I myself was almost a victim of an abductor when I was around 1o or 11. We lived way way out in the country. I remember this man driving up in a light colored car and called me over to the drivers side window. He told me that he was lost and was trying to find the closest store. He asked me to get in the car with him so that I could show him the way. When I told him no, he tried grabbing my arm. I shrieked and screamed and took off towards my house. The man peeled out and was long gone before anyone could find him.

Over the years, I have often wondered what happened to that man. Did he ever get caught? Were there any victims that didn't get away? How many children did he hurt?

Ethan is almost 5 years old and is the social butterfly of our family. When I think about all of the sick people out there, I know that his need to know everyone around him is both a blessing and a curse.

We have talked in the past about not talking to strangers but up until now, it has not been a large topic. Until Sunday. Sunday at the park, I took extra notice of all of the children running around while their parents were blissfully unaware of their every move. Add that to the fact that in Pet Co. a few weeks ago, he drifted away while my head was turned for 2 seconds to go look at the fish. So, this weekend I started the discussion of "Stranger Danger". We talked about not talking to strangers when Mommy and Daddy aren't around. We ran through scenarios of different ways that strangers could try and entice him into a vehicle.

It was actually more difficult than I had originally imagined that it could be. It's interesting trying to reason with an almost five year old and trying to explain something to them on their level without introducing too much unnecessary fear. In his mind, if someone lost their puppy, he should be able to get in their car and help them find it. That instilled a fear in me that I had never felt before. I wanted to immediately make him an expert on the subject of strangers.

I spoke to his school as well and found out that they are going to have a "Stranger Danger" program, where police officers will come to the school and discuss this with them.

I'm looking into this book and this one. I'm hoping these books will help me better explain the difference between good strangers and bad ones. I don't want to squelch is friendliness, but I don't want it to get him into trouble either. It's a fine line, I guess.

Bottom line...parents....talk to your kids. Sooner than later.

Boring. Random. Next Please.

I think I have figured out how to cure the drought that is plaguing us. Get a dog. Seriously. Because, as soon as we got a dog, the sky opened.

Every time we think our yard is drying out, it rains again. This past Friday night the sky even blessed us with quarter sized hail. I have pictures of it on my camera but I'm too lazy to get them off tonight.

So, because I don't have any new pictures tonight (because I'm too lazy), I'll bless you with 15 random things about me...thanks to my besty Erin.

1. I think anything from the 80's is hilarious...er...and the 90's. Particularly the 90's.
2. Some of my very best friends in the world are ladies that I never met. We "met" on a message board for mommies due in May 2004 and have been close ever since.
3. I will have my bachelors degree on May 12th and it can't come soon enough.
4. It creeps me out when I try and touch my ankles together. It's like nails on a chalk board to me.
5. The smell of gasoline is one of my favorite smells...it's right up there with Purell hand sanitizer.
6. I love to read. A lot. I mean...a lot. So much that I often can't remember the names of the books I have read.
   
7. My mom is my hero. She has no idea of the impact that she has made in my life. I should tell her. I think I will, tomorrow.
8. My sister-in-law, Eunice, is like a real sister to me. We can have a cat fight argument and make up in 10 minutes. I guess that's because she's been in my life since the day that God created the sun. Good times.
9. I love to sing. The thing is....I sound like a wounded possum. That doesn't stop me though, as demonstrated here and here. Don't say I never warned you.
   
10. I made my brother run away with me when I was about 11 and he was about 9. We got about a mile away from home and then had a come to Jesus meeting with Mom once we got home. Poor Barry. How did he survive living with me?
11. I have a serious addiction to Firey Cheetos.
    
12. Speaking of Firey. I love spicy things. That's why I love Mexican Food!
13. I'm very cold natured, much to the bemusement of Jerry. I have a heater on my desk at work and by my side of the bed.
14. I really really don't like the taste of beer. I just don't get it!
15. I wish Friends would come back on. There will never be another show as good as that one.

And there you have it, folks! 15 totally worthless things about myself.

Mikki, please shut up and post some pictures next time!

OK, OK..I was just filling up space.

Coming soon:

Pictures of the hail storm, Ethan, and of course...Butterball.

My Happy Place

When people find out that I work full time working mom, they think nothing. Millions of people do that every day, right? Then they find out that I'm in school full time and I get little head shakes with comments like "I could never do that!" or "how do you do it!?". When I add on the fact that I take (and edit) photos all of the time and blog regularly, I get asked things like "Wow, how do you find the time to do all of that!?" and the oh so common "how do you stay sane!?" It's at this point that I no longer have the energy to then tell them that I'm now a soccer mom too.

The mature, adult comment that I use a lot is "Well, effective time management is key to successful living ". (Insert obnoxious snort here).

Would you like to know the real reason I stay sane?

Television.


Sigh.

I have no idea how I would survive me hectic, stressful, often aggravating schedule without it. I DVR a LOT of television shows. Not that I get to watch them regularly, but just knowing that they are there makes me happy. I can catch with my shows whenever I need a break. Some nights after Ethan is in bed, I will watch 2-3 shows in a row.

I was counting last night to see how many shows I had saved (because at this point, I may never catch up) and I'm up to 48 shows. 11 of which are Without a Trace.

Would you like to know what's on my "record" list?

The Unit, Desperate Housewives, House, Criminal Minds, Bones, Big Bang Theory, One Tree Hill, Medium, Castle, The Mentalist, Life on Mars, Flashpoint, Monk, Fringe, Boston Legal, Greys Anatomy, Private Practice, and Numbers.

I just counted 18 shows that are currently recorded on my DVR. Some of them are not even on the air any more.

This is a good time to mention that yes, I do have a life. I do read books, I do play on Facebook, I do spend a lot of time on the weekends out in the yard and at the park, and I do spend a lot of quality family time doing family type things.

It's nice to know that when I do have a few minutes and I'm on the elliptical, that I have something good to watch.

Honestly, I can't imagine a time when I'm actually caught up. But, my shows are my way of blowing off steam with a mindless activity.

Television keeps me grounded to reality. It's my "me" time. So, when I'm not at work, not doing homework, not being a mom, not blogging, not randomly Googling things, not catching up on my message boards, not reading, not doing family type things...I'm usually watching TV.

Hey, at least I'll have something to watch over the summer while all of the shows are on hiatus.

Oh, and while we are on the subject of TV, Steve Wozniak makes me giggle on Dancing with the Stars.

Good times.

Confession Friday

OK it's been a while since I came out of the Hannah Montana closet so I thought maybe it was time for another confession. I was sitting here thinking to myself "Self, it's time you shared again". Now, for those of you that really know me, this will come as no surprise, because by now..well..you are used to this affliction I have.

Here goes:

I have a serious aversion to voice mail. Voice mail gives me hives. Unless I'm at work really trying to get a hold of someone, I will not leave one. My opinion is that caller ID is the new voice mail. And since we are talking about this aversion, I can honestly tell you that if you leave me a voice mail (work excluded), there is a 99.9% chance that I will not listen to the message. This is a quite common conversation:

Me (thinking to myself glancing at the phone): Oh, So and So called.

I dial So and So

So and So: Hello?

Me: Hey, I saw you called.

So and So: Oh, I left you a message, didn't you get it?

Me: Yes, but I didn't listen to it. I just figured I'd call you back instead.

So and So then has to repeat the message.

This is also where I tell you that I clear out my voice mail messages in bulk...about once a week or every other week. I just scroll through them (not listening to them, mind you) and delete them all at once.

Wait a minute, now that I think about it...this is really rather clever. It's a great time management tool. After all, I could lose about 5 minutes a week just listening to messages only to have to call the person back anyway. I should actually market this theory. People NEED me! I could save them about 4.5 hours a year of wasted time.

This theory does not, however, apply to my work. I could only be that lucky...Well, it does sometimes...I do sometimes just call the person back when they call. But work has an advantage...I get my voice mail emailed to me. Nice.

Moral of this Story: Don't leave me a voice mail...I promise you, I probably won't listen to it.

Hello...my name is Mikki.....and I delete voice mail without listening to it.

OK, I will be able to sleep tonight now that I got this off my chest. You have no idea who much this has been weighing me down. I mean, there are people out there that actually think I listen to their messages. It has been a horrible burden I've been carrying with me. Well, not really but that did sound good, didn't it?

Sincerely,

Serial Voice Mail Killer

Puppy Love

It has rained for 4 days straight. We finally get a puppy and our back yard floods. Good times. So, we have spent a lot of time inside, trying to entertain ourselves.

Does Butterball look tired to you? Does his eyes looked a little glazed over? That is what happens when an almost 5 year old meets up with a 12 week old puppy. Tonight, they chased each other with a ball to see who could keep it the longest.

It was hilarious actually. Both Butterball and Ethan were having a blast. The world was a better place while I was watching.

But just a few minutes later, this is what I found. One wiped out puppy. Hello? Butterball? Can you hear me? I'm sorry Ethan wore you out. Well...actually, no I'm not.

Of course, while Butterball was snoring, Ethan must have been getting into some chocolate ice cream. He does look satisfied, doesn't he? Poor Butterball just couldn't muster up any enthusiasm for the impromptu photo shoot. Ethan stepped out of the box though and actually suggested that I get some pictures of the two of them.

Ethan? Please don't eat the dog while he is too tired to defend himself. Thank you.


Having a puppy has actually been pretty fun. Although, I get really suspicious when he gets quiet. Except for when he's passed out from exhaustion from playing with Ethan. Then the quiet is satisfying.

Because I know the two of them have found a best friend. Each other.

Tongues and Puppies

I noticed something interesting this weekend. Every time I turn around, I notice how much alike Ethan and I are. You see, when I was in high school and on the dance team, I had an affliction. I could not dance without sticking out my tongue. It drove my coach to distraction. This affliction never went away. When I am concentrating on something I still stick out my tongue. And so does my soccer ball kicking son. So, as I am snapping pictures of the game this weekend, I noticed a trend. When he runs or kicks, his tongue is hanging out of his mouth. It's humorous actually, because I see myself in him.

See? All he is doing is running...about to kick the ball. I wonder if this is genetic.

Ethan? Hello, son. Sticking your tongue out will not make the ball go further. Thank you.

And now, I would like to introduce you to the newest addition to our family. Everyone, this is Butterball. Butterball, this is everyone.


The interesting thing is that it was Jerry's idea to adopt Butterball (formerly known as Buster). Butterball is a rescue puppy that we adopted from Pals for Pooches. He and his brothers and sisters were dumped by loser and they were rescued. Let me just tell you how stunned I am that we now have a dog. Jerry has always been adamant that he does not want any more animals, so imagine my surprise when he pulled into Pet Co. so that we could go look at the rescue dogs. The first dog we wanted needed to have another dog in the house so we couldn't adopt him (we had no intention of getting 2 dogs).

But then we went to the other Pet Co. and found this handsome fella. Ethan fell instantly in love because apparently he looks just like the puppies in the movie "Snow Buddies" and "Rocket Ship Buddies". That's also where we got his name. Butterball is a movie star.

Another interesting note is that they were featured on our local news here. Oh and also here. Butterball is the spunky puppy barking throughout the story.

Jerry and Ethan are also in the local paper! Just click here and scroll through the pictures. Butterball's name was Buster when we first adopted him.

He fits right in. Ethan and Butterball are already best friends. They nap together and even drive around the yard together. It's essential that any pet of ours loves to ride shotgun.

A Long Time Coming

Disclaimer: Serious post Alert: This post is not about my past per se but about a song that had a profound impact on me.

When I was a teenager, I used to write. A lot. I had a lot of things on my mind, and writing was an outlet for me. The older I got, the less I wrote…and then I discovered blogging. I first created my blog to use as an avenue for family to keep up with us, or more importantly, to keep up with Ethan.

Then one day I realized that I had more to say than just regular updates about the family. I got more into photography too and decided that my blog would be more about random musings from me. I would write whatever was on my mind that day. Mostly it is a story revolving around pictures I took, but every once in a while I like to veer off the beaten path and write about something random. That’s how I roll. Just when you are lulled into a false sense blasé blah updates, I mix it up.

Today I’d like to talk about a song; or more specifically, a particular song that had a very big impact on me. Music has always spoken to me but one song hit me in the stomach when it came out and spoke to me in ways that no song had ever spoken to me before. 

It was 1989 and I was an angst ridden teenager. The song was by a “Hair Band” that had pretty shallow music for the most part. I remember when it first came out; it immediately took me back to my much younger years and brought feelings to the surface that I spent many years trying to squelch. When a song like that comes out and speaks to you like that, it evokes feelings that you have no control over. I often wonder if other people have had a song make that much of an impact on them.

House of Pain-  Faster Pussycat: Release date September 6, 1989

Let’s skip to years and years later (i.e,. about a month ago). I was browsing iTunes for music to add my iPod and decided it would be great to have a playlist of all the music I loved to listen to in my teen years, music by Poison, Warrant, Skid Row, Europe, etc. Then I ran into this song, so I downloaded it without even listening to it.

Driving home about a week ago, I was listening to the songs and House of Pain came on. I hadn’t heard it in forever; seriously it had been since I was in my teens. As I was listening to the song, it immediately took me back again. I once again identified with the young child that was working through feelings that I couldn't explain and had no control over. It said things that I used to think. I called my mom and we talked about how one song could still make me sick to my stomach...thinking of myself in much younger terms and trying to deal with something that I had no way of understanding. Honestly, it brought back feelings that I had since forgotten (or at least moved on from) and made me bitter all over again.

OK so the song is written from the perspective of a little boy, but really it applies to any young child that lost contact with a parent.

[Song]

It's a little past supper time

I'm still out on the porch step

Sittin on my behind, waiting for you

Wondering if everything was all right

Mama said come in boy

don't waste your time

I said I got time, he'll be here soon

[Me]

I used to do that. I used to sit around wondering if everything was OK and thinking that my dad would call or I would see him soon. I didn't understand the dynamics of what was going on. One day he was there and the next day he wasn't. A 7 year old child doesn't have the capacity to understand something like that. They think it is their fault or they blame the other parent.

[Song]

Five years old and talkin' to myself

Where were you? Where'd ya go?

Daddy can't you tell?

I'm not tryin’ to fake it

And I ain't the one to blame

No there's no one home

In my house of pain

[Me]

This part of the song was so significant for me because I didn't know where he went. I didn't know why I couldn't be told. And I did blame myself. Imagine living this and then a song comes out years later that was your life. Imagine the impact that the song would have on you. It really is profound. Even today.

[Song]

I didn't write these pages

And my script's been rearranged

No there's no one home

In my house of pain

Wasn't I worth the time

A boy needs a daddy like dance to mime

And all the time I looked up to you

I paced my room a million times

And all I ever got was one big line

The same old lie

How could you?

[Me]

I did feel like my whole life was being re-written. Of course, when you are 7, you think of it in much simpler terms. I tried and rationalize what I did know - that was he was gone and I must not have been important enough to come and see.

[Song]

I was eighteen and still

talking to myself

Where were you? Where'd you go?

Daddy can't ya tell?

I'm not tryin to fake it

And I ain't the one to blame

[Me]

This was me too. I was literally 18 years old and still didn't know the answers. By then, Pop was in my life and I saw how he was with his son who did not live with him. I saw him struggle through fighting the battle of remaining in his life..I saw him refuse to give in... and then I knew. It was a choice. At that moment, I let go. I quit being angry and accepted it for what it was. Life. It is what it is.

I still cannot listen to it without going back. But I do from time to time because it was part of me. It still is. Because, even though I did move on and I did "forgive"...I can never ever forget.

Soccer..Take 2: Humble Bombers

As you know, last year we attempted to play soccer. We knew it would be a risk, because Ethan was only just under 4 years old, but we tried anyway. As it turned out, the soccer field was a great place to do things like donkey kicks, picking flowers, observing people in another field, and getting tangled in the net. We decided after about his 3rd game that maybe we'd just try again next year.


Fast forward to now. He's now just under 5 years old so we thought it would be a good idea to try again. Kind of like the Little Engine that Could...we keep trying. Except, this year it turned out to be a fabulous idea. He decided that he adores soccer. At least for now. Thankfully, he has the same coach that he had last year.

Not everyone on his team loves soccer as much as he does. One little boy in particular down right hates it. And lets everyone know it. Ethan didn't hate it last year, he just found donkey kicks to be much more entertaining. As you can see, he now doesn't get why the little boy doesn't like it. He just stares at him and keeps going.


He is also the biggest kid on the team. He's a giant compared to the other little guys. They are the same age and Ethan just towers over them. He's not old enough yet to enjoy it...enjoy looking down on people. I hear it's a great feeling. Personally, I can't vouch for that since I'm vertically challenged.

This little boy is Ethan's age too. He's a quick little bugger. I blacked out his face because well...he's not my kid and I can't say that I'd be happy to find Ethan's adorable face gracing someone else's blog without my knowledge.

I decided on Saturday that although it was in the 50's and freezing cold...(OK for you Northerners, just keep on reading...no smart comments....that is cold in Texas...Besides...it was very windy and that makes it even colder. I tell you, I couldn't even feel my hands) that watching Ethan play soccer was the highlight of my day. Because even though he scored 2 goals for the other team....he scored goals!!!! He did score one for his own team, which they were very grateful for, I might add.

Once he actually got into the game, he was on fire. He only came out a few times to sit in our laps and get warm...in the middle of the game....But, as soon as we reminded him that his teammates needed him, off he went again. No prodding, no making him play, no forcing our will on him...he loves it.


Yes, I think it was a very good choice to let him try again this year. No more donkey kicks so far, but we did get a whole lot of smiles like this one. Show off...

An Open Letter to my Younger Self

There is this great song that talks about what this guy would say to himself if he could go back and meet his younger self. Hmmm…That got me to thinking yesterday. I said to myself “self, what would you say if you could meet the younger you?”

A lot.

Because if I were actually able to go back and meet my younger self, I could save myself the trouble of some things that I put myself through.

So without further ado…(and please feel free to skip over it because it’s likely to be long):

Dear Younger Me,

There are going to be some things that go on in your life that I’d like to give you some advice about.

(Pause) If I do this, does it change the future? (Resume)

Try and be a little nicer to our younger brother Barry. As irritated as you get with him, every.. single…day…. when you are 33, you will still feel guilt over how many times you beat him up. Yes, you and he eventually become very close but you will always wonder if he resents you for bullying him.

When you are 8, you are going to bury a letter in the dirt that you wrote to God. When you dig it up, don’t cry…because even though it’s still there, he read it. Just have faith. Oh and while on the subject of God, try not to keep yourself up at night worrying about if you will go to hell or not. That’s way too much burden for an 8 year old to carry around. I have it on good authority that we are tight with God.

When you meet the man that is ultimately going to adopt you and be your dad, try not to give him such a hard time. While his patience is never ending with your foul mouth, he’s going to be there for you no matter what…so you can quit trying to chase him off. Just accept that not all dads bail on you, and this one is a keeper. Trust me. I know these things.

When we you hit junior high, PLEASE oh please don’t frost your hair and then jump into a chlorine pool. Your hair just may just turn bright green. For a long time. And then don’t let your sister put a bowl on your head and give you weird haircut that your mom is going to freak out about. It doesn’t matter if it is early 90’s; green, weird layered hair is not the thing.

When you get your license and go out on your first trip (with Josh and Julie), be careful. You might just hit two cars in one hour. Don’t freak out though because even though your parents told you that they would take your keys if you got in any wrecks, they give them back. Of course, you won’t hit that second car if you just go home after you hit the first one instead of going to the mall.

Don’t cheat in Spanish. You will need that skill later on down the road…it may seem unlikely at the time, but trust me….it’s a useful thing.

When your mom gives you the book “Meditations for People who May Worry too Much”, take the hint and try and relax. You can’t fix the world’s problems and eventually you will figure that out and learn to chill a little. Learn the phrase “it is what it is”. That’ so true.

To my 17 year old self, you do not know everything. You don’t even know a third of what you think you know. Don’t lie to your parents one night and say you are working when you are not. Don’t leave home for a week because you think you are grown. And if you do anyway, accept the month of being grounded with grace. It could have been a lot worse. Because if you don't heed my advice, not only will you have no life for a month, you will miss that very important Mardi Gras parade that you were supposed to be in and you will let everyone down.

Hug your granddad as often as you can. Let him know how much you love and appreciate him for all that he does for you.

Maybe you should try to think before you speak. Social filters are “the thing”, you may want to visit that concept. Not everyone will appreciate your blunt honesty. Sometimes people would rather you lie to them. Try not to wait until you are in your 30’s to figure that one out. It will save you a lot of headache and aggravation.

Your mom is not the enemy. Actually she will end up being your best friend but I think deep down you already know this. She’s been the one constant in your life, your one source of stability and love, and she will be steadfast as you grow into an adult.

If a good friend of yours dies, mourn with your friends but know that it does get easier. You will still remember him every day but eventually it will be with fondness instead of pain.

I also highly advise you to not graduate at mid semester of your senior year. Even though you will return to walk with your class at the end of the year, you miss out on so much. You will miss out on seeing your friends every day and goofing off just for the fun of it. You will miss the last half of a year of being a kid. Don’t try to grow up so fast, you will work full time for the rest of your life. Trust me.

And while you think you want to get into criminal justice…you will just be wasting 3 years of your life with classes that you will never do anything with. How about nursing or something? No, you don’t end up in nursing but it’s a great idea.

If you meet a boy named Steve…just keep on walking. While he is a wonderful person and a great friend…he’s not your soul mate. No matter how much you think he is in the beginning. You will just break his heart in the long run and feel guilty about it for years.

You lose touch with some good friends but maintain close ties with quite a few. You worry a lot about how your life is going to turn out. Don’t….you do just fine. You end up a well rounded, self confident, happily married individual. Your bumps and bruises along the way are worth it, because you learn so much. Learn to accept people for who they are and realize that not everyone can live up to your expectations. But most of all….be happy.

Love,

Older You

Things That Make You go Hmmm....

I hear tell that every child has a "thing" that they do when they are young. I certainly know that Ethan has a "thing" and lemme just say that I just don't get it. I'd also like to say that once said child did this "thing", you'd think that he'd learn his lesson. That is not the case. Not one bit.

What is Ethan's "thing"? I hear you thinking that very question. And because you are my dear friend, I will share this "thing" with you. Lets just keep it between us, shall we? Thank you.

In the past 8ish months, Ethan has done something to his hair four times. Yes, you heard me right. The first time was the most traumatic on us all. Actually, as freaked out as I was about it, he was really upset. Distraught actually. You see, he took his dads mustache trimmer and shaved part of his head. To. The. Scalp.

See? I told you! He barged into my room freaking out. I will admit that I reacted by gasping. He kept saying "It's OK" over and over again. The only thing that we could think to do was to shave his entire head.

::Intermission::

I'm taking a break from the story to inform all of you {again} that Ethan gets an unfortunate trait from me. A round head. A very round head.

::End intermission::

So there we were, shaving his head with Jerry's clippers. Ethan went into melt down mode when he saw the end result, it was very upsetting actually, having to watch him go through this.

His hair was shaved so close to his head that he looked like a cancer kid. While I am not making fun of this fact, he really did.


He wore a hat to school for days and begged me to make him a boy again.

OK so after such a trauma, you would think he would learn his lesson right? No. A few months later, he got a hold of some Vaseline and proceeded to lather his head in it. We had our heads turned for just a few moments and he recreated the term hair style. Again.

30 minutes post shower and 50 hair washes later, I had most of the damage out. Oh it was still slick, but the worst of the damage was out. All the while he was pleading with me not to shave his head. Ah so he remembered that part, but did it stop him from experimenting? No.

A few quiet months go by so Jerry and I were lulled into a false sense of hair security.

Ethan cut a chunk of his hair out with scissors this time. His safety, kid friendly scissors. I'm here to tell you that kid safety scissors do a fine job of cutting hair. This time I was able to avert another hair shaving incident. Don't get me wrong, it was still quite apparent, but for the most part, his hair was intact.

And then last night rolled around. Did you know that 4-year olds can manage to get stuff in their hair in the most unlikely places? Or at least, Ethan can. I gave him a chocolate covered caramel as a treat. Mistake number 1. Then I let him take it to his room to eat it. Mistake number 2. He came into the room a few minutes later stating that he had something in his hair.

Caramel.

He had caramel on the back of his head. He did such a superb job of getting it embedded that I again had to cut his hair just about to the scalp. At that moment, he remembered his first brush with hair disaster and begged me yet again not to shave his head.

So, my son has a bald spot on the back of his head. Sorry everyone...no pictures.

He does however, make me shake my head in wonder. What is it about his hair that refuses to go quietly into that good night? No, it rages, rages.....eh sorry...I got a little carried away with the poetry. I'm done now.


Sincerely,

I Just Don't Get it

PS- It does make me smile though.

PSS- And the pictures make for such good leverage tools when he's older.

PSSS- Don't think I won't use them to my advantage!

Photos by Angie- Take 2

Ethan is going through this phase where he really dislikes taking pictures. My sister attempted to get some shots of him last weekend and he wasn't entirely cooperative. He has this tendency to look away or flat out walk off when you are trying to capture a moment. He obviously doesn't get that his cuteness gives us free rights to his image.


This photo tells a wonderful story of a boy that is not happy to have to be bothered by sitting still as the imposing photographer is wasting his time. The little girl on the other hand, the super model, is doing her best to pose like a good girl. She looks so sweet doesn't she? That hat gives her sass. Excuse me Aunt Angie, but are we done yet? I'm wasting precious moments bothering with you while I could be acting as captain of my own ship. That is what this photo says to me. That and the fact that both of them were running to the front of the boat saying "aye aye captain!".


But this photo? This photo melts my heart. He was in a sweetness mood and actually showed off his baby Snow Buddy for a moment. You wouldn't think for a moment that he could actually test your patience as you are telling him to get out of something, right? His cuteness face is very misleading.


As a matter of fact, one of his teachers is on to his cleverness. When he's being bold about something, he will flash the most enchanting smile you ever did see. It actually makes you forget for a moment that you are trying to correct him.

Warning to all future teachers: Do not look him directly in the eye as he flashes his sweet smile. It will totally make you grin at him when you are trying to be stern. Then he knows he has you right where he wants you. In the palm of his hand.

Don't say I didn't warn you.


Sincerely,

Mom to Mr. Enchanting

Or alternately,

Mom that adds "ness" on to everything tonight. On purpose.

Hanging with His Homie

Do you see this picture? I said something incredibly witty, and my niece Jaiden cracked up. I'm good like that. I crack wise jokes and make people around me laugh. OK well not really. But in my own world, I'm witty. Actually, Jaiden spent the night with us Saturday night and in this picture, she was in the process of throwing a ball at Ethan's head and cracking up. Ethan thought it was funny too. I guess I wasn't "in the know" for this particular situation.

We went to the park the next day where Ethan tried to give me a heart attack. He's discovered how to climb the "kiddie rock wall". He's quite good at it actually, but that doesn't make the mother in me feel any less panicky every time I see him climb this thing.


There is a super model in our midst. When there is a camera shoved in her face, she does the exact opposite of Ethan. She strikes a pose. Ethan on the other hand has started telling me "no more pictures". The poor child, if he only knew what was in store for him in the next 15 years. I don't have it in me to tell him that this affliction I have is not going to go away any time soon. I guess he'll have to figure out the hard way.

But my niece, she hasn't been around me enough to learn that I have this handicap. So, she is perfectly happy to pose whenever I sneak up on her with that black thing attached to my face.



Ethan starts off cooperating. He is just happy to be at the park running off all of his energy.

And JaeRae is perfectly happy to go down the slide. Over. And over. And over.

I often watch Ethan and try to think back to when I didn't have a care in the world besides climbing and sliding. Son, enjoy it while it lasts.

Of course, this shot is the epitome of what the joy of childhood looks like. I got this same look on my face when I realized that I could keep my same blog look and not change it to something else.

See!? Don't you just want to have a myocardial infarction when you see him climbing this rock wall!? Oh, sorry...I get carried away sometimes. Like when my son decides that 4 1/2 is old enough to become Spider Man.

Speaking of my son....we had the following conversation last night at bed time:
Ethan: "Mommy? How do I go to sleep really fast?"
Me: "Hmmm....I'm not sure."
Ethan "Do I just shut my eyes tight and tell myself to go to sleep?"
Me "That's a good start. Yes, try that."
Ethan "OK Mommy, I'll try."


See the difference in height? They are only a year apart. My son is a giant. That's what happens when you have a daddy that is 6'2". I have to remind myself sometimes that he's not as old as he looks. I have to remind him of that fact too. A lot.

Because, he already thinks he can drive. He also thinks that he can pick up hitchhikers. I tell him that is not acceptable, but he does it anyway. Errr...wait. Is that my niece in the picture? Sorry, I get carried away sometimes. Ethan? It's OK to give your cousin a ride but no strangers!

Of course, he's stubborn like his daddy. You can't tell him anything. Ethan has never met a stranger when it comes to another child. Our child is a social butterfly. He takes after me.

PS- I have a few pictures that Ethan's Aunt Angie took Saturday. I'll try and get them posted tomorrow.

Peace out, yo!
(slang for "good night")

Self Absorbed Today

A little birdie (birdy?) told me just the other day that I don't have many pictures of myself on my blog. Of course, because it's my blog, I'm normally the one behind the camera. But last month, in an effort to take pictures of my new hair cut, I took about a trillion pictures of myself. It's always interesting trying to do so and frankly, I almost deleted each and every one....but since we are close, intimate friends....I figured I'd post a few.

This was also one of those moments that Jerry just shook his head and then promptly ignored my obsessive camera behavior. Oh look, that girl in the picture has some good looking nails! Sorry, I was admiring my fingers.

In this one, I look like...well, I'm not sure what I look like....hmmm....holier than thou maybe? Be gone peasants before I squish you with the toe of my boot. Err..or something like that.

There really isn't much to my point tonight. Frankly, I'm just rambling. I do that sometimes. It's an affliction that I have. Rambleitis. Wow! There is a camera hovering over that girls head! How DOES she do that? Sorry, sleep deprivation sometimes causes me to drift in and out of reality.


Please. Please. No autographs today.

And while we are on the subject of rambling. Well, not really but go with me for a moment. Would you like to know what I love about Windows Vista? Automatic spell check! On everything. How did I ever survive without it?

Oh and I'm having a very hard time finding new shoes to wear to work. Mine are falling apart but I refuse to buy any that I have to break in.

And one last thing:

Smile...and the world smiles with you.


Sincerely,


She Who Should Just go to Bed Instead

The Life Behind the Lens

Whenever something happens, I have an unnatural urge to document it behind the camera. This is something I'm told that only other photographers understand. Please note that I use the term "photographer" loosely. This affliction baffles almost everyone I know. You see, it's hard to explain something that I can't put into words. Sometimes I just feel the need to snap a picture of whatever is going on at any given moment.

That's why I am continually baffled every time Jerry expresses surprise when I jump to grab my camera when something interesting happens. To me, it's as normal as breathing. To him? To him, I'm just plain weird. Although, every single photographer friend of mine reading this understands where I am coming from.

So last night was no different when (as kickoff started on the Superbowl) our satellite went out. Not five minutes later, the sky opened and the most amazing thing happened. It started raining Sonic Ice! This weird occurrence went on for about 15 minutes as I frantically ran from the front door to the back. Snapping. Pictures. Like. A. Mad. Woman.....

It's not every day that it rains Sonic Ice.

Doesn't it look like it's snowing? Our windows were being pelted and we were thoroughly convinced that one was going to break...but did that stop me? No. I was too worried that I might miss a Kodak moment. Jerry (in typical Jerry fashion) just shook his head and ignored me. Well, he ignored me after he said for the gazillionth time "Why do you always feel the need to take a picture of everything?" In our household, that is now a rhetorical question. I could get all anayitical and state that maybe it's because I lost all of my childhood pictures and now I'm OCD about Ethan having plenty....Or not....


No, I really don't think it's that. Not anymore anyway. I think it's just a photographers addiction to capture a moment. The need to document life through a lens.


Besides....without pictures, what would I talk about on my blog?


Sincerely,


She Who Treats the World as if it's a Fishbowl

No Room for Ethan

For reasons that I won't get into tonight, Ethan has temporarily moved into our room. At first we were making a pallet at the foot of the bed, but when we figured out it was going to be for a little bit longer, we moved his mattress in. I've shown you all of his "babies" in previous posts, but now I would like to introduced you to the way that he sleeps.

He sleeps with every one of his babies on the bed with him. Every. Single. One. Often, that means that there is no room for him. He will be sleeping on the very edge of the bed, with his legs hanging off. Even though he is very close to the ground, it gives me heart palpitations just thinking of him rolling off.

But some nights, he has his babies arranged just right, so that they are surrounding him and he's all set for the night. You will notice though that he also fits other things on his bed. Like his build-A-Bear "house"...er...box. Oh, and if you look to the far right, you will see his Batman house.


Do you see Donkey at the bottom of the picture? He talks. Endlessly. Oh, don't get me wrong...when we first got him, he was soooo cute. We would take him around and show him to everyone. We quickly outgrew that. Now he's my albatross. If I trip over him in the middle of the night, he'll start chattering as I frantically try and shut him up so he won't wake the whole house.

Notice that Ethan is on Spider Man sheets and a Wiggles comforter. That's how we roll. We have matching sets, but for reasons that are beyond me, we never seem to get them on the bed at the same time. Doesn't he look so comfy? For two nights in a row {in the dark} I snuck over and took these pictures.

Because, seriously...How cute is he!? And while I may be partial to him because I carried him for 9 months, I don't know many people that could resist this sweet face.

And as long as I have my camera, I'll capture these moments. Because I always want to remember how precious he looks sleeping with his babies....and because I'll need something to hold over his head when he's 16, bigger than me, and ornery.

Sincerely,

She Who Plots for the Future