Keep the volume down at first...there is some loud noise right at the beginning. We thought this was pretty funny. It was the first time Mari ate baked beans.
In Mommy's Shoes
The Dogs Want My Food!
Thursday, October 27, 2011
New Pictures
Friday, October 7, 2011
My Friday Night Lights
Here's the deal. When I was in high school, I dated a guy who was on the wrestling team. I phrase it that way because he wasn't very good, so it wasn't like it was, "Oooooo, you date someone athletic!" No. So instead of going to football games and pep rallies, I went to gross, sweaty, weird wrestling matches where the guys rolled around in tight suits and groped each other. Um, yuck. I never once, nope, not even once, went to a football game. I ccouldn't even tell you if we had a winning season during any of my high school years.
Fast forward four years, and irony starts to take over. Those of you who knew Greg in high school would probably have called him the ultimate high school athlete. He played everything, was active in everything, and got good grades (yes...the complete opposite of unathletic, uninvolved me). When we started dating in college, I began to realize that this guy was a little different than the couple of guys I had dated before. And now? Yep, every Friday night, he's at a football game. The first couple of years, I went to every game, every scrimmage, and I sometimes drove hours to get there. I was the ultimate supportive wife. What happened? Life.
When I meet people for the first time and I tell them that my husband is a football coach, they respond by saying, "Oh! You must love football! I bet you and the girls have the best time on Friday nights! They're going to be cheerleaders aren't they????" Gag me with a spoon. I like football. I love my husband. The problem is trying to cope with a toddler and an asthmatic seven year old in the chilly, moist fall air for three hours. Those of you who have toddlers or asthmatic seven year olds will understand this (up to and including the respiratory issues we would deal with for the following week if Kiley was out there), and those who don't? Let me just get this off my chest. I do not hate football! I will not "learn to love it" because I already do! Someday, I will be able to go to the games and attempt to ignore the crazy idiots who yell obscenities at my underpaid and under appreciated husband, and maybe I'll even have a halfway decent time (with ear plugs and a filter on my mouth). In the meantime though, my Friday nights are filled with upacking bookbags and lunchboxes, feeding dogs, doing laundry, running bubble baths for the future cheer leaders, vacuuming, doing dishes, packing up dance bags for Saturday morning, cleaning, straightening the house, finding a missing ballet slipper, finding a pacifier, finding my sanity, did I mention vacuuming?
Right now, Friday nights are like my catch up time so that our weekends can be filled with time to enjoy each other rather than filled with the things on the list I just recited. So, to those of you who don't know me, don't assume I dislike football because I don't sit in the bleachers every Friday night.
Glad I could get that off my chest!
Fast forward four years, and irony starts to take over. Those of you who knew Greg in high school would probably have called him the ultimate high school athlete. He played everything, was active in everything, and got good grades (yes...the complete opposite of unathletic, uninvolved me). When we started dating in college, I began to realize that this guy was a little different than the couple of guys I had dated before. And now? Yep, every Friday night, he's at a football game. The first couple of years, I went to every game, every scrimmage, and I sometimes drove hours to get there. I was the ultimate supportive wife. What happened? Life.
When I meet people for the first time and I tell them that my husband is a football coach, they respond by saying, "Oh! You must love football! I bet you and the girls have the best time on Friday nights! They're going to be cheerleaders aren't they????" Gag me with a spoon. I like football. I love my husband. The problem is trying to cope with a toddler and an asthmatic seven year old in the chilly, moist fall air for three hours. Those of you who have toddlers or asthmatic seven year olds will understand this (up to and including the respiratory issues we would deal with for the following week if Kiley was out there), and those who don't? Let me just get this off my chest. I do not hate football! I will not "learn to love it" because I already do! Someday, I will be able to go to the games and attempt to ignore the crazy idiots who yell obscenities at my underpaid and under appreciated husband, and maybe I'll even have a halfway decent time (with ear plugs and a filter on my mouth). In the meantime though, my Friday nights are filled with upacking bookbags and lunchboxes, feeding dogs, doing laundry, running bubble baths for the future cheer leaders, vacuuming, doing dishes, packing up dance bags for Saturday morning, cleaning, straightening the house, finding a missing ballet slipper, finding a pacifier, finding my sanity, did I mention vacuuming?
Right now, Friday nights are like my catch up time so that our weekends can be filled with time to enjoy each other rather than filled with the things on the list I just recited. So, to those of you who don't know me, don't assume I dislike football because I don't sit in the bleachers every Friday night.
Glad I could get that off my chest!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Great Signs
Hmmm...I don't think I'll be attending this. I'd love to have comments on what F.G.H.T. stands for. We saw this one near the NC border on our way to visit friends.
Um, BLT anyone? This one is in a little town called Phenix...I pass through it on my way to work.
Monday, July 18, 2011
I Love (and Like) You As Much...
I've come to realize that our family is a little...well...different. The last nine years (can you believe it?) of marriage has provided lots of examples of this, and I have shared some here. When Greg proposed to me and we went to my parents' house to tell them, my dad asked Greg if he liked me. He said that love is one thing, but that marriage will only work if you really like the other person. I'm not sure if you would call the ways we show our love for one another strange, or weird, or maybe just normal. You can decide. I think the four of us have a good thing going.
1. Greg's willingness to drive up to Boston to see my family...and in the course of the visit tasting Gifelte Fish and participating in a Ceder dinner, complete with readings, singing, and some interesting food (see above) You just had to be there.
2. Standing over the portable crib that is still in our bedroom, and admiring the "roasting chicken" that is actually Marianna, and then squeezing her rump a little.
3. Deciding that when Kiley turns 8, we will probably have to stop squeezing her rump.
4. Making up all sorts of silly songs...usually right in the moment.
This one is to the tune of Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel...we made you out of clay. Dreidel, dreidel,
dreidel...we play with you all day!
Daddy, daddy, daddy...we made you out of gas.
Daddy, daddy, daddy...it all comes out your (beep). (Kiley said rump, but we all know that is
not how the song goes.)
5. Sharing these songs with the general public, as in this blog, and knowing that I will still be married when I get home tonight.
6. Going to Cracker Barrel for breakfast on my last day of summer vacation.
7. Racing from the car to the post office box we had in North Carolina, and later in Pound...and sometimes falling and injuring ourselves in the process. (There never was anything good to be racing for, I guess we just thought it was fun?)
8. Kiley running around the house right before a bath yelling "Naked free!" and Marianna trotting right after her in a similar manner.
9. Community bathroom time. Um, how do I explain this. Marianna, and Kiley when she was little, seem to enjoy some alone time with Daddy and a few books while he is in the bathroom. Trust me, I do not take part in this, except to let the girls out if needed.
10. Greg heating up leftovers and making them pretty for me so I will eat them. I am a little weird about leftovers.
11. Greg taking Kiley to the bathroom in places like Wal-Mart and gas stations because he knows I can't stand the bathrooms in places like that.
12. Not even flinching on trips when I ask to stop at Starbucks because they have nice bathrooms (oh, and yummy coffee and treats).
13. Listening to me rant or vent, and then instead of immediately responding, Greg usually says, "Do you want me to say anything, or did you just want me to listen?"
14. Packing up my breastmilk supply from the freezer into a cooler, and burying it in the three feet of snow from the blizzard of 2010 in our backyard while we waited for three days for the power to come back on (If this isn't love, I don't know what is).
15. Greg, who at the time was not a cat person, taking two wonderful kitties in while we were dating. Maybe he was just trying to impress me, which he did.
16. Allowing one of those kitties to reside in our freezer next to the pizza and ice cream after she died, because I didn't want to bury her at the rental house we were in. (She is now safely buried in our back yard, surrounded in cat mint, her favorite.)
I'm sure I will think of more examples...and I'll be sure to share them in the future. In the meantime, I think I'll go squeeze a rump and sing a silly song.
1. Greg's willingness to drive up to Boston to see my family...and in the course of the visit tasting Gifelte Fish and participating in a Ceder dinner, complete with readings, singing, and some interesting food (see above) You just had to be there.
2. Standing over the portable crib that is still in our bedroom, and admiring the "roasting chicken" that is actually Marianna, and then squeezing her rump a little.
3. Deciding that when Kiley turns 8, we will probably have to stop squeezing her rump.
4. Making up all sorts of silly songs...usually right in the moment.
This one is to the tune of Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel...we made you out of clay. Dreidel, dreidel,
dreidel...we play with you all day!
Daddy, daddy, daddy...we made you out of gas.
Daddy, daddy, daddy...it all comes out your (beep). (Kiley said rump, but we all know that is
not how the song goes.)
5. Sharing these songs with the general public, as in this blog, and knowing that I will still be married when I get home tonight.
6. Going to Cracker Barrel for breakfast on my last day of summer vacation.
7. Racing from the car to the post office box we had in North Carolina, and later in Pound...and sometimes falling and injuring ourselves in the process. (There never was anything good to be racing for, I guess we just thought it was fun?)
8. Kiley running around the house right before a bath yelling "Naked free!" and Marianna trotting right after her in a similar manner.
9. Community bathroom time. Um, how do I explain this. Marianna, and Kiley when she was little, seem to enjoy some alone time with Daddy and a few books while he is in the bathroom. Trust me, I do not take part in this, except to let the girls out if needed.
10. Greg heating up leftovers and making them pretty for me so I will eat them. I am a little weird about leftovers.
11. Greg taking Kiley to the bathroom in places like Wal-Mart and gas stations because he knows I can't stand the bathrooms in places like that.
12. Not even flinching on trips when I ask to stop at Starbucks because they have nice bathrooms (oh, and yummy coffee and treats).
13. Listening to me rant or vent, and then instead of immediately responding, Greg usually says, "Do you want me to say anything, or did you just want me to listen?"
14. Packing up my breastmilk supply from the freezer into a cooler, and burying it in the three feet of snow from the blizzard of 2010 in our backyard while we waited for three days for the power to come back on (If this isn't love, I don't know what is).
15. Greg, who at the time was not a cat person, taking two wonderful kitties in while we were dating. Maybe he was just trying to impress me, which he did.
16. Allowing one of those kitties to reside in our freezer next to the pizza and ice cream after she died, because I didn't want to bury her at the rental house we were in. (She is now safely buried in our back yard, surrounded in cat mint, her favorite.)
I'm sure I will think of more examples...and I'll be sure to share them in the future. In the meantime, I think I'll go squeeze a rump and sing a silly song.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
More Pictures!
Current and Future Music Stars
The Best Book Reader Ever!
Waiting to Catch the Ferry to the Statue of Liberty
I Guess We Can't Take Her to the Shelter...(And I mean the puppy.)
Future Ballerina
New Pictures!
Major gap between the last post and this one....my apologies. Here are some new pictures, and I'll have an account of our wonderful trip to Boston (which happened a month ago...at least) up soon! I promise!
Daddy's Home!! Daddy's Home!! (Mommy never gets this kind of reception.)
Let's go fly a kite (one from Unkie Kee)!
Snack is pretty good at this!
Thursday, March 24, 2011
It Has Been A While...
This post will be a little scattered, but here it goes.
First, another great quote from Kiley. We were driving home one afternoon after I picked her up from the babysitter. She looked out the window and said, "You know, America is like a wild horse, free, just galloping like wind."
Oh our little Snack...she always says that her favorite part of the day is citizenship...and we do live in "Patrick Henry Country" or at least that's what it says on the Welcome to Brookneal sign.
And now, a not so great, but still funny, quote from Kiley. She and Greg were using paper, rock, scissors to decide something...I can't remember what it was...but anyway, they do the paper, rock, scissors thing, and Kiley loses and exclaims, "Damn it!" It just rolled right out of her mouth. I think she picked it up from one of the Night at the Museum movies (yes, we know they are PG...but they are hilarious and somewhat historical).
Last night Greg and I were "making dinner" (frozen pizza) and somehow I got to talking about things I regretted. I won't bore or shock you with the list here, but here is kind of how the conversation went.
"You know, sometimes I think about the stupid things I did, and I am so sorry that I let my parents down or shamed them somehow. But then, I get to thinking about it a little more, and I think, you know, I have never been arrested. I have never been to jail. Now, I'm not trying to compare myself to some of my siblings who may have been in that boat, I'm just saying..."
"Well you know honey, you did get "removed" from that Medieval Renaissance Convention."
Awkward Silence.
"What?! I didn't get removed...they just asked me to stop asking questions. It wasn't my fault, the girl didn't know what she was talking about, and she couldn't answer my questions. She was embarrassed, I guess."
"So, you got kicked out of an English convention."
"No, I didn't get kicked out, and I wasn't even asked to leave."
"But you did leave."
"Well, yes, after she was done, and after I had finished my questions. I was on a panel, I had to finish."
"But you only stopped asking questions because the moderator asked you to..."
"Okay, yes. So at an extremely nerdy event which celebrates obscure authors and showcases nerds and their strange papers (which, of course, I willingly attended), I was asked to stop questioning the presenter. And it wasn't like they flashed a giant red light and said "Whoa, whoa, whoa...shut up." My nice advisor politely took me aside and told me to give the girl a break."
"So you did give her a break, but only after you were asked to."
"Oh well. If that was the worst mistake I made in my life, then well, I deserve an award."
----
Of course, it wasn't the worst mistake I ever made, but still, I have never been arrested.
First, another great quote from Kiley. We were driving home one afternoon after I picked her up from the babysitter. She looked out the window and said, "You know, America is like a wild horse, free, just galloping like wind."
Oh our little Snack...she always says that her favorite part of the day is citizenship...and we do live in "Patrick Henry Country" or at least that's what it says on the Welcome to Brookneal sign.
And now, a not so great, but still funny, quote from Kiley. She and Greg were using paper, rock, scissors to decide something...I can't remember what it was...but anyway, they do the paper, rock, scissors thing, and Kiley loses and exclaims, "Damn it!" It just rolled right out of her mouth. I think she picked it up from one of the Night at the Museum movies (yes, we know they are PG...but they are hilarious and somewhat historical).
Last night Greg and I were "making dinner" (frozen pizza) and somehow I got to talking about things I regretted. I won't bore or shock you with the list here, but here is kind of how the conversation went.
"You know, sometimes I think about the stupid things I did, and I am so sorry that I let my parents down or shamed them somehow. But then, I get to thinking about it a little more, and I think, you know, I have never been arrested. I have never been to jail. Now, I'm not trying to compare myself to some of my siblings who may have been in that boat, I'm just saying..."
"Well you know honey, you did get "removed" from that Medieval Renaissance Convention."
Awkward Silence.
"What?! I didn't get removed...they just asked me to stop asking questions. It wasn't my fault, the girl didn't know what she was talking about, and she couldn't answer my questions. She was embarrassed, I guess."
"So, you got kicked out of an English convention."
"No, I didn't get kicked out, and I wasn't even asked to leave."
"But you did leave."
"Well, yes, after she was done, and after I had finished my questions. I was on a panel, I had to finish."
"But you only stopped asking questions because the moderator asked you to..."
"Okay, yes. So at an extremely nerdy event which celebrates obscure authors and showcases nerds and their strange papers (which, of course, I willingly attended), I was asked to stop questioning the presenter. And it wasn't like they flashed a giant red light and said "Whoa, whoa, whoa...shut up." My nice advisor politely took me aside and told me to give the girl a break."
"So you did give her a break, but only after you were asked to."
"Oh well. If that was the worst mistake I made in my life, then well, I deserve an award."
----
Of course, it wasn't the worst mistake I ever made, but still, I have never been arrested.
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