For all my lofty goals of posting more often, I was definitely undone by the holidays. Things have been entirely too crazy. I still think it will be a miracle if I survive until we get on the plane Thursday morning. So much for my grand ideas about taking it easy this season.
It has been fun, though. We had our family Christmas Sunday morning, which was doubly fun since we woke up to 8 inches of snow! Cameron has been playing non-stop with his art easel, coloring books and stuffed Brobee (from Yo Gabba Gabba). Kevin and I just exchanged a few stocking stuffers this year. We really wanted to spend a little less on "things" so we could give more in some areas where we feel called. Our church is really focusing on the Advent Conspiracy concept, spending less so we can give more. We are helping a village in Uganda get clean water, and build a medical clinic and a community center. We have really been convicted this season by the spending statistics at the holidays - it's something like $450 billion is spent EACH YEAR on Christmas just in America, and it would only take $10 billion to solve the clean water crisis around the world. It's staggering. Anyway, we are feeling overwhelmed by our own blessings, and called to pass the blessing along.
So, 48 more hours to get all the things done here at home, and then we're off to visit grandparents, great grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc., etc., for a week.
I hope everyone has a truly happy and blessed Christmas! See you in the New Year!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Holiday Madness
I am finally getting my head above water after Thanksgiving. We hosted in-laws for the entire week, and since the final group decamped on Saturday, I have been busy cleaning up, putting everything back in place, and decorating for Christmas. Our tree is up, we have a few lights in the bushes outside, and Cameron and I are headed for Home Depot this afternoon to find some more lights for our fence outside.
I love holidays. Any holiday. You name it, I love it. I want to celebrate them all! Big. I'm always up for a reason to celebrate, to cook something fun, to have a party, to put up a few decorations. My favorites are the fall and winter holidays -- I love Halloween -- but I love the 4th of July, Cinco de Mayo, St. Patrick's Day, Valentine's, Easter. Any reason to dye and egg, make a heart shaped pancake, give Cameron green colored milk, hang some streamers, wear a kitschy hat, hit a pinata, I'm in!
At this time of year, which is my all time favorite, I tend to have the bad habit of letting people and circumstances get to me. Steal my joy in the season, so to speak. I'm working extra hard this year to really appreciate the season around me, and to see it through Cameron's eyes. Enjoy every house with Christmas lights, play outside in the cold, take a goofy photo with Santa.
And as Cameron gets older, we are really trying to focus on why we celebrate Christmas in the first place. To make it less about the gifts and Santa Claus, and more about Christ and giving. I don't know about you, but looking back, I can hardly remember a gift I got last year, much less what I got as a child. But I remember praying with my family before we opened gifts. I remember decorating the tree with them every year, watching White Christmas. I pray that Cameron (and the forthcoming child/children) has the same memories. That Christmas is remembered by the times we have at home the things we're doing together...and the gifts we're able to GIVE. Kevin and I are overwhelmed by all we have...we really want to be able to pass on the blessing, and hope our kiddos remember that too.
Anyway, enough of that.
Here's hoping you're all enjoying the holiday season in your own home, in your own way!
I love holidays. Any holiday. You name it, I love it. I want to celebrate them all! Big. I'm always up for a reason to celebrate, to cook something fun, to have a party, to put up a few decorations. My favorites are the fall and winter holidays -- I love Halloween -- but I love the 4th of July, Cinco de Mayo, St. Patrick's Day, Valentine's, Easter. Any reason to dye and egg, make a heart shaped pancake, give Cameron green colored milk, hang some streamers, wear a kitschy hat, hit a pinata, I'm in!
At this time of year, which is my all time favorite, I tend to have the bad habit of letting people and circumstances get to me. Steal my joy in the season, so to speak. I'm working extra hard this year to really appreciate the season around me, and to see it through Cameron's eyes. Enjoy every house with Christmas lights, play outside in the cold, take a goofy photo with Santa.
And as Cameron gets older, we are really trying to focus on why we celebrate Christmas in the first place. To make it less about the gifts and Santa Claus, and more about Christ and giving. I don't know about you, but looking back, I can hardly remember a gift I got last year, much less what I got as a child. But I remember praying with my family before we opened gifts. I remember decorating the tree with them every year, watching White Christmas. I pray that Cameron (and the forthcoming child/children) has the same memories. That Christmas is remembered by the times we have at home the things we're doing together...and the gifts we're able to GIVE. Kevin and I are overwhelmed by all we have...we really want to be able to pass on the blessing, and hope our kiddos remember that too.
Anyway, enough of that.
Here's hoping you're all enjoying the holiday season in your own home, in your own way!
Friday, November 20, 2009
Mmmm...Oatmeal
I am a Crock-Pot novice. I received a lovely Crock-Pot as a gift a couple of years ago, and I think I used it once when we lived in Texas. However, it did not make the move to New York with us. So, after 6 years of sitting in a box, it has finally emerged...and mostly sits in a cabinet. I will occasionally pull it out, study it a little quizzically, and then shrug and put it back in the cabinet. I simply don't know what to so with it.
I heard a rumor about the ease of cooking oatmeal in a Crock-Pot. And frankly the idea of going to bed and waking up to a warm, steaming pot of cinnamon-y, brown sugar-y oatmeal sounded blissful. So I Googled it, and found a great blog with a simple recipe for Crock-Pot oatmeal. We tried it last weekend, and it is awesome. Simple, hearty, and delicious. If you like oatmeal, give it a shot!
I actually read the recipe wrong, and made the whole thing with 4 cups of milk, instead of 4 cups of water and a 1/2 cup of milk or half & half. It turned out great anyway, creamy and delicious. So you could always play around with the amount of liquid based on the consistency you like, and the ratio of milk to water, depending on the creaminess you like.
All credit goes to www.mommyskitchen.net
Overnight Crock Pot Oatmeal
1 cup steel cut oats (this won't work with regular oats or quick cooking oats - too mushy)
4 cups water (if using a slow cooker liner decrease the water to 3 1/2 cups)
1/2 cup half and half or milk
1 cup dried fruit of choice
(apples, raisins, cranberries, apricots etc)
or 1 - fresh apple (chopped)
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 - tbsp butter
1/2 - tsp vanilla extract
2-3 Tablespoons cinnamon sugar
First off find a bowl that will hold four cups of liquid, and fit inside your crock pot with the lid on. Measure out one cup of Steele cut oats. Pour that into the inner bowl. Add the four cups of water, milk or half and half, brown sugar, vanilla, butter and cinnamon sugar. If you would like to add dried fruit or a cut up apple the add it as well. Fill the crock with water to about halfway. Set the inner bowl in the crock and see how high the water rises. Add more water in the crock if necessary. Try to match it so that the water reaches about the same height on the outside of the oats bowl or just below the bowl. Place the lid on your crock pot. Set on low and go to bed. When you get up the next morning your oatmeal should be cooked perfectly in that steamy water bath.
I heard a rumor about the ease of cooking oatmeal in a Crock-Pot. And frankly the idea of going to bed and waking up to a warm, steaming pot of cinnamon-y, brown sugar-y oatmeal sounded blissful. So I Googled it, and found a great blog with a simple recipe for Crock-Pot oatmeal. We tried it last weekend, and it is awesome. Simple, hearty, and delicious. If you like oatmeal, give it a shot!
I actually read the recipe wrong, and made the whole thing with 4 cups of milk, instead of 4 cups of water and a 1/2 cup of milk or half & half. It turned out great anyway, creamy and delicious. So you could always play around with the amount of liquid based on the consistency you like, and the ratio of milk to water, depending on the creaminess you like.
All credit goes to www.mommyskitchen.net
Overnight Crock Pot Oatmeal
1 cup steel cut oats (this won't work with regular oats or quick cooking oats - too mushy)
4 cups water (if using a slow cooker liner decrease the water to 3 1/2 cups)
1/2 cup half and half or milk
1 cup dried fruit of choice
(apples, raisins, cranberries, apricots etc)
or 1 - fresh apple (chopped)
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 - tbsp butter
1/2 - tsp vanilla extract
2-3 Tablespoons cinnamon sugar
First off find a bowl that will hold four cups of liquid, and fit inside your crock pot with the lid on. Measure out one cup of Steele cut oats. Pour that into the inner bowl. Add the four cups of water, milk or half and half, brown sugar, vanilla, butter and cinnamon sugar. If you would like to add dried fruit or a cut up apple the add it as well. Fill the crock with water to about halfway. Set the inner bowl in the crock and see how high the water rises. Add more water in the crock if necessary. Try to match it so that the water reaches about the same height on the outside of the oats bowl or just below the bowl. Place the lid on your crock pot. Set on low and go to bed. When you get up the next morning your oatmeal should be cooked perfectly in that steamy water bath.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Reeling
Have you ever had that experience where suddenly, without any warning, your legs are knocked out from under you? You are cruising along just fine, when something earth-shattering hits. And your shell of self-reliance is crushed, leaving you feeling immeasurably vulnerable, shaken, fragile.
I have a had a few of those this year. Days, or several days, that have left me reeling. Feeling un-anchored. Lost. Helpless.
And invariably, our loving and gracious God has used these moments as learning experience. A teachable moment - ha. At the time it felt like being thrown in the deep end without knowing how to swim.
The striking thing about these particular moments I'm thinking of is that God allowed them to happen at times when all my earthly "crutches", so to speak, were nowhere to be found. We all have those people around us who hold us up, strengthen us. Those we call first when something happens. Those who bear our burdens as gladly as we bear theirs. These are people God has graciously placed in our lives, and I believe He loves us in a very tangible way through them. But sometimes, at least with me, He has to remind me again in a very real way that while these people can help support me, He alone is my foundation. It is fine to lean on those who know and love me, but He alone must be the source of my strength.
Several of these moments have come this year when Kevin was traveling, friends were out of town, family was unavailable or unable to offer help. And the feeling of being completely alone was staggering. And in those moments, I could almost feel His hand on my back, reminding me that He was there...where He always is.
I am getting better, and faster, at turning to Him first, and leaning on others second. It is a hard lesson, and one I hope I hurry up and learn so He'll stop letting all this crap happen to me and around me. But I am, as ever, a work in progress.
I have a had a few of those this year. Days, or several days, that have left me reeling. Feeling un-anchored. Lost. Helpless.
And invariably, our loving and gracious God has used these moments as learning experience. A teachable moment - ha. At the time it felt like being thrown in the deep end without knowing how to swim.
The striking thing about these particular moments I'm thinking of is that God allowed them to happen at times when all my earthly "crutches", so to speak, were nowhere to be found. We all have those people around us who hold us up, strengthen us. Those we call first when something happens. Those who bear our burdens as gladly as we bear theirs. These are people God has graciously placed in our lives, and I believe He loves us in a very tangible way through them. But sometimes, at least with me, He has to remind me again in a very real way that while these people can help support me, He alone is my foundation. It is fine to lean on those who know and love me, but He alone must be the source of my strength.
Several of these moments have come this year when Kevin was traveling, friends were out of town, family was unavailable or unable to offer help. And the feeling of being completely alone was staggering. And in those moments, I could almost feel His hand on my back, reminding me that He was there...where He always is.
I am getting better, and faster, at turning to Him first, and leaning on others second. It is a hard lesson, and one I hope I hurry up and learn so He'll stop letting all this crap happen to me and around me. But I am, as ever, a work in progress.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Connections
It's 7:45pm on Tuesday night. It has been a day. Not particularly good or bad...just another day. Cameron is running a slight fever, but mostly doesn't seem bothered by it. It just makes him sleep a lot. And, no, I'm not complaining.
I hop off the couch about 7:30pm figuring I should start dinner (and by "hop", of course I mean roll my tired, pregnant self off the heating pad permanently located on the couch and shuffle slowly to the kitchen). Hmm...what to make on Tuesday night? Ah, that good old stand-by. Soup.
I love soup. I love making soup. I have a million variations I have made up over the years, and as soon as the weather turns pleasantly chilly, I start making soup. Poor Kevin emerges in the spring slightly waterlogged from the sheer volume of soup we have consumed.
Tonight, it's split pea. What could be simpler than onion, garlic, chicken stock, and a bag of dried split peas? Picking through the peas tonight brought back memories of picking through pinto beans with my grandmother. I feel like few family gatherings passed, large or small, that didn't include a pot of beans, simmered for hours with bacon or a ham hock. And you always had to pick through the dried beans first to make sure no small stones made it into the pot. This was a perfect job for small fingers, and I was often recruited to do it. But I didn't mind, mostly. I got to do it at the table in my grandmother's kitchen, and she was there. Being in her kitchen also meant I had a good chance of licking the bowl from the oatmeal cake icing, sweet talking a piece of candy from the top of the fridge or sneaking some of her homemade peanut brittle.
And as I picked through peas in New Jersey, I thought of her all the way down in south Texas. And I missed her. But this one small pot of Tuesday night split pea soup made me feel connected to her. And grateful for her.
I hop off the couch about 7:30pm figuring I should start dinner (and by "hop", of course I mean roll my tired, pregnant self off the heating pad permanently located on the couch and shuffle slowly to the kitchen). Hmm...what to make on Tuesday night? Ah, that good old stand-by. Soup.
I love soup. I love making soup. I have a million variations I have made up over the years, and as soon as the weather turns pleasantly chilly, I start making soup. Poor Kevin emerges in the spring slightly waterlogged from the sheer volume of soup we have consumed.
Tonight, it's split pea. What could be simpler than onion, garlic, chicken stock, and a bag of dried split peas? Picking through the peas tonight brought back memories of picking through pinto beans with my grandmother. I feel like few family gatherings passed, large or small, that didn't include a pot of beans, simmered for hours with bacon or a ham hock. And you always had to pick through the dried beans first to make sure no small stones made it into the pot. This was a perfect job for small fingers, and I was often recruited to do it. But I didn't mind, mostly. I got to do it at the table in my grandmother's kitchen, and she was there. Being in her kitchen also meant I had a good chance of licking the bowl from the oatmeal cake icing, sweet talking a piece of candy from the top of the fridge or sneaking some of her homemade peanut brittle.
And as I picked through peas in New Jersey, I thought of her all the way down in south Texas. And I missed her. But this one small pot of Tuesday night split pea soup made me feel connected to her. And grateful for her.
Monday, November 16, 2009
It's Coming Along
As is all to often my habit, it has been weeks (okay, months) since I posted. It has been a full few months getting settled into our new home, town, routine and lives. We love our house, and still look around and think, "I can't believe this is ours". Cameron loves the space, and will still run laps around the dining room table for the sheer joy of having room to run. We have a few odd boxes in the corner of our study, awaiting the perfect bookshelves, and I still have a few unorganized cabinets that drive me crazy, but other than that, we feel pretty settled.
Here are a few highlights from the last few weeks:
-- We bought a car... the first car we've had in 6 years. And then 4 weeks after we got it, we hit a deer and wrecked the front. After a couple of weeks in the shop, it seems to be as good as new.
-- We had our first house guests for Labor Day weekend. If you want to make yourself crazy, invite people to come stay in your home 2 weeks after you move in. Fortunately, the Cohen's are basically family, so we didn't feel the need to have everything "done" before they got here. They brought their adorable twin daughters, Emma & Avery, who made poor Cameron's head spin. He spent the whole weekend with a look on his face that said, "who are these girls and WHY are they playing with MY toys?!?"
-- My parents came to visit for a week at the end of September. We spent a lovely weekend with them in Cooperstown visiting the Baseball Hall of Fame, and then just hung out the rest of the week. Cameron (and Nana & Papa) were in heaven.
-- We spent a week at the beach in Corpus with Kevin's mom and sister Jamie (in visiting from Panama). It was great fun introducing Cameron to the ocean! Kevin and I also got a weekend away to California, leaving the Mini in the capable hands of Grammy & AJ (that's Aunt Jamie).
-- Cameron had his first year trick or treating around our new neighborhood. He discovered a new and obsessive love of Reese's peanut butter cups. Can you blame him? Okay, I know I'm a little biased, but can you even stand the cuteness?
-- And I guess the only other thing going on is the anticipation of Baby #2 coming in March 2010. I'm at about 20 weeks, and other than back pain, am feeling pretty good. Pregnancy the second time around is a whole new ballgame, as I know you moms-of-more-than-one know. But that's a conversation for another post.
So there's our news in a nutshell. I hope everyone is enjoying the fall, and looking forward to eating too much food and watching a lot of football next week.
Here are a few highlights from the last few weeks:
-- We bought a car... the first car we've had in 6 years. And then 4 weeks after we got it, we hit a deer and wrecked the front. After a couple of weeks in the shop, it seems to be as good as new.
-- We had our first house guests for Labor Day weekend. If you want to make yourself crazy, invite people to come stay in your home 2 weeks after you move in. Fortunately, the Cohen's are basically family, so we didn't feel the need to have everything "done" before they got here. They brought their adorable twin daughters, Emma & Avery, who made poor Cameron's head spin. He spent the whole weekend with a look on his face that said, "who are these girls and WHY are they playing with MY toys?!?"
-- My parents came to visit for a week at the end of September. We spent a lovely weekend with them in Cooperstown visiting the Baseball Hall of Fame, and then just hung out the rest of the week. Cameron (and Nana & Papa) were in heaven.
-- We spent a week at the beach in Corpus with Kevin's mom and sister Jamie (in visiting from Panama). It was great fun introducing Cameron to the ocean! Kevin and I also got a weekend away to California, leaving the Mini in the capable hands of Grammy & AJ (that's Aunt Jamie).
-- Cameron had his first year trick or treating around our new neighborhood. He discovered a new and obsessive love of Reese's peanut butter cups. Can you blame him? Okay, I know I'm a little biased, but can you even stand the cuteness?
-- And I guess the only other thing going on is the anticipation of Baby #2 coming in March 2010. I'm at about 20 weeks, and other than back pain, am feeling pretty good. Pregnancy the second time around is a whole new ballgame, as I know you moms-of-more-than-one know. But that's a conversation for another post.
So there's our news in a nutshell. I hope everyone is enjoying the fall, and looking forward to eating too much food and watching a lot of football next week.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Home Sweet Home
We have been in our house for a week and a half now, though we feel FAR from settled. We have boxes everywhere, and I just can't seem to make it through the piles on my kitchen cabinets and in the bedrooms.
The movers carried everything out of our place in the city, packed it into a huge truck, drove it out to New Jersey, and then carried it all into our new place. And all on the hottest day of the year. It was sweltering. We had a few dicey moments. Our home was built in 1929, so it wasn't quite built with today's furniture dimensions in mind...namely a queen size box spring. The mattress was okay, as it's flexible and can kind of bend around corners. However, the box spring, being completely inflexible, took 4 guys (3 movers + Kevin), and required some shoving, paint scratching, and ultimately completely removing a window in order to make it to the second floor. But in the end we got Cameron's crib assembled, our bed set up, and we spent our first night in one first house!
That was all on Monday. Then on Friday, Kevin caught a late flight for Dallas to pick up another load of home stuff. We had all kinds of boxes stored with my parents that we needed to get...things we didn't bring to New York in the first place because, a.) we were moving into 500 square feet, and b.) we thought we'd only be up here a year (ha, ha). In addition to boxes, we picked up quite a bit of furniture - some things that were ours and some pieces that Kevin's parents have generously passed on to us to help furnish our first place.
Kevin arrived in Dallas Saturday morning, then went to 3 different houses (my parents and his parents' 2 places) to load up furniture and boxes. Then he and his dad left Dallas that afternoon and drove north to Norman to pick up one more piece of furniture from my brother and his wife. From there they headed northeast, and spent the next 2 1/2 days on the road to finally arrive in our driveway Monday night around 7:30pm. Whew.
We are both so exhausted we can hardly keep our eyes open at night. We haven't had a "leisurely weekend" in about 6 weeks. But here we are, in our own - albeit chaotic - home. Cameron loves running around the empty rooms and the backyard. He loves the huge 24-foot Budget Rental truck parked in our driveway. He still thinks riding around in a car is pretty cool. We are so grateful to be here, it still seems unreal.
So, dear ones, we have a couple of extra bedrooms...come on up and see us!
The movers carried everything out of our place in the city, packed it into a huge truck, drove it out to New Jersey, and then carried it all into our new place. And all on the hottest day of the year. It was sweltering. We had a few dicey moments. Our home was built in 1929, so it wasn't quite built with today's furniture dimensions in mind...namely a queen size box spring. The mattress was okay, as it's flexible and can kind of bend around corners. However, the box spring, being completely inflexible, took 4 guys (3 movers + Kevin), and required some shoving, paint scratching, and ultimately completely removing a window in order to make it to the second floor. But in the end we got Cameron's crib assembled, our bed set up, and we spent our first night in one first house!
That was all on Monday. Then on Friday, Kevin caught a late flight for Dallas to pick up another load of home stuff. We had all kinds of boxes stored with my parents that we needed to get...things we didn't bring to New York in the first place because, a.) we were moving into 500 square feet, and b.) we thought we'd only be up here a year (ha, ha). In addition to boxes, we picked up quite a bit of furniture - some things that were ours and some pieces that Kevin's parents have generously passed on to us to help furnish our first place.
Kevin arrived in Dallas Saturday morning, then went to 3 different houses (my parents and his parents' 2 places) to load up furniture and boxes. Then he and his dad left Dallas that afternoon and drove north to Norman to pick up one more piece of furniture from my brother and his wife. From there they headed northeast, and spent the next 2 1/2 days on the road to finally arrive in our driveway Monday night around 7:30pm. Whew.
We are both so exhausted we can hardly keep our eyes open at night. We haven't had a "leisurely weekend" in about 6 weeks. But here we are, in our own - albeit chaotic - home. Cameron loves running around the empty rooms and the backyard. He loves the huge 24-foot Budget Rental truck parked in our driveway. He still thinks riding around in a car is pretty cool. We are so grateful to be here, it still seems unreal.
So, dear ones, we have a couple of extra bedrooms...come on up and see us!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Tomorrow's the day!
Tomorrow is closing, where we go sign a mountain of papers, hand over a check for a nauseating amount of money, and then receive the keys to our very first home. We still can't believe it's tomorrow.
I have spent every waking moment trying to pack up our apartment in preparation for the movers on Monday. We still have a ways to go, but I finally feel like the end is in sight. Though I guess the end will come whether I'm completely ready for it or not. The movers will show up on Monday morning, and whatever isn't packed to my rather annoyingly exacting, uber-organized standards, will get thrown in a box and sorted out later. I'm okay with that.
I'm so excited about the space and the yard that I haven't thought much about leaving the city. I'm sure it will make good fodder for a piece later on comparing and contrasting the city to the burbs. In the meantime, I am just trying to make it until Monday.
I have spent every waking moment trying to pack up our apartment in preparation for the movers on Monday. We still have a ways to go, but I finally feel like the end is in sight. Though I guess the end will come whether I'm completely ready for it or not. The movers will show up on Monday morning, and whatever isn't packed to my rather annoyingly exacting, uber-organized standards, will get thrown in a box and sorted out later. I'm okay with that.
I'm so excited about the space and the yard that I haven't thought much about leaving the city. I'm sure it will make good fodder for a piece later on comparing and contrasting the city to the burbs. In the meantime, I am just trying to make it until Monday.
Monday, August 03, 2009
T-Minus 2 Weeks...
The countdown is on.
Two weeks from today the big, burly men with the large truck will arrive at our apartment. They will load up all of our worldly possessions and haul them to New Jersey, where they will look pitifully insignificant in our new home.
Between now and then I have to pack said possessions into boxes in some kind of organized manner so that they will arrive at our new place in a.) one piece, and b.) enough order to actually find the things that we will immediately need. This is no small feat while I am being dogged all day by "small feet". I can do some packing while Cameron is awake, but I have to be seriously vigilant - he has been known to try to "help" Mommy pack. I have had to rescue sippy cups full of water, pacifiers, bags of coffee, bibs and my keys from boxes that Cameron has tried to helpfully pack for me. Mostly he just wants to get his hands on the razor sharp packing tape gun and the industrial sized permanent marker I use for labeling. Why are the most dangerous/harmful items always the most appealing?! Ah, a spiritual question for the ages.
Anyway, just a quick update on where we are and how we're doing. Closing is a week from this coming Friday. Then Kevin and I have to buy a car that weekend, finish packing the last minute items, all in preparation for the aforementioned burly movers. Thankfully, Kevin's mom was available that weekend and offered to come up and wrangle our little troublemaker while we're taking care of the final details. So nice to have one less thing to worry about that weekend!
More details to come...
Two weeks from today the big, burly men with the large truck will arrive at our apartment. They will load up all of our worldly possessions and haul them to New Jersey, where they will look pitifully insignificant in our new home.
Between now and then I have to pack said possessions into boxes in some kind of organized manner so that they will arrive at our new place in a.) one piece, and b.) enough order to actually find the things that we will immediately need. This is no small feat while I am being dogged all day by "small feet". I can do some packing while Cameron is awake, but I have to be seriously vigilant - he has been known to try to "help" Mommy pack. I have had to rescue sippy cups full of water, pacifiers, bags of coffee, bibs and my keys from boxes that Cameron has tried to helpfully pack for me. Mostly he just wants to get his hands on the razor sharp packing tape gun and the industrial sized permanent marker I use for labeling. Why are the most dangerous/harmful items always the most appealing?! Ah, a spiritual question for the ages.
Anyway, just a quick update on where we are and how we're doing. Closing is a week from this coming Friday. Then Kevin and I have to buy a car that weekend, finish packing the last minute items, all in preparation for the aforementioned burly movers. Thankfully, Kevin's mom was available that weekend and offered to come up and wrangle our little troublemaker while we're taking care of the final details. So nice to have one less thing to worry about that weekend!
More details to come...
Friday, July 10, 2009
A few more pictures of Casa Clem
We've had a few people ask to see more pics of the house, so here they are. Sadly, I didn't get any of the second floor bedrooms...but these are the more interesting ones. We took all of these pictures on the day of inspection, about a week ago - we're scheduled to close August 14.
This is the front entryway, just inside the front door.
Here's the living room and fireplace, taken from the front entry way.
Standing in the dining room, looking back toward the front door.
Another shot of the fireplace.
Not a great picture, but you can see the coffered ceiling in the dining room.
Our kitchen is the place that will need the most work.
This is a shot of the basement taken from the landing of the stairs.
Another area of the basement - play room! There's also a full bathroom down here.
And finally, the happy homeowners!!
This is the front entryway, just inside the front door.
Here's the living room and fireplace, taken from the front entry way.
Standing in the dining room, looking back toward the front door.
Another shot of the fireplace.
Not a great picture, but you can see the coffered ceiling in the dining room.
Our kitchen is the place that will need the most work.
This is a shot of the basement taken from the landing of the stairs.
Another area of the basement - play room! There's also a full bathroom down here.
And finally, the happy homeowners!!Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Jersey Girl
After a year of online searches, open houses, and home tours
we have finally bought house!
we have finally bought house!
This is our new home in Ridgewood, New Jersey. It's a lovely little 4 bedroom, 2.5 bath home with - believe it or not - a white picket fence. We are in the midst of all the home-buying "stuff"...Inspection, applying for financing, organizing a move, buying a car, etc. But we are scheduled to close on August 20. After 9 1/2 years of renting, we will FINALLY own a home. We are so excited. And Cameron, at long last and not a moment too soon, will have a backyard to run around in. Mommy is DEFINITELY grateful for that.
We're about 15 miles from New York City, so the commute will be pretty convenient for Kevin. And we have family in the same town - Kevin's first cousin Carrie and her family (husband, 4 kids and a dog), all live about 2 miles from us. So exciting! Cameron loves his cousins, and we're thrilled to have family close by.
So that's the scoop, friends! Come out and visit us! We're close enough to the city that you can pop in for the sightseeing, but now we have extra space and a bedroom or two to spare!
Thursday, June 04, 2009
I promise...
Today I was the very person I was cursing a year ago. It's the second most heard new-parent cliche, right after "it goes by so fast!". Yes, it's "It gets better, I promise."
I can remember about this time last year (though I use the term "remember" loosely...more like vaguely recall in a kind of hazy, sleep-deprived, Tylenol-popping, caffeine-sucking fog), I couldn't walk out of the apartment without someone saying it, and usually both together. They would take one look at my tiny little bundle, all 6lbs, 2oz of him, wrapped in a sweet fuzzy sweater with an adorable little hat, and they'd ooh and aah and say, "Oh, enjoy this...it goes by so fast." Then they'd take one look at me - baggy sweats, red-rimmed, baggy eyes, who hadn't seen the inside of the shower in the better part of the week - and they'd smile encouragingly and say it..."It gets better, I promise." I can remember the pitying looks from other moms as I shuffled through the park, and knew exactly what they were thinking..."oh yes, I know exactly how you feel, and I am so sorry for you. Ecstatic it's not me, but so sorry for you."
And then today, a mere 16 months later, I ran into a mom in the wine store. I was picking up a bottle or two for the weekend...she was buying a half a dozen. Ah yes, I remember it well. She asked Cameron's age, and I did the same...her response, "3 months...and I'm exhausted." As we're checking out she said, "when did he start sleeping through the night?" I said, "Mmmm, about 5 1/2 months." (Brutal, right?) You should have seen the sheer panic on her face. When you haven't slept in 3 months and someone tells you there is another 2 to go, it might as well be eternity. Then again, if I had said 2 1/2 months, she might have stepped in front of a bus right there thinking she was NEVER going to sleep again.
We walked out of the wine store and headed down the block together. She asked a hundred questions that are impossible to answer in a few minutes on a busy Manhattan street with a complete stranger. "How often did he eat? How many times was he waking up at this age? Did you do Ferber? Cry it out? I don't think I can handle that. How did you handle that? Did he sleep in your room? How did you know for sure if he was hungry or not? Did you let him cry even in the middle of the night?" The one question under it all that is never asked, but is all you really want to know...will I ever sleep again?
I tried to answer as best I could, given the short amount of time and knowing nothing about her or her "baby politics" - and, trust me, baby politics are everything to some moms. I tried to offer hope, and any tip I could think of from my own experience. I wracked my brain trying to remember what exactly I did right or wrong when Cameron was 3 months old (again, using "remember" loosely). I wanted to say, "every child is different, so I can't really tell you exactly what will work for your son, when he'll start sleeping through the night, whether or not you'll scar him for life if you let him cry longer than 4 minutes, exactly what order the bedtime routine should be, or any one of a thousand other things you'd love to have an answer to." So, all I could say as we parted on the corner of Central Park West and 96th was, "I gets better, I promise."
Aaaaugh.
Is there any phrase that engenders more desperate hope and, simultaneously, more sheer loathing to an exhausted new mom? Half of you clings to that promise desperately with both hands and the last little bit of your sanity, while the other half of you grits your teeth, because clearly these well-meaning morons have no idea what the @#%$& they're talking about.
But as a slightly-less-new-mom on the corner of a busy street with my own sweet boy on the verge of his own sleep-deprived meltdown (short naps suck), all I could offer from my 16 month perspective was platitudes. And what I didn't have time to explain, but what she'll soon realize (though it will hardly seem soon enough), is that one day she'll wake up and realize she's getting quite a bit more sleep, all night in fact...who knew she'd ever get there again? And while the sleep is definitely better, in it's place she's struggling with naps. And then it's food issues. And then it's temper tantrums. And then it's "no!". And then it's potty training. And then it's...
And all you can do is look down at your latest challenge, your current struggle, take a deep breath and remind yourself...
...it gets better, I promise.
I can remember about this time last year (though I use the term "remember" loosely...more like vaguely recall in a kind of hazy, sleep-deprived, Tylenol-popping, caffeine-sucking fog), I couldn't walk out of the apartment without someone saying it, and usually both together. They would take one look at my tiny little bundle, all 6lbs, 2oz of him, wrapped in a sweet fuzzy sweater with an adorable little hat, and they'd ooh and aah and say, "Oh, enjoy this...it goes by so fast." Then they'd take one look at me - baggy sweats, red-rimmed, baggy eyes, who hadn't seen the inside of the shower in the better part of the week - and they'd smile encouragingly and say it..."It gets better, I promise." I can remember the pitying looks from other moms as I shuffled through the park, and knew exactly what they were thinking..."oh yes, I know exactly how you feel, and I am so sorry for you. Ecstatic it's not me, but so sorry for you."
And then today, a mere 16 months later, I ran into a mom in the wine store. I was picking up a bottle or two for the weekend...she was buying a half a dozen. Ah yes, I remember it well. She asked Cameron's age, and I did the same...her response, "3 months...and I'm exhausted." As we're checking out she said, "when did he start sleeping through the night?" I said, "Mmmm, about 5 1/2 months." (Brutal, right?) You should have seen the sheer panic on her face. When you haven't slept in 3 months and someone tells you there is another 2 to go, it might as well be eternity. Then again, if I had said 2 1/2 months, she might have stepped in front of a bus right there thinking she was NEVER going to sleep again.
We walked out of the wine store and headed down the block together. She asked a hundred questions that are impossible to answer in a few minutes on a busy Manhattan street with a complete stranger. "How often did he eat? How many times was he waking up at this age? Did you do Ferber? Cry it out? I don't think I can handle that. How did you handle that? Did he sleep in your room? How did you know for sure if he was hungry or not? Did you let him cry even in the middle of the night?" The one question under it all that is never asked, but is all you really want to know...will I ever sleep again?
I tried to answer as best I could, given the short amount of time and knowing nothing about her or her "baby politics" - and, trust me, baby politics are everything to some moms. I tried to offer hope, and any tip I could think of from my own experience. I wracked my brain trying to remember what exactly I did right or wrong when Cameron was 3 months old (again, using "remember" loosely). I wanted to say, "every child is different, so I can't really tell you exactly what will work for your son, when he'll start sleeping through the night, whether or not you'll scar him for life if you let him cry longer than 4 minutes, exactly what order the bedtime routine should be, or any one of a thousand other things you'd love to have an answer to." So, all I could say as we parted on the corner of Central Park West and 96th was, "I gets better, I promise."
Aaaaugh.
Is there any phrase that engenders more desperate hope and, simultaneously, more sheer loathing to an exhausted new mom? Half of you clings to that promise desperately with both hands and the last little bit of your sanity, while the other half of you grits your teeth, because clearly these well-meaning morons have no idea what the @#%$& they're talking about.
But as a slightly-less-new-mom on the corner of a busy street with my own sweet boy on the verge of his own sleep-deprived meltdown (short naps suck), all I could offer from my 16 month perspective was platitudes. And what I didn't have time to explain, but what she'll soon realize (though it will hardly seem soon enough), is that one day she'll wake up and realize she's getting quite a bit more sleep, all night in fact...who knew she'd ever get there again? And while the sleep is definitely better, in it's place she's struggling with naps. And then it's food issues. And then it's temper tantrums. And then it's "no!". And then it's potty training. And then it's...
And all you can do is look down at your latest challenge, your current struggle, take a deep breath and remind yourself...
...it gets better, I promise.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Hmmm...
Here I am again...sitting in front of my computer, staring at my blog, wondering what in the world to write. This is why my blog is so pathetically empty, so rarely updated, so - dare I say - lame. I can think of nothing worth writing. I have a friend who has asked me to help contribute to her webizine...I can think of nothing to write. I am hardly an "expert" at anything and feel I have nothing new, novel or innovative to bring to the party. My life is seriously un-blog-worthy.
I have a 16 month old who whirls around like the Tasmanian Devil, leaving destruction in his path, yet doesn't speak a word. Oh wait, he does say "uh oh". Take one look at my living room, and you'll see he says that a lot. He has also said "Da Da" on occasion, though not regularly...and not actually to Kevin. But if he sees a picture of Kevin he will point to Kev and say "DaDa...DaDa...DaDa...". Mama? Nope. Ah well.
We spend hours each day at the playground. They have now turned on the summer sprinklers in the playgrounds, which Cameron LOVES. We both came home from the playground yesterday soaking wet and covered in sand. The Mini was in heaven, and Mommy spent naptime sweeping all the sand up off the floor, though totally worth it. Do you guys know about the baby powder trick? It is the best way to get sand off of tiny hands and feet. Just sprinkle baby powder all over their sandy hands or feet, and then dust it off...all that stubborn sticky sand sweeps right off with it. Plus you have a sweet powdery smelling Mini.
We've done a bit a traveling...trips to Chicago, Dallas and Maine in the last 2 months. But mostly we're here. Like I said...not blog worthy. Frankly just writing about this makes me want to go take a nap out of sheer boredem. But there you have it...a little something to dust the cobwebs off. Hardly worth writing, certainly not worth reading. We are alive and well, and keeping our heads above water. And that's about as exciting as it gets...
I have a 16 month old who whirls around like the Tasmanian Devil, leaving destruction in his path, yet doesn't speak a word. Oh wait, he does say "uh oh". Take one look at my living room, and you'll see he says that a lot. He has also said "Da Da" on occasion, though not regularly...and not actually to Kevin. But if he sees a picture of Kevin he will point to Kev and say "DaDa...DaDa...DaDa...". Mama? Nope. Ah well.
We spend hours each day at the playground. They have now turned on the summer sprinklers in the playgrounds, which Cameron LOVES. We both came home from the playground yesterday soaking wet and covered in sand. The Mini was in heaven, and Mommy spent naptime sweeping all the sand up off the floor, though totally worth it. Do you guys know about the baby powder trick? It is the best way to get sand off of tiny hands and feet. Just sprinkle baby powder all over their sandy hands or feet, and then dust it off...all that stubborn sticky sand sweeps right off with it. Plus you have a sweet powdery smelling Mini.
We've done a bit a traveling...trips to Chicago, Dallas and Maine in the last 2 months. But mostly we're here. Like I said...not blog worthy. Frankly just writing about this makes me want to go take a nap out of sheer boredem. But there you have it...a little something to dust the cobwebs off. Hardly worth writing, certainly not worth reading. We are alive and well, and keeping our heads above water. And that's about as exciting as it gets...
Monday, April 13, 2009
Death and Taxes
We finished up our taxes at the end of last week like the good, responsible, morally-upstanding citizens that we are. Kevin single-handedly tackles the madness with TurboTax as his guide. The Night of the Taxes, was a roller coaster that went something like this...
1.) Kevin enters all of our information - income, charitable donations, other financial type stuff I don't understand - and from the living room I hear, "What?!?". This is never a good sound from a husband trying to file taxes. Our friends in the IRS were trying to tell us we owed $6000+ .
2.) Kevin grumbled and frowned at the computer, shuffled papers, and eventually upgraded to the "deluxe" version of TurboTax in order to enter more detailed information. Ah ha...this seemed to fix the problem! After 30 minutes of adding more details, surprise!! We were getting paid $16,000! You can imagine the happiness...we were dreaming of heading out and buying a house that weekend! Fantastic! All has been provided...God is so good! We were giddy.
3.) Then...Kevin notices that some things aren't adding up. He decides to go back and delete and re-enter some information. And we watch our little green number at the top of the screen...the one that tells us how much we're getting back, how much we get to pocket, how much more we have to put down on a house...slowly scroll down, getting smaller and smaller and smaller.
In the end, let's just say while the number never made it into the red, it is significantly less than the $16,000 lottery we thought we had won.
And while it isn't logical, I feel I should confess that I was a little irked with God. Here we were, $16,000 theoretically in our pocket, and we're talking about how faithful God is, how he has taken such providential care of us. After a discouraging conversation just the night before about down payments and when we'll be able to buy, this seemed like God's serendipitous way of making it all okay, showering blessings on his children. And then it was yanked from our pockets by the grasping hands of the blasted IRS. And I felt let down.
While I told God I was grateful he was taking care of us so that we were getting the right amount and wouldn't be audited later and have to cough up a huge chunk of cash, inside, in a very small, ugly part of me, I felt like God had given us a little gift, and then snatched it back. I felt disappointed.
He knew. He knew I was half-heartedly thanking him for "taking care of us", when in my heart I was mumbling, "if you really wanted to take care of us, you would give us that $16,000 back." He knows what kind of selfish, ungrateful person I am. Such a spoiled brat...turning my nose up at a wonderful gift because it's not the gift I really wanted. Ignoring the fact, that just 20 minutes before we were going to have to pay $6000. It is a wonder God puts up with me at all. I am like Cameron, laying on the ground crying and kicking my legs because I didn't get what I wanted. That doesn't work with me, and it certainly doesn't work with God. Like any parent of a toddler, I am sure he shakes his head at me a little sadly, and wonders when I'll ever learn. It's a miracle he doesn't give me a good swat and stick me in time out.
Yet in the meantime, he continues to love me and take care of me, he dumps bucketfulls of blessings on me, he gently (and sometimes not so gently) teaches me, and he hasn't given up on me...and promises that he won't. And that steadfast love and lesson re-learned is worth more than $16,000 that was never really mine in the first place.
1.) Kevin enters all of our information - income, charitable donations, other financial type stuff I don't understand - and from the living room I hear, "What?!?". This is never a good sound from a husband trying to file taxes. Our friends in the IRS were trying to tell us we owed $6000+ .
2.) Kevin grumbled and frowned at the computer, shuffled papers, and eventually upgraded to the "deluxe" version of TurboTax in order to enter more detailed information. Ah ha...this seemed to fix the problem! After 30 minutes of adding more details, surprise!! We were getting paid $16,000! You can imagine the happiness...we were dreaming of heading out and buying a house that weekend! Fantastic! All has been provided...God is so good! We were giddy.
3.) Then...Kevin notices that some things aren't adding up. He decides to go back and delete and re-enter some information. And we watch our little green number at the top of the screen...the one that tells us how much we're getting back, how much we get to pocket, how much more we have to put down on a house...slowly scroll down, getting smaller and smaller and smaller.
In the end, let's just say while the number never made it into the red, it is significantly less than the $16,000 lottery we thought we had won.
And while it isn't logical, I feel I should confess that I was a little irked with God. Here we were, $16,000 theoretically in our pocket, and we're talking about how faithful God is, how he has taken such providential care of us. After a discouraging conversation just the night before about down payments and when we'll be able to buy, this seemed like God's serendipitous way of making it all okay, showering blessings on his children. And then it was yanked from our pockets by the grasping hands of the blasted IRS. And I felt let down.
While I told God I was grateful he was taking care of us so that we were getting the right amount and wouldn't be audited later and have to cough up a huge chunk of cash, inside, in a very small, ugly part of me, I felt like God had given us a little gift, and then snatched it back. I felt disappointed.
He knew. He knew I was half-heartedly thanking him for "taking care of us", when in my heart I was mumbling, "if you really wanted to take care of us, you would give us that $16,000 back." He knows what kind of selfish, ungrateful person I am. Such a spoiled brat...turning my nose up at a wonderful gift because it's not the gift I really wanted. Ignoring the fact, that just 20 minutes before we were going to have to pay $6000. It is a wonder God puts up with me at all. I am like Cameron, laying on the ground crying and kicking my legs because I didn't get what I wanted. That doesn't work with me, and it certainly doesn't work with God. Like any parent of a toddler, I am sure he shakes his head at me a little sadly, and wonders when I'll ever learn. It's a miracle he doesn't give me a good swat and stick me in time out.
Yet in the meantime, he continues to love me and take care of me, he dumps bucketfulls of blessings on me, he gently (and sometimes not so gently) teaches me, and he hasn't given up on me...and promises that he won't. And that steadfast love and lesson re-learned is worth more than $16,000 that was never really mine in the first place.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Sigh of Relief
I hate to say anything and jinx it, but I think we may finally be done with winter. Shhh!!! I don't even want to type it, for fear it will come roaring back, holing us up in our little apartment again, virtually climbing the walls, desperate for some room to roam.
I have a friend who lives in Texas who is constantly singing the praises of the balmy Texas winter and beauty of the fresh early spring warmth. She waxes poetic about the glories of 70 degree days at the beginning of February, about throwing her windows open and soaking up the fresh air, about the lift to her spirits the spectacular weather brings, about her kids running willy-nilly through the backyard, reborn at the dawn of a new spring. I read all of this while sitting in my apartment, bundled up in a sweater, stuck inside for the (seemingly) 750th sub-freezing day, while Cameron pulls every bowl out of the cupboard, every book off the shelf, every toy out the box, desperate for a change of scenery...and knowing we have weeks, WEEKS left of winter.
And then, today...the birds began to sing, the light began to dawn, the heavens opened up, and upon us miserable Northeasterners a 65 degree day was bestowed. We saw the first tree in Central Park with buds on it...real, green buds that will some day soon (barring another freeze) turn into real, green leaves.
Cameron and I spent nearly 2 hours at the playground. He crawled and climbed all over the playground equipment, slid down the slide 37 times, ate handfuls of sand, and generally was blissfully happy. He probably would have run willy-nilly around the playground if he knew how to run. Let's just say he was crawling with enthusiasm.
I feel like a new person. Like we have survived the endless winter again, and spring is our reward.
I hear Cameron waking up from his nap (man, was that kid exhausted when we got home from the park!). Gotta get back outside and enjoy the rest of the afternoon...'cause who knows how long it will last.
I have a friend who lives in Texas who is constantly singing the praises of the balmy Texas winter and beauty of the fresh early spring warmth. She waxes poetic about the glories of 70 degree days at the beginning of February, about throwing her windows open and soaking up the fresh air, about the lift to her spirits the spectacular weather brings, about her kids running willy-nilly through the backyard, reborn at the dawn of a new spring. I read all of this while sitting in my apartment, bundled up in a sweater, stuck inside for the (seemingly) 750th sub-freezing day, while Cameron pulls every bowl out of the cupboard, every book off the shelf, every toy out the box, desperate for a change of scenery...and knowing we have weeks, WEEKS left of winter.
And then, today...the birds began to sing, the light began to dawn, the heavens opened up, and upon us miserable Northeasterners a 65 degree day was bestowed. We saw the first tree in Central Park with buds on it...real, green buds that will some day soon (barring another freeze) turn into real, green leaves.
Cameron and I spent nearly 2 hours at the playground. He crawled and climbed all over the playground equipment, slid down the slide 37 times, ate handfuls of sand, and generally was blissfully happy. He probably would have run willy-nilly around the playground if he knew how to run. Let's just say he was crawling with enthusiasm.
I feel like a new person. Like we have survived the endless winter again, and spring is our reward.
I hear Cameron waking up from his nap (man, was that kid exhausted when we got home from the park!). Gotta get back outside and enjoy the rest of the afternoon...'cause who knows how long it will last.
Monday, March 23, 2009
If you don't have something nice to say...
And apparently I don't. I haven't so much as looked at this blog since the last post in November. It has fallen way down the list of things I find time to do...somewhere well behind re-roll the toilet paper roll that the Mini has unrolled...again, and empty the towering pile of recycling. I have an epic list of things to accomplish every day (I know...don't we all?), and putting "Update Blog" on the list merely sets me up for failure.
But here I am, with something like an update. And why do I find time now? Kevin is still at work, the Mini is fussing in his bed 30 minutes after bedtime, and I really don't want to do any work. Makes for an inspired writing session.
Cameron turned ONE in January. Though he has only aged one year, is it possible I have aged 3? I think it's gotta be something like dog years. But I will say, 14 months olds are WAY funner than 2 month olds. Yeah...funner. He is a sponge, picking things up at a terrifying rate. He is taking steps all over the place. I'm sure he will be climbing up the walls by next week. Currently, he is trying really hard to grow some more teeth, and teeth have been his nemesis since the first one started bothering him around 6 months (though didn't make an appearance until 8 months).
Please tell me someone else out there has a kid who had teeth struggles. All my mom friends around here say, "really? My kid never seemed to notice he was growing teeth." Is this one of those things moms conveniently forget about 3 weeks after it happens? The sweet Mini has cried, drooled, and painstakingly chewed his way to 5 teeth, with a 6th apparently on the way. They have been battles hard fought. And he has 15 more to go. We are living on Infant Motrin and Orajel (don't judge).
Kevin is still consulting. I am still full-time Momming, part-time assisting, though my boss says she may have to be my assistant before too long. As I'm sure you all know, the to-do list gets longer and longer, and the snippets of available time in which to do it get shorter and shorter. The Mini only slept for 30 minutes this afternoon. This is not enough time to do, well, anything. By the end of the day I am exhausted from entertaining a cranky tooth-growing Mini all day, and still have a dozen things that need to get done, yet inevitably don't.
So do I do them? Do I pour myself a fortifying glass of wine and tackle the pile on my dining room table? Nope...I blog.
On a fun note, we are also house hunting. We have been renters for 9 straight years. We have never owned a single piece of real estate. We are the only people for whom this current housing crisis is an absolute blessing! We will be buying our first home (God willing) without having to sell a home. For those of you who thought that someday we would be leaving this heathen land and returning to God's Country, all I can tell you is, we thought so too. But God, in all his infinite wisdom, gets a good chuckle at all our so-called plans. We are glad we're here to entertain Him.
Anyway, that's all the comings and goings in our lives. All of my nearest and dearest out there in blogland are so faithful to update me, I thought it was time I returned the favor. I make no promises about consistency...all I can say is, I'll do my best.
But here I am, with something like an update. And why do I find time now? Kevin is still at work, the Mini is fussing in his bed 30 minutes after bedtime, and I really don't want to do any work. Makes for an inspired writing session.
Cameron turned ONE in January. Though he has only aged one year, is it possible I have aged 3? I think it's gotta be something like dog years. But I will say, 14 months olds are WAY funner than 2 month olds. Yeah...funner. He is a sponge, picking things up at a terrifying rate. He is taking steps all over the place. I'm sure he will be climbing up the walls by next week. Currently, he is trying really hard to grow some more teeth, and teeth have been his nemesis since the first one started bothering him around 6 months (though didn't make an appearance until 8 months).
Please tell me someone else out there has a kid who had teeth struggles. All my mom friends around here say, "really? My kid never seemed to notice he was growing teeth." Is this one of those things moms conveniently forget about 3 weeks after it happens? The sweet Mini has cried, drooled, and painstakingly chewed his way to 5 teeth, with a 6th apparently on the way. They have been battles hard fought. And he has 15 more to go. We are living on Infant Motrin and Orajel (don't judge).
Kevin is still consulting. I am still full-time Momming, part-time assisting, though my boss says she may have to be my assistant before too long. As I'm sure you all know, the to-do list gets longer and longer, and the snippets of available time in which to do it get shorter and shorter. The Mini only slept for 30 minutes this afternoon. This is not enough time to do, well, anything. By the end of the day I am exhausted from entertaining a cranky tooth-growing Mini all day, and still have a dozen things that need to get done, yet inevitably don't.
So do I do them? Do I pour myself a fortifying glass of wine and tackle the pile on my dining room table? Nope...I blog.
On a fun note, we are also house hunting. We have been renters for 9 straight years. We have never owned a single piece of real estate. We are the only people for whom this current housing crisis is an absolute blessing! We will be buying our first home (God willing) without having to sell a home. For those of you who thought that someday we would be leaving this heathen land and returning to God's Country, all I can tell you is, we thought so too. But God, in all his infinite wisdom, gets a good chuckle at all our so-called plans. We are glad we're here to entertain Him.
Anyway, that's all the comings and goings in our lives. All of my nearest and dearest out there in blogland are so faithful to update me, I thought it was time I returned the favor. I make no promises about consistency...all I can say is, I'll do my best.
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