Happy Birthday to my baby

Today you are eight years old. Last night you were so excited about your upcoming birthday you cleaned your room and straightened up every single pair of tennis shoes you own. That was monumental. Really, it was. I had no idea you had so many shoes. For your birthday you got a new pair of tennis shoes, because six pair just isn't enough.

You are a most unusual boy. You love to cook, and label yourself an "indoor kind of guy." Each morning you holler "I love you" as you rush out the door on the way to school, and every night as you climb into bed you put your robe on and tie it just so, no matter how many times I explain that you don't have to wear a robe to bed.

I look at your face and see just how much you've changed. Long gone are the chubby baby-like cheeks. I see the beginnings of a very handsome young man. I can't help but wonder what you'll be when you grow up.

I love my baby. I couldn't feel more blessed to be your mom.

Ugly Cakes I Have Known

Sounds like a coffee table book. Today I found two perfectly ugly cakes at Wal-Mart. I'm not sure what possessed me to take pictures of them, but then again, my mind doesn't always function in a logical manner. The second picture could induce blindness, or it may cause you to follow the yellow brick road, or maybe smoke something not really legal.

She's growing up

Jay is on the move. She started crawling two weeks ago, and now she is pulling up. It seems she can't wait to learn to walk. Why can't she be content to just crawl around for a few more months. I don't remember Dakota being this anxious about walking when he was her age.

Eight months ago we brought home this little fragile five pound baby girl, and worried that she wasn't gaining weight fast enough. Now, she's 18 lbs. and eating mostly table food. It makes me sad that this one is growing up so quickly too. I think she will be our last, but I'd like to have just one more. Just one.

I tell the husband that we'll now have to buy even more land so both kids can build their homes close by. He looks at me like a monkey has just popped out of my ass, and goes back to playing his basketball game and doesn't even crack a smile.

Moving on up

Once again my job is changing. Sometimes I feel like I've been picked up in a tornado and just carried away. I find myself sitting in meetings that involve discussions about statutes and policy issues and long-range planning. Up until this year, my long-range planning extended to one week. I can't believe my good fortune.

My Gawd, three years ago I was a secretary, and now, I'm a policy analyst. Over the next year I'll be pinching myself a lot, because I can't believe I'm moving up the career ladder once again. Life is good. Very good.

Memories

This week has been a busy one. I'm working hard on a new photo book for my parents for Christmas. Out of all the gifts we exchange, the ones they treasure most are the handmade gifts.

Looking through old photos of my family brings back such happy memories. This picture is the only photo I have of me and my parents together. We were "visiting" a relative's house for the day. I say visiting, because these visits almost always turned into an all night session of pokeno or spades. After dinner all the kids would line up in the kitchen to wash and dry dishes, and the grown-ups would settle into their card games. I remember the rattle of change, the cussing and the snaps, all followed by loud laughter. The games would last early into the morning, and the kids would stay up all night unsupervised. My father had 12 sisters and brothers so there were a lot of us kids. Those were the days, we had not a care in the world. When we got home, my dad would always give me all the money he won and let me to put it in his bank.

Times have changed it seems. Some of the sisters and brothers have died, others have moved away, and we seldom see each other. When we do get together, it's just like old times once again.

Fantastic Mr. Fox

Today I took the boys to the show to see this movie. I wish I had checked the reviews beforehand. Mr. Fox was a thief to his heart, but gave up his wild ways with the birth of his first cub. However, after a number of years his heart yearned to return to his thieving ways and he engaged Mr. Possum and a relative to pull of three big heists. He stole and he lied, and in the end, he got away with it, but not before he got his ass shot off and his tail became someone's necktie. He was overly fond of saying "what the cuss", and "how the cuss." I'm sure that will now be my son's favorite saying -"what the cuss." Next time I'll read the reviews first.

We then ventured over to the mall where I had to reprimand Sucarri for checking out women's behinds and making comments. I absolutely abhor the kinds of influences he has in his life. I can only do so much, and it's frustrating to me that he is exposed to so much at his age. Why does a nine year old need to be checking out some woman's ass.

By the end of the evening they were wired to the max, but I dragged them on over to my favorite store - Target. This was a mistake, they drove me five kinds of crazy with their silly antics. Stuck on stupid, just had to have that perfect brownie maker for my best friend. I lost my mind in Aisle five and haven't recovered yet.

They ended the evening with a few Playstation games, and now everyone is sound asleep. I love these guys but today has truly been an exercise in extreme patience. They've shoved, they've pushed, they've argued, they've farted, they've burped, they've just been boys I guess. Even Jay had to crawl away from them, and she's normally climbing all over them. Whew.

You know times have changed when your kid asks if he can type his letter to Santa on his Nintendo DS rather than write it out. I strongly encouraged him to do it the old-fashioned way, because Santa likes handwritten letters. I've yet to see Santa's letter in any form.

Jay's photobook is here! I can't say how impressed I am with Snapfish's service and quality of the prints. If you've ever considered doing a book, Snapfish is easy to use and quick. I've always wanted to do a book. Tomorrow I will ship it off to her family, who are happily awaiting its arrival.

Scenes from Thanksgiving

Ear Tag. These two have a thing for games. She pulls his ear and he screams in mock pain. She laughs. She pulls even harder and he screams in real pain. She laughs. This goes on until I recommend that he move away from her hand.



Taking a break from Ear Tag.



There's my table. For the day I actually purchased a set of matching plates, because I have none. I pulled out the good flatware, purchased by a relative at what I can only call an "extremely deep discount" two years ago. I even pulled out my instructions on how to set a table, because after all these years, I still don't know how to set a table without instructions. I blame that on being left-handed.



Ugly shoes. They don't match the husband's quiet personality. Whenever he puts these shoes on, I am fondly reminded of Bozo the Clown. When I remarked to the husband that his shoes look like something from a clown factory, he said all the ballers want shoes like this. I know not why. To add insult to injury, the designers bedazzled each shoe with rhinestones.

Two cooks in the kitchen

Today me and the boy spent most of the day in the kitchen cooking. It was great fun. I never liked to help my mom cook as a child, I spent most of my childhood outdoors fishing and target shooting, anything to stay out of the kitchen. Dakota Lee is just the opposite. He loves to cook, and I'm always willing to oblige him. As I explained to him the intricacies of why we prepare things a certain way, I kind of wondered and hoped we've started a tradition with him helping me every Thanksgiving. Maybe Jay will like to cook too.

We made-up corn pudding, cornbread dressing with apples and sausage, fresh picked greens from the garden with smoked neck bones, macaroni and cheese, sweet potato pies, blackberry cobbler, and spiral ham. Later in the day Sucarri came out and got right to work with us cleaning the greens. My mother is providing the turkey and sweet potatoes. Yum.

As the boys sat at the table sampling ham this evening, I told them to be sure and marry a woman that could cook when they grow up. Sucarri, the Man Child of the house, responded that his girlfriend came over to his house last night and she was cookin and smokin hot. That's really not what I was talking about. Dakota Lee, ever oblivious to innuendo, just looked on and asked for more ham.

Tonight I'm beat, but we've had a fantastic day. I'm so thankful for my family.