This past week I have been a total bum. I started out by reading Mansfield Park (excellent, going on the all time favs list), then I moved on to Life of Pi (intriguing), and then Spider Man: The Other (pretty good), and after those The Cat Who Talked Turkey (dull, and not at all up to snuff with the other Cat Who books). I then rented the last season of Friends and watched the entire thing in two days, and topped that off with a movie. During this week I did spend a day running errands with the kids, and we spent time with my mother in-law, but aside from that, I sat on my butt being about as interesting as an eggplant.

Chris had laser surgery last Monday morning and so he has been home all week on medical leave. You would think with all of this time off we would have done something interesting, but he needed to take it easy and I guess I just took it easy right along with him. Which I think we needed. Now I just need to get myself of out of lazy mode. It’s hard to do because, in truth, my life doesn’t require that much. Yes, I’m busy, busy, busy slaving away for the children, making their food and trying to keep the playroom floor visible, but there’s not a lot of get up and go or thought that goes into that. And I do have several new responsibilities at church, I’m over a scrap booking group that meets monthly and a women’s chorus and in charge of keeping the church website updated, but these things don’t take that much time.

I lead a rather boring life. For the first time in my life, I’m functioning at normal. I was such an over achiever through high school and college; I rarely had a spare moment. Then I started having babies and very highly complicated pregnancies and moving all over kingdom come for the USAF. Now we are firmly planted at this duty station without a prayer of moving for a few years. I am very much not pregnant and the children have settled into fairly predictable routines. I’m so used to having a crisis to avert I don’t know what to do with myself, and so I have ever so impressively resorted to sloth. Yea me.

I keep thinking I should do something to make a little extra money, but with Chris’ wacky schedule and the fact that refuse to put my kids into a daycare situation (not to mention that childcare around these parts costs almost as much as I would make at an entry level part time gig.) There aren’t a lot of options. Not to mention I can’t think of anything I would actually enjoy. I suppose no one enjoys their work all of the time.

So here I sit at my computer, not entirely sure of what to do with myself. Any suggestions?

The difference between the first child and the second child can be absolutely amazing. Jonas pushed me away and was eager to run around and be independent almost immediately. Maggie clings and cuddles and worries about strangers. Jonas was colicky and had difficulties sleeping while Maggie is calm and slept through the night so early I thought something was wrong with her. But the really stunning difference is that while child number one was El Numero Uno and Child-Extrordinaire by default, is that child number two has always had a sibling.

My mother, and many other wise people say that this results in a naturally more patient child simply because it’s impossible to dote on subsequent children with the same intensity that one does with a first. In Maggie’s case, this is certainly true, whether by nature or nurture, she is more patient. But the difference that I would like to point out, and that I feel really defines the situation, is this: Child number one gets caught playing in the toilet. Child number two gets caught playing in a yellow toilet.

One year ago today I thought it would be fun to start a blog. I spent a lot of last night reading my own blog and taking a trip down memory lane. It is amazing how much you forget. In one year I have managed eight posts on vomit. And that was only the memorable vomiting, not like last week when I was putting the kids into their car seats and Jonas choked on his own spit and threw up Macaroni and Cheese all over the car.

We have some wonderful examples of why I won’t be winning any parenting awards. There have also been plenty of posts revolving around my bosoms, in fact, my very first post was inspired by them. And who could forget the posts where I uhhh, maybe over-share a bit?

We also have some good examples that prove Lou’s a little stupid. Thankfully, I think there are more posts that prove I’m not always as dumb as I look. In short, it’s been a busy year.

Maggie blossomed from baby to toddler and my man Jonas got huge. We traveled. We bickered. We ate ants. It rained in the kitchen. We moved to a new house. I did a lot of crafty stuff. We’ve been sick and healthy and in North Dakota and San Francisco and Hawaii, and it’s all right here, saved forever in cyber space. 214 posts, one blog move and redesign (that’s why it looks like none of the older posts have comments), and about 45,000 visitors later and I’m still here.

So, thanks for sharing my year. Hopefully you’ll all stick around for whatever is to come!

Today’s entry is coming to you from the usual spot, but with the slight difference that Lou is nauseated and achy and her head hurts and she feels like she is coming down with something. Lou has also started posting in the third person, and should stop that. Ok.

I have news to share regarding my camera and the Best Buy Warranty Customer Disservice Fiasco. You may remember back to the first time I dropped said camera off at Best Buy when it wasn’t working. Best Buy sent it away and didn’t get it back for six whole weeks, at the end of which, they lost it in the store for a day and during which time they were quite rude to me. I was thoroughly steamed, but placated with a functioning camera. Unfortunately, the camera pooped out again less than a month after getting it back. So I had to send Chris to Best Buy to ask for a new camera, because I was likely to kill unsuspecting Geek Squad people, and Chris is slightly more patient than I am. The Geek Freaks sent the camera away, and promised it would come back faster this time. Which it did. Unfortunately, we never realized they didn’t promise it would come back FIXED as well. So, when we picked up the long lost camera that has spent so much of it’s short technological life span quarantined in the Best Buy Warranty System from Hell where I was convinced they hold on to your toy until the warranty expires and then give it back to you in a broken heap, it turned out that the camera was still broken.

Now, I will say this. The camera works when it feels like it. That’s how I got so many of the cute shots from the last post. However, during the picture taking process it would frequently shut down or freeze up or shoot me a bunch of error messages. Usually I could fix these problems by restarting it, or taking the CF card out and putting it back in, or hitting it really hard (that seemed to be the most effective method). So, I can only assume that the camera repair people turned it on, shot one photo, thought it worked and then sent it home with a note that said they had cleaned it. Uh-huh. Had they spent twenty minutes shooting pictures with it they would have seen the erratic behavior and refusal to stay on and unfrozen. But, no. They send me back a busted piece of machinery.

So, Chris took the camera back to Best Buy for the THIRD time with the usual wifely pep talk of, “Give them hell, honey!” I paced around the house miffed and composing long, threatening letters to customer service centers in my head until Chris called and said that they had sent the camera away YET AGAIN. But, this time they had sent it with a recommendation to replace instead of fix the camera. This means that in a week, if these repair people have any sense at all, they will be replacing my camera. And, if they don’t have sense, and send me back my old camera, at the first hint of trouble all we have to do it take it in for a fourth time and it will be replaced on the spot. Which only makes sense. So, I am pacified once more, knowing that I am either getting a functioning camera or a new one, and there is a blessed end in sight.

To make matters even more exciting, Best Buy no longer stocks our model, what with technology changing and upgrading so quickly these days. So, if we get our old camera replaced, they will be replacing it with the new, fancy-schmancy version of my Rebel. Which, in my humble opinion, is earned after the crap we’ve had to go through to get a functioning camera under this stupid warranty.

Maggie, who turns thirteen months old today, has just mastered the fine art of walking. For a few weeks she careened through the hall like she had been shot out of a pinball machine, bouncing haphazardly from side to side and then falling in a giggling heap when she ran out of steam.

Now she walks around the pew at church looking like a little bell with legs in her poofy dress, peeking her little face around the edges and charming the pants off everyone she meets. She is absolutely in love with walking and you can see the delight on her face every time she toddles across a room. Whirling like a dervish, she has managed to earn a few bruises and they look so out of place on her gentle little self, not at all appropriate like they were on her rough and tumble big brother.

Her hair is getting longer every day. It is in her eyes and sticks out wildly when it hasn’t been pulled into two little fountains on the top of her head. Chris calls her a little weed when her hair in unruly, and it does fit; she looks like a half blown dandelion. I have been in my glory buying hair clips to match every outfit, and have even taught her to sit still and be patient while I clip her hair into place and then we look at the cute baby with the cute hair things in the mirror and she pats her reflection and exclaims, “Dweee! Doo doo doo daaaa,” which I can only assume means, “Mom, you rock, and I look amazing. Have your people call my people and we’ll do lunch.”

She has become so expressive, both verbally and facially. She now puts her mouth into a little excited “Oh!” when she ges to eat her favorite applesauce or bananas, and when she is happy to see me she gives me the squishy face of joy where she squinches up her eyes and cheeks and gives me a cute little blink. She giggles and laughs at our family, and wants to spend all of her time being held or tickled. When she isn’t being snuggled, she is walking toward us, hoping for more affection, and it’s impossible not to give in.

She is totally enamored with her big brother Jonas. Aside from being the one with all the cool toys, Jonas is quick to hug Maggie and so concerned about her well being. He is always making sure Maggie is getting a treat too and gets so lonely when she takes her nap. They make each other laugh, and there is no sound I love more. They do get frustrated with each other sometimes, because it is hard to learn to share toys and to not always be able to keep up, but they make up for the difficulties with so much enthusiasm for sharing the fun of life.

Maggie is still nursing and I love that she is so content as we cuddle in bed and doze blissfully. Her security and contentedness gives me peace. These are the moments in the day when I feel the most relaxed. She loves to have her cheeks stroked and often sighs contentedly as she stops nursing and snuggles in to get more comfortable, milk bubbles still on her pink lips. She will lift her heavy eyelids to gaze at my face, and when she is satisfied that she is secure, she drifts off to sleep looking like an angel.

Lately, I have spent a lot of time looking at my daughter and wondering how I ever got by without her particular brand of love in my life. Aside from being impossibly cute, there is something so sweet about her that I just want to bottle it and keep it forever, maybe pour it on the world in all of the places people are hurting, because the kind of joy she brings is so healing and so innocent. I marvel at her on a daily basis. This is the joy motherhood brings.

I’m the one with the shiner, pigtails and the t-shirt that says, “My aunt wears combat boots”.

I don’t remeber a lot about being six. I remember frequently being told not to sulk, but I was a pretty sulky kid. I was a tom boy who climbed trees and picked fights. I’m sure the shiner was the result of the trees. This has always been one of my favorite photos of myself, moping and bruised. It speaks volumes that I can’t even begin to write.

I know this isn’t a self portrait, but with my camera in the shop (still) and the theme for the month being personal history, it was the shot I felt most compelled to share. Mom, did I really sulk as much as I remember you telling me not sulk? Probably.

The McDonald’s in our mall has a new sign on their counter. It is a chart depicting how many containers of sauce you get with each of the different sized orders of chicken nuggets. Apparently, you get one sauce for a four nugget order. From a six piece to a nine piece you only get two. If you get the family sized order you get three. And if you want more, you pay a quarter a pop. They also refuse to trade the pop in a Happy Meal for a juice, like the new company campaign for better eating suggests. They will only let you have the juice if you pay a dollar over the cost of your happy meal and forgo the pop. This is the same McDonald’s that is running a Happy meal special with two surprise toys in each meal. The catch is that they only open one box of toys at a time so, if like me, you go in and order two Happy Meals, you get four of the exact same lame toy. Can we say Psycho Cheapskates? We don’t eat there much, but it’s always interesting.

I am the world’s most awesome mother because I spent an hour designing a super cool layout out of our Thomas the Tank Engine track and then I glued it together and onto an old coffee table so it is permanently set up and ready for play. We have about $400 worth (don’t freak out I bought almost all of it on major discount) of Thomas junk and the fact that it was all sitting there not being played with was making me crazy. Jonas couldn’t seem to drive the trains around the bridge without collapsing it and Maggie thought playing with it meant knocking the track off the table, so now- it’s all better! And the hottest toy we have! All thanks to Elmer’s glue!

We were out shopping last night and I was very stressed at Jonas, and questioning whether or not I was as ok mom, when this horrible woman walked into the store we were in with her four small children in tow. The kids were being fairly decent when all of the sudden she lit into them cussing up a storm, calling them every name in the book and using every combination of four letter words I’ve ever heard and a few new ones. The children looked unphased, which made it clear to me that this was a frequent occurrence. Jonas watched the entire thing, and I was very tempted to ask her to watch her language in front of my kids (I’ve humbled a fire-mouthed retired Colonel in the commissary, so it’s not like I’m a wuss) but she was so incensed I really thought she’d hit me, and filing assault charges would have taken up the rest of my evening, so I just watched her leave and patted myself on the back for being a decent mother.

I have spent the past few days listening to a constant barrage of, “I want noodles. . .I want go store. . .I want ice cream. . .I want apple juice. . .I want Gramma Sue. . . I want apple juice. . . I want watch movie. . .I want apple juice. . .” and “Where’d you get it? Where’d you get it? Where’d you get it?” The talking was fun at first, now I’ve reached the point where I am really looking forward to preschool next year!

Oh! Good News! My Camera Is On It’s Way Home From The Evil, Bad Warranty People At Best Buy! It’s Fixed! They Say I’ll Have It In My Hot Little Hands By Tuesday! I’m So Excited I’m Capitalizing Things!

If anyone out there has some baby shoes in size 3 and up they would like to send me, that’d be great. I’m having a horrible time finding shoes for Maggie. Correction, I’m have a horrible time finding shoes within my pathetic budget. I found an adorable pair of K-Swiss shoes for Maggie. I just couldn’t pay $40 for something she was going to outgrow in six weeks. Our Payless bites and I couldn’t find anything in her size at Target. Even Gymboree doesn’t have any good shoes out right now! Where are all the shoes people?

Oh and speaking of shoes, Jonas did the cutest thing yesterday! He had just put his shoes on the wrong feet and was sitting on the floor with his feet in front of him. I told him he needed to switch them and he said no. I told him we couldn’t heave until he put them on the right feet. He thought about it for a second, grinned and me and then crossed his legs so it looked like the shoes were right. Cute and brilliant, folks!

Thanks for de-lurking, my readers! How fun to get to know you guys a bit! Thanks for being here!

This means that as you click on my blog for your daily/weekly/I was googling ‘adult diapers’ and somehow found myself here. . . visit it would be totally awesome, not to mention liberating and freeing for you, the lurker (oh yeah, and gratifying for the attention grubber writing this blog) if ya’ll would exit the lurker-closet and leave me a little comment.

I must admit that as I see my stat counter tracking over 1,000 hits a week and only a very small handful of you readers throwing me a bone in the comments section. . . I find myself wondering who you are.

Are you tall? Fat? Freckled? Liberal? Pagan? Conservative? Crunchy? Weird? Or maybe so normal you’d scare the heck out of me? I’ll never know if you don’t comment!

So c’mon. . . Come Out, Come Out Where Ever You Are!

And while you’re here- show some love to my renter for the week and click on her ad! She’s pretty cool!