tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46375175103290347042024-03-12T20:34:29.450-07:00~ The Princes and The Pea ~Here are the ramblings of a Wife, a Daughter, a Sister, a Friend, but most of all - A MOMMY - to three little boys. Two rambunctious and royally entitled princes, and my sweet little baby - the pea.Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.comBlogger156125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-25420162596181369322008-11-15T21:45:00.000-08:002008-11-16T11:00:07.460-08:00slinking back with my tail between my legs......That's how it feels whenever I click over to this poor, dusty, abandoned blog.<br /><br />Then I sit here with my fingers poised over the keys thinking "Hmmmm....where to start. This is ridiculous. Why do I bother?"<br /><br />Maybe I feel about this blog as I do about writing long cheerful letters to accompany my Christmas cards. Like the letter is stupid, not completely truthful, and not something I don't want to do.<br /><br />My extended family doesn't read this blog. They never have. Because I'm too private and they don't know that the blog even exists. So really, what's the point?<br /><br /><br />I don't know what exactly has transpired in the last several months to make it so that I don't want to share things in this venue- good or bad....but I just don't. And everything is really okay! Kids are fine, Big Al is fine, I'm okay - just waiting for my first appointment coming up on 12/9....having to sort of start over, but still on the right track for my surgery. Things are okay!<br /><br /><br />And for some reason....I have such an aversion to writing on this thing. I don't like it anymore. And that's sort of sad....if I go back through my archives, there's lots of stuff here! Lots of good memories. But I just get an "ick" feeling about it now....and I truly don't know why. So........ I'm out. I'm not going to delete the blog or anything....and who knows....maybe at some point I'll feel like writing on it again....but for now it feels like just another project that I have completely flaked on - and that doesn't feel good. Plus, it doesn't feel like it's for me...it feels like it's a performance of sorts....<br /><br /><br />For a blog to be useful and therapeutic for me, it would have to be under a false name, without any pictures, and it would be just for me to vent in. Not a bad idea really!<br /><br />Anyway, drop me a note or find me on Facebook! Facebook is mindless and easy...and sometimes I post pictures of my darling little monsters.Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-59183885034021229142008-10-17T11:28:00.000-07:002008-10-17T11:32:53.931-07:00And yet another update!So as it turns out, I can go to a surgeon who WON'T make me pay $6K upfront!! How about that! My insurance will cover everything, but the surgeon who I choose initially, wanted a big 'ol chunk of "fun money" for five years of "after care." Well, I got to thinking....and calling around....and checking with my insurance.....and that's sort of BS.<br /><br />Um - What if I move? What if he retires? The bottom line is, I have great insurance and if anything happens to me or I have complications at any time - I can go to a medical facility, be treated, and not have to worry about it. <br /><br />Right now, I'm trying to obtain copies of all the tests I've already completed for the first surgeon so that I can give them to the new surgeon. Hopefully, I won't have to start all over! At this point though, it's looking like it might be January - which honestly, is a great time to make a fresh start.<br /><br />And I wouldn't mind having a frosted cookie or two with my kids just one more time this Christmas!Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-38876525922568333622008-09-20T22:19:00.000-07:002008-09-20T23:11:51.119-07:00WLS - An updateWLS - Weight Loss Surgery.<br /><br />Look at me! Learning the lingo.<br /><br />So I had my first appointment with the surgeon last week. It went very well! The good thing about choosing a <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.lapsf.com">practice</a> that is about 99% bariatric-related, is that things are run like a well oiled machine. Talk about efficient! I'll more than likely be able to get the surgery done well before the holidays. And if that isn't reason enough to get out of making the damn turkey this year - I don't know what is. <br /><br />Before walking in, I had already done lots of research and decided that I wanted to go with the <a href="http://www.lapsf.com/roux-en-y-gastric-bypass-weight-loss-surgery.php">Roux en Y gastric bypass surgery</a>. There are a few different options, but this one seems like a good balance of great results and treatable/avoidable risks. Dr. Cirangle was in agreement. We discussed my history.....my various (and MANY) attempts at weight loss. My very first Weight Watchers meeting at the ripe old age of 10. He was absolutely sure that there wouldn't be any problem with my insurance. Luckily, Blue Cross is *awesome* about approving this particular surgery. We talked about this surgery being a tool, not a miracle. It's a great tool - a very effective tool, but there are lots of rules. Following the rules, will lead to great results and good health. Slacking off on the rules will lead to temporary results, and bad health. I'm committed to following the rules.<br /><br />Since my appointment I've already had my phone consultation with the in-office dietitian (check!), made an appointment with my regular doctor for a current routine physical, scheduled an appointment for a phone consultation with the in-office psychologist, and plan on getting a few of the tests done on Monday while the big boys are in school. I have to have a chest x-ray, and upper GI series, and.....something else. Dr. Cirangle gave me prescriptions for each one. All I have to do is walk them into the hospital and have them done, and they'll fax the results to his office. See? Well oiled, I tell ya'. Before my paperwork can be submitted to the insurance for approval, I have to have the consult with the dietitian (done!) and also the consult with the psychologist which will happen this next week.<br /><br />During my appointment last week, the doctor mentioned that it might be a good idea to go to a few WLS support groups during this whole process. I couldn't agree more. I've done a lot of reading on blogs, message boards, etc. and it's the first few months that are the worst. It's a rough recovery - mentally and physically. And there's always the chance that those around me might have little moments of crazy during my transformation. <br /><br />For some people in my life....it may be hard to watch me shrink. I've always been heavy. It's always been my flaw. There have been many different levels of heavy - acceptable heavy....still very pretty heavy.....and I CAN'T LEAVE THE HOUSE heavy. There are lots of things I like about myself, and am proud of....but my body isn't one of them. Aside from it's ability to make cute and healthy babies (albeit only boys), I've always hated my body. The exception being the few years during my early twenties where I dedicated myself entirely to ME and became a total fitness guru. Crazy, right? I became a certified aerobics instructor, I taught swimming lessons and life guarded at the Y, the whole nine yards. Anyway, I was cute...but man...did I have to work crazy hard for it. We're talking 2-3 hours in the gym PER DAY. No meat. No fat whatsoever. No sugar ever. No soda. No caffeine. No eating after 7pm. Water. Veggies. Tofu. That is all. I was okay with it at the time - I was in the zone. I have three kids and a husband now. I can't devote that kind of time. An hour of exercise 4-5 times per week? Sure. I will commit to making that happen. But not 2-3 hours, 6 times per week. Who would fold all the laundry?<br /><br />So that's where I am. I'll keep you posted. <br /><br />Ok, now I feel bad about the "only boys" comment I made earlier.........<br /><br />N, R, and J? I adore you. You know that. I wouldn't trade you for a hundred girls. Really! I wouldn't. You cute little monsters.Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-89761420413136203882008-09-10T21:01:00.000-07:002008-09-10T21:40:28.211-07:001st grade, 1st birthday, 1st soccer team<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_temdQMV3rW7UnA_NmMQuuxWlewZSwHm1DVpPW5jQyfpHKNcw3w4objvYs_aOj2iz3rFFznA2q6Y4bnhHIoLHCV8ks0GD-2u1HQLXDvITaugXWPNrIZlPrfGx92wSrbpAalQ2AZ07hg0/s1600-h/IMG_6012.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244611045747801730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_temdQMV3rW7UnA_NmMQuuxWlewZSwHm1DVpPW5jQyfpHKNcw3w4objvYs_aOj2iz3rFFznA2q6Y4bnhHIoLHCV8ks0GD-2u1HQLXDvITaugXWPNrIZlPrfGx92wSrbpAalQ2AZ07hg0/s320/IMG_6012.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div> Here's my biggest boy on his first day of school. What a trooper. I'm so glad he's liking it, and I love that the desks are in clusters rather than single file. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRVpzoZiqySAeR7F-2kkmIvKqTN3jxXCMFFFBjxdEDz9v4k7IF7Eo9-nOjWeoivJpigPp-nw9rG6XxU9GFdnq9bfaCX6AO1j0tUcRS3x_SwOSAMipsMw5e7TcVt4KhsWAie4fob3Cryc/s1600-h/IMG_6026.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244612046375005730" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRVpzoZiqySAeR7F-2kkmIvKqTN3jxXCMFFFBjxdEDz9v4k7IF7Eo9-nOjWeoivJpigPp-nw9rG6XxU9GFdnq9bfaCX6AO1j0tUcRS3x_SwOSAMipsMw5e7TcVt4KhsWAie4fob3Cryc/s320/IMG_6026.JPG" border="0" /></a><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Yay</span> for crunchiness! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhGsYimFTPcMow8zaO5g8N6Hl_4t_mM-9uFQGcL8dhzg6BixRkYBVZwVMRh8qYyBTheGwJ20I-MQWSX1wqCCWrj7LB9DX1TWTmAVYJrWymhGSOe8mg0oTXRJpkN_dz9SysjEaYJkkfts/s1600-h/IMG_6018.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244611343664287922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhGsYimFTPcMow8zaO5g8N6Hl_4t_mM-9uFQGcL8dhzg6BixRkYBVZwVMRh8qYyBTheGwJ20I-MQWSX1wqCCWrj7LB9DX1TWTmAVYJrWymhGSOe8mg0oTXRJpkN_dz9SysjEaYJkkfts/s320/IMG_6018.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>The baby had a high fever and (what turned out to be) <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Roseola</span> on his birthday. Poor guy! We had a very low key family party for him, but he was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTj6DkgqSb4c5EjZp1i_iPrG9RGMJ5wFxprPL6gV3GcdudBSkhu-DxViHn9BHrTloskngsk-xFQhE12rTB7NFw8Owo827Q67LyrxnDysDydnE2IUhQDDiC5c7kn9F5bvS02qeFdVeJ6vs/s1600-h/IMG_6033.JPG"></a>pretty out of it. </div><br /><br /><div>Don't you love it when you get out <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYaZ33PhjCh-NufiY3dh5855vVE41ZJG7Rb1FSblBQ0sgVbGsvjv0h3wgBB4oCxRv4DR3lhjf5zYvlmfoWDY3FluLFldZg3sGULaCxiIEfVYbSHwQmfl_ija7LSQcWeqJjdBctGtULQ9k/s1600-h/IMG_6034.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244613526001783954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYaZ33PhjCh-NufiY3dh5855vVE41ZJG7Rb1FSblBQ0sgVbGsvjv0h3wgBB4oCxRv4DR3lhjf5zYvlmfoWDY3FluLFldZg3sGULaCxiIEfVYbSHwQmfl_ija7LSQcWeqJjdBctGtULQ9k/s320/IMG_6034.JPG" border="0" /></a>of your bath to find lots of gifts waiting for you? And by the way - I did NOT buy that tank under the coffee table. R. loved it. So *someone* bought it for him. It wasn't me. That thing gives me the creeps. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5uV2bttptoLiuCI7DVRav3mfCuNoQISq0as_3wsz7zPU7zzFUsr4N7omulT9qVfagCBMEs_LJwcN1U2vflMSadHNvKXy9k7AoTOmJL0EBrj69C3WCNRRdFu9IZVLewRnsFYhgQvtHES8/s1600-h/IMG_6049.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244615677098373714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5uV2bttptoLiuCI7DVRav3mfCuNoQISq0as_3wsz7zPU7zzFUsr4N7omulT9qVfagCBMEs_LJwcN1U2vflMSadHNvKXy9k7AoTOmJL0EBrj69C3WCNRRdFu9IZVLewRnsFYhgQvtHES8/s320/IMG_6049.JPG" border="0" /></a> It was the kind of virus that could only be comforted by Baby Einstein. And Daddy's chair. Look at him. Adorable even when he isn't feeling well. I could just eat him up. Sometimes his cheeks smell like kisses. He gets about ten million of them per day.<br /><br /><p>This is R.'s first year playing soccer. He really likes it. As it turns out (surprise, surprise) he's really competitive. He doesn't seem to get the concept of TEAM SPORT. It's him against EVERYONE ELSE. </p> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244616657627383794" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIMBlukjFmS_JQ9ZAT9XHd8EzKL8Qw6xFPmUPa_v5iM-v2Y1XcToZoZRO1gWVsHTysCBpmwpPpNq61fdpRJc6SuJWJe3vmAinWX2NgYnURWZFfCRFKSj6S7jZfxNRCVEZTPRrgWu0TPk/s320/IMG_6010.JPG" border="0" />This will be an interesting seas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcRpRJ3KCYiW5C2AFYeY4JvBXcoOLp1yhmZz2VJgH03xa7T9uxr7jdEnct_tDezymkLR4Ag9_WarZ7nbAEGLgTi_Bnx_Ugs-d8mlzG5npujjuE2h99yWPP7yVHZ7YecV_T65HFtTsIn60/s1600-h/CIMG0528.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244616289163298962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcRpRJ3KCYiW5C2AFYeY4JvBXcoOLp1yhmZz2VJgH03xa7T9uxr7jdEnct_tDezymkLR4Ag9_WarZ7nbAEGLgTi_Bnx_Ugs-d8mlzG5npujjuE2h99yWPP7yVHZ7YecV_T65HFtTsIn60/s320/CIMG0528.JPG" border="0" /></a>on! </div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-22457058731432434002008-09-01T10:13:00.000-07:002008-09-01T10:29:56.405-07:00nakedYou know - I've been struggling with what to do with this blog. It's become something that I think about every day with an "Ugh - I guess I should do that" attitude. Not good! I think it's because I feel like if I'm not going to be totally honest on this thing - I shouldn't bother at all. I don't want this to be a rainbows and sunshine only type of blog. Those kinds of blogs make me want to gag. I'm all about honestly - but am also sort of a private person...so sometimes I struggle with what to write.<br /><br />Oh well, here goes.<br /><br />It's been a hard summer.....my little sister has cervical cancer......she's having surgery in 6 weeks (they have to wait that long so that she can heal from the cone biopsy they did recently). After they're done, she'll have about a 60% chance of carrying a baby someday. The thought of not being able to have her own baby is heartbreaking for her. For all of us. Oddly, the whole situation has brought my sister and I closer....I really love her and would take some of this off of her shoulders if I could.<br /><br />N. is doing well in first grade. He's at our local public school. He did better with the whole changing of schools thing than I did. It killed me to pull him out of his wonderful private Christian school. I still feel a lot of shame about it. The fact that he was one of 8 kids from kindergarten who were pulled out over the summer did make me feel a little better....in this economy - extra's like private school are the first things to go. We realized that paying for one child in private school is one thing - three is quite another. Luckily, he knows lots of kids at his school from soccer, tball, and his preschool. He got into a class with only 20 kids and his teacher is known for being great - I'm okay and so is he. He's a good boy, that one. He's gianormous. Seriously - he's such a big boy. It's astounding. He just started soccer and loves it - he's an awesome goal keep. We tried to get him into Pop warner football since that's what he really wanted to do - but he was too big for his age group, and too young for the next weight range, so he has to wait for next year. You should see that kid throw a football....I hate to put him into that: he's-big-he's-going-to-play-football box, but he's really good! He's lost a total of 8 teeth, and has the look of a 3rd grader....big 'ol awkward teeth! Every time he smiles I see dollar signs! Thankfully, our insurance pays a good chunk for orthodontics, because he's definitely going to need braces.<br /><br />R. What can I say? His behavior has been awful. He has a good heart, but man.....he's a tough one. I could have TWELVE more kids and I feel absolutely confident that he would still be my hardest one. That kids spends half his life in time out. I would call Supernanny if it didn't require me to be on TV. When he's good - he's very, very good. When he's bad - lookout. I take solice in the fact that he's gentle and kind to small children and animals. That means he won't become a serial killer - right? I kid. He's stubborn, and isn't scared of anything or anyone. That's a tough combo when you're trying to discipline, you know? He pushes the envelope to the very edge.....it's hard. I've noticed that since N. has gone back to school, he's a little better. Almost like he's craving my undivided attention. As much as he loves Bub, I think he's still mourning not being the loved on, kissed on, worshipped little baby of the family anymore. I love him though - he's hysterical and clever. Definitely the "class clown" of our family. He's playing soccer this year, and is very excited to be on his very own team. Finally, he isn't on the sidelines watching his brother!<br /><br />Bub is a wonderful baby. He turned one on the 26th and celebrated as much as he could given he was on day three of a high fever. It turned out to be Roseola. Poor guy was a mess for about a week. Would barely eat, was VERY fussy, and just generally unhappy. He's much better now, and is back to his old happy self. He's walking for little stretches here and there - about twenty steps at a time. He's following in his brother's footsteps who were walkers by thirteen months. He weighs 26 pounds and is very, very tall. We adore him....he's the sweetest baby. He has beautiful soulful (green!) eyes and undeniably red hair. He's such a hugger. He puts his arms around our necks and hugs us tight. I love it - I don't remember the other boys doing that as babies.<br /><br />I probably shouldn't announce this yet, since the process hasn't even started yet - but I'm feeling "bare all " right now, so I'll do it anyway. I'm going to pursue gastric bypass surgery. I've freakin' had it. I've been battling my weight since I was 8 years old. It isn't ever going to be "fixed" in any other way. When I really bust my ass, I can lose 30 pounds. And then I slowly gain it back. 30 pounds is a drop in the bucket for me. I need to lose about 100. I'm done. I've had it. I'm not scared of the surgery - I'm scared of NOT having the surgery. Genetics is something that I can't battle anymore. I will always be overweight without this surgery. I'm too pretty to be this fat. Lol. My first appointment is couple of weeks. I'm excited. My insurance generally covers it, but I have to go through a battery of tests first. We would never be able to pay for the surgery out of pocket, so I'm praying that they'll cover it. The surgeon is confident that they will. I'm SOOO ready. I know that this is a controversial thing, but honestly - I'm totally not into hearing anything negative about the surgery. Especially from thin people who don't know how terrible it is to be overweight! I've done my homework. I've found an excellent, highly recommended surgeon. The danger for me is in NOT having the surgery. So if you don't have anything nice to say - please don't say anything at all! I didn't mean for that to sound bitchy....so I'm sorry if it did.<br /><br />I think I'm going to post a bunch of kid pictures later.<br /><br />I guess the blog drought is over for now!Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-7512538801332063232008-08-13T17:05:00.000-07:002008-08-13T21:50:50.791-07:00BubThat's what we call him. "Bub," "Bubby," "Mamas" as in "Mama's Boy," and "Cookie." Lately I've been trying to call him by his actual name.....I think knowing his name would be a good thing! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0SBdeJPdervYCQ6MvG3VbV8zjPBKC3OZg3o8GWzzVZ5LkRL-wr9_OcsreC0QG79R6e8Kxf5aUQHGLK18rSl65hHYXWaXG7iNaq2JcZcWzIXr8DIf9AkTfx0Iqlo7K_X94rPkk4FXaQM/s1600-h/CIMG0354.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234227519816622594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0SBdeJPdervYCQ6MvG3VbV8zjPBKC3OZg3o8GWzzVZ5LkRL-wr9_OcsreC0QG79R6e8Kxf5aUQHGLK18rSl65hHYXWaXG7iNaq2JcZcWzIXr8DIf9AkTfx0Iqlo7K_X94rPkk4FXaQM/s320/CIMG0354.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234227696979466770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxI2hxhRxhA4gio7C8STk7Sb5om9riXMOMS4vZrB0vE1O-LYVUpFGRJIvGoI3_wSKhi1cvjVNEx-gCOZsszu63YGOfiVcf2dvp3qOm2iL05yGbVisyOhhgrK927gcNm5Il7AG3vMdJc4A/s320/IMG_5774.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />I can tell that he understands more and more of what we're saying to him....there are a few catch phrases that he's very familiar with. If we say, "Hey Bub, whats in your mouth?" He immediately makes a "blech" sound, wrinkles up his nose, and spits whatever is in his mouth out for our inspection. Well trained, that one! If we say "Hey Bub, no no no no!!!" when he starts to climb the stairs - he looks over his shoulder and flashes us an adorable little grin - as if to say "hey, I didn't leave the gate down. YOU DID" and then scrambles up the stairs as fast as his chubby legs can carry him. If we say "Hey Bub! Are you hungry? Want some num num num?" He starts crawling over to his high chair while "air chewing." Once he's in his chair ,and he can see the food preparation happening he starts eagerly saying "MMMM!!!!!! NUM NUM NUM!!!!!" <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6m3JVnk_fE7eYNlLRUQaeQX0etY_Zisqvw08oJnRQBQnEj9Lk1OCTl_lQpixzhyphenhyphenhA1UnISYdsTHpHOV0iXCR8abYwPBMWTpoe3iGOke_Uc5vxNQzbLmAv5m210vOGWMgjXXuaErSQs4o/s1600-h/061041ba8598_main200.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234228634430223954" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6m3JVnk_fE7eYNlLRUQaeQX0etY_Zisqvw08oJnRQBQnEj9Lk1OCTl_lQpixzhyphenhyphenhA1UnISYdsTHpHOV0iXCR8abYwPBMWTpoe3iGOke_Uc5vxNQzbLmAv5m210vOGWMgjXXuaErSQs4o/s320/061041ba8598_main200.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Bub's favorite toy is the Playskool busy ball popper. He thinks it's fantastic. I've been meaning to take some pictures of him playing with it, but really - a video would be better. How else can I capture all of the screeching?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtD0cKd5BJrehHz1AYV_tjVt4vKxYvsd9s1xq-rQxrqDhb34HOdxTOLYqYKEkx2q5W6p3OLgVUwlswn9E5lz3Pi88MNMwYI1SxHibKBaSIQ0X7qRQI3yI0uGSfxsgAWm_zs4QJxlNeEE/s1600-h/CIMG0344.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234208168810263842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtD0cKd5BJrehHz1AYV_tjVt4vKxYvsd9s1xq-rQxrqDhb34HOdxTOLYqYKEkx2q5W6p3OLgVUwlswn9E5lz3Pi88MNMwYI1SxHibKBaSIQ0X7qRQI3yI0uGSfxsgAWm_zs4QJxlNeEE/s320/CIMG0344.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />He adores his brothers, and the feeling is mutual. Luckily, they've both been very sweet to him and are very understanding when he knocks over their towers or ruins their race tracks. R. plays with him a little more than N. does - and so, they are especially close. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234229626976082674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVNeSxYPiFQy8tcvWCggUBX4FOw1no1MONjKmqK9Fu6reqsP5Y3h2KDQktUR15Koz8wMh21Qj3ud2bP6VUw0BJ1kqoykXUABFogArIZn8esofAW7DTDnASZCjOlTsnHyWf6oqeRBgSoAs/s320/CIMG0406.JPG" border="0" />Funny, I always thought that N. would be "the joint" between the other two brothers. It's pretty clear that R. will do the job instead. Most would say that it's typically the middle sibling who does this - but I wasn't sure how R. would react to the baby. I know I've said this before - but for all of his....um....indiscretions as a four year old human being - he's a wonderful big brother. He could work on being a better little brother....that's for sure.....but he's got the older brother thing down pat.<br /><br />Typical for an almost one year old - Bub is into everything.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBSiWoT89xCRLdG7RifvW7nCt3Ws8UEvTt9TLvHI-he2rsem9ip-iN0rm0Qy2Rimz5q7FatkjRTXCi6pNuKT8COinowyq4GD99YHbgKMZn5Rn3HNFHEyeAToWzslsGtD8zVYvOJwq7IF0/s1600-h/IMG_5906.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234228034446733634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBSiWoT89xCRLdG7RifvW7nCt3Ws8UEvTt9TLvHI-he2rsem9ip-iN0rm0Qy2Rimz5q7FatkjRTXCi6pNuKT8COinowyq4GD99YHbgKMZn5Rn3HNFHEyeAToWzslsGtD8zVYvOJwq7IF0/s320/IMG_5906.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234228311248233778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGAyzCXIBY0nIsRiJDNwSjNMlh_AElVIB0ib3B4JU9DtXJ_VeHee55NMwVc256rsJ9oNu9utNAl9gn8Yd5qSyLOCV-ViyRe7Xl0An4R6WqRB7QCu8ZXD2Bk-wEQCZjn8p43Oe1sGJKLYU/s320/IMG_5762a.JPG" border="0" /> The dishwasher, the fridge, the closet where the boys keep their shoes (he seems to have a bit of a shoe fetish just like N did....and still does.....) the pantry, and every and any drawer he can break into. We really need to update our childproof latches because they are now well over three years old.<br /><br />Yesterday, Bub took three steps! It seems like he's making a very obvious effort to walk. I'm in no hurry! But sadly - he seems to be. And needless to say - he's huge. Just really tall and really solid. I swear he's bigger than his brothers were. I should weigh him to confirm....all I know is I ordered him some 18-24 month clothes for this fall, and most of the tops went back in exchange for the 2T. He's in 18-24 months now. All torso. Huge hands (see pool pic!) Again - no surprise there. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhelVaYbs4Wgo5JeMMaeEbCV5Yo7VAJ7PrA3OMdzfNSF5P_zekK9VIoq95n2_r7pJB3RO6j5-fxXqlbII1kaKhDgyMJft7_e63Hctd9qlHWxW15Cqxgd7mDi97kQun_kxOwC0mzI__zOGs/s1600-h/CIMG0386.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234230165799663874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhelVaYbs4Wgo5JeMMaeEbCV5Yo7VAJ7PrA3OMdzfNSF5P_zekK9VIoq95n2_r7pJB3RO6j5-fxXqlbII1kaKhDgyMJft7_e63Hctd9qlHWxW15Cqxgd7mDi97kQun_kxOwC0mzI__zOGs/s320/CIMG0386.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMSCtI5Zus_DeVDvgxQ42a-RAI0aYMTvpdQ1Wm_HfT5i4HpNz5uO5jGbNnTpUfxgz7s9LXipT17wRfOKxSAHupXypcdOQ_qUk_pd9bUpjwERpLv8QBbOjINMWJ2mJJIyrWAv1daJT50E/s1600-h/CIMG0341.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234230601486127986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMSCtI5Zus_DeVDvgxQ42a-RAI0aYMTvpdQ1Wm_HfT5i4HpNz5uO5jGbNnTpUfxgz7s9LXipT17wRfOKxSAHupXypcdOQ_qUk_pd9bUpjwERpLv8QBbOjINMWJ2mJJIyrWAv1daJT50E/s320/CIMG0341.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />His hair is undeniably red. Paired with his light brown eyebrows, dark eyelashes, and huge round, greenish eyes - he's adorable. Going to the grocery store is an event, because I can't go two lanes without someone stopping to tell me how cute my baby is. Who doesn't love that? Of course - he's always clapping and smiling at the grocery store because he LOVES LOVES LOVES balloons. Have you ever noticed how many balloons there are in the average Safeway? LOTS! I'm cheap though - I only buy him one if we happen to be at the crap (dollar) store. Because....balloons are only - you guessed it - $1 at the crap (dollar) store! And they're $3.99 at Safeway. If I buy him a balloon, it'll be coming straight out of my Diet Pepsi allowance and we can't have that.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY8tNeB6YxMrIEyeNIC7kRnNbIohl8K_4AnGClaTgQElg6_LrckOr38zAwsu-JI1JveEaQY9kbZMb77BZKdQhc8_yLzmHQeP6XruBhIGo2ZY-2mpnr5HGrmdYvSfyd_b482nXkfu7hCjM/s1600-h/IMG_5902.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234227897783171154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY8tNeB6YxMrIEyeNIC7kRnNbIohl8K_4AnGClaTgQElg6_LrckOr38zAwsu-JI1JveEaQY9kbZMb77BZKdQhc8_yLzmHQeP6XruBhIGo2ZY-2mpnr5HGrmdYvSfyd_b482nXkfu7hCjM/s320/IMG_5902.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This year has just flown by. Truly - I can't believe my littlest guy is almost one year old. He's a wonderful, beautiful, splendid little child. We're so lucky to have him.Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-47177069761413162932008-08-08T10:03:00.000-07:002008-08-08T10:20:00.044-07:00More issues than a magazine rackI have lots of pictures to post. The baby is just about 11 1/2 months old. I have a post in my head about that. I have a post in my head about the fact that my middle son is perhaps....a little bit crazy. And my 6 year old is acting like a teenager already. But I just can't post about these things now. I need to post about something that I don't have a picture for. Something that has been on my mind for....well....for as long as I can remember. Having children has magnified this issue by about a thousand. Here goes.<br />I really hate the sound of my children chewing. And my husband too. They are all ice chewers. As in - they go to the fridge, get a cup filled with too much "crunched" ice and water. They drink the water and then crunch on the ice for the next hour or so. They're even training the baby. He knows when there is ice around and crawls over to them Saying "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">num</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">num</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">num</span>" enthusiastically on his way across the room. And chips. Or pretzels. Don't even get me started. When I have to listen to them crunching....it makes my hair hurt. I casually cover my ears while pretending to rest my chin on my hands. And they aren't necessarily chewing with their mouths open. My kids aren't being raised in a barn (some might argue that the jury is still out on that one........) I tell them all the time to chew with their mouths closed. They're pretty good about it. But I can hear them crunching anyway. Like fingernails on a chalkboard. It just kills me. And cereal! Cereal is a bad one....because they slurp it. Know what I mean? They <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">simultaneously</span> take a bite of the cheerios and slurp the milk off the spoon. And honestly - they aren't really being <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">obnoxiously</span> rude or loud - I'm just super sensitive to it. I don't say anything, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">because</span> I know that it's me - not them - who has the problem.<br />Also....I can't stand talking to people on the phone while they are eating. It's awful. I can't even focus on what they are saying because I can't get past the chewing. Mind you, it's evident that they are taking small bites....trying to be quiet about it. I think that they think I don't know they're eating. But I know. Oh boy - do I know. It's as if I can feel their sandwich starting to ooze into my ear. It's all I can do to keep myself from quietly hanging up on them.<br /><br />And there you go! A little peek into my craziness. From me to you. You're welcome.Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-39056121489126368412008-07-30T23:15:00.001-07:002008-07-30T23:30:48.921-07:00"Staycation" - an attack.I know...I'm such a fair weather blogger. I don't have a good excuse for my absence either! I suppose I could tell you that I've been far too busy - what with all extravagant vacations and trips to the spa....but that would just be obnoxious. And also a lie.<br /><br />Speaking of vacations, have you heard this term floating around? : "STAYCATION"<br />IE -<br />"Oh we're just going to stay here and really rest. You know, really take a break. Sit outside. Read a few books. Disconnect the computer and the tv and the phone. Enjoy each other. We're going to have ourselves a little STAYCATION.<br /><br />Whoever thought that up should really be kicked in the shins. The idea that I could perhaps relax in my own home is just ridiculous! What about all the socks? What about the wayward pieces of foliage and two week old pieces of chicken nugget that find their way into the mouth of my youngest child? What about all the poop - In the diapers of the youngest, in the skid mark riddled undies of the middle child, and the monstrous, often toilet clogging poops from the oldest child? What about that? Can I sip an alcohol laden umbrella drink while unclogging the toilet? No? How about while I'm giving the "it isn't okay to pee on the side of the house" lecture to two half naked, trouble making boys? I mean I suppose I could enjoy a cocktail while I'm "mothering" but really - that wouldn't be responsible of me. You see, cocktails make me sleepy and I can't get tired when there's dinner to be made.<br /><br />Yikes, I sound bitter.<br /><br />I need a VACATION!!!<br /><br />rant over.Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-5042188584440695952008-07-07T09:38:00.000-07:002008-07-07T23:29:09.784-07:00More pictures of my baby with food on his face - the Patriotic Version<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRcB_QhSwZbm5-qWn-bRz6vrWnSEtoKH9MYnx2XmJbcKFUxz0F8sm_Oo6x0KNWc8VH6rdzrCOZ4m0_XflGc4Sk2voZ0z1O-BzJZLRbNsv0r4UzYYbw7-PEtQpNNPbeA9EPVmz04ZWNS0/s1600-h/IMG_5657.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220315714042179282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRcB_QhSwZbm5-qWn-bRz6vrWnSEtoKH9MYnx2XmJbcKFUxz0F8sm_Oo6x0KNWc8VH6rdzrCOZ4m0_XflGc4Sk2voZ0z1O-BzJZLRbNsv0r4UzYYbw7-PEtQpNNPbeA9EPVmz04ZWNS0/s320/IMG_5657.JPG" border="0" /></a> He enjoyed his first cupcake in honor of Independence Day. Good practice for his upcoming birthday. He thought it was FANT<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWaWWvQVX343oBhQFtF71kyrmHzjFfIp6O_R9EjhEW5khmvmyvlpZ6CMSMjgHZx7aPUyPtWX4vQ44MTtn4fXRTsOpzwzYdZptwuXJWNuZrARMvVJGF1L0nMOx3PTwclELzviutMKfifYY/s1600-h/IMG_5677.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220315310313387986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWaWWvQVX343oBhQFtF71kyrmHzjFfIp6O_R9EjhEW5khmvmyvlpZ6CMSMjgHZx7aPUyPtWX4vQ44MTtn4fXRTsOpzwzYdZptwuXJWNuZrARMvVJGF1L0nMOx3PTwclELzviutMKfifYY/s320/IMG_5677.JPG" border="0" /></a>ASTIC. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHfqVxux2do1AgxoujEZOtppJDgqp9JHOqMtWwcaDpjeFqUQxIGnQxA2t3fUnZ-hDLfcB0-_FR5mF4m3tvMgv7XayCtz15loBWwyziJPXm1FMbO29j0a0cbQT2Yy6tb_-2KtDAB2IUe68/s1600-h/IMG_5661.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220314883680978930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHfqVxux2do1AgxoujEZOtppJDgqp9JHOqMtWwcaDpjeFqUQxIGnQxA2t3fUnZ-hDLfcB0-_FR5mF4m3tvMgv7XayCtz15loBWwyziJPXm1FMbO29j0a0cbQT2Yy6tb_-2KtDAB2IUe68/s320/IMG_5661.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUpjblIbGNwvuMshJB69e5utf_ZEDIjlkPJJAkyacQ_dgc7VrbinlpZ3ONaCHJHvBmAnOud6ZwT___2a1fKPc_LflFRvda7d5UL6qsbvipb5ELhkT6AWXiYbdCjBo2bwWMQaUFOLaLNC0/s1600-h/IMG_5656.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220314322783749010" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUpjblIbGNwvuMshJB69e5utf_ZEDIjlkPJJAkyacQ_dgc7VrbinlpZ3ONaCHJHvBmAnOud6ZwT___2a1fKPc_LflFRvda7d5UL6qsbvipb5ELhkT6AWXiYbdCjBo2bwWMQaUFOLaLNC0/s320/IMG_5656.JPG" border="0" /></a>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-56436793693113054832008-07-07T09:19:00.001-07:002008-07-07T09:38:16.495-07:00The Dedication<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisOr5YoIxdyphJUO4wS1uOJOvLD3ZRNEqq6utmm_cM0Cv59CtW0-CgS22mzVg47OtEwLQvReslHVD90VdvY1HZ_i8FbKCcBebtDwwzBDnI8Lu-hUCaMTss-tno378m8Z-rQD2FVyw5UKI/s1600-h/CIMG0272.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220311689872909986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisOr5YoIxdyphJUO4wS1uOJOvLD3ZRNEqq6utmm_cM0Cv59CtW0-CgS22mzVg47OtEwLQvReslHVD90VdvY1HZ_i8FbKCcBebtDwwzBDnI8Lu-hUCaMTss-tno378m8Z-rQD2FVyw5UKI/s320/CIMG0272.JPG" border="0" /></a> A few weeks ago, we had Jack dedicated at our Church. The other boys were baptised as babies, but this church does things a little differently and it was just as special. The Family Pastor who also happens to be a good friend (and the Daddy of Jack's little girlfriend and her two older brothers who play with N. & R. ) said some lovely things about our little (huge) baby. Hopes for his future, that we will guide him in the right direction, and help him to grow into a man of faith. It was a really nice service. I always feel a real sense of contentment and assurance once my babies are blessed "officially."<br /><div></div><br /><div>The pictures from the day are TERRIBLE. This is the only one that sort of came out. Standing up there was the five of us, plus my Mom. Might have been nice to have a picture! I love my sister (who is reading this right now - hi!) but I will never put her in charge of pictures again! So you're off the hook as far as photography Shawnee. To be fair, I can't expect everyone to think like a scrapbooker. Am I the only one who walks through life composing pages during everyday events? Good Lord indeed! </div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-7522248886177700252008-07-07T08:17:00.001-07:002008-07-07T09:13:28.035-07:00The Stuff of Summer<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR8cPDRfUoFyrNh8czi3RHKf0dBPV7XI7L0yQZDcEgWJV7vKU6sV__2jfFmnMD6xk07JBM8Xu_pUp_BPCkqYwkvd3bcPa7cu3fNVaDCvG1hyphenhyphenH6R22MgtgzAClGrtyZmx4gciUI4j0umZs/s1600-h/CIMG0280.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220292071850028530" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR8cPDRfUoFyrNh8czi3RHKf0dBPV7XI7L0yQZDcEgWJV7vKU6sV__2jfFmnMD6xk07JBM8Xu_pUp_BPCkqYwkvd3bcPa7cu3fNVaDCvG1hyphenhyphenH6R22MgtgzAClGrtyZmx4gciUI4j0umZs/s320/CIMG0280.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div> It was blazing hot last week. Jack icked up his shirt and had to go topless at the park.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvj_g0MCNkJuTLWxdX4mCXcx31BXAPWZtQBJL-sCrH9bi1n7_sy3dLb3qWb_dUMc6b-gMdX8TMVj2Cw3iEUzPkMDmydEPtrjIKwv8flAm7G_tV0eBkpLZBTZKu0RO8SP9jR4D-HDNA1Q/s1600-h/CIMG0282.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220293799253535666" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvj_g0MCNkJuTLWxdX4mCXcx31BXAPWZtQBJL-sCrH9bi1n7_sy3dLb3qWb_dUMc6b-gMdX8TMVj2Cw3iEUzPkMDmydEPtrjIKwv8flAm7G_tV0eBkpLZBTZKu0RO8SP9jR4D-HDNA1Q/s320/CIMG0282.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><div><div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>N. and R. just wrapped up their first session of swimming lessons. They are both doing really well, and N. loved the opportunity to dive off the diving board the other day. We broke down and bought the family membership to the local pool - best money ever spent. They love to swi<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs27HSR-wIbxa9MuI_elorhvtKWBXd6N1Dz5XYm7uCBSmrwrONaf6R41NPbVVQ8u7Z4N_ZbkG9G8nvwrUgvoNjAsMChLi-BhKX_CAMFj3jQ9nshXrjVF9D2lw2pW75uRDGrg7dKnTfpQw/s1600-h/IMG_5583.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220293385129585506" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs27HSR-wIbxa9MuI_elorhvtKWBXd6N1Dz5XYm7uCBSmrwrONaf6R41NPbVVQ8u7Z4N_ZbkG9G8nvwrUgvoNjAsMChLi-BhKX_CAMFj3jQ9nshXrjVF9D2lw2pW75uRDGrg7dKnTfpQw/s320/IMG_5583.JPG" border="0" /></a>m! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrB3ZnWzJEnbRyMUdE3iRLcaVxDgklXuVSnLAw7iWkw3SzmqERUUAynpK8kcNlHLSEOfim3zfbSNTLbrcAyYQfogzUeQH4jskEhcfu4FtK-aVdD77pYEnfQFljhozZMx6jg9dyuwXtPic/s1600-h/CIMG0275.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220292961038457378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrB3ZnWzJEnbRyMUdE3iRLcaVxDgklXuVSnLAw7iWkw3SzmqERUUAynpK8kcNlHLSEOfim3zfbSNTLbrcAyYQfogzUeQH4jskEhcfu4FtK-aVdD77pYEnfQFljhozZMx6jg9dyuwXtPic/s320/CIMG0275.JPG" border="0" /></a> Proving once again that they are their Father's sons, my boys happily got up at 5am the other day to go fishing. Armed with donuts, OJ, and all of their gear, they set out for one of the local fishing spots. They rented a motor boat and were on the water, polls out - by 6:00AM. They didn't get home until well after noon. The three of them had such a great time - both boys caught fish (a trout for N. and a blue gill for R.) and Daddy even showed them how to clean them. At that point, they morphed into their Mother and were completely disgusted. I was so proud of Big Al for taking some decent pictures of the trip. Next time though, I'm hoping he'll wipe the pow<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtwI0M4JwlUq1aRtaVyYpanKekYV8sXVqApc_3aUhSZjNajUh_L_YvJZpfp6pkiERbgPNJnUtGoRefmTyQ7XzwIgbYGwfpX5wKWCeiphGJLU11mxom1YSecjdBK2vhPb6Zy8TGsoc_Mb4/s1600-h/IMG_4195.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220304725312927154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtwI0M4JwlUq1aRtaVyYpanKekYV8sXVqApc_3aUhSZjNajUh_L_YvJZpfp6pkiERbgPNJnUtGoRefmTyQ7XzwIgbYGwfpX5wKWCeiphGJLU11mxom1YSecjdBK2vhPb6Zy8TGsoc_Mb4/s320/IMG_4195.JPG" border="0" /></a>dered sugar off of their fac<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Mpykse6tCyUE3lYt7qu3XiWyVkJcD2j4jfrcXvy594xVQcHmxpry6c6Av6qWCtYsW_ZPCSsLtbPWQ7GBJAzEFC-NfmOekNBFGoAyXW7-fmlJ-3gA0DVPIa3a3G5hGIw17fGs9hKvg54/s1600-h/IMG_4199.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220304997052465282" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Mpykse6tCyUE3lYt7qu3XiWyVkJcD2j4jfrcXvy594xVQcHmxpry6c6Av6qWCtYsW_ZPCSsLtbPWQ7GBJAzEFC-NfmOekNBFGoAyXW7-fmlJ-3gA0DVPIa3a3G5hGIw17fGs9hKvg54/s320/IMG_4199.JPG" border="0" /></a>es first! Oh, and in case you're wondering - NO. I didn't cook them. They are in the freezer next to other frozen items that will never be eaten - lima beans, pork chops from 2006, you get the picture. </div></div></div></div></div></div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-63330843185838559202008-06-30T23:09:00.000-07:002008-06-30T23:14:10.677-07:00Please join us for dinner! You can sit by the baby.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRo2CH-LSoQjCKf4s4PNIistuXBqWrAyJQvUTV7kZzU7Z8C5BZMqjEGecYjJQhPzRID1SF5YmgFcOUtT0jiSrZ1exZAQvhe0oAFNMkjjlF3bZT6I5GrVKsagZ_-htd7Sz9rSQDAZv0xk/s1600-h/IMG_5637.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217924735788113666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRo2CH-LSoQjCKf4s4PNIistuXBqWrAyJQvUTV7kZzU7Z8C5BZMqjEGecYjJQhPzRID1SF5YmgFcOUtT0jiSrZ1exZAQvhe0oAFNMkjjlF3bZT6I5GrVKsagZ_-htd7Sz9rSQDAZv0xk/s320/IMG_5637.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifC9LD481dhntY_MHGtfQpjQGOj7ajjY8AduHFWymkxY6pt0aXA7zCJf9xMopLgiNj6ruXQZHyuC8m_9lAk_Fy8Z_Ub9fD3QeXdg3ESifqr-sFKBgjCjbTH2UKXvkhn8YWt-WVbbYXRjw/s1600-h/IMG_5636.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217924622355926146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifC9LD481dhntY_MHGtfQpjQGOj7ajjY8AduHFWymkxY6pt0aXA7zCJf9xMopLgiNj6ruXQZHyuC8m_9lAk_Fy8Z_Ub9fD3QeXdg3ESifqr-sFKBgjCjbTH2UKXvkhn8YWt-WVbbYXRjw/s320/IMG_5636.JPG" border="0" /></a>Baby's first spaghetti. I think he liked it!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdtPfjNZXrabJlHMEXn3CCFnyynfcmwDNIbhGnJuAlKzD2kuQZUp6Yg5A6ps5eBxI5P3XuR2Hd70E1EcDkfg_ZleH271LTl7rDOlYSvyiNyCyeb4jqkO_geBzalZX_9Up_IMR1zxaOBs8/s1600-h/IMG_5627.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217924370320347218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdtPfjNZXrabJlHMEXn3CCFnyynfcmwDNIbhGnJuAlKzD2kuQZUp6Yg5A6ps5eBxI5P3XuR2Hd70E1EcDkfg_ZleH271LTl7rDOlYSvyiNyCyeb4jqkO_geBzalZX_9Up_IMR1zxaOBs8/s320/IMG_5627.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217924495451066722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXIviMEN5IRYeI6Xv5PcJM6lgIijuP9OFhO1wAlIaPjV7xJ5FPlXSPjH697gsb7mBVm7I_IhG-UrST8PhNIXQrUjM2lMBdY7nmrTaCz82RG1e12vpuhfw3CP7nOC9lQfgEd0_SI0Evans/s320/IMG_5633.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-6766139509428628622008-06-28T08:26:00.000-07:002008-06-28T08:55:46.165-07:00Chickens on the Move<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7zXzaGOs6-aISWLkr_z1T26bxGJl4w7ANWxegCK4ZQ6lujgvSPFrvvOjZIjhyjCOs2ydxj16Fefm1heJKVoWU6rIu9I-mrREf83x6pbh-pLi2pq-N-AbbBLTLRhwjVmmvxI65jFMAMc/s1600-h/IMG_5601.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216960009091827810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7zXzaGOs6-aISWLkr_z1T26bxGJl4w7ANWxegCK4ZQ6lujgvSPFrvvOjZIjhyjCOs2ydxj16Fefm1heJKVoWU6rIu9I-mrREf83x6pbh-pLi2pq-N-AbbBLTLRhwjVmmvxI65jFMAMc/s320/IMG_5601.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div> When Big Al suggested that it was time to take the training wheels off of R.'s bike, I told him there was no way that he was ready for a two-wheeler. Boy was I wrong! Within moments, my four year old was riding his bike minus the training wheels. Very impressive if you ask me....I was eight when I learned how to do that! So either I have a very coordinated boy, or he has a very uncoordinated mother.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><div><div><div>Jack turned 10 months old this week and has decided that he's finally ready to put his knees to good use. No more combat crawling for him! He has also discovered clapping his hands (adorable) and standing all by himself! By the looks of things, he'll be a 13 month old walker like his brothers. It makes me sad to be losing my baby to toddlerhood. I know I still have some time left....but it's just unbelievable how fast they grow. </div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjep6ieCVOo26EbyhdJ1BhSAOt-fWDpTM8UTBewPmYl5oL_vBIWtkdbSCoO1SeyDLZnRpalj6UrUxAqwypk-VUlTvMERAcS49Q3lVHgmm5lGOXa0IVvbBYolqUt-a-KSl0zoJ-ZiASTkFs/s1600-h/IMG_5604.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216960134904371746" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjep6ieCVOo26EbyhdJ1BhSAOt-fWDpTM8UTBewPmYl5oL_vBIWtkdbSCoO1SeyDLZnRpalj6UrUxAqwypk-VUlTvMERAcS49Q3lVHgmm5lGOXa0IVvbBYolqUt-a-KSl0zoJ-ZiASTkFs/s320/IMG_5604.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I've been wondering for weeks if Jack was saying "Mama" or if it was just my imagination, but now I know for sure. Jack is calling me "Mama." Finally a baby who says "Mama" before "Dada." It's the least he can do. </div><br /><br /><div>He's growing up....slowly but surely....he's turning from a baby to a little boy. And you know what happens when my babies grow into kids....I find myself wanting another baby! </div><br /><br /><div>It's sort of like the Easter chicks that turn into chickens. The chicks are so cute and sweet...and the chickens....well....sort of big and ugly....but usually pleasant. Don't get me wrong - I like the big ugly chickens.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216961158812229042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXtjIXoN0-xWSzUsUnY9Rhzf1Dlz7KYG4uvIRnaXqCVnsFyvn_PfJf5NGHfBsJu5TcanCZcOGKtpzLlI8N4LP3JLfT3mwJPnyGmIgd1yZafhM0H4L23yrX1PMSO6w1nTS9OntxsD_nbqU/s320/hen-chicken.jpg" border="0" /> They are more than welcome to stay, eat their weight in breakfast cereal, and poop in my living room. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltsv91oWSe92o_gJ3u9B71aZN5XO0sYoU2J9qK6rz2AVJN3Lv8LXD32XDO7jCKgJaGo2FBmI_OyMUEiqheVJoL1q7BSASFUt4-YAW9DJZT9cAI7FRFgY5yVx6hIFbmLE3JvHxWbvCWT0/s1600-h/mlyn207l.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216961021463260866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltsv91oWSe92o_gJ3u9B71aZN5XO0sYoU2J9qK6rz2AVJN3Lv8LXD32XDO7jCKgJaGo2FBmI_OyMUEiqheVJoL1q7BSASFUt4-YAW9DJZT9cAI7FRFgY5yVx6hIFbmLE3JvHxWbvCWT0/s320/mlyn207l.jpg" border="0" /></a>But eventually, I find myself wanting a new little Easter Chick.....those little yellow chicks....who doesn't love a fuzzy little chick? Honestly, I'm hoping that I don't get the urge for another. My hands are more than full with my three awesome (and exhausting) boys...but you never know. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216960264671394690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHeGAxjKGKd13d8RsW2jFQY2Tyz_sPS-GGeRqyXWTmw6AHZ4SxlatUC6n4FjeKPFo9suBfw941lRZqa5cVKqbW03lkiNuTvHh6visSTj2N8aU1N-Hu2xcudR1ORoO4yUrBw3wSNHV3EyA/s320/IMG_5612.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-27095620166303104622008-06-22T23:34:00.000-07:002008-06-22T23:50:12.084-07:00Beating the Heat<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jFYaUbu-ovKIh_xWMw6Pk278WLAxjVWVcqfa_hR1rK3I9UA6F4OY2P5H6KYlp1xQYpsgLPJ601KS0NkPygdSpgU_-Rllefpepd1bX_9tRtwL1nS20IT5WmyirBbP47sACFjrsK84UdM/s1600-h/IMG_5557.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214964420399082802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jFYaUbu-ovKIh_xWMw6Pk278WLAxjVWVcqfa_hR1rK3I9UA6F4OY2P5H6KYlp1xQYpsgLPJ601KS0NkPygdSpgU_-Rllefpepd1bX_9tRtwL1nS20IT5WmyirBbP47sACFjrsK84UdM/s320/IMG_5557.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div> Holy hotness. It has been miserably hot. Fry an egg on the sidewalk hot. Make-up melting off my face hot. Thankfully, it was much cooler today. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnAnDKZ8VaTEfPD7NXJnHanZlSWbu5ar1ei_2jJaXCWe9qQ2ceeavfd3dkEFFDXAKp4A_dDZh_IxFlZqcgYtZRsnfrYB-3XGoB78zEmnjPO83UZXkphECc0p0h7cq3E42w8oWyB_ugZs/s1600-h/IMG_5569.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214964616982684258" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnAnDKZ8VaTEfPD7NXJnHanZlSWbu5ar1ei_2jJaXCWe9qQ2ceeavfd3dkEFFDXAKp4A_dDZh_IxFlZqcgYtZRsnfrYB-3XGoB78zEmnjPO83UZXkphECc0p0h7cq3E42w8oWyB_ugZs/s320/IMG_5569.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Yesterday we went to a birthday party, and the kids had such a blast. Our friends had just set up their new quick set swimming pool, and had the sprinklers going on their huge enclosed trampoline as well. Talk about kid-paradise! N. jumped into the pool and didn't get out for about two hours. Good times! I remember being that way when I was a kid....we had an in-ground pool in our backyard, and my sister and I would be in there for hours. They also had a little baby pool set up for the sprinkling of babies that were in attendance. Jack LOVED this little pool! $10 at Toys R Us - I'm going to have to go get one! </div><div> </div><div>He's the cutest baby....I just can't get over how wonderful and funny and sweet he is. He's a HUGE baby - a big '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ol</span> love bug. And how cute is he in his new swim trunks and ultra stylish (and on sale) Old Navy swim top? Such a California boy. </div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEittq_s2UR_Pzyvpc_eZuPLIneagHnKYCm-qUb__ka83uRkf4f5eY02sDFDA7j4eaxzVxxDvIKxKCWdZ9164nN9a1CuQ3rMOg8Xv64USCBpPyWMM08IYAEjP1GAZ-1znDMCd-PAjS5nH4s/s1600-h/IMG_5558.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214964749495930130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEittq_s2UR_Pzyvpc_eZuPLIneagHnKYCm-qUb__ka83uRkf4f5eY02sDFDA7j4eaxzVxxDvIKxKCWdZ9164nN9a1CuQ3rMOg8Xv64USCBpPyWMM08IYAEjP1GAZ-1znDMCd-PAjS5nH4s/s320/IMG_5558.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Surrounded by bathing beauties already. I'm in for it when he's a teenager. </div></div></div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-49088435733628085782008-06-17T23:16:00.000-07:002008-06-23T13:36:05.543-07:00Early Childhood TraumaI'll just get right to it.<br /><br />We were at the park today - as we are at least 3-4 times per week. It was lunchtime, and I had 5 kids with me. My three, and the two kids that I take care of a couple of times per week. The big kids finished eating their picnic lunches and went off to play. I was going to make a phone call from my cell, when I noticed a yellow jacket flying around. Jack was in his stroller right next to me. I got up to move to another spot because I just had a feeling the bee wasn't going to leave us alone. Once PB&J is in the air, it's all over. I sort of jerked the stroller out of the way as I got up to move our stuff, and Jack started crying hysterically. Weird, I thought. I figured he must have bitten his tongue. I mean what else would make him start crying so badly, so quickly? I gave him a drink of water from his sippy cup. At first he took a small drink, but then started waving his arms and shaking his head and SCREAMING/CRYING. As I took the sippy cup away, I saw something in his mouth.<br /><br />It was the yellow jacket. The little jerk had flown into my baby's MOUTH and stung him.<br /><br />And then I died. OH.MY.GOD. Obviously, the first thing I did was reach in and get it out of there. It was dead. And Jack was hysterical. I was "OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD" -ing as I was taking him out of his stroller. More often than not, my friend and her kids meet me at the park, but not today. So I was totally alone. All of my attention was on my baby. The other four could have been smoking cigarettes on the swings for all I knew. Jack took comfort in an open water bottle, but was clearly uncomfortable and moving his tongue around in an unnatural way. Still crying. A lot. He rarely cries...so it was breaking my heart to see him in so much pain. I didn't have any Tylenol with me. Dammit. Mental note - carry baby Tylenol in the diaper bag. After 15 minutes went by, and Jack was still breathing normally, I figured we were in the clear as far as a bee allergy was concerned. I left a message with our pediatrician....knowing what he would say. Try to get the stinger out. Right. Not an easy task when we're talking about a sting on the tongue of an almost 10 month old baby. I know the yellow jacket got him on the tongue because while he was crying, I could see a little red sting mark.<br /><br />The kids were very understanding about having to leave the park early so that we could get Jack home. I gave him some Tylenol and a Popsicle cut up into bite size pieces. He loves ice chips anyway, so I figured if anyone deserved a Popsicle - it was him. Plus...I'm thinking the cold treat felt good on his tongue. He didn't seem truly better until about 3 hours later.<br /><br />Now I just have to get the horrible vision out of my head.....my crying baby with a bee in his mouth.Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-12806251692041147462008-06-15T22:55:00.000-07:002008-06-15T23:31:44.783-07:00Current Events - in picturesReal men (R) wear Lightning McQueen style toenail polish. His brother gave him quite a hard time about it - but he doesn't care. He shows his manly pedicure to everyone!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212354894494441618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYA4pPT2zQM6jyXUUa0xNUpoYZDjSgFSpJhl4WbiU2T27qIAQYiYgs2mDhJpseVG5qme4diwz6Uwm3I-Q6VybBaWyMEvSxm2dpghjprVVrMYtI4fNruuYDVcRYOQuwy5e1sz2JQEgHxco/s320/IMG_5486.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMKY2qyc8aolKzFixl78ROvEucRi1zL8PdSIFD9nzQhZJ0AvpxOFHRO0QGBuHRulfQtIWN26teWaRt1m0nG1CsEupbqXE_MCciYmGHoiZlFgOFm8x5BgZ5XPhp2wFx5SSIc01LJxkGNw/s1600-h/IMG_5492.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212357044002632274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMKY2qyc8aolKzFixl78ROvEucRi1zL8PdSIFD9nzQhZJ0AvpxOFHRO0QGBuHRulfQtIWN26teWaRt1m0nG1CsEupbqXE_MCciYmGHoiZlFgOFm8x5BgZ5XPhp2wFx5SSIc01LJxkGNw/s320/IMG_5492.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div> Kindergarten graduation. I can't believe he's going into first grade!<br /><br />Here is the teachers aide, giving him a congratulatory hug....<br /><div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCHRGvG60m21d7yzCyA51ujANLyzRmqVCbHIUAugF-ZPlIeWctbpr6WM-OV3rVViHLSr2uXbysqbKz_L5OsxCcGsk4OgvnTEaaneuqTnbLqNQw-ytpmKke2PancdzH5azTndIbBV7Dgc/s1600-h/IMG_5498.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212357298179999138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCHRGvG60m21d7yzCyA51ujANLyzRmqVCbHIUAugF-ZPlIeWctbpr6WM-OV3rVViHLSr2uXbysqbKz_L5OsxCcGsk4OgvnTEaaneuqTnbLqNQw-ytpmKke2PancdzH5azTndIbBV7Dgc/s320/IMG_5498.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUpcf_Wz1o8KXOEt5ecKwN-HkuASbsI3kZ4zoA3GJ0D23xTI98jgSgr9k2vm3cv6gCwf9rqN70mmJe7Xw3E2mVf9hcGXlXuN8WWKm1i8XfHJQbB54iSiXmXiF7dFwHnzYC4UXKqhSE_k/s1600-h/IMG_5497.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212357197434972034" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUpcf_Wz1o8KXOEt5ecKwN-HkuASbsI3kZ4zoA3GJ0D23xTI98jgSgr9k2vm3cv6gCwf9rqN70mmJe7Xw3E2mVf9hcGXlXuN8WWKm1i8XfHJQbB54iSiXmXiF7dFwHnzYC4UXKqhSE_k/s320/IMG_5497.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />and his awesome teacher....who we'll miss!!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_iVYk2H1wN5lmoXWp1wLyI58RKxLE6L1Df1QQzVu4KiKDjELLkbSNZUAZt9MgznML29vX44SHxhF2UHTfr8PLPWeLUzTR6FozpNUYN_WUG_zql8nbypQdab5V6vor2AUVN3C_R05s7k/s1600-h/IMG_5509.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212357908003138754" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_iVYk2H1wN5lmoXWp1wLyI58RKxLE6L1Df1QQzVu4KiKDjELLkbSNZUAZt9MgznML29vX44SHxhF2UHTfr8PLPWeLUzTR6FozpNUYN_WUG_zql8nbypQdab5V6vor2AUVN3C_R05s7k/s320/IMG_5509.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />What a pretty Grandma my boys have. She's the best.<br /><div><br /><br /> "<em>Trouble</em> party of three - your table is now ready. <em>Trouble</em> party of three.............." <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212357753256156146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmA-TsDO84WEIOZ4NzQDP7LOv9FjFGD1KpXuOQlB8Bib0Son9bUzAGIUIKu_eEihz8kPiI9HLPGNEL1f3v5wlP0H26oTLRpbfTWIZpQl3cyidWAy_mDKTqkVDa2IQRa2M6kk2pYBPHws/s320/IMG_5507.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbEpV5aE1ps6EvT5JCYgiWDVAeSQVorxoPEAwli4xksT7BXqfS6sJZZC04NfUUIP9jy_kwIFsyVElYGuiaktIsAGOnb6EAsHv_uCJIjlVIB5VfHrPyiuAGV1DVd6Uz-vAo_cAvMhfh5s/s1600-h/IMG_5504.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212357617539038242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbEpV5aE1ps6EvT5JCYgiWDVAeSQVorxoPEAwli4xksT7BXqfS6sJZZC04NfUUIP9jy_kwIFsyVElYGuiaktIsAGOnb6EAsHv_uCJIjlVIB5VfHrPyiuAGV1DVd6Uz-vAo_cAvMhfh5s/s320/IMG_5504.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Um, sure Grandma. I'll try a frosted sugar cookie. I mean, if you insist.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIRdBDJf4MbQhH1UoSXmL1IgR5CgA1gic8uq2kVbEh02TpZmxBtCJIKMTOaLqY-LT-_D26DVn7CwDR2gHYzRBxmg6t8J10onN1DMRGD2qxo4XOI2T8nhB7p_09jfrfbzfFV0XpfobjoQ/s1600-h/IMG_5503.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212357468516661842" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIRdBDJf4MbQhH1UoSXmL1IgR5CgA1gic8uq2kVbEh02TpZmxBtCJIKMTOaLqY-LT-_D26DVn7CwDR2gHYzRBxmg6t8J10onN1DMRGD2qxo4XOI2T8nhB7p_09jfrfbzfFV0XpfobjoQ/s320/IMG_5503.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwHfqgGV8tm8MIFcN77RYHPxy7z9wgON89lnrvtiGoVU0hPYsFBPLmgSYLq8I5O2IsgBHFmtw9TJb7RTLfHaUXz0lHbcaCYFDSN0q8H9DCV3wsYC6OR9yHstgdpRx_Hi_BpDvMKvbs-9o/s1600-h/IMG_5532.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212358333999560962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwHfqgGV8tm8MIFcN77RYHPxy7z9wgON89lnrvtiGoVU0hPYsFBPLmgSYLq8I5O2IsgBHFmtw9TJb7RTLfHaUXz0lHbcaCYFDSN0q8H9DCV3wsYC6OR9yHstgdpRx_Hi_BpDvMKvbs-9o/s320/IMG_5532.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />He adores his baby brother. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJEgyjEschfBsCyxhOisdXdtU1ElZ2sddzV_68wus2Ajzg4Ai_iAeEajkfHF0WfBnUcyX9lCEFf0ZZOvtLXnA_hpFMaGaHm4eASYKUwewO0WKCV2PWx_ZC912EUFkJukfmkHJ9DG9FZ_Q/s1600-h/IMG_5531.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212358037471131010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJEgyjEschfBsCyxhOisdXdtU1ElZ2sddzV_68wus2Ajzg4Ai_iAeEajkfHF0WfBnUcyX9lCEFf0ZZOvtLXnA_hpFMaGaHm4eASYKUwewO0WKCV2PWx_ZC912EUFkJukfmkHJ9DG9FZ_Q/s320/IMG_5531.JPG" border="0" /></a> I know he's a cute boy. I get it. I get that you'd never know by looking at him, that he makes me so angry that I shake sometimes. Seriously - this kid wears me out. I'm too tired to get into it....maybe another day. In the meantime, it's a good thing he' s cute. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Happy Father's Day! We had our friends over for a BBQ tonight. The friends who also have three kids who are about the same age as ours. It was really fun. Big Al and I are so happy to have found a couple to hang out with! It's hard sometimes to find a family where I like the Mom, Big Al gets on with the Dad, and the kids play great together. Usually, there's at least one component missing...or there's a distance thing....or something. Anyway, it was a great evening. Here's three of the six enjoying ice cream sundae's for dessert. Apparently this was something that was best done without shirts on.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-7EKwj-W8WjTWGQZoGQhllkcnpyAikVsGXM_7p-RAvrKoAFsT9WRCod5CitvoDcMhdnZZ_VrjchL65-BmP7ZOxVGXkKkLqUXUScgPq9gkI3_jEpAuyExpGQyVVLv2EWCWmSgEQX5Tck/s1600-h/IMG_5538.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212358153687553682" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-7EKwj-W8WjTWGQZoGQhllkcnpyAikVsGXM_7p-RAvrKoAFsT9WRCod5CitvoDcMhdnZZ_VrjchL65-BmP7ZOxVGXkKkLqUXUScgPq9gkI3_jEpAuyExpGQyVVLv2EWCWmSgEQX5Tck/s320/IMG_5538.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><br />And Jack and his lady friend -<br />"I'm going to break us out of here darlin'....don't you worry. I'll get us out of here if it's the last thing I do."<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212358538765277458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEily0hJDvqLSN81tJUZPBsGW3jzpyPTrUXDa5nZaTs-I-BYcZz7zyyrFXNsWinsfGgh6aXRfXDySwbimWD-XhLeXl-1SvX44KRz6CzfMloYj0BhgCmIjl3n0i3aoF4K_LZtv-2WZzIICLw/s320/kennajack.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wHIgxOQvAURqNuWLhW5YOHUZuafbLv_Pg7VGHjyfPUwuaHSUsbHeMAwDdRGeYC5Yd9j-6kzQklfRwUlbaHQAT4g4Vvz-Izmn8_fN81J5h1HNByvBjq3n64Tp5g4Ufq618Jx1pb5Fu8U/s1600-h/IMG_5484.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDNZVS2957mKjlqVAKa0Nkh37mzAl-ntxgdJiCcG3EQ8YxKUJdgkqAqIDtauMtSAYkfg4WsNbiQylaO0l0v78-PayGXMVMjnQccdn_17y8jvYVPBWnI-ln8f7UphlLXscJWRSu6jWJaE/s1600-h/IMG_5485.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-7055858869041798022008-06-09T07:25:00.000-07:002008-06-09T07:48:05.513-07:009 and a half months<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUt7MqdF6eQCzckLQRs_mZvyZnkVRkQ41QcvniUYQThlHIwxTU0qhJBfC57Z81MBfpnNVH0I2G5WgUq0dzpeVFaRwooJcmKKK-OvpFtsf1B2_72tlZVU1xXXBECFsfxPgiGcwB9YHYKI/s1600-h/IMG_5478.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209892255520792450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUt7MqdF6eQCzckLQRs_mZvyZnkVRkQ41QcvniUYQThlHIwxTU0qhJBfC57Z81MBfpnNVH0I2G5WgUq0dzpeVFaRwooJcmKKK-OvpFtsf1B2_72tlZVU1xXXBECFsfxPgiGcwB9YHYKI/s320/IMG_5478.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div>Loves: Blueberries, fishy crackers, shoes, remote controls, magazines, dirt and other backyard finds. Loves Gerber yogurt snacks. Loves his sucky (pacifier). Gets very excited when he sees birds. Loves his brothers - R. in particular. R. is an amazing brother to Jack. Seems to enjoy spending time with his little friend M. (shown in the picture). She's an older woman - 15 months old. We see them about 3 times per week. I'm thinking an arranged marriage? I love her Mom, so it would work out great. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNy-wy3dOXSfrI_aO-SLuOmQUA_tQqHN-4v5aSLpUgXb79VY0OAtR74Drj8YseKme1LpXFXgQbfsVFhK05obV_ZUFmD75VLbEk5Hmi_bhrwFT8phij4BlUZ1etQBPZp8UHwBvsovrlkg/s1600-h/IMG_5482.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209892443174231666" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNy-wy3dOXSfrI_aO-SLuOmQUA_tQqHN-4v5aSLpUgXb79VY0OAtR74Drj8YseKme1LpXFXgQbfsVFhK05obV_ZUFmD75VLbEk5Hmi_bhrwFT8phij4BlUZ1etQBPZp8UHwBvsovrlkg/s320/IMG_5482.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Activities: crawling army style - FAST. Pulling up on everything, playing chase with his brothers: they get down on the floor and call him and he goes after them! Loves to swing at the park and out in the yard. Loves to cuddle. He's very snuggly. Loves to play and laugh. If I kiss him just under his chin he cracks up in a fit of laughter. And then I want to dip him in ranch and eat him. He is very flirty with all of the admiring old ladies at the grocery store. </div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYeiShyphenhyphenOrFdcSDnWGMOoMwDTpMDLwhRWJE1bODW8kVN3sCcZCrCGPZSo_2drz6Jcyo9arCAHFdmIQldycmKafRNP9aV932RoUyxeBsJvBbe_3TqQM72WmfA0gQHH0EbDCrXHBzzPW2TDc/s1600-h/IMG_5480.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209892688884718242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYeiShyphenhyphenOrFdcSDnWGMOoMwDTpMDLwhRWJE1bODW8kVN3sCcZCrCGPZSo_2drz6Jcyo9arCAHFdmIQldycmKafRNP9aV932RoUyxeBsJvBbe_3TqQM72WmfA0gQHH0EbDCrXHBzzPW2TDc/s320/IMG_5480.JPG" border="0" /></a>Physical Characteristics - Adorable. Red hair. Big, pretty eyes - blueish, greenish with one big brown freckle on his left one. He is huge. Almost 24 pounds and so, so tall. Clothing size: 18-24 months. Mild eczema - just like his brothers. Eight teeth and more on the way....and so....lots of drool. Cute butt.<br /><br /><br /><div></div><div>He's such a wonderful little person. I can't believe he's almost a year old. Where does the time go? </div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-6451448897035721752008-06-09T07:22:00.000-07:002008-06-09T07:25:30.686-07:00This is what happens when the color wonder pens are left unattended<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4paA1WckQzSCZg9SG0jl3FRMkQ9-2cqZ81fPt_Kf6u8-_SZi2ip5eNovAVKhFVBMfyq8wLoa8HCDtRTdlksC7dBHFTlQRisnGdvg7TbnPDPW7DmWE78yHGXiwjlPLlbVj1H22WmYU90/s1600-h/IMG_5295.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209887735295498786" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4paA1WckQzSCZg9SG0jl3FRMkQ9-2cqZ81fPt_Kf6u8-_SZi2ip5eNovAVKhFVBMfyq8wLoa8HCDtRTdlksC7dBHFTlQRisnGdvg7TbnPDPW7DmWE78yHGXiwjlPLlbVj1H22WmYU90/s320/IMG_5295.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdO9lYnRQkqlYWweABDZQZIDKt8ZnIgXrWyzLYaQhl5NV_FSC-czcq9ZLAQtSh3qKhovf8QTs1i_6uFsxsMn3li44-pmlE7hd0_JiLRctnBf_XWVIKzK4N7kSFMI0Yjrf5DnC9oAqRUw/s1600-h/IMG_5294.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209887568583600738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdO9lYnRQkqlYWweABDZQZIDKt8ZnIgXrWyzLYaQhl5NV_FSC-czcq9ZLAQtSh3qKhovf8QTs1i_6uFsxsMn3li44-pmlE7hd0_JiLRctnBf_XWVIKzK4N7kSFMI0Yjrf5DnC9oAqRUw/s320/IMG_5294.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div> Thanks Crayola, for your wonderful, non-toxic creations.</div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-40506805006535535492008-05-26T19:29:00.000-07:002008-05-26T19:30:33.491-07:00Check out my new blog!<a href="http://www.kindacrafty.blogspot.com/">www.kindacrafty.blogspot.com</a><br /><br />I hope to make it fun. and cute. and with owls.Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-2613935640614457012008-05-21T07:42:00.000-07:002008-05-21T10:48:14.251-07:00Mother's DayThe best Mother's Day gifts this year: The following picture set, taken after church while the boys were still dressed in their "nice" clothes, and this - The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Cricut</span> die cutting machine. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhKIHFMe5ML3BG-F1NlmonegfzKhmF09GsisYpy3qAwCXNdN3zyL50QApRlZ199yx5b_mPAlftXeLlrswf7L2QfZJUdTAkfD9Rrcwda2pLJ91Lxr3yzoX6gXbZqg9GgT-nnfMabbbSfAs/s1600-h/A1-29-0001-2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202843148798229586" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhKIHFMe5ML3BG-F1NlmonegfzKhmF09GsisYpy3qAwCXNdN3zyL50QApRlZ199yx5b_mPAlftXeLlrswf7L2QfZJUdTAkfD9Rrcwda2pLJ91Lxr3yzoX6gXbZqg9GgT-nnfMabbbSfAs/s320/A1-29-0001-2.jpg" border="0" /></a>It was a gift from me. It was so thoughtful of me to get it for myself. I was really touched by my generosity. Anyway, the rumors are true - this is one fantastic little tool. I LOVE it.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div></div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCwqUILckYh22yRL2L3hzIRUNywdh7CoJ7BhjGL7Vcchc_wcecQfLszzmuzLniyUm5ptXYzYVmPZVWxzkkEMkKjjhQnx5OvBJB6lZnDRMAw4Wz5-BG10KekdajXdFIFni66P2cScNTy0/s1600-h/IMG_5364.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202843423676136546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCwqUILckYh22yRL2L3hzIRUNywdh7CoJ7BhjGL7Vcchc_wcecQfLszzmuzLniyUm5ptXYzYVmPZVWxzkkEMkKjjhQnx5OvBJB6lZnDRMAw4Wz5-BG10KekdajXdFIFni66P2cScNTy0/s320/IMG_5364.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202844003496721522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhzjX6t62nvOlCEnBpRTudDmOC35U9hKLO7f18OfI6H5hzTM4JTDT1TYMQNHksDT2-afLYHMJW5lcmizLdmtro-hYqG-83YYy6vtsaqlu3ousCtCLIfTE0LUb2jyj4tNecdvw5tq_IXk/s320/IMG_5365.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEindMUTcBNGLWlFsBXXPd9b6oj3huWYWBjdPUI6MLc9RyNb9Xn36Cq3HLjvPp-nAqaJ_-mlDC1d4lL4Z451qd6mXEwJnPNSO64daDmZcw6-iXdmrCckceCuma3m_U9CcQsmpxQz2mqmrvk/s1600-h/IMG_5375.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202844742231096498" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEindMUTcBNGLWlFsBXXPd9b6oj3huWYWBjdPUI6MLc9RyNb9Xn36Cq3HLjvPp-nAqaJ_-mlDC1d4lL4Z451qd6mXEwJnPNSO64daDmZcw6-iXdmrCckceCuma3m_U9CcQsmpxQz2mqmrvk/s320/IMG_5375.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202845103008349394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGvfmzaW1SVEgK36xMynmVlXoH7tKSGJ6xbx_RO_RJuN1h7ZNwhb74wHG7aGamrTJPBqpbubMqSmiFP8yQ0W71MTvaS8kOd6lhMMxwXxpAjtSRTjHm_eUi_kyvyEPAeFTVCpYR3wQ4hrA/s320/IMG_5389.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202844566137437346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg13_1MzDRlXoAzvHW40tIFhdCLcXrjFvdfzSAMaYo0ttrBn_FIZxtXZKnCV0ENWhEJyqsllfHUTouINJUox195h6HeULNSTOOyanL25CVYp8LbrZNP8tAcHDUVos3GYaQ4UBnWMXGQRjc/s320/IMG_5374.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKFqHCmHYN58HPauqEGZRQNhgTgudprlXRcXghuaqgOYXRfRcbhQryxurSIhU_6YnAc2_TLXRc56rck08QFU74ChCgW7AWsHzV7NJxCjo5wK-Hr6039J6xvWPGmP2kjShuYFm8XW3O-c/s1600-h/IMG_5367.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202844196770249858" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKFqHCmHYN58HPauqEGZRQNhgTgudprlXRcXghuaqgOYXRfRcbhQryxurSIhU_6YnAc2_TLXRc56rck08QFU74ChCgW7AWsHzV7NJxCjo5wK-Hr6039J6xvWPGmP2kjShuYFm8XW3O-c/s320/IMG_5367.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFYR7MCPzkhjzWcZYT-YItKoRBo6kYq6w2ds6ZL-AyaTowsKAOQMruZo2uEpeb93EikVbgW6Jwdi5cfheW-IwgYTYYb12RbH_a1ZBHA_OQbkJcD4ZFHhHplyltg8NV0Tkka0CvQz_x9Ig/s1600-h/IMG_5377.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202844931209657538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFYR7MCPzkhjzWcZYT-YItKoRBo6kYq6w2ds6ZL-AyaTowsKAOQMruZo2uEpeb93EikVbgW6Jwdi5cfheW-IwgYTYYb12RbH_a1ZBHA_OQbkJcD4ZFHhHplyltg8NV0Tkka0CvQz_x9Ig/s320/IMG_5377.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShKa9z06FumYAKAiivwdLFCQ0yTeZILKhFGLJOha9Vtd4XiEw0GqjQ1_P8r9SimRkN4kO2_Vv2mrpUNO8LBHR-fPsGjqzZS7BsmG-2knwZQn0DQfcBCMaI_xIUWHi0hC2Uid67AB_ePc/s1600-h/IMG_5372.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202844394338745490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShKa9z06FumYAKAiivwdLFCQ0yTeZILKhFGLJOha9Vtd4XiEw0GqjQ1_P8r9SimRkN4kO2_Vv2mrpUNO8LBHR-fPsGjqzZS7BsmG-2knwZQn0DQfcBCMaI_xIUWHi0hC2Uid67AB_ePc/s320/IMG_5372.JPG" border="0" /></a>My Mom used to tell me that I'd end up with a bunch of ornery, red headed little boys as payback for being such a brat to my little red headed sister. Funny how things work out! I can think of worse things. You know what will happen though - my sister is going to get a raven haired little girl and I'm going to be just a little bit sick inside. That is....until I can hold her and spoil her and when she is a sassy little 3 year old nightmare - she won't be my problem. See, now that's karma in action. </div><div></div><div>Oh, and for anyone who is curious - Jack is up to a whopping 23 pounds and is 32.5 inches long. We don't call him Mini-N for nothing. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-1487628568815466052008-05-18T19:10:00.000-07:002008-05-18T20:32:20.772-07:00The Mother's Day TeaLast Friday was a very fun day. I got to leave the house with a purse instead of a diaper bag, get into the car, and leave. ALL.BY.MYSELF.<br /><div><div><div><div><div>The End.</div><br /><br /><div>Ok, as exciting as that was - that wasn't really the end. My Mom took the morning off so that I could attend a very special Mother's Day Tea at N's school. The kids had apparently been preparing for this for some time, and I was really looking forward to it. It isn't very often that I get to spend time with just N! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLJks51U0kAZRmSV0OZF_-EsqdMs-angl7IQNswoZvS_v2PBE13GkA3_R1Zw5vGTVUMF9Wt1nbqkmWjpmgqVbz4UTHAY2VM2yQrtsRjiVTVAicbcG4RFR8hCh1qwloNZ3KK2_gNqjWCYk/s1600-h/IMG_5297.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201924154645904386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLJks51U0kAZRmSV0OZF_-EsqdMs-angl7IQNswoZvS_v2PBE13GkA3_R1Zw5vGTVUMF9Wt1nbqkmWjpmgqVbz4UTHAY2VM2yQrtsRjiVTVAicbcG4RFR8hCh1qwloNZ3KK2_gNqjWCYk/s320/IMG_5297.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>The event was held in one of the multipurpose rooms at school. There were tables set up with four sets of moms/kids to each table. There were many lovely "tea party" type snacks and desserts. Before walking into the room, the kids all took our arms and <em>escorted</em> us in. It was so cute. The seating was assigned, and when we found our places, we were met with some really sweet gifts! A beautifully decorated altoids tin, and inside - a shrinky dink pin of me! N drew a picture of me wearing jeans and nothing else. Now it is forever saved as a lapel pin. Love it. We also had some cute cards and a beautiful coaster! This is a picture of N. with his two bestest friends and fellow park-goers. Funny enough, they were wearing the same shirt that day!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDn3P3OIQx6me8P3WcTiyxc_UZjYZEMBCF2ipPZ56tncx5EZalBdmz2YCwk1heh5A0Iye2Rbm_LH0Mt7g12DyDsNIPFaDU7_r_7v7rV4em6H99SthanQ1VoJWbzd8vMLnW7ScWGKM1t5Q/s1600-h/IMG_5301.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201924588437601314" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDn3P3OIQx6me8P3WcTiyxc_UZjYZEMBCF2ipPZ56tncx5EZalBdmz2YCwk1heh5A0Iye2Rbm_LH0Mt7g12DyDsNIPFaDU7_r_7v7rV4em6H99SthanQ1VoJWbzd8vMLnW7ScWGKM1t5Q/s320/IMG_5301.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>After we had tea, juice, fruit, croissants, etc. the children put on a little show for us - The Very Hungry Caterpillar.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRwZO2rObhF4XDDNZsKYkVBRvqHkEqB12X4xhnxRJDqhEaGo0VR-Ws6aJQyhqrZU7b-EkemzzBWDEwDY9MqspHyFFaOLgR7dLBNFhxbCPYOFhXlYv6UndevEtFgtMYz_ZAz3NE06tSyI/s1600-h/IMG_5306.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201924871905442866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRwZO2rObhF4XDDNZsKYkVBRvqHkEqB12X4xhnxRJDqhEaGo0VR-Ws6aJQyhqrZU7b-EkemzzBWDEwDY9MqspHyFFaOLgR7dLBNFhxbCPYOFhXlYv6UndevEtFgtMYz_ZAz3NE06tSyI/s320/IMG_5306.JPG" border="0" /></a> Once that was done, each child was called to the front where the teacher gave him/her a rose. We had to meet our child at the front of the room. He/She would then give his/her Mom the rose and whisper in our ear - "I love you Mom. Thanks for coming." Wonderful, cheese-y goodness. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8HDiVoT9MeWJbB_e4GuHbj5heiNQzHKYieI7ravbBkvjqtwAJbkGkvSsqeUouqI4BCxpFy-dCf2FslSMBLOQUX-7HHwSqFRbTyE4OKtmfQsyUR7aQJMbRQChbAMSrpgAyVfBI9tR0LUo/s1600-h/IMG_5317.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201925060884003906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8HDiVoT9MeWJbB_e4GuHbj5heiNQzHKYieI7ravbBkvjqtwAJbkGkvSsqeUouqI4BCxpFy-dCf2FslSMBLOQUX-7HHwSqFRbTyE4OKtmfQsyUR7aQJMbRQChbAMSrpgAyVfBI9tR0LUo/s320/IMG_5317.JPG" border="0" /></a> I sure do love this boy. </div></div></div></div></div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-59701355515400729802008-05-08T23:53:00.000-07:002008-05-08T23:59:01.918-07:00He just kills me.R: (Hugging me...after a big fight, time-out, and finally - his apology)<br /> "I love you Mommy.....I'm sorry I was being bad."<br /><br />Me: "It's okay honey....I just really need you to listen next time. I love you too."<br /><br />R: "How much do you love me?"<br /><br />Me: "More than all the stars in the sky." <br /><br />R: "I hate being in time out."<br /><br />Me: "Well, you're the one who put yourself there."<br /><br />R: (looking irritated)<br /><br />R: "Mommy? Can I tell you a secret?" (arms still around my neck)<br /><br />Me: "Sure" (I give him my ear)<br /><br />R: (whispers) "You're fired." (and walks away)<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm telling you - I couldn't make this sh*t up if I tried.Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-6658406192836880932008-04-28T16:12:00.001-07:002008-04-28T19:13:45.607-07:00Would you believe we just got back from CHINA???<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgASPliVDnXA_thzWSAcgCS1B3Z7wkKA_UkB0mVeM2jsEuzvc1s_WOP595-kwQqyWWKNdwL2bRMY4Jesh2D4BMYUeUf7pHe8C3d97DZEkG1xk1ZJ-UaeiCR9hWekqj99ov1yJXkgr6BafI/s1600-h/CIMG0138.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194482340084002914" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgASPliVDnXA_thzWSAcgCS1B3Z7wkKA_UkB0mVeM2jsEuzvc1s_WOP595-kwQqyWWKNdwL2bRMY4Jesh2D4BMYUeUf7pHe8C3d97DZEkG1xk1ZJ-UaeiCR9hWekqj99ov1yJXkgr6BafI/s320/CIMG0138.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>No? You wouldn't believe it? Well you shouldn't. We didn't go to China, I've just been slacking off in the blog department.<br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div>I wish had some riveting stories to tell, but I don't. Things are going well though! The boys are busy with: school, T-ball, and a new bike (N) army-crawling, sitting up, snacking on lots of new foods, and being absolutely precious (J) and getting into trouble, chatting relentlessly about nothing in particular, and calling me a "mean old lady" every chance he gets (R). </div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cgyYh5IUovFUr2WJIaaBRaJ_gHzdFBmLPkmibO3GKI0d63HaoWEHjfJ8FYYZHjOKuUG-c82kPHtMN7XP-OrgyyacUPIrcLMScLnZOP_z2lFJSE9RHjO_q7nGNjRK5TvXsHFh_KlX3pA/s1600-h/IMG_5248.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194482541947465842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cgyYh5IUovFUr2WJIaaBRaJ_gHzdFBmLPkmibO3GKI0d63HaoWEHjfJ8FYYZHjOKuUG-c82kPHtMN7XP-OrgyyacUPIrcLMScLnZOP_z2lFJSE9RHjO_q7nGNjRK5TvXsHFh_KlX3pA/s320/IMG_5248.JPG" border="0" /></a>The baby is eight months old already. I can't believe how fast the time as gone - it seems like he was just born! He has eight teeth already - one for each month. I love him. He's fantastic. So happy, so gorgeous, such a nice little fella. He's super friendly to people which is great, but he always has to know where I am. If someone else is holding him, he'll smile and play along, but he's always looking around for me - "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">wheresthemama</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">wheresthemama</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">wheresthemama</span>....OH! THERE'S THE MAMA!!!!" (big smile) and then all is well.<br /><br /><br /><div>In celebration of his turning eight months old, we decided it was time for him to sleep in his crib. I know. So crazy. He's been in the co-sleeper all this time. He sleeps great in the co-sleeper, but he's also about to crawl and is pushing his big self up and I just don't need for him to fall out and hurt himself. Wonder boy that he is, I put him down in his crib for the first time the other day when he was really tired, turned on some music, and he fell asleep on his own and stayed there without a problem. What a peach. </div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjNe_sKo7lN48UZwTJbV2EFgvdwyPSqjyTkKJLiu3zBGOa_CSp5fTx3SG2hzFQfm0F-mfrVEgYBTAryP2VATRbWDVHqQgDvUDHtND9YZOGKDKOL2RfJuFAxpKwwOxYkly1l7jV7Gm1TM/s1600-h/IMG_5286.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194481382306295890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjNe_sKo7lN48UZwTJbV2EFgvdwyPSqjyTkKJLiu3zBGOa_CSp5fTx3SG2hzFQfm0F-mfrVEgYBTAryP2VATRbWDVHqQgDvUDHtND9YZOGKDKOL2RfJuFAxpKwwOxYkly1l7jV7Gm1TM/s320/IMG_5286.JPG" border="0" /></a>R. is his complicated and hysterical self. So sweet. Such a nightmare. So thoughtful. Such an instigator. Big sweet eyes that well up when I put on my scary voice and REALLY yell at him because I've HAD IT. Sneering little lips that call me every name in the book on his way to the time out spot. He hugs me, kisses me, tells me I look like a princess, and can still fit in my lap while we read books. Snags things out of N's hands just to drive him crazy. *Screams* at anyone who dares to cross him: "JUST BE QUIET YOU STUPID DUMMY" (just an example)Is a VERY. LOUD. TALKER. ALL. THE TIME. Slaps. Is only quiet when sleeping. He's wonderful to Jack. Gentle. Sweet. Encouraging. He truly adores his baby brother. Dances a lot.....prefers to do so naked. Imitates people. Well. Makes us laugh until we cry. This is R. All these things and more. He's a cool kid. He's exhausting. The next Jim Carey? I wouldn't doubt it for a second.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO2KnyDj62YnEtzj6qyEGrDlgtMSNvO3f9FRKnBt6hrhNm6ZX81nZPKkbxQMu726qdpmQR7ksqg1XZvwnE1zs6N1Xb_fELQ7miRM8TI_XfpzGzwGRHGyhE2pW38qC9UhLrN2ZYnxq7rqo/s1600-h/CIMG0207.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194479788873429042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO2KnyDj62YnEtzj6qyEGrDlgtMSNvO3f9FRKnBt6hrhNm6ZX81nZPKkbxQMu726qdpmQR7ksqg1XZvwnE1zs6N1Xb_fELQ7miRM8TI_XfpzGzwGRHGyhE2pW38qC9UhLrN2ZYnxq7rqo/s320/CIMG0207.JPG" border="0" /></a>N. is doing wonderfully in school and truly loves the time he spends there. I like going through his Friday folder and seeing his work from the week. His handwriting has improved so much, his journal entries and pictures are so great. I'm proud of him. He recently got a new bike with 20 inch tires. His old bike was just too small. Still, when I saw the new bike when he and Big Al got home from the bike store, I couldn't believe his BIG it looked! Such a BIG KID bike!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Yesterday, Big Al took the boys fishing at a local reservoir. They didn't catch anything, but had a great time. Next time they're going to rent a row boat as they insist that it's impossible to catch anything from the dock. I think it's impossible for R. to catch anything because he is just SO.LOUD. We're so lucky to live where we live. This is about 15 minutes from our house. Fifteen minutes in the other direction would take us to the beach. I hope we never have to move away. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdTkEotEhvkQpLULcfLchgnesYLaQ5AeunwfYIFtU8p3ZPR5UGC5jHxsUShi1kcFkO2flLE1VwgpBggCpjUNZ7mh1lyoZ-iNgIU74BuNsATr5LNRYCv46p_xCoAEWe_YR4GAh41EW9Qb8/s1600-h/011.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194478655002062866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdTkEotEhvkQpLULcfLchgnesYLaQ5AeunwfYIFtU8p3ZPR5UGC5jHxsUShi1kcFkO2flLE1VwgpBggCpjUNZ7mh1lyoZ-iNgIU74BuNsATr5LNRYCv46p_xCoAEWe_YR4GAh41EW9Qb8/s320/011.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Big Al and I are fine. Just trying to keep up with these boys. I've been dropping hints about trying just one more time for a girl. He thinks I'm out of my mind. I'm not out of my mind - I'm just stupid. Not stupid - a dreamer. A very, very, impractical dreamer. I've always been sort of proud of my impracticality. As if I'm above making wise decisions. "I Live in the NOW,dammit!!" I'm the kind of person who throws her hands up and says "Who cares if we only have one bathroom and we'll never be able to move to something bigger/better in this market! It'll all work out! We only live once! Let's do this!" </div><br /><div>I've been scrapping a lot more lately, and have been meaning to take pictures of all my new layouts. I'll get to it eventually. I'm thinking of starting a second blog that is all about <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">scrapbooking</span>, and creativity, and pictures that turn out really well (I'd call it "photography", but being that any 'good' pictures I end up with are because of luck.......it doesn't seem right) and crafty inspiration. I LOVE crafting, scrapping, etc. and just wish I could find more time. I feel so good when I'm making things. If only I could feel that good when exercising. My ass would be considerably smaller.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-88732824514804421582008-04-15T22:33:00.000-07:002008-04-15T23:12:49.764-07:00My dear boy is six years old.And "dear" he is. So, so sweet and good. I know, I know. This is mushy....but really. This boy is everything a Mother could want in a son. Kind, easy going, smart, SO caring, funny, polite, expressive, curious, honest, generous, understanding, TOLERANT (he has this one brother in particular.....), and the list goes on and on. One thing I've really noticed since he has started Kindergarten is that he's really bloomed socially! Kids love him, teachers love him. He seems to be...dare I say it....popular! When I pick him up from school, so many kids go out of their way to say goodbye to him. He's friendly now - not painfully shy like he used to be. He's happy...and I love that. Anyway, the main thing is this: I just *know* that he'll take care of me when I'm super old and have strange hairs coming out of my ears. And that really means something to me.<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189718307627181250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN07Gbma78u6BR4MXRlekFMBUNNieV6Qj-onKp5tMjx8Kzm3znPK6alsBr0JW08lEjFon5SLPsA1qNe1A39ubgj3-muPtYczvrxj-Tn0k5ta2Ycv_x_lhBECNTnemrZO5U80taOXHWNSY/s320/IMG_5207.JPG" border="0" />The big day was last week. After dropping R off at preschool, we went to Starbucks for a celebratory hot chocolate (him) and coffee (me) before school. I made some fun surfboard cupcakes for him to share with his classmates, which were apparently a big hit.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzf6yvlU5QyV2glocwtcU-zHSEczzw1PIXMy72v_qbyiVouI4H10sHUVxmv4DBbGYTtMY7482UAeXdSNhe1LvaHi5advYvm1yegl8z-fTwW87Bnk04gRQcccN-JrSOPZw2fXO49YYqpU/s1600-h/IMG_5205.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189718148713391282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzf6yvlU5QyV2glocwtcU-zHSEczzw1PIXMy72v_qbyiVouI4H10sHUVxmv4DBbGYTtMY7482UAeXdSNhe1LvaHi5advYvm1yegl8z-fTwW87Bnk04gRQcccN-JrSOPZw2fXO49YYqpU/s320/IMG_5205.JPG" border="0" /></a> That afternoon we went to the park as is our daily routine. I don't hate the park the way I used to now that N's friends, and their very cool Mom's come as well. It's sort of like a playdate for everyone. All 7 kids play together (siblings too) and we get to talk. </p><p>We had planned on going bowling on N's birthday, but because Big Al took him a few days prior - we skipped it. It worked out fine thoug<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzWQN8oLwxPgFJ_1dXfJ_JZvlrE3xzJZpXyPySvqWksZrNT1XCJ9Vj67sAQZje-8SOnhT5QLGXWyHGA6cQcceV49vzVG-a4oZ-_HcAFu-oBUu1Vc3AVe_qCaC-KTSrQwwKYO2uh-cTBqI/s1600-h/IMG_5214.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189718625454761186" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzWQN8oLwxPgFJ_1dXfJ_JZvlrE3xzJZpXyPySvqWksZrNT1XCJ9Vj67sAQZje-8SOnhT5QLGXWyHGA6cQcceV49vzVG-a4oZ-_HcAFu-oBUu1Vc3AVe_qCaC-KTSrQwwKYO2uh-cTBqI/s320/IMG_5214.JPG" border="0" /></a>h. N opened his gifts, and then we went to the boys favorite pizza place for dinner. It was hard to tear him away from two particularly cool gifts - The Razor E100 electric scooter from Big Al and I, and Heely's roller-shoes from Grandma. I was sort of worried about the Heely's but he took right to them - he's actually really good at it. </p><div><div><div><br /><br /><div>After the boys spent God-only-knows how many dollars worth of Grandma's quarters on video games, and the "grabber" machine, we went home and had cake. The bowling ball/bowling pin cake.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyBBbhNRWKdFo1qubLpBtCbWYXxNlr2flltvwiWn7NlnNdLirr-bpAn_0efj-ALNcS3zMNtGjiOi2NmX7AIEn8R-OM_ZVSb5h-a2jUhku_0r9IAKFCyy8o21DVOSyjoEBbtar-y8sxoM/s1600-h/IMG_5209.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189718488015807698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyBBbhNRWKdFo1qubLpBtCbWYXxNlr2flltvwiWn7NlnNdLirr-bpAn_0efj-ALNcS3zMNtGjiOi2NmX7AIEn8R-OM_ZVSb5h-a2jUhku_0r9IAKFCyy8o21DVOSyjoEBbtar-y8sxoM/s320/IMG_5209.JPG" border="0" /></a> The grand finale of the birthday season. That's it. No more. No more cakes, cupcakes, baked goods of any kind. Well...not until....Friday......when I have to make 4 dozen cupcakes for a bake sale/silent auction at R's school. Oh well. At least I had a week off! </div><br /><br /><div>All in all, N had a great birthday. At least that's what he told me as I tucked him in that night. </div><br /><div>However - Six has brought with it something sad.</div><br /><div>He calls me "MOM" now. Not the usual "Mommy.........."</div><div>"MOM"</div><div>He very sweetly but seriously told me that it was time for him to start calling me Mom. Because that's what six year olds do. He got this idea from a friend of his, but I can tell that he really feels that it's time. I'm trying to get used to it, but every time that sweet face looks at me and calls me something other than "Mommy" it's like a knife in my heart. Silly, I know. I just love him so much....and dammit I'm still his Mommy.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-QVZLFYW7rJFeSojJqg6zg4mV_zujAyzMXhqOaGs9ycsLjf04fxqEdlysqWNZk1KifyAkyUfh6sdyhEZymYN9tsmQwqCJQSk6h8MPnu8n4F_mnT41aJWH7b-Q_bLO5Bi1l9i5Mbde4oM/s1600-h/IMG_5217.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189718792958485746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-QVZLFYW7rJFeSojJqg6zg4mV_zujAyzMXhqOaGs9ycsLjf04fxqEdlysqWNZk1KifyAkyUfh6sdyhEZymYN9tsmQwqCJQSk6h8MPnu8n4F_mnT41aJWH7b-Q_bLO5Bi1l9i5Mbde4oM/s320/IMG_5217.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4637517510329034704.post-45800065391049033012008-04-06T22:40:00.001-07:002008-04-06T23:20:57.077-07:00Baby Talk<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg446HIiL5Kgp3yt5qK6gSuMgXTlKgGU_7-pgI6T3-we1rhnEb5vVkGyCPRTQPaIWYHCFp12YTdROdfkpIVTQEjMpgGz6BCk8L-1gVuMa4CSBiFG2tGORYM_XkjKYEWd34jZkF34plt88/s1600-h/IMG_5162.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186381880482504498" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg446HIiL5Kgp3yt5qK6gSuMgXTlKgGU_7-pgI6T3-we1rhnEb5vVkGyCPRTQPaIWYHCFp12YTdROdfkpIVTQEjMpgGz6BCk8L-1gVuMa4CSBiFG2tGORYM_XkjKYEWd34jZkF34plt88/s320/IMG_5162.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgsRFPNXgzCNjSoNkNjtTY7gKvjyUN3DPQWU0jl_9wNeM20HOsbKNnn28ml7MUg48QBJgCbcfbwEybkDREZzr5WqFTSMQ-gstvobUhGFMS1kLEp9rFYtrOAaPEuPm7nG6IDCU-WdYBUo/s1600-h/IMG_5163.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186376786651291282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgsRFPNXgzCNjSoNkNjtTY7gKvjyUN3DPQWU0jl_9wNeM20HOsbKNnn28ml7MUg48QBJgCbcfbwEybkDREZzr5WqFTSMQ-gstvobUhGFMS1kLEp9rFYtrOAaPEuPm7nG6IDCU-WdYBUo/s320/IMG_5163.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>My baby. He's getting so big. Now when he's in the bath, he splashes and looks at me for a reaction. I laugh. He laughs. And then we do it again. And again. And again! He still loves to blow raspberries. Yesterday he did it for about 15 minutes straight while we were driving. When he's on his blanket in the family room surrounded by toys, he'll scootch himself around. I'm not sure if he's "aiming" in any particular direction. I just know that if I leave him in one spot and then go throw a load of wash in the dryer - he is usually about 6 feet away from where I left him when I return.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrghcBVV8xX8sTuTpBoYBnCr5O8om9YRAttMo1fE3jDt1o2i_gYBqO-ySLngFJj1D42FCLK8Jdw2xOzCu5jNjK5JZsIeuIWm9zMvVemTLGL_Celcnah2aAOPBPsXITdLeeOYBallOAsI8/s1600-h/IMG_5171.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186376932680179362" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrghcBVV8xX8sTuTpBoYBnCr5O8om9YRAttMo1fE3jDt1o2i_gYBqO-ySLngFJj1D42FCLK8Jdw2xOzCu5jNjK5JZsIeuIWm9zMvVemTLGL_Celcnah2aAOPBPsXITdLeeOYBallOAsI8/s320/IMG_5171.JPG" border="0" /></a> He's also starting to push up onto his knees and rock back and forth.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagsW6P0cQdxJJHOhlacNVVbSFn89wKi5N65vgtXVVE3ENF7UbSj6NbdkZ5WBWU_v0eX_fblhxqmdVu3mR8rPxhO2cVvIRATLWxxKGVDtBeO8d3iYYSz4JQoeqMyERfOcnUAzFiHBtfyQ/s1600-h/IMG_5201.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186377667119587026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagsW6P0cQdxJJHOhlacNVVbSFn89wKi5N65vgtXVVE3ENF7UbSj6NbdkZ5WBWU_v0eX_fblhxqmdVu3mR8rPxhO2cVvIRATLWxxKGVDtBeO8d3iYYSz4JQoeqMyERfOcnUAzFiHBtfyQ/s320/IMG_5201.JPG" border="0" /></a> I love how he looks at me to see my reaction when he's doing something new. So sweet. He's already too tall for his little entertainment/activity/circular thing. He LOVES his rain forest jumper thing though. He gets a serious workout in that one! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZtH9gzPh3eyoh1ct9Epzp6fDBJqhgcG-rv280U7LjRm55I2RXnmOuCqj4mfsGVwtbSwcIqTlWBZoyJaFvsCCOAny17EIGSgdzxcfWNE82BFxeNVimEbUdxsas41jMT5cYKlKciWFOq8/s1600-h/IMG_5180.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186380321409375986" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZtH9gzPh3eyoh1ct9Epzp6fDBJqhgcG-rv280U7LjRm55I2RXnmOuCqj4mfsGVwtbSwcIqTlWBZoyJaFvsCCOAny17EIGSgdzxcfWNE82BFxeNVimEbUdxsas41jMT5cYKlKciWFOq8/s320/IMG_5180.JPG" border="0" /></a>He's sitting up pretty well, but appreciates the support of a Boppy. The whole tip-on-over thing gets old.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQYoRchLVwCuo9BlV9VV4oClfXmz907Ywj4JrpECuK_7z6C-j6ApJSkfn6teVyXbq6vfpzRsNQKOF3Lb0PydELuL-6yhhqTLiEmpsAn-cW9nwPUstJifuSXM_D4m8DMHX6yonGCnL0mg/s1600-h/IMG_5186.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186377173198347954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQYoRchLVwCuo9BlV9VV4oClfXmz907Ywj4JrpECuK_7z6C-j6ApJSkfn6teVyXbq6vfpzRsNQKOF3Lb0PydELuL-6yhhqTLiEmpsAn-cW9nwPUstJifuSXM_D4m8DMHX6yonGCnL0mg/s320/IMG_5186.JPG" border="0" /></a>Today I brought him up to his room to take some pictures. Having gotten quite a few scrapbook pages done this weekend, I was in the mood to take even more pictures! Of course I did what I always do....I played the "lets see if I can avoid using the flash!" game. Every good photographer (which I am NOT) will tell you that the best pictures come when you DON'T USE THE FLASH! And whatever you do - DON'T USE THE AUTO SETTING! Do I use the auto setting? Yeah. But I'm working on that. Ultimately, I need to take a class.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8cHKp3d8GG-da_H-glHNt-Pn_yym5d6Ru-2YpYRqTd_u5of_nzCcl-sMoe7yylPYFuJ9VQ_mdBIEmMTPUCXfN0ybi8KkfuAj-GGXwqyxCUsCRLNJbWLMfd0BuY1yGah4F558Ykw-d3Q/s1600-h/IMG_5189.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186380841100418850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8cHKp3d8GG-da_H-glHNt-Pn_yym5d6Ru-2YpYRqTd_u5of_nzCcl-sMoe7yylPYFuJ9VQ_mdBIEmMTPUCXfN0ybi8KkfuAj-GGXwqyxCUsCRLNJbWLMfd0BuY1yGah4F558Ykw-d3Q/s320/IMG_5189.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div><div><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8cHKp3d8GG-da_H-glHNt-Pn_yym5d6Ru-2YpYRqTd_u5of_nzCcl-sMoe7yylPYFuJ9VQ_mdBIEmMTPUCXfN0ybi8KkfuAj-GGXwqyxCUsCRLNJbWLMfd0BuY1yGah4F558Ykw-d3Q/s1600-h/IMG_5189.JPG"></a></div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><div>And as for my wonderful owls...I mean JACK's owls....I love them. HE loves them....I meant to say that HE loves them. I don't have a problem and I don't need an owl intervention. I can quit owls anytime I want to. I wouldn't hold your breathe though. </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186380686481596178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_-FT_6z5drgmCvOAas6FxsdFSzRW51yG5kW3WoklgHhZRkO9ip7Pst6wjlDrXfYkvTprEKa1B41W5U2j8WDy71zhrMv1SYzxJIFtilDMXHTflPszgrNaI3XE1x0GpFkjLxs9_uyPP48/s320/IMG_5188.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO-COXbztdjKu0KGPkON88BUU1j2EEk8sOTtekb30PeWGobhfHBrmbJY8896wJF3LLnFgS1Tae9I9JMUfAfUHQbuG0zHc__8UEV-EG19MC6-EH81K39vo5o5jScBnKffyetNC35v-gXnk/s1600-h/IMG_5187.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Queen Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02222546006420371373noreply@blogger.com3