Work is ridiculous right now, but my sister-in-law made time for our whole family (Erich's side) to get together and take pictures. Emily Melson is magical with our kids and took some absolutely incredible pictures of our little ones.
Take a peek, let us know what you think. I love them, but then again, I'm their mom. :)
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Last (wo)man standing
We just finished a fantastic weekend. We visited family, went to a party, just generally hung around with the four of us... It was great. Until Sunday night. At some point during the weekend two of the four of us contracted some kind of nasty stomach bug. Apparently it's going around. E and N were down, no doubt, but B and I were holding strong. I was Lysoling everything.
I thought after Monday we were in the clear. Maybe, you know, because I wasn't sick yet and B seemed fine. Tuesday afternoon we got a call from N & B's school that B was running a fever and lethargic. He didn't have the same symptoms as E and N, so E took him to the pediatrician. Apparently one of his tubes got plugged up, so he had an ear infecction. Oh, and pinkeye. Because that makes sense.
So now instead of one nasty stomach bug at my house, we also have some kind of cold that can cause extreme congestion (leading to ear infections in little ones) as well as pinkeye. Things come in threes, right?
Our kitchen counter is covered with medicine, Sprite, Pedialite, and breathing treatments. Oh, and Lysol. We cannot have enough Lysol.
I'm really glad I can get my flu shot tomorrow.
PS - Nothing says love like hugging your toddler who has thrown up on himself. Even though I had peeled all his clothes off I still had to take a shower. This is because he threw up again - on me this time. These are things I never experienced before being a parent. The weird part? It's super duper yucky, but you just do it. They're your kids, and you do anything. Now I know how my mom was always able to just grab the nasty thing (what was it?!?) in the sink, throw it away, and wash her hands like nothing happened. I think it gets built into your genes when you become a mom.
I thought after Monday we were in the clear. Maybe, you know, because I wasn't sick yet and B seemed fine. Tuesday afternoon we got a call from N & B's school that B was running a fever and lethargic. He didn't have the same symptoms as E and N, so E took him to the pediatrician. Apparently one of his tubes got plugged up, so he had an ear infecction. Oh, and pinkeye. Because that makes sense.
So now instead of one nasty stomach bug at my house, we also have some kind of cold that can cause extreme congestion (leading to ear infections in little ones) as well as pinkeye. Things come in threes, right?
Our kitchen counter is covered with medicine, Sprite, Pedialite, and breathing treatments. Oh, and Lysol. We cannot have enough Lysol.
I'm really glad I can get my flu shot tomorrow.
PS - Nothing says love like hugging your toddler who has thrown up on himself. Even though I had peeled all his clothes off I still had to take a shower. This is because he threw up again - on me this time. These are things I never experienced before being a parent. The weird part? It's super duper yucky, but you just do it. They're your kids, and you do anything. Now I know how my mom was always able to just grab the nasty thing (what was it?!?) in the sink, throw it away, and wash her hands like nothing happened. I think it gets built into your genes when you become a mom.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Old MacDonald
This past weekend, we drove to a tiny place near Poplar Bluff, MO to visit E's grandpa. This is slightly more than 500 miles of driving. Our children are both under 30 months old (but thankfully, both over the age of 1). According to our Garmin, this whole trip should have taken approximately 7.5 hours, or if you listen to Google about 8.5 hours. It took us approximately 10 hours each way. I think I've blocked most of it out in a kind of post-traumatic stress self-preservation thing, but I can remember that it wasn't the most terrible drive ever. My left shoulder may disagree from the hours and hours spent with my arm holding hands with the tiny people in the backseat, but overall it went much better than we could have hoped.
The actual visit part was really nice, although too short. We visited the weekend of the big harvest festival in the town E's grandpa lives in, so there was lots of interesting stuff to watch. This is a super-big-deal to the town, as there are approximately 500 residents and the harvest is a big big BIG deal. I honestly don't know anything about farming, but I know all about eating, and I know that a harvest means food and food makes me happy, so I'm all about celebrating that. We got to see a parade, look at bunnies and ducks, and listen to live gospel music. We also got to spend plenty of time traipsing around E's grandpa's farm, looking at everything, but most importantly the tractors. And combines. And bulldozers. And whatever. The large farm equipment was a HUGE hit with the little guys.
Other that the drive (recall I've blocked it from my memory), the only other irksome part of the trip were the small towns that served as breakpoints on our drive. Now in the big D (ehem, suburbs of said big D), we've all embraced the modern father. This is not so in the small farming communities that we visited. How do I know this? Every stop we had our kiddos needed potty breaks. B still needs diaper changes, on full-up changing tables. Can E do it this time? Nope. Why? There is no changing table. Not once did we stop in some location where there was a changing table in the men's room. Needless to say, I did the lion's share of diaper changes this weekend.
I think I deserve a night off. Good think I'm going to that musical on Thursday!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Tadpoles and minnows
This guy:
Good job N!
PS - B is in the tadpoles class and loves it as well, but hasn't really perfected the art of "monkey walking" or "gliding" so he's still going to remain in his class for the time being. That's okay with all of us.
PPS - What's the deal with the levels? Tadpole -> minnow -> frog -> seahorse -> starfish -> seal -> shark -> stingray
Makes no sense zoologically, but at least they have cute logos.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Remembering
Ten years ago today, I was a junior in college working towards my engineering degree. My husband and I were just starting to flirt/date/whatever, my family was (and still is) wonderful and the support system of friends at school was phenomenal. In my little private university world, my biggest concern was getting my engineering design homework done in time to go out on the weekend and figuring out if I would run before or after visiting Mabee hall.
My worldview, along with the worldview of every American, changed on this day ten years ago. Our country suffered a terrible attack on our way of life, and everyone was forever changed by it. There are certain moments that are defining in a person's life. I remember people talking about how they would never forget where they were or exactly what they were doing when President Kennedy was assassinated. I never really understood it, until September 11, 2001. I will never forget that moment, standing half-dressed after a morning run in my dorm room in McLean hall getting ready to meet E for breakfast before class. I was watching the today show, and remember wondering what movie they were talking about how the special effects were phenomenal. After I realized that it really was happening, I hurried down to E's room, where we watched in horror as a second plane hit the second tower. The entire campus, like the entire country, was paralyzed by the shock of it all.
Ten years later, I can promise you I will never forget that moment. And ten years later, I still try to remember to be grateful for every moment I'm given. I'm grateful for the country I live in, the freedoms I celebrate, and the faith I'm able to practice. I appreciate more the fact that I am able to read what I want, marry who I want, and move freely through society. Until that moment ten years ago, I very well took all of that for granted.
Prayers and remembrances for all we lost ten years ago, and one more prayer of thanks for the life I'm so privileged to get to live.
My worldview, along with the worldview of every American, changed on this day ten years ago. Our country suffered a terrible attack on our way of life, and everyone was forever changed by it. There are certain moments that are defining in a person's life. I remember people talking about how they would never forget where they were or exactly what they were doing when President Kennedy was assassinated. I never really understood it, until September 11, 2001. I will never forget that moment, standing half-dressed after a morning run in my dorm room in McLean hall getting ready to meet E for breakfast before class. I was watching the today show, and remember wondering what movie they were talking about how the special effects were phenomenal. After I realized that it really was happening, I hurried down to E's room, where we watched in horror as a second plane hit the second tower. The entire campus, like the entire country, was paralyzed by the shock of it all.
Ten years later, I can promise you I will never forget that moment. And ten years later, I still try to remember to be grateful for every moment I'm given. I'm grateful for the country I live in, the freedoms I celebrate, and the faith I'm able to practice. I appreciate more the fact that I am able to read what I want, marry who I want, and move freely through society. Until that moment ten years ago, I very well took all of that for granted.
Prayers and remembrances for all we lost ten years ago, and one more prayer of thanks for the life I'm so privileged to get to live.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Bedtime stories
N has about a billion books. Okay, maybe not that many, but certainly a lot. Enough that we don't have to read the same story every night, or even the same story in the same week... Every night we read two different books to N, and it is very possible we could go an entire month without reading the same one twice.
That said, this is the conversation we have every night after his pjs are on and we're prepping for storytime:
---
Me: Whatcha wanna read tonight buddy?
N: The dino book.
Me: What about this book?
N: shakes head furiously No, the dino book. Not that dino book. The other dino book. How do dinos eat their food.
Me: sigh Okay. What other book? Ferdinad? This book about the guy with all the spots?
N: looking at me like I'm crazy No. I want the animal book with the zoo.
Me: You're sure you don't want Ferdinand? Holding up "The Story of Ferdinand".
N: Sheer panic No no no no nononono. Looks me straight in the eyes so he's sure I'm hearing and understanding him. The ANIMAL BOOK.
Me: Okay okay, the animal book. Proceed to read both books without looking at any pages because I've memorized every word at this point.
N: I love this book.
--
This conversation happens nightly, but there are probably five books on the rotation:
That said, this is the conversation we have every night after his pjs are on and we're prepping for storytime:
---
Me: Whatcha wanna read tonight buddy?
N: The dino book.
Me: What about this book?
N: shakes head furiously No, the dino book. Not that dino book. The other dino book. How do dinos eat their food.
Me: sigh Okay. What other book? Ferdinad? This book about the guy with all the spots?
N: looking at me like I'm crazy No. I want the animal book with the zoo.
Me: You're sure you don't want Ferdinand? Holding up "The Story of Ferdinand".
N: Sheer panic No no no no nononono. Looks me straight in the eyes so he's sure I'm hearing and understanding him. The ANIMAL BOOK.
Me: Okay okay, the animal book. Proceed to read both books without looking at any pages because I've memorized every word at this point.
N: I love this book.
--
This conversation happens nightly, but there are probably five books on the rotation:
- "How Do Dinosaurs Eat Their Food?" - good, teach him to try new foods.
- "Wild About Books" - good, everyone should love reading AND zoos
- "The Little Red Hen" - capitolism at it's best. You don't help, so you don't eat.
- "The Pokey Little Puppy" - I hate this book. What is the POINT?
- "What Do You Do With A Tail Like This" - educational, but not much of a story.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
A philosophical exercise
Yoga:
1: (capitalized) a Hindu theistic philosophy teaching the suppression of all activity of body, mind, and will in order that the self may realize its distinction from them and attain liberation
2: a system of exercises for attaining bodily or mental control and well-being
---
Before we had kids, I was a runner. Not a marathoner or anything, but I ran. Every day, like a religion, I tied up my running shoes and hit the pavement, treadmill, whatever. After I ran, I would do sit ups and lift weights like my life depended on it. I was in pretty good shape, but despite all this running, lifting, sitting up, I felt like there was something lacking.
These days I still find time to run occasionally, but not nearly as often as before kids. But I've discovered something else. A friend of mine teaches yoga and she invited me to a class. (Check her out here: http://mikoyoga.com/ She's amazing.) Before her classes my only exposure to yoga had been a semester-long class I took my senior year of college with a bunch of friends. I was no yogi, by any means.
Since her class, I've been stronger, fitter, and more at peace than I have ever been. Not only is yoga an exercise, it's this type of mental relief that I haven't found anywhere else. I can't wait until our retreat in a few weeks. The retreat is going to be awesome!
Plus getting these compliments on my arms isn't bad either.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Work is, work.
Person I work with: I'm just not really sure we need to do that test.
Me: But if we don't do that test, how do we know it works?
Person I work with: I'm pretty sure it's a fluke. It should work fine.
Me: Wait, I thought you just said this case you're looking at doesn't work at all.
Person I work with: I'm thinking it's okay.
Me: How, exactly?
Person I work with: I'm just thinking it's a fluke.
Me: ...
Person I work with: I see what you're saying, but I think it's a fluke.
Me: ...
Person I work with: So we should run some more tests then?
Me: Um, yeah. More tests.
Me: But if we don't do that test, how do we know it works?
Person I work with: I'm pretty sure it's a fluke. It should work fine.
Me: Wait, I thought you just said this case you're looking at doesn't work at all.
Person I work with: I'm thinking it's okay.
Me: How, exactly?
Person I work with: I'm just thinking it's a fluke.
Me: ...
Person I work with: I see what you're saying, but I think it's a fluke.
Me: ...
Person I work with: So we should run some more tests then?
Me: Um, yeah. More tests.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Looking back...
At this point one year ago I was very pregnant. I'm going to go out on a limb here, but I'm pretty sure that at 8.5 months along there was no mistaking what I was baking. I decided that I'd capitolize on my company's pretty awesome maternity leave policy, so even though my official due date wasn't until August 22nd, I decided to take the last two weeks before my due date as maternity leave. That means that one year ago at this point I was prepping for my last day or work before B was born.
There's no doubting what I did with my free time that I was off - I was nesting. I did more in the time leading up to B's birth than I do in many months normally. I cleaned everything. I rearranged everything. I washed all clothing in our house. I gutted a closet and even considered painting a room. (E put the kibosh on painting, but I totally would have done it, if not for him.) The day I went into labor, I planted a crape myrtle in our front garden. All the crazy cleaning and reorganizing and tree planting caused me to go into labor 11 days early. So 10 days before it was supposed to happen, B was in our lives.
I will never forget the feeling of absolute love and adoration I felt for both of our sons from the moment I saw their little faces. I know this doesn't happen instantly for all parents. But for me, the love I felt for B was instantaneous, pure, and whole.
I don't talk about it much, but this past year has been the most beautiful, wonderful, and hardest of our entire lives. E wouldn't talk about it either, but I'm sure he'd agree with me.
Approximately 24 hours after B was born, they discovered a "problem". When the first words the nurse says to you when she comes in is, "Now, I think you should sit down, but know that everything will be okay.", you know that everything isn't the way it's supposed to be. At that point, we learned that B had some issues that were going to require surgery to take care of. I had no idea what that meant. I was 24 hours post-partum. I was all alone. E had gone to get N to introduce him to his new little brother. My family was not there. All alone, I sat in a hospital room one day after giving birth and listened to a nurse tell me that they had called for an ambulance to transport my 1-day-old son to Children's Medical Center of Dallas' NICU.
The next few days were a whirlwind of medical staff, tests, waiting, praying, waiting, praying, crying, waiting, waiting, waiting... Finally, after 1 surgical procedure and entirely too many days, we got to take B home. Neither of us had slept much and up until a few days before I had no idea what an ostomy bag was, but I knew that somehow, someway, there was a reason for what was happening and that everything would be okay. I cannot possibly thank the family and friends who supported us in that time (and all the other times) enough.
The next few weeks were normal, then B got an infection. We were back at Children's for antibiotics and rest. He turned out to be fine, but it was scary anyway. At 8 weeks old he endured yet another surgery. Finally, at 4 months old, he had his final surgery. After a painful recovery period in the hospital, we were able to go home.
Now we have two of the most beautiful (ehem, handsome!) little boys I've ever seen. N is crazy as ever, but right now I'm talking about B. Everyone expected him to have issues, be behind in development, potentially develop other problems.
He didn't. In fact, he's exceeded everyone's expectations. He was rolling over by 4.5 months. Sitting at 6 months, right on schedule. Crawling by 7 months. Took his first steps at 9.5 months. Now, at 11.5 months, he walks all the time (no more crawling for him!), has a few words, and is very opinionated. He loves his big brother, our dog, and his mom and dad. He's happy. He's healthy. He's all I could ever have hoped for.
I love him more than I can possibly say. And I love every one of you who has walked this journey with us. It has been a long road, and there are many many years ahead of us. I'm just so thankful for the loving friends and family who have gone above and beyond in so many ways.
Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
I love this guy.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Keeping up with the Joneses
Our realtor added this house at the last minute as it had just come onto the market. We were the first people to see it. One look at the porch and I was pretty much sold. E wanted us to go inside first, so I aquiesed and visited the interior before actively committing. (Does jumping up and down on the sidewalk before walking in saying "I LOVE IT!" count as committing?) Anyway, there were a few minor things we wanted to change about the place, but overall it was perfect for us and for our planned (and now very real) two children. We made an offer (along with 3 couples who saw the house after us), ended up winning (yay!), and now live here.
As with any house, ours had issues that we didn't immediately identify in our half-hour walk through. Perhaps the most prominent and oustanding of these are our neighbors to the right. When you're looking at our house, as you are in the photo above, our master bathroom is on the ground floor on the right hand side. See the big window? There's another one like that on the side of the house. Those are over our master bath spa tub (used approximately 3 times). Directly adjacent to those windows but technically on our next-door-negihbor's property is our neighbor's front porch.
Our neighbors are very nice people. They are very friendly and have never been anything but super duper nice to us. I honestly really like them and they're very easy to talk to. But not easy enough apparently, because there are some things I'd really like to ask them to stop doing, but have not found the cojones to bring up in our conversations at the mailbox.
Our neighbors like to make excellent use of their very nice porch. Who can blame them? It's really nice. They sit on it a lot. And they are smokers, it seems. And drinkers. I have no qualms with smokers and drinkers. I personally really don't like smoke. It gives me a headache and makes my eyes water, but if you want to do it, knock yourself (or your lungs) out. That said, please don't toss your cigarette butts into the yard. They're often landing our our side of the yard and it looks trashy. Plus I'm rightfully concerned you're going to catch something on fire. We're in a drought you know.
I don't want to sound like a nagging Nancy, and I'm cool with your drinking. It's whatever. But do you mind please keeping your empties on your porch? Or better yet, toss them in the recycling bin. Seriously. I'll even give you one to keep out there on your awesome porch to put them in. I'm not a huge fan of finding beer cans blown into my garden. I'm not a particularly good gardener anyway, and somehow I feel like the debris is making it worse.
One final request... If you're going to have a knock-down drag-out fight with your husband/daughter/son/whomever, can I recommend you do it inside your house? Seriously, my bathroom window backs up directly to your porch. If you're yelling at each other on your porch, I'm totally pulling a Mrs. Kravitz on you and standing in my bathtub peeking through the blinds to see what the heck is going on. You can't blame a girl for that.
I can't figure these people out. And I lack the cojones to talk to them about it.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
No helmet!
For weeks now my tiny tyrant has been talking about bicycles. "That my bicycle. I want bicycle. Me ride bicycle..." You get the idea.
(For the record, the tiny tyrant is N. B is lovingly referred to as the diapered dictator.)
E and I get a fabulous idea to get N a starter bike. We went to the bike shop for a completely unrelated matter and asked the bike experts there what was the best plan. Trike? Training wheels? How do we do this people?
The experts at the bike shop actually recommended something called a balance bike. Go on, Google it. You'll learn about a bazillion brands and things regarding learning to balance over learning to pedal yadda yadda yadda. We went here after extensive research and ordered an awesome green balance bike for N. We also went out and purchased him a Cars helmet (complete with Lightning McQueen) and a bell. He is S-T-O-K-E-D.
The bike gets here when we're away for the weekend and is waiting for us when we get back. E brings the box inside and the following conversation ensues:
---
N: A BIKE! That MY bike.
E: Yep buddy, this is YOUR bike!
N: My bike! I open.
E: Let me put it together bud.
N: Tears, hysterics
E: Chill out bud! Can you help Mommy and B unpack? You're an awesome helper!
Me: Directing dirty look at E because we (in private) refer to N as the anti-helper.
N: I help Mommy and B!
Minutes pass with me putting things away and N and B immediately taking them back out of their assigned places again while E puts together this bike. Seriously. Like maybe 5 minutes. It didn't take long.
E: Hey N! I'm all done! Check this out!
N: MY BIIIIIIIKEEEEEEE!
E: Yay! Your bike! Let's put your helmet on so you can ride it!
N: Yay! I ride it! Put helmet on!
E: Puts the helmet on N's head and fastens the strap under his chin.
N: Climbs on bike and grabs his helmet. Helmet OFF.
E: We wear helmets when we ride our bikes buddy. Remember how Mommy and Daddy wear helmets?
N: No. Off.
E: In his best dad-is-sad-about-this-voice If we take off your helmet you can't ride your bike.
N: I get off. No helmet. No ride bike.
E: Looks at me.
Me: Shrugs (I'm no help whatsoever.)
---
N proceeds to get off his bike and has summarialy refused to get on again due to the helmet restriction. I grew up riding bikes everywhere and not once did my parents enforce some kind of helmet rule (not throwing you under the bus Mom and Dad, but let's face it, my cranium wasn't protected). I am very VERY tempted to forsake the helmet to get him to exercise the use of this $100 PUSH BIKE we got him for NO REASON OTHER THAN WE LOVE HIM.
Helmet = mandatory safety precaution. I will not lose this battle of wills with a two year old. This pains me. Parenting sucks sometimes.
(For the record, the tiny tyrant is N. B is lovingly referred to as the diapered dictator.)
E and I get a fabulous idea to get N a starter bike. We went to the bike shop for a completely unrelated matter and asked the bike experts there what was the best plan. Trike? Training wheels? How do we do this people?
The experts at the bike shop actually recommended something called a balance bike. Go on, Google it. You'll learn about a bazillion brands and things regarding learning to balance over learning to pedal yadda yadda yadda. We went here after extensive research and ordered an awesome green balance bike for N. We also went out and purchased him a Cars helmet (complete with Lightning McQueen) and a bell. He is S-T-O-K-E-D.
The bike gets here when we're away for the weekend and is waiting for us when we get back. E brings the box inside and the following conversation ensues:
---
N: A BIKE! That MY bike.
E: Yep buddy, this is YOUR bike!
N: My bike! I open.
E: Let me put it together bud.
N: Tears, hysterics
E: Chill out bud! Can you help Mommy and B unpack? You're an awesome helper!
Me: Directing dirty look at E because we (in private) refer to N as the anti-helper.
N: I help Mommy and B!
Minutes pass with me putting things away and N and B immediately taking them back out of their assigned places again while E puts together this bike. Seriously. Like maybe 5 minutes. It didn't take long.
E: Hey N! I'm all done! Check this out!
N: MY BIIIIIIIKEEEEEEE!
E: Yay! Your bike! Let's put your helmet on so you can ride it!
N: Yay! I ride it! Put helmet on!
E: Puts the helmet on N's head and fastens the strap under his chin.
N: Climbs on bike and grabs his helmet. Helmet OFF.
E: We wear helmets when we ride our bikes buddy. Remember how Mommy and Daddy wear helmets?
N: No. Off.
E: In his best dad-is-sad-about-this-voice If we take off your helmet you can't ride your bike.
N: I get off. No helmet. No ride bike.
E: Looks at me.
Me: Shrugs (I'm no help whatsoever.)
---
N proceeds to get off his bike and has summarialy refused to get on again due to the helmet restriction. I grew up riding bikes everywhere and not once did my parents enforce some kind of helmet rule (not throwing you under the bus Mom and Dad, but let's face it, my cranium wasn't protected). I am very VERY tempted to forsake the helmet to get him to exercise the use of this $100 PUSH BIKE we got him for NO REASON OTHER THAN WE LOVE HIM.
Helmet = mandatory safety precaution. I will not lose this battle of wills with a two year old. This pains me. Parenting sucks sometimes.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Time travel
I love living near a lake. Even though we don't get out on the lake much anymore, the mere presence of the lake makes me happy inside. I drive two miles across the lake at least twice every work day. This drive is over a bridge that is surrounded by nothing but water, just a little above the actual water level.
For a moment or two during the drive, I'm no longer 30, driving to or from my job and responsibilities, but instead I am 7. I'm in a 1970's era green SeaRay and my dad has just told me to keep my tips up. My brother and I have just learned how to waterski, and my family is spending as much time as possible on Lake Travis, every weekend if we can make it happen. At least that's how I remember it. After we finish skiing my dad will drive us around the lake in the boat and we might even have hamburgers at the floating resturant at the marina if we're lucky.
It's just a moment, but every day I'm reminded of it. And every day that little trip back in time reminds me to happy to be right where I am in the present.
I hope I leave my kiddos with a similar memory to hang onto. Happy father's day Daddy!
For a moment or two during the drive, I'm no longer 30, driving to or from my job and responsibilities, but instead I am 7. I'm in a 1970's era green SeaRay and my dad has just told me to keep my tips up. My brother and I have just learned how to waterski, and my family is spending as much time as possible on Lake Travis, every weekend if we can make it happen. At least that's how I remember it. After we finish skiing my dad will drive us around the lake in the boat and we might even have hamburgers at the floating resturant at the marina if we're lucky.
It's just a moment, but every day I'm reminded of it. And every day that little trip back in time reminds me to happy to be right where I am in the present.
I hope I leave my kiddos with a similar memory to hang onto. Happy father's day Daddy!
Monday, April 25, 2011
Second child?
With N:
It's 10 minutes until his next feeding. We need to get things prepped - stat!
With B:
Woah, no wonder he's mad - his bottle was due 15 minutes ago!
--
With N:
What, you think it's weird that we brought a pack-n-play, high chair, bouncy seat, playmat, monitor, seven changes of clothes, a box of 80 diapers, an entire tub of formula, 8 containers of food, and enough toys to entertain an entire orphanage for an overnight trip? That's totally normal.
With B:
Hey buddy, doesn't this empty plastic tub look awesome? I thought so too! Cool!
--
With N:
He need his dinner at exactly 6:15 pm, followed immediately by a bottle, immediately after that you have to undress him ON TOP OF the bed before putting him in a tepid bath of warm-ish water for exactly 13 minutes before reading him exactly two stories and saying one prayer before putting him in bed at no later than 7:05 pm. Got it?
With B:
Well, he'll definitely need a bath before he goes to sleep tonight. Sure. We can do it after he eats. No problem. He's pretty flexible, this guy.
--
With N:
There is absolutely no way we can give him that. He isn't scheduled to try eating that before he's 9 months old.
With B:
Dude, are you eating GRASS? Spit that out!
--
With N:
I love you more than you can possibly know, little man.
With B:
I love you more than you can possibly know, little man.
--
Some things aren't negotiable.
It's 10 minutes until his next feeding. We need to get things prepped - stat!
With B:
Woah, no wonder he's mad - his bottle was due 15 minutes ago!
--
With N:
What, you think it's weird that we brought a pack-n-play, high chair, bouncy seat, playmat, monitor, seven changes of clothes, a box of 80 diapers, an entire tub of formula, 8 containers of food, and enough toys to entertain an entire orphanage for an overnight trip? That's totally normal.
With B:
Hey buddy, doesn't this empty plastic tub look awesome? I thought so too! Cool!
--
With N:
He need his dinner at exactly 6:15 pm, followed immediately by a bottle, immediately after that you have to undress him ON TOP OF the bed before putting him in a tepid bath of warm-ish water for exactly 13 minutes before reading him exactly two stories and saying one prayer before putting him in bed at no later than 7:05 pm. Got it?
With B:
Well, he'll definitely need a bath before he goes to sleep tonight. Sure. We can do it after he eats. No problem. He's pretty flexible, this guy.
--
With N:
There is absolutely no way we can give him that. He isn't scheduled to try eating that before he's 9 months old.
With B:
Dude, are you eating GRASS? Spit that out!
--
With N:
I love you more than you can possibly know, little man.
With B:
I love you more than you can possibly know, little man.
--
Some things aren't negotiable.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Litte foodies?
Before kiddos, E and I were sorta gourmands. We took cooking classes together - even when we were in Italy. We could tell you if creamed corn incorporated the use of truffle oil. We tried anything and everything. I remember one ill-fated attempt at braciola that ended with us throwing away enough food to feed 8 people. More often than not though, our test dishes turned into delicious staples and we ended up loving them. Cooking together was a fun, interesting way to spend time together and very conducive to talking. Plus, what's not to love about a date where you spend the whole time actually TALKING to each other? Oh, and there's the added bonus of wine. Any recipe that calls for wine just begs to have the rest of the bottle taken care of. So there you go. Foodies. At least wannabes.
Fast forward a few years and here we are. Two kids, not much time, and lots and lots of things to do. We still love food and wine, but our time to enjoy it is vastly decreased. We've devised a system in which we cook the next night's dinner after the boys go to bed. This results in us eating lots and lots of casseroles with side salads. Bo-ring. But Sunday afternoon during naptime we've started making interesting and exciting dishes again. It makes both of us happy. Also, we're trying to raise little epicures. We love food - so should they.
Apparently our best attempts at getting N to love fancy dishes are ill-fated. No matter what we put in front of him these days, he meets with the following responses - "No.", "Cheeseburger!", "Pizza", and/or the ever popular "Cracker!". Right. Instead of this thing we spent an hour preparing, we'll give you some Ritz crackers. It's frustrating. But I suppose normal, given he's almost 2. Nothing like hearing a request for cheeseburgers at 7 am and seeing a toddler dissolve into tears because we won't provide the requested cheeseburgers and tell him that "he can eat his pancakes" to make you frustrated with food.
So we were excited to find that caching things as his favorite dishes works wonders. He'll eat almost anything if you can throw in a label he likes. For instance, when we served him eggplant Parmesan, he refused to eat it. We took the plate away, brought it back without changing a thing, and told him it was "eggplant pizza". He ate ALL of it and requested more. Do we feed bad about this?
No.
PS - A few meals after the "Cheeseburgers!" request we actually made him cheeseburgers because - hey - he planted the seed and it sounded pretty dang tasty. He proceeded to eat the bun and pick all the cheese off of the meat. At least he was happy.
Fast forward a few years and here we are. Two kids, not much time, and lots and lots of things to do. We still love food and wine, but our time to enjoy it is vastly decreased. We've devised a system in which we cook the next night's dinner after the boys go to bed. This results in us eating lots and lots of casseroles with side salads. Bo-ring. But Sunday afternoon during naptime we've started making interesting and exciting dishes again. It makes both of us happy. Also, we're trying to raise little epicures. We love food - so should they.
Apparently our best attempts at getting N to love fancy dishes are ill-fated. No matter what we put in front of him these days, he meets with the following responses - "No.", "Cheeseburger!", "Pizza", and/or the ever popular "Cracker!". Right. Instead of this thing we spent an hour preparing, we'll give you some Ritz crackers. It's frustrating. But I suppose normal, given he's almost 2. Nothing like hearing a request for cheeseburgers at 7 am and seeing a toddler dissolve into tears because we won't provide the requested cheeseburgers and tell him that "he can eat his pancakes" to make you frustrated with food.
So we were excited to find that caching things as his favorite dishes works wonders. He'll eat almost anything if you can throw in a label he likes. For instance, when we served him eggplant Parmesan, he refused to eat it. We took the plate away, brought it back without changing a thing, and told him it was "eggplant pizza". He ate ALL of it and requested more. Do we feed bad about this?
No.
PS - A few meals after the "Cheeseburgers!" request we actually made him cheeseburgers because - hey - he planted the seed and it sounded pretty dang tasty. He proceeded to eat the bun and pick all the cheese off of the meat. At least he was happy.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Water time!
We've really REALLY been loving all the nice weather. I'm too tired to post anything witty, but hey LOOK - cute kids!
 |
| N loves this watering can. |
 |
| Clearly. |
 |
| All my guys. |
 |
| Zoee was loving all the outside time. |
 |
| N watering the plants. |
 |
| Check out B's mad standing skills. |
 |
| He's loving it. |
 |
| They have so much fun together. |
 |
| N likes to blow bubbles and B thinks it is hilarious. |
 |
| For R - check out our stonework and tin roof. |
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Defining moments
At work today...
Me: I'm documenting this particular thing, and I would like you to tell me if it will mean more to you like this or like that.
Other person: Er, well, that seems like a lot of work.
Me: Yes, I believe it will be, which is why I'd like you to tell me the format that would mean the most to you, as your team will be the people using it and I don't want to do something that would require a lot of rework.
Other person: Could you maybe just make some examples of each possible way it would be? That'd be better than a definition.
Me: Staring blankly.
Other person: You know, just show the way things will be?
Me: Shakes head to clear glazed over look. Um, I suppose I could do that, but it would be hundreds upon hundreds of iterations. I think it would be easier to just define what it is than to make up a bunch of examples.
Other person: Sure, sure. Could you also have some examples?
Me: Staring, mouth agape. Right. I'll see what I can do.
Me: I'm documenting this particular thing, and I would like you to tell me if it will mean more to you like this or like that.
Other person: Er, well, that seems like a lot of work.
Me: Yes, I believe it will be, which is why I'd like you to tell me the format that would mean the most to you, as your team will be the people using it and I don't want to do something that would require a lot of rework.
Other person: Could you maybe just make some examples of each possible way it would be? That'd be better than a definition.
Me: Staring blankly.
Other person: You know, just show the way things will be?
Me: Shakes head to clear glazed over look. Um, I suppose I could do that, but it would be hundreds upon hundreds of iterations. I think it would be easier to just define what it is than to make up a bunch of examples.
Other person: Sure, sure. Could you also have some examples?
Me: Staring, mouth agape. Right. I'll see what I can do.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Starbucks?
I have a special love for caffeine. I wish I didn't. But I cannot deny my deep, DEEP appreciation for caffeinated beverages. Coffee, soda (especially diet soda - complete with its terrible terrible chemicals), tea... It doesn't matter. I love these beverages from the bottom of my little overcaffeinated heart. However, this is becoming a problem. How did I realize this, you might ask? It was the moment when I realized that I had approximately $5.17 in cash, was in the drive-through line at Starbucks on the way to work, and was feeling particularly frugal and wanting to spend no more money than I had in cash. Oh, and I was starving. STARVING. I don't care that it was 6:14 am. I'd been up for over an hour and I was ready to break the fast. Regardless, I decided that I really wanted a nonfat caramel macchiato in as large a size as possible (venti). What's not to love about caramel and coffee and milk all mixed together in frothy goodness? I also really really want a butter crossoint. I know that a butter crossoint is not good for me. Well, it's full of butter and carbs and well, that's it really. No protien. No substance. Delicious, however, and the perfect compliment to a giant cup of steamy caramel-y coffee. I quickly realize the whatever money I have (which I promise is around $5.17 but I cannot be entirely exact on that amount) is not going to cover the largest coffee possible AND the crossoint I want to eat for breakfast. At this point, normal people may opt to choose a smaller size of coffee and/or use a plastic card to procure their wares. Me, however, I've set my mind to paying in cash. And I've also set my mind on this giant GIANT cup of coffee. (Please disregard the cup of coffee my Keurig made for me at approximately 5:17 am - it no longer counts.) I want this crossoint. WANT. STARVING. Stomach *growls*. I rationalize with myself that I cannot get coffee (*good coffee*) at work and I have things to eat at my desk (almonds, cans of soup, tuna fish). I abandon my breakfast plan so I can still get the giant coffee and pay in cash. To all my coworkers who suffered through the smell of smokehouse almonds at 6:45 am - I'm sorry. My caffeine needs overruled my desire for pastry. That is why I was eating aromatic (*stinky*) almonds at the crack of dawn. I hope you all can understand.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Outside!
N and B love it outside. Since it's been nice, that's where we've been. We're also too pooped to be witty, so here are some pictures of beautiful children.
B is watching N play with Zoee.
N is getting pretty good at throwing the ball for Zoee. Also note my lime tree - still alive (and producing, mind you!)
Action shot!
B is watching N play with Zoee.
N is getting pretty good at throwing the ball for Zoee. Also note my lime tree - still alive (and producing, mind you!)
Action shot!
Lacrosse in his future? Maybe!
Snacktime outside is WAY better than snacktime inside.
Snacktime outside is WAY better than snacktime inside.
Zoee loves our newfound outside-ness too.
B is very smiley these days.
Undoctored photo. He just is that beautiful.
Sidewalk chalk is awesome!
Boxes are also awesome.
B is very smiley these days.
Undoctored photo. He just is that beautiful.
Sidewalk chalk is awesome!
Boxes are also awesome.
That is all I've got. Now to sit down.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Babies and denim
Love love love these overalls on the boys...
N at 5.5 months...
B at 6.5 months...
N at 5.5 months...
B at 6.5 months...
Adorable.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
How it flies
On Monday a friend returned a book to me - Milk Memos. When I went back to work after N was born, my sister-in-law sent me this book in the mail. It's all about nursing moms and how some hate it, some love it, and some are generally indifferent to nursing/pumping at work, and at the time I read it - a lifesaver to me for having to leave my little man to go back to work. I keenly remember the feeling of leaving him for the first time to go do work. That ache isn't something easily forgotten.
Now it's almost two years later and he's a walking talking dynamo with an adorable little brother. So much has changed in the past two years, but I'll never forget that feeling. My heart ached for her when she handed me the book back.
There are some things that you can't explain. The way you don't care that your kid with the flu just wiped snot all over your shirt and coughed into your face... The way a spilled cup of milk all over the kitchen counter (accidentally) is just all in a day's work... The way those little smiles and bright eyes make you feel like the greatest mom on the planet...
Yep, it's all worth it.
Now it's almost two years later and he's a walking talking dynamo with an adorable little brother. So much has changed in the past two years, but I'll never forget that feeling. My heart ached for her when she handed me the book back.
There are some things that you can't explain. The way you don't care that your kid with the flu just wiped snot all over your shirt and coughed into your face... The way a spilled cup of milk all over the kitchen counter (accidentally) is just all in a day's work... The way those little smiles and bright eyes make you feel like the greatest mom on the planet...
Yep, it's all worth it.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Snowmageddon
Today is day 2 of what we're calling snowmageddon. We've had a terrible ice/snow/sleet/freeze storm (along with a bunch of other states around the country) and we've been trapped inside our house for two days. I will caveat with the gratefulness that we have a nice warm house with food and water and electricity and gas - so we aren't suffering all that much. But we are feeling a twinge of cabin fever. Pair that with weird schedules because we can't go to work given the kids' daycare is closed and the fact that we're all a little tired, and you get some punchy people.
Tonight I made dumplings from a friend's recipe (yum!) along with steamed broccoli and cauliflower for dinner. (And a delicious concoction of rice cereal for the almost 6 month old who refuses to eat what the rest of us are eating. I'm looking at you B.) Anyway, apparently N thinks dumplings are the best thing since sliced bread, so he's working on his second (very large) bowl, while E and I were eating at a more human-pace. You know, where you can actually talk to each other instead of just saying "More please" with your mouth full. I'm trying to take N's enthusiastic eating as a complement while talking to my husband.
E: What'd you season these vegetables with?
A: Just kosher salt. Why?
E: I'm remembering that I just really don't like cauliflower.
A: Looks at him quizzically.
E: I just wanted to make sure you didn't season the vegetables with horrible or something.
A: Right, because in between the salt and the onion powder I keep shakers of "horrible", "awful", and "I can't believe you're going to make me eat this".
E: I know, so I was just making sure.
A: Laughs
E: Laughs
N: Laughs because mom and dad are laughing and spits dumplings all over the table in the process Uh oh. More please!
Tonight I made dumplings from a friend's recipe (yum!) along with steamed broccoli and cauliflower for dinner. (And a delicious concoction of rice cereal for the almost 6 month old who refuses to eat what the rest of us are eating. I'm looking at you B.) Anyway, apparently N thinks dumplings are the best thing since sliced bread, so he's working on his second (very large) bowl, while E and I were eating at a more human-pace. You know, where you can actually talk to each other instead of just saying "More please" with your mouth full. I'm trying to take N's enthusiastic eating as a complement while talking to my husband.
E: What'd you season these vegetables with?
A: Just kosher salt. Why?
E: I'm remembering that I just really don't like cauliflower.
A: Looks at him quizzically.
E: I just wanted to make sure you didn't season the vegetables with horrible or something.
A: Right, because in between the salt and the onion powder I keep shakers of "horrible", "awful", and "I can't believe you're going to make me eat this".
E: I know, so I was just making sure.
A: Laughs
E: Laughs
N: Laughs because mom and dad are laughing and spits dumplings all over the table in the process Uh oh. More please!
Friday, January 28, 2011
Before and after
Things change when you have kids. People tell you this. All your friends who have kids already will tell you how much things change. "Sure, sure, " you say. You can theoretically understand that there are now little people entirely dependant on you from everything from spiritual guidance to shelter to food to entertainment to education to ... You get the idea. You think you get it. But you don't. Case in point - I give you exhibits "weekend"...
---
Friday night, 9 pm, pre-kids... You will find us either all dressed up sitting at a fancy dinner at a swankified restaurant about to start on a second bottle of overpriced but delicious wine OR hanging out with friends over drinks OR loudly playing music and attempting to be brilliant Wii masters without killing the dog.
Friday night, 9 pm, post-kids... We are paying our taxes. Bo-ring. We are also thinking about turning in soon. After all, it's super late. Should we have a second glass of wine? Probably not, after all, we may have some downtime, but we're still on call.
---
Saturday daytime, pre-kids... Sleeping in. Hiking in the mountains. Exploring a new part of the city we've never visited before. Trying to understand the new art exhibit at the museum. Playing sports on a team of adults. Taking the dog to the dog park.
Saturday daytime, post-kids... Getting up earlier than you would on a weekday. Hiking up and down the stairs. Exploring new avenues in potty training. Trying to understand an angry toddler. Playing blocks and cars. Taking the kids to the park to just get out of the house.
---
Sunday evening, pre-kids... Talking to family. Preparing a leisurely dinner together. Relaxing in front of a good book. Taking time to talk to each other. Really understanding how the week will look.
Sunday evening, post-kids... Talking to family about how stressed you are. Preparing meals for the entire week so that you don't have to cook in the few hours between getting home and bedtime. Relaxing... HA! Taking time to prepare all the kids' junk for taking to school. Having NO IDEA what the week ahead looks like.
---
I wouldn't trade it. But I do miss the sleeping in.
---
Friday night, 9 pm, pre-kids... You will find us either all dressed up sitting at a fancy dinner at a swankified restaurant about to start on a second bottle of overpriced but delicious wine OR hanging out with friends over drinks OR loudly playing music and attempting to be brilliant Wii masters without killing the dog.
Friday night, 9 pm, post-kids... We are paying our taxes. Bo-ring. We are also thinking about turning in soon. After all, it's super late. Should we have a second glass of wine? Probably not, after all, we may have some downtime, but we're still on call.
---
Saturday daytime, pre-kids... Sleeping in. Hiking in the mountains. Exploring a new part of the city we've never visited before. Trying to understand the new art exhibit at the museum. Playing sports on a team of adults. Taking the dog to the dog park.
Saturday daytime, post-kids... Getting up earlier than you would on a weekday. Hiking up and down the stairs. Exploring new avenues in potty training. Trying to understand an angry toddler. Playing blocks and cars. Taking the kids to the park to just get out of the house.
---
Sunday evening, pre-kids... Talking to family. Preparing a leisurely dinner together. Relaxing in front of a good book. Taking time to talk to each other. Really understanding how the week will look.
Sunday evening, post-kids... Talking to family about how stressed you are. Preparing meals for the entire week so that you don't have to cook in the few hours between getting home and bedtime. Relaxing... HA! Taking time to prepare all the kids' junk for taking to school. Having NO IDEA what the week ahead looks like.
---
I wouldn't trade it. But I do miss the sleeping in.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Unconventional
What do you mean I'm wearing a WOMAN'S SOCK? They told me pink was very "now"...
Yel-woah. Yel-woah. YEL-WOAH! (Apparently the best color EVER. Period.)
N rocking some spikey hair in the shower.
Seriously Dad, I think you should consider the combover - it's an awesome look. Check out my hair. Ka-chow!Friday, January 21, 2011
Half a decade
A lot can happen in five years...
- Two people saying yes
- One reception
- One honeymoon
- One tiny apartment in a scary part of Aurora, CO
- Two jobs
- Weekly happy hours and weekend trips
- One slightly larger townhome in a less scary part of Aurora, CO
- One European vacation
- Countless mountain trips
- Numerous weddings of friends and family
- Endless visits to Chatfield State Park and Reservoir dog park
- One dinner club per month
- One major moving decision
- One new city to explore
- Two new jobs
- One new home
- Countless home renovations
- One major family decision
- One beautiful baby boy
- Endless hours learning and executing being parents
- One more major family decision
- One additional beautiful baby boy
- Three baby surgeries, four baby hospitalizations
- First baby boy now precocious toddler with endless vocabulary and Myna-bird like skills at mimickry
- Second baby boy healthy and happy and slightly cheeky with a special affinity for rolling
- Boundless joy at the life ahead of us
It's been a busy five years. Happy anniversary sweetheart. I love you more than you know.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Embarrasing?
An exchange this week after I finish squatting in an office (currently unused) to pump breastmilk instead of hiking across the campus for the nursing mother's rooms...
---
Me: Exiting a currently unoccupied office carrying breastpump in thinly disguised bag supposed to make people think I'm carrying a shoulder bag but everyone knows better.
Senior technical engineer (male): What are you doing in there?
Me: Er...
Senior technical engineer (who I highly respect): That's not your office.
Me: Uh...
Senior techical engineer (who I aspire to be like): Looks at my "shoulder bag"
Me: Ah...
Senior technical engineer (now mortified): Nevermind, I get it. I get it. They ought to give all nursing mothers offices with doors. Looks at floor. Good work in that meeting earlier. I'vegottogobye.
Me: Oh...
---
There's something especially mortifying about pumping breastmilk at work. I know it's amazing for my baby and nature's perfect food and all that. Plus you get an automatic 10-15 minute break where you can try to relax and not think about work (ha). Not to mention it's a great diet - weight seems to fade away when you're feeding someone else. (My mom even called me "bony" the other day - and not in a good way!) Despite all of this, I find pumping at work to be one of the worst parts - nay, the absolute worst part - about being a nursing mom. B is reaching the 6 month mark, so we're starting to stop breastfeeding, and I know when the day comes that he eats only from a bottle I may tear up. My last baby, his last nursing, will likely make me cry, just a little. Regardless... Pumping is horrible. And the above example is just one reason.
I still can't believe my baby is almost 6 months old.
*Sigh*
Time is passing too quickly and too slowly all at once. Is that possible?
---
Me: Exiting a currently unoccupied office carrying breastpump in thinly disguised bag supposed to make people think I'm carrying a shoulder bag but everyone knows better.
Senior technical engineer (male): What are you doing in there?
Me: Er...
Senior technical engineer (who I highly respect): That's not your office.
Me: Uh...
Senior techical engineer (who I aspire to be like): Looks at my "shoulder bag"
Me: Ah...
Senior technical engineer (now mortified): Nevermind, I get it. I get it. They ought to give all nursing mothers offices with doors. Looks at floor. Good work in that meeting earlier. I'vegottogobye.
Me: Oh...
---
There's something especially mortifying about pumping breastmilk at work. I know it's amazing for my baby and nature's perfect food and all that. Plus you get an automatic 10-15 minute break where you can try to relax and not think about work (ha). Not to mention it's a great diet - weight seems to fade away when you're feeding someone else. (My mom even called me "bony" the other day - and not in a good way!) Despite all of this, I find pumping at work to be one of the worst parts - nay, the absolute worst part - about being a nursing mom. B is reaching the 6 month mark, so we're starting to stop breastfeeding, and I know when the day comes that he eats only from a bottle I may tear up. My last baby, his last nursing, will likely make me cry, just a little. Regardless... Pumping is horrible. And the above example is just one reason.
I still can't believe my baby is almost 6 months old.
*Sigh*
Time is passing too quickly and too slowly all at once. Is that possible?
Monday, January 3, 2011
Winter cleaning
I'm a bit of a purger. Not so much as some people, but I really really hate to have stuff we aren't using. There's something about having clutter that makes me kind of itchy. I just like things to be simple-ish, and having a bunch of stuff we don't need doesn't qualify as simple to me.
After B's recent surgery we found ourselves in the throes of holiday madness, but in all of this we had about a week of time at home just for B (and us) to recover. I decided this was a perfect opportunity to purge ourselves of things we didn't need and get a head start on spring cleaning.
E and I tackled a cabinet in our playroom that was stuffed to the gills with extraneous electronics. Seriously. Lots and lots of electronics that haven't been hooked up in years. After pulling everything out, we found that we had the following: one Wii, one Xbox360, TWO Nintendos (the original), one Sega Genesis, three sets of headphones, two wires that we didn't know what they went to, a set of speakers, a VCR, a ridiculous number of CDs we no longer listen to, an ungodly number of DVDs we don't watch, and a small subset of VHS tapes (many duplicated on DVD).
After purging all of the VHS tapes, the Sega, the wire, the speakers, a good number of the DVDs, we were left with a dilemma. Should we keep ANY of this stuff?
We agreed the Wii and the Xbox360 could stay. Those are relatively modern technology that we'd LIKE to play, if only we had time, hooked them up, and decided to use our free time for that. The Nintendos and VCR, however, proved to be a point of contention.
Me: Let's donate the VCR and Nintendos to charity.
E: You can't BUY a Nintendo anymore!
Me: Sure you can - on eBay.
E: Looks at me as if I'm crazy. But we've already got it here now!
Me: Do we really need TWO 8-bit gaming systems that aren't hooked up?
E: What if one breaks and I want to play Mike Tyson's Punch Out?
Me: Do you want to play Mike Tyson's Punch Out?
E: I MIGHT! Fine, what if I get all the Nintendo stuff into this box and put it in the closet for safekeeping? I think the boys might like it when they get bigger.
Me: Realizing he's got me with the boys argument. Okeydoke. We can at least donate the VCR.
E: What if we want to watch a VHS tape?
Me: We don't OWN VHS tapes anymore - we're donating them all. If we wanted to watch any of those movies we could stream them on Netflix. I don't even know where to get a VHS tape anymore.
E: What if my dad gives us a set of old home movies on VHS and we want to watch them?
Me: Your dad has old VHS home movies?
E: He MIGHT!
Me: Seriously, we need to just get rid of this thing.
E: Fine. Pouts.
I look away to sort other miscellaneous junk.
E: I'm going to put this box in the closet. Grabs VHR and throws it on the box and scurries away to the storage closet.
Me: *Sigh*
E: You'll thank me later!
After B's recent surgery we found ourselves in the throes of holiday madness, but in all of this we had about a week of time at home just for B (and us) to recover. I decided this was a perfect opportunity to purge ourselves of things we didn't need and get a head start on spring cleaning.
E and I tackled a cabinet in our playroom that was stuffed to the gills with extraneous electronics. Seriously. Lots and lots of electronics that haven't been hooked up in years. After pulling everything out, we found that we had the following: one Wii, one Xbox360, TWO Nintendos (the original), one Sega Genesis, three sets of headphones, two wires that we didn't know what they went to, a set of speakers, a VCR, a ridiculous number of CDs we no longer listen to, an ungodly number of DVDs we don't watch, and a small subset of VHS tapes (many duplicated on DVD).
After purging all of the VHS tapes, the Sega, the wire, the speakers, a good number of the DVDs, we were left with a dilemma. Should we keep ANY of this stuff?
We agreed the Wii and the Xbox360 could stay. Those are relatively modern technology that we'd LIKE to play, if only we had time, hooked them up, and decided to use our free time for that. The Nintendos and VCR, however, proved to be a point of contention.
Me: Let's donate the VCR and Nintendos to charity.
E: You can't BUY a Nintendo anymore!
Me: Sure you can - on eBay.
E: Looks at me as if I'm crazy. But we've already got it here now!
Me: Do we really need TWO 8-bit gaming systems that aren't hooked up?
E: What if one breaks and I want to play Mike Tyson's Punch Out?
Me: Do you want to play Mike Tyson's Punch Out?
E: I MIGHT! Fine, what if I get all the Nintendo stuff into this box and put it in the closet for safekeeping? I think the boys might like it when they get bigger.
Me: Realizing he's got me with the boys argument. Okeydoke. We can at least donate the VCR.
E: What if we want to watch a VHS tape?
Me: We don't OWN VHS tapes anymore - we're donating them all. If we wanted to watch any of those movies we could stream them on Netflix. I don't even know where to get a VHS tape anymore.
E: What if my dad gives us a set of old home movies on VHS and we want to watch them?
Me: Your dad has old VHS home movies?
E: He MIGHT!
Me: Seriously, we need to just get rid of this thing.
E: Fine. Pouts.
I look away to sort other miscellaneous junk.
E: I'm going to put this box in the closet. Grabs VHR and throws it on the box and scurries away to the storage closet.
Me: *Sigh*
E: You'll thank me later!
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