Let me start of by saying, my cousin B is OKAY. Awhile ago, he caught himself on fire. Oh, you know 12 year old boys and fire. B was poking the outdoor bon fire with his foot and the fringe on the bottom of his pants ignited. Being on fire, he started to shake his leg up and down, probably fanning the fire. Grandma was on the other side of the yard and yelled out to him. At that point another adult in the yard saw him and yelled, "STOP, DROP, and ROLL!" B did this and put out the fire. This was after he suffered from a baseball sized third degree burn on his leg. The poor kid. His father is a bit embarrassed about the whole incident... he is the fire marshal for the county.

Several days after B was home and recovering, my aunt learned more. This was not the first time that B caught himself on fire! It was his third! THIRD?! The second time he caught himself on fire it was in the same pants and he did it the same way! Knowing that my cousin is okay, I have several questions on the subject. What is it with boys and fire? How come they just can't resist? And, do they ever grow out of it? You would think that after the first time you caught yourself on fire, you would learn to be more careful. I guess not...

My aunt decided that if there was anyone else that she knows who had also caught themselves on fire, it would be T. Dum. And she would be right! As a kid, T. Dum did the usual dumb boy things in relation to fire. You know, things like lighting matches while hiding under his bed. It was, however, as an adult that led him to catching himself on fire. About six years ago, T. Dum was working as a bartender. While working, he light some shots on fire and slammed his had down on the shot glass to extinguish the flame. Unfortunately, he had liquor on his hand and instead of extinguishing the shot, he caught his hand on fire. Oh, T. Dum. Dumb, dumb boys.

Popsicle just celebrated her second birthday! This past Friday she had a small party at the local zoo. As one of her birthday presents, Popsicle received a new baby doll. She also received a baby stroller. Both presents were an immediate success. Popsicle pushed her baby around everywhere in that stroller.

While at the party, I brought face paints for the kids to paint their faces. I should quickly clarify what I mean by "face paints". Face paints, apparently will not be on sale in the stores until next week. That meant trying to salvage face paints from years past. The face paints that I found had melted and rehardened. Knowing that this would probably not work, I grabbed brown and black eyeliner and red lipstick liner. At the party, Popsicle loved the face paints and immediately started painting her own face. She then turned to her baby and starts painting her baby's face. Although instinct told me that I should make her stop coloring her (brand new) baby's face, she just looked so happy and cute. We lugged a baby all around the zoo that had brown and black all over its face. The baby was particularly discolored around the eyes.

Bottom line, my instinct was correct! The face paints did not wash off the baby. On the down side, the baby has a distinct permanent black/brown around the eyes. On the up, thanks to my friend that joined me at the zoo, the baby has a great new nickname, Bar Fight Baby! And, when Mattel calls for merchandising, I will appreciated Popsicle's creativity.

My cousin has started a semi-blog... I don't think that she is posting her entries on any site yet, instead she has been e-mailing stories to the family. When you have two kids, how can you not have great stories?! That being said, several weeks ago, she writes this quick blurb:

"You know it’s bad when your daughter discovers a “made in China” sticker on your leg and you don’t know how long it’s been there."

I laughed, "Yes, that is bad!" Ha, ha, ha. But, don't let my laugh fool you. I get it, I totally get it (hence the laugh).

Fast forward several weeks...

I am working at home and the kids come racing into the room with all sorts of needs. As I turn from my computer to address the children, I glance down at my foot. On the top, there is a little sparkly heart sticker. "Hmmm," I wonder, "How did that get there? How long has it been there? Kind of a cute little sticker..." Now, remember that the kids have just come running into the room with needs.

Several hours later (I would guess at least five hours later), I was in the tub enjoying an "end of the day" soak. I looked down at my feet, the sticker was still there! *sigh*  When enjoying an "end of the day" soak, the last thing I want to do is work. Reaching all the way to my feet at that moment would be work. I mean, my feet are really far away from my hands and would involve doing a crunch in the tub to reach them. When drying off it would be a way more convenient time to remove the sticker, I decide.

The next day, I am walking around the house barefoot. I glance at my feet and what do I spy? Yup, that sticker! It has now been a full 24 hours and the sticker  is still on my foot. It is at this point that I marvel at the amount of time the sticker has remained on my foot and how many times I have intended to remove the sticker and have gotten sidetracked. It is also at this point that I remember my cousin's e-mail from earlier. What is worse, not knowing how long the mystery sticker has been on one's person or knowing and the shame of realizing it has been at least a day?! As I wonder about this last question, I once again get sidetracked and forget the sticker. Eventually, the sticker just fell off... But I don't even know when...

The Moo Girl and I visited my parents. One of The Moo Girl's favorite games is hiding from her Buba (grandpa) when she first arrives at the house. We walked in the front door and The Moo Girl ran to my parents bedroom to see her Grandma. "Where's Buba?" she asked. At that moment, Buba jumped out from his hiding spot and growled at her. Wanting to hide, being caught off guard, all that The Moo Girl could do was spin around in a circle. I believe that she was trying to find a place to run and hide in, but never got that far. The only thing she accomplished was spinning.

Have you ever felt like that? In such a panic you can't manage to do a single thing? Heaven knows that I have!

When visiting my cousin and her baby, Little E earlier this year, I witnessed a similar act of panic. I was talking to my cousin about feeding her one year old. I suggested that she give the baby some dip. All the kids love dip! I remember when The Moo Girl was little she wanted to dip her food in everything. She loved to have salad for the simple fact she could dip the lettuce in dressing. I ended up having to have a house rule, no dipping in your drink. And, chicken nuggets do not taste better when dipped in water, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

My cousin bought into my dipping claim and put some ranch dressing on Little E's high chair. She showed Little E how to dip her daughter's dinner in the ranch and gave her a bite of the delicious'ness. Little E did not think that ranch was so delicious. Not delicious at all. Little E, in fact, gagged a bit on her food and tried to spit out the ranch. Unfortunately, ranch doesn't spit and tends to stick to your tongue. As Little E sputtered and gagged on the ranch, my cousin quickly tried to find a solution. In the past, Little E has thrown up her dinner due to its unpalatable taste. What to do, what to do? My cousin wanted to act quickly before Little E throw up, but all she managed to do was wave her hands in the air.

Where are the worms?

 

There it is!

A picture update of Popsicle's Shiner! Isn't the color coming in nicely around the eye? NOTE: These photos were impossible to take. My camera had a huge delay, the red eye filter was on which might account for the delay but delays don't work well when you subject is a one year old. I would click the button to take the picture and then try to follow Popsicle around or entertain her for the 30 seconds or so it took to actually take the photo.

T. Dum got back yesterday from a two week business trip to Alaska. He saw his daughter and her eye for the first time at my mom's house. When he went there to pick her up, my mom felt so badly about her eye, she started to puddle up a bit! Poor woman! Goodness knows the shiner's T. Dum has had in his day and the grief he put his mother through with his crazy kid injuries.

Popsicle is handling the injury much better. She saw herself in the mirror yesterday and kept poking and pulling at the purple. I was worried that she was going to hurt herself! It doesn't feel good to poke at bruises! So, I tell "gentle, gentle" and she ignoring me but doesn't seem to mind. Eventually she found something better to do and stops poking her eye.

Yesterday was a bit of a day...

*background* T. Dum has been off working in Alaska. He gets home tomorrow after spending two weeks up North. Last weekend while he was gone, I took the girls to Easter Washington to visit their Grandma Ooo's.

(1) I was walking home after getting The Girl Moo on her way to school. As I passed T. Dum's work van, I noticed that the back window was broken. *fab* I called T. Dum, taped up the window so that more glass doesn't fall out, cut my finger while taping the window, took pictures, called in the police report... How much fun can a girl have in a day?! And, seriously, we have no idea how the window broke. It is a mystery... Was it malicious or an accident? Did a rock hit the window the last time the neighbor's mowed the lawn? Someone hit it with a bat or b-b gun? I just don't know... All that I know is that it has been sitting in the driveway for the past two weeks, was fine when I left on Friday, was not okay when I saw it yesterday.

(2) Just as I was sitting down to work, I got a call from my mom. "Come over right away," was all that she said as I heard Popsicle crying in the background. When I got to her house, I saw Popsicle sitting on the counter crying while my mom held a bloody rag to her face. Apparently, Popsicle had climbed up a bar stools and then rode the bar stool down as it tipped over. She hit her face a nearby table and had a cut just under her eye. We called her pediatrician and they recommended taking her to Children's Hospital for stitches due to the location. They don't like working around the eye and it would be best to have a plastic surgeon suture her face. *groan*

My mom and I decided to take Popsicle to the pediatrician first just to see if she needed stitches before making the 30+ minute drive and sitting in a hospital waiting room all day. We made the right decision! While Popsicle was being cleaned up and examined, we noticed a giant bump on her hand. It didn't occur to us to look for any other wounds! So, we looked for any other injuries and found no other marks. The doctor decided to x-ray her hand and super glue the cut closed. Taking the x-ray pictures was cake. Popsicle nicely placed her hand on the table and held still while technician took the x-rays. Let me just say, I thought the x-ray was adorable and I wanted a copy for her baby book... and there was no fracture! After the x-ray, it was time to glue. Two doctors and a nurse walked into the room to perform the procedure. I held Popsicle's arms and torso, my mom held her feet, the nurse held her head, one doctor pinched the wound closed, and the other doctor glued. It took a couple minutes and a couple reapplications of the glue, but we were successful! And Popsicle was an angel the whole time. She held still while being glued and barely cried during the procedure. The pediatrician decided that she would not mind adopting my little Popsicle. I can't blame her! She is pretty darn cute, even with her shiner.

(3) How could there possibly be a three, right? Well, I went home (after getting Popsicle a balloon at the party store and vanilla steamer at Starbucks, I am from Seattle you know!) to find no power. We have construction going on outside our house. The city has been doing road improvements that include adding a bike lane and sidewalk in front of the house. For some reason, the power pole needs to be relocated about three feet to accommodate the improved road. For the record, the city has already shaped and put in the gravel layer for the road and the existing power pole is not in the way. In fact, the existing power pole is several feet away from the widened road. All the same, it is being moved slightly. SO, without any sort of warning, the power was turned off so that the lines could be moved. Did the power company know they were turning off the power yesterday? Absolutely they did. Did they bother to tell anyone? No. Why would they want to do that? I mean, I was planning on working from the house, so I found the lack of power for my computer to be of no bother what-so-ever. *eyeroll*

Today, I am still tired and ready for bed.

THE MOO GIRL!!! Here are some pictures of The Moo Girl from this past weekend. She spent most of the weekend NOT hanging out with me, so I don't have that many pictures of her. The girl is just busy...

POPSICLE!!! Isn't she just cute?!

Where's Popsicle?

 
There she is!

Super Popsicle!

Chasing rosters. How fun is that?!

(This was written at the end of June, but I am only now getting around to posting...)

My friend, Jill-O has been sick lately. It has really been terrible. She hasn't been able to work for the past ten months. She has hardly been getting out of the house; she has been miserable. Although she is not back to her ol' self, she has been feeling a bit better of late. As she is not up to running around and playing on the floor with The Moo Girl, Jill-O has been forced to invent new games to play with The Moo Girl.

"I bet that I can make myself cry first!" Jill-O challenges The Moo Girl. And the game was on! The rules: You had to make a tear run down your cheek without the use of water.

Jill-O and The Moo Girl started off the challenge by trying to think of something sad. "Dead puppies!" Jill-O yells! No tears.

The Moo Girl invented the "open your eyes wide and stare at the light" strategy. Although it made both their eyes watery, it did not make them cry.

And then I started to come up with ideas... And what a help I was! "Pull a nose hair! That always hurts and makes your eyes water. Or, Poke yourself in the eye!" I suggest. Unpleasant? You bet! But no still tears.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Jill-O yells as she continues to poke her own eyes with her finger.

"I know!" I exclaim, "My eyes always water when there is an eyelash." I pull a lose eyelash from my lashes and hand it to Jill-O. The Moo Girl and Jill-O fight over the eyelash until it was lost in the struggle. That was when Jill-O turned to her dinner plate looking for something to stick in her eye. Cursing herself for eating all her onions, Jill-O (I kid you not) picks up a piece of meat and sticks it in her eye. I should mention, she is rather competitive and wasn't about to lose the Crying Game to a seven year old!

The meat really, really hurt. You think that an eyelash in your eye is bothersome? Well, you should try meat! 's Jill-O eyes got really watery as tears started to form.

The Moo Girl joined in on the challenge and poked her eye with rabbit food. I suspect that she didn't really touch her eye, but just wanted to join in on the stupidity. 

And, who won? The first to have a tear to trickle down their cheek? ME! I was laughing so hard that I started to cry.

I have terrible, terrible winter coat woes. I need to vent.

The Moo Girl is the most particular kid about coats. She always has been opinionated about the coats she wants to wear. To be honest, I shouldn't say that she is particular, she just hates puffy coats. I remember when she was turning three (so she was still two), my mom took her to the store to let her pick out a coat she liked. Why take an almost three year old to the store to pick out a coat? Because she had been fighting with us for the past year about wanting not wanting to wear her current puffy coat. My belief is that she she hates to wear anything that would inhibit her movement. The Moo Girl was walking at nine months. She was doing summersaults at one. By two, she was putting pillows on the floor so that she could do flip off the couch. She is an active, on the go kid and doesn't need a puffy coat to slow her down.

Fast forward to the seven, almost eight year old kid. Has she grown out of her hatred of puffy coats and come to realize in cold, snowy weather that a puffy coat has it's uses? No! How do you find a warm coat that is not puffy?

Last year, The Moo Girl needed a new coat. Her current coat was almost too small and would not make it to the following winter season. I searched high and low for the perfect coat. Finally, as a Christmas present, I settled on a coat and matching pair snow pants. To complete the ensemble, I also purchased coordinating snow boats, mittens, and hat. There might even be a scarf floating around that also matches. The coat that I picked was (1) on sale! (2) reversible, one side pink fleece, the other black with pink slickery, waterproof cuteness, and (3) came with a removable vest that could be worn with or without the coat. I loved the vest idea. When put with the jacket made a puffy warmness and without the coat, arms were free for extra playful movement. It seemed to match all my criteria. Does The Moo Girl like her new, wonderful coat? Of course not!

"This coat scratches my chin." "This coat is too puffy." I can't get her to wear the coat without a complaint. When I force her into the coat, I get cheers of joy when she is allowed to finally remove it form her overly confined seven year old torso.

She finally broke me down. I took her out with me after school on Monday to purchase a new coat. Already on edge for having to replace a virtually brand new coat, I wanted a cheerful shopper on my side. Did I get such a shopper? Heck no! She just hates winter coats...

"Do you see any coats?" I ask her as we enter into Gap for Kids.

"There is a coat!" she tells me.

"Do you want to try it on?" I ask kindly.

"No," she responds.

"Do you like it?" I ask patiently.

"No, you just wanted to know if I saw any coats," she replies honestly.

On and on we shop. Five stores and an hour later she finally settle on a coat we found in the first store we entered. *sheesh* I worry that it is not warm enough (it is not real puffy) and although it seems like it should be waterproof, I am not positive. I guess we will find out soon enough!

The real kicker? The brand-new coat that I purchased and is no longer being used is currently on sale at Costco for less than half what I originally paid. Not only do I have a coat she won't wear, I over-paid for said coat! *@!$^

(The coat we had to replace. Same coat, but shown with different colors. Cute, huh?! Darn kid.)

I was driving The Moo Girl and some of her friends to soccer practice. Soccer mom? Yup! I am not sure if I am proud, their is such a stigma to the term soccer mom, but life is what it is. The kid should be active and in sports; soccer fits the bill. This was my day to drive the gang of girls to practice. Listening to The Moo Girl talk with her friends is one of my favorite activities. The things they say to each other! What is important in the life of a seven year old... It is just great stuff.

The Moo Girl's best friend is on soccer with her. Surprisingly, her best friend is also called Moo at home. For the sake of this entry, we will call her best friend Moo 2.

Moo 2 was sitting in the back of the car watching people drive. One of the new activities in our life is watching and waving at other people as we drive by. I remember doing the same thing when I was young. As a parent, I take great comfort in the fact that we have privacy glass on our car and people cannot easily see the girls waving at them. As the girls have quickly adapted to the privacy glass, the game has evolved into watching and talking about what the other people are doing in their cars.

"That person just picked their nose!" Moo 2 exclaims from the back seat.

"Gross," a chorus of girls respond.

We drive by some more drivers and I hear several comments coming from the back seat. This person is on their cell phone, that person is eating, this person has a movie on for the kids. All of a sudden, we pass the principle of their school. Moo 2 is beside herself with excitement. "I can't believe I just saw the principle! It was our principle! I can't believe I just saw the principle! AND, she was talking on her cell phone." Apparently, without her knowledge, the principle had committed a horrible sin.

I speed up my car a smidgen so that we can pass by the principle again before I need to turn off the road. As we pass her, she does the unthinkable. The principle eats a bite of apple. I know, I know. The girls all squeal in the back seat. "Our principle is an eater!" Moo 2 yells, "I cannot believe that I have categorized the principle of our school as a cell phone talker AND and an eater." I can almost hear her head shake in the back seat. "She seemed so nice," Moo 2 adds seriously.

Yesterday, I was making caramel apples for The Moo Girl's class party. Twenty-three caramel apples. And, if I wanted one for the teacher and student teacher, that would make twenty-five. That's a lot of caramel apples!

Briefly, a little inside to my personality: I never do anything the "simple" way. If I am going to make a treat for the class party, I might as well make it a cool treat. Plain caramel apples, although still a tasty treat, are just not the same as caramel apples rolled in chocolate chips and marshmallows and topped with white chocolate drizzle. It makes my husband crazy. He thinks that my "projects" are a colossal waste of time. Sure, I don't just mail out invitations to the birthday party, I hand make 25 tent-shaped invitations with the pull-out birthday information. I suppose if I was mailing invitations every week or bringing in class treats all the time, my attitude would be different. As I limit myself to providing treats for one class party a year, I try to get a little fun and creative that one time.

Not listening to my husband (it wouldn't be the first time), I make my caramel apples. The Moo Girl was in the dining room working on homework while I caramelized away. OF COURSE, she wanted to make some of the caramel apples. Into the kitchen, a little seven year old girl sized mouse walks in to check my work. "I can I please make just one?" she asks.

"Okay, you can make one apple, but then back to your homework!" I tell her.

The Moo Girl dips the apple in the caramel. With some protests coming from The Moo, I help her wipe off the excess caramel on the pan. Over to the chocolate chips we head. And, as if one cue, The Moo Girl starts to make a giant caramel mess. These are apples being taken into the classroom and not only did The Moo make a mess of the apple, she also added to my clean up needs. OF COURSE, she would make a mess. She is only seven and this was a gooey, candy coated project. All the same, I needed a moment as I looked at the small disaster. *big breath*

"Thank you so much for your help, but I think that I will need to finish this apple for you," I tell her kindly.

The Moo Girl gives me her classic "crazy lady" look. It looks something like this:

Notice the one eyebrow up. That is her signature look. "You don't sound very grateful," she tells me skeptically.

I laugh to myself. What can I say? She was totally right! I wasn't grateful... but I was trying to be nice! And, I really didn't expect to be called out by her.

Notice: Hence forth, Jellybean will be known as Popsicle or The Baby Formally Known as Jellybean. The problem trying to come on with a nickname for a baby is not know what is going to stick. Jellybean has not been referred to as such in forever! Popsicle, well, we have been calling her Popsicle for several months. It is such a great nickname, who wouldn't want to be called Popsicle? Now I have to update my site. Ugh.

It was a beautiful day.. like two weeks ago when I decided to take these pictures. Beautiful days have been few and far between this year.

This photo a picture is of T. Dum's garden. This particular flower grew to be over 6' tall. I look how the sun is lighting it from behind.

A spidar went mad the night before and cobwebs were everywhere that day. There were stings of cobwebs that went from the deck to the garden and out to the cars.

Last night, around 7:30, T. Dum announces that he has to get early the next morning. "I should head to bed. Tomorrow is a really busy day. I have to get up early and work late." Off to bed he tromps.

T. Dum works for an Internet provider. It is not uncommon that he needs to work in the middle of the night. Anytime he needs to launch new sites, test new software, reconfigure sites, etc. it is done late. If something should go wrong during testing, they want to effect the least number of users. There are just less people surfing the Internet at 2:00 AM. For him to go to bed at 7:30 is not too unusual and I thought nothing of it.

This morning however, I woke up with the kids and T. Dum was still in bed. I got the kids and myself ready for the day. I walked the kids to my mom's house, dropped them off, and walked back to the house. Back home I went to gather my lunch and laptop for work. As I was heading out the door for the day, T. Dum was sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and reading his e-mail. Some early morning! I went to bed a good two half hours after him, got up earlier and left the house first.

Currently, it is 7:00 PM the next day. I worked today, met The Moo Girl at the bus stop, went to the grocery store, cooked dinner, fed and put Jellybean to bed and am now typing this blog entry. When I am finished, I am going to read with The Moo Girl and then work from the house. Where is T. Dum? Back in bed to sleep! Some late night! Some long day! What time did he walk in the door? Ohhhh, 5:45 PM. Rough work week?! I would trade in a second.

To be fair, he is getting up at 1:00 am to work. But, I don't need to mention that in my blog, do I?

I received this e-mail from a friend earlier today. As a quick background, she has been sick and in some pain for the last little bit. Although I really feel bad for all that she has been through, this e-mail had me in stitches:

"So I've been on pain killers, and since last week, it's become apparent to me that I've been on eBay and other online marketplaces at night, then forgetting ALL about it like it was a dream. How do I know this? I've started getting little packages from people I don't know that are full of things that nobody would even THINK to send me, but I'd clearly order for myself. Example: last week I received an envelope full of bubble wrap and a little baggie wrapped up inside. In the baggie were somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 little TINY starfish skeletons. Each about the size of a nickel. Motherload? Perhaps to a VERY inebriated version of ME, but I can't think of anyone else who would even begin to look for something like that. Not even a me when I'm NOT on pain killers.

There were two other packages in my mail box today. One was an old beat-up box with some Ally McBeal DVDs (I don't think they're legal-the labels written with Sharpie pen were my first clue), and the other was the second season of Family Ties.

I need to figure out a system where my computer is not accessible to me when I'm all goofy on drugs."

Starfish skeletons and season two of Family Ties, can you imagine? It kind of sounds like fun to me. Other than the fact that she probably had to pay for such treasures (and they really are not worth the postage it cost to mail), it sounds like fun: packages in the mail with unexpected contents. I hope that someday she receives something really, really great in the mail that she would have no idea what to do with it... Something like a sock monkey army.