To a Squirrel

Dear Psycho Squirrel,

It's been a fun year with you. I still remember seeing you last spring when you were so scrawny, starving and stupid that you would try to run through the glass door. Poor squirrel. It was amusing finding out that you sleep every night on the fence and don't EVER leave our yard - except to get peanuts from somewhere to put in my flowerpots. I love it when you hide behind the lilac bushes until I go inside and you resume your post by the sliding glass door. It's been fun watching you chase off all other squirrells. I see you've gotten fat off all the heirloom seeds I tried to plant, the planters they were planted in, the snacks my kids left outside and the birdseed. So fat, I'm thinking you'll be hybernating soon. Sleep with one eye open :)

Your friend,
Susie

Practice Makes Perfect?

...or perfect getting practice? ;)

"Squishy's Bed"

Hank commandeered my wheeling basket and set it up perfectly for baby for when she gets here. She's uber-possessive. She gave me a LONG talking to about not putting things in it. So for 6 months, no wheeling basket for me. But when baby is born:

"Squishy is gonna ride in it and she's gonna say "WAH WAH!" and we'll tell her "SHHHHHHHHH!" like *that.* And I'm gonna share my teeving ring wiff her. And she won't be able to walk anywhere because she's a baby and she's gonna say "WAHHHH!""

Clark has his old crib mattress set up next to his bed in his room and is lobbying for Squishy to sleep there. My only drawback would be that he loves taking the sheets off the mattress and leaning it up against his bed. It really does make a fantastic slide/car ramp/tent. I think if Squishy slept in the 'tent' though, her nick-name might become a wee bit too literal.

An Immature Post

So... I picked up a miniature Stein (German beer mug with a lid...) just the size of one of Hank's tea cups. It goes everywhere with her! It's kind of her 'to-go' tea cup. And boy, does she make a tasty pretend "red tea" to put in it!!
My dad very nonchalontly asked her for a sip of her beer, and I told Ian about it and it gave us a giggle. (Think before you speak, Susie!)
Ian took it and ran with it. (Think before you speak, Ian!)
...Around Clark. Who, being the Daddy-adoring, impressionable, everything SHOUTING little all-boy he is, has copied it even more loudly and more abnoxiously all day.

Word of the day: BEER!
Maturity level at my house: all time low.

What's worse is, being the lovely little lady Hank is, she now wants nothing to do with her beloved Stein. I miss all those sips of pretend tea she'd run by as a pick-me-up and I miss watching her chubby little two-year-old legs run to "refill" it.
How's a Mama to fix this!? Perhaps I will go make some real red tea for her to fill it with?

Clark has thankfully lost all interest in talking about beer since he just found a dead bumble bee and will be busy telling me all about it's glorious dead-ness for the next hour or so. I like this part of having a little boy. Dead bugs ARE pretty interesting. Unless you happen to be the one that squashed it into it's current gooey state of death and are planning on coming inside with bug guts on your shoes. Then it's back to just being mommy of a little boy! ...who says "DEAD!" about as loudly as he does "BEER!" Maybe instead of writing a blog, I should go write a nice little note to our neighbors about how much I appreciate them still being nice to us in the front yard after having to listen to us in the back yard!

Ian's Baby

For anyone who may have missed it, we're expecting again. And made a baby in August. Again. So we're due in May... again. This time it's May 1st though, so even though I've never rooted for my babies to go all the way to their due date, here's to hoping we hold out till then. (toasts with water for hydration purposes.) That way I can just buy them all one present to share and celebrate all their birthdays together. Won't they just love that? :)

Well... I was kind of worried about how Ian would take it. I mean, we. were. done. Very happily done. Two was perfect! And we've both been very vocal about that.

He took it like a champ! He was thrilled! He adores his baby and immediately told the kids all about it, named it, and grounded it to it's womb.

And then I found out why he found the little thing so endearing. It gives him an excuse to get back to his all time favorite joking material: Pregnant me. He has it down to an art form now. I am going to need psychiatric help by the time we're done with this one.

My favorite Ian/baby moments so far:

>He has given me his favorite Broncos cup to hydrate from. ...so his child will be a fan. And regularly goes and fills it. And has already had a long talk with baby about Broncos: good. Raiders, Chiefs and Chargers: bad. Cry when you see their logos. Get gassy if that's what you have to do to smile when you see the Broncos.

>He has stopped calling me Susie and is sticking to some derivitive of 'fatso.' and has told me he can't carry me anymore because I'm massive. Snatched a donut and told me I shouldn't eat it in my condition... "fat." I still weigh 110. There is coming a day this will NOT be funny.

>He will say something to the effect of "I just wanna hug/say hi to my baby." If I lead with the belly, he says "Not you... Your mother!" If I smile and get all sweet, he says "eww! I don't want to talk to you! Hi Kiddo!"

>I melt when he walks in the door and says "Hi babes," sticks his hand on my tummy and gives me a smooch. Of course, I'm not a big fan of him going "why look at that! You're showing already!" At least he laughs afterwards when I smack him and insist I'm not, so I think he's joking. Good grief, I hope he's joking!!!

>Wanting a big, fat, muscley baby, he is pretty insistent that I wean from caffeine. But I had a little headache and really needed a cup this morning, so he volunteered to make it for me. I put one drop of cream in and my whole beloved cup-o-joe turned white. hmm. Coffee Sabateur!

>I asked if he was really happy and really okay with it, and he spent the entire day text messaging me all the ways he was okay with it. Like "I was really going to be bummed when you weren't changing diapers every time I called. I'm so happy I can count on that happening for a couple more years!," "hey! You still have a great big bag of fat-clothes for goodwill that will fit you again really soon!" and "so... does this mean you'll start cooking again?"

Yep! I'll start cooking again. This Tuesday, I'm going to tell him I'm making him his very favorite homemade pepperoni pizza with his favorite crust. And I will. But I will put exactly ONE pepperoni on it and tell him thanks for the "coffee!"

Never a Dull Moment With Brenda

A couple weeks ago my gaggle of geese and I got to go up to the Air Force Academy with my parents and youngest siblings and go see all the retired airplanes that have so much in common with my Dad. It was mighty fun! But then we drove down to see the chapel and learned what fun REALLY is!

My dear sweet sister, Bren: "What's that big round building next to it?"
Mom: "That's the observatory!"
Bren: "OH! So that's where they like... watch and MAKE SURE you got married!"

Fireworks

Remember way back when we were all little and could lay around memorial park and watch the fireworks falling and get little embers falling on your face and there was no band?! You could smell the gunpowder and hear the fireworks crackling and all the little sighs of people saying their "oohs" and "ahhs." I used to lay there and think how super romantic to cuddle up with my darling someday and watch the fireworks go off. It was so other-worldly and beautiful.

And then all of the sudden one year, the Soussa marches started and instead of waiting in breathless anticipation for the next firework and being suprised and charmed, they started going off exactly when the cymbals did and in strict accordance to 4/4 time.

Sometimes the prettiest music is just around you. Not something contrived and superimposed upon your ears as loudly and brashly and oompa-loompa-y as possible. If you want music during fireworks, really, wouldn't it be someone softly singing your favorite song in your ear after the last one goes off and you've had a few moments of silently just enjoying being exactly where you are.

I know a LOT of people really like the band. I'm not asking to go back. It just kind of ruined for me. So I'll let you all snuggle under the colorful burning falling stars and make your wishes and dream your dreams. ...if you can think through all the noise.

And while things change and I don't want to go watch them near the band, I'm not bitter. My house, in all its beautiful perfect-for-me-ness overlooks the entire mountain range and I'll get to see all the displays from it. And instead of silently dreaming of the future, I'll stand there with it holding my hand and resting it's head on my shoulder and squealing about how pretty it all is and then come in and hum their favorite songs into their perfect little ears and lay their dozy-headed little selves into bed and sit outside their doors listening to my favorite post fire-work silences ever. Them SLEEPING.

Don't Worry. Be Baja.

Ian and I sat down to lunch today to enjoy my favorite breakfast... Baja salsa. (www.bajasalsa.com)
The following conversation ensued:

Ian: "are you going to eat that whole thing today?!"
Me: "I guess! I didn't mean to. I just kind of felt led.
Oh that reminds me! We should go to the baja salsa store and see if we can't get it in gallons!"
Ian: "are you sure you'd want to deal with a whole gallon of it?"
Me: "um.... yep."
Ian: "Yeah, but still, where would put it?"
Me: (motions to belly) "...duh."

If any of you want to know what to get me for my upcoming day-of-my-birth, consider this a monsterous hint.

Silent Screams

Hank and I were born with an affinity for non-verbal communication. That kid and I can communicate, negotiate, and completely convey pretty much everything we need to without a single word. (don't take this to mean we're not loud. We get scolded for our rambunctious onomatopoeia on a daily basis)

Clark and Ian were both born with an affinity for a wee bit o' drama. And are both rather loud and temPESTuous. But Clark really wants to get in on this whole non-verbal thing.

So this morning when I told him to go pee so we could have some breakfast, he silently went through his usually noisy routine and thrashed his legs about, pretended his leg was falling asleep, pretended his neck was hurting, pretended he couldn't walk and staggered like a drunken sailor the whole way to the bathroom.

I would have furrowed my eyebrows and shaken my head in the same way that usually means discipline is imminent unless the behaviour quickly stops, but if I had moved my hand from my mouth or looked back in that direction, I would have burst out silently laughing and non-verbally condoned the behaviour.

Atilla the... Huh?

Someday, I promise I'll post something about the kids again.

In the meantime... meet the newest...

"Atilla the...huh?"

I think it's pretty obvious who I patterned him after.

I mean... just check out those muscles!

Super Awesome Crochet Action Figure

So... you all know Sam? The awesome? 'Scuse me... THE awesome?

Well.... once upon a time, this conversation ensued:

Susie: I was wondering... Are there shirts out there that intentionally make the sleeves smaller so your muscles look bigger? Do you have mom take them in? Do you buy your shirts small or... are your muscles actually so big that your poor sleeves just pray they make it through the evening?

Sam: its actually a secret technique taught to me by an ancient head hunter named muga muga, who instructed me in the ways of shrinking heads, i then took that knowledge and used it in the discipline of shrinking sleeves. after many minutes spent mastering this art i have finally been able to make a extra medium shirt fit like a extra small in the arms. yea for cannibal head hunters!

His response was so brilliant that I couldn't stop laughing for days... weeks? how long has it been now. I'm still laughing.

So... I had to make a Muga muga.

He is rather vain about his muscles. He's even called them "the ladies" and given one a kiss.


Modesty being a good thing, his beloved "Grand-muga" (my own dear mother) decided to make him a shirt. ....size extra medium of course.
And since he was an individual lacking anything resembling "couth," she invited him to tea.


It was pretty nice. Man. But man. You know he wouldn't do it for anyone but you man.


Later he impressed us all with a demonstration of his awesome mucles. And curled a few dolls who were having the tea party with us. ...calling them his 'dumbells.' So much for giving him any social graces.


One can only take so much tea, man. So he went off to watch some MMA.


What an awesome Grandmuga to get his personality so much as to make him such an awesome muscle shirt, man!

Should I be a little afraid that he is Hank's absolute favorite doll she's ever seen? Just seeing the pictures today made her start shouting, pointing and screaching MUGA MUGA MUGA!
Can't really blame her. The second I saw Ian's gigantic muscles, I couldn't think of anything else, man.