Paul McCartney's Birthday

Today's my birthday.
Today is also Paul McCartney's birthday.
Sweet!

Want to know what else is sweet?

Clark.
Tonight we were reading "Love You Forever,"
(you know... Love you forever, Like you for always, As long as I'm living...?)
and right at the end, where the Mama gets all old and sick, Clark jumped up and half whispered, half spit in my ear (my heart does still melt even if it entails wet willies) "don't read it when you get to the song!"
So I didn't.
And he threw his arms around me and not-too-gently rocked me back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while he rocked me, he said:
"I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living, my Mama you'll be."
And then my cheek met the nicest biggest goofiest Clark-smooch.

Yep.
CUTEST SON EVER.

BEST BIRTHDAY EVER.

A Tantrum, from Megan

"Forget-to-feed-me-nots"

From me: We had another baby. Her name is Megan. She just turned one year old. She's very very sweet. But this week she started throwing tantrums. Yay.

From Megan:

Mom just doesn't get me. She pulled out a piece of licorice and I saw it, so I hurled myself to the floor and started screaming to let her know I could be appeased with it. Instead of inserting licorice and a little part of her finger into my bitey chompers, she picked me up, gave me a very stupid-looking one-eyebrow-up kind of a look and said "obviously none for you." Mean Mama.

Then she started filling me a bath which I was very excited about so I crawled towards the bathroom I'm never allowed to crawl in (sometimes my siblings sprinkle when they tinkle and they aren't always neat and don't always wipe the seat), and mom picked me up and walked toward the non-bath. I tried to hurl myself out of her arms hoping I would freefall sideways across the house and into that delightful water, magically naked, having flailed all my clothing off in the wiggling to get down phase, but rather than struggle to hold me in my happy floppy screaming display of how much I adore baths, she set me in my "play" pen and said something to the effect of "don't hurt yourself" and patted me on the top of my angry little head.

Someone needs to teach her that instead of ignoring tantrums, she should...

...hello?...

....hello???....

....Is anyone reading!?!?

I sure smell good after that bath. Ends up it was for me! Go figure she wanted to test and adjust the water first and not burn my flawlessly gorgeous baby skin. And go figure she'd want to get washcloths and towels before plunking me in so I wouldn't spend a single moment without someone to drench as I splashed myself silly. I liked my Mumsie so much I gave her a big hug when she took me out. She had a nice soggy me-print on her shirt. She looked more ridiculous than she usually does when she's praying noone comes to the door until she gets a chance to pee and pull the cheerios out of her hair.

I spent the rest of the night flopping myself in the direction of my once filled, now drained bath and screaming about wanting to have another bath so I hope she gets the point we should do this more than once or twice a week.

SHE"S PUTTING ME IN MY CRIB FOR BED! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Send help. This is my message in a bottle. Seriously. I've been marooned in my crib. 

What Our Neighbors Heard This Morning

This was my idea of being a good helpmeet this morning. Lucky Ian :) Pat him on the back if you see him. We all have our own races to run. His is all uphill.

S: No really! This will work and it will only take a couple minutes!! (Dragging soggy wet-head just-out-of-the-shower Ian outside) See look! I already scraped your car off!!

I: This will not work. I have to leave soon. Seriously? Are you Serious?

S: Just try. please? Okay.... Ready? PUSH!!!!!

I: IT IS NOT MOVING.

S: oops. Brake is up. hang on. How do you take it out of park?

I: are you kidding me?

S: yeah :) just kidding. I knew that. I already put it in drive. PUSH!!!!

I: DRIVE?! you're supposed to put it in neutral!!

S: (slides in and puts it in neutral.) SORRRY!!! :) PUSH!! YAY IT MOOOOOVED!!!!

You see... Ian's car battery dies in cold weather and we accidentally left it outside.
So, we kept pushing his car, in 1-degree weather, forward, inch by inch, moving only slightly closer to our goal of moving it out of our driveway, angling it around, getting it back into the garage, and aiming a space heater at it's nose so by the time Ian went to work, maybe it would be warm enough to start! BRILLIANT!

...there is a big bump - an uphill bump - right where our driveway hits the road. We hit that.

I abandoned my post pushing next to the wheel and we both started pushing from behind. (believe me. it wasn't going ANYwhere faster than we could get to it and it was all uphill to the middle of our circle. Comforting, right?)

It took us a long time, but "we" basically lifted it over the bump. And as "we" kept moving it past the point where we would maybe hit our neighbor's mailbox, I shouted encouraging things to Ian, like "wooo muscles!" "We're doing it!!!" and "YOU. ARE. MY. TEBOW!!!!"

I jumped in and Ian started pushing me back toward the garage and BOOM. I slammed on the brakes. Surprise!! :)

S: you're gonna have to sit inside and let me push. There's no power steering and I can't get the wheel to budge."

I: really?

S: yah. I tried.

I: so... you're gonna push the car? because you can't turn the steering wheel. really Susie?? REALLY?

S: I gave birth. I've got pushing. (besides... it was downhill now!!)

So I start pushing and it's going well, but like the cotton-headed ninny muggins I am, I thought "too fast too fast!!" and stopped to run around and see if he was going to hit anything in the garage.

Well... you know how it was going to be downhill? yeah? well... it's only downhill until the middle of our driveway. Which is a big dip between the little uphill out to the circle and the bigger uphill and bump into our garage. Oh the things you don't notice when you aren't your car's engine, right?
So... momentum gone. But at least we're lined up right in front of the garage now.
So I started my car and went to push him with that.

s: wait wait... this isn't going to make my airbag go off will it?????

I: I don't know... are you planning to smash into me or drive up slowly?

S: how close am i?

I: about a foot.

S: how close am i?

I: about 11 inches.

S: how close am I?

I: WHOA!!!

S: ee. did I hit you?

I: no. keep comin....

I eventually got there and pushed him up the hill but we weren't lined up exactly and I thought I'd line up better just to be on the safeside and backed up. Without telling Ian who is now rolling down the hill-we-just-discovered going "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!" while I'm shouting "OH MY GOODNESS DON"T HIT ME... the AIRBAG WILL GO OFF!!"

So we line it up again. "How close am I... are we there yet... are we there yet...." all over again. And this time we get it in the garage. And we go in, find the space heater and I unwrap it's nice long cord because I'm just trying to be helpful. So he picks it up and says... "thanks hon. I sure hope I don't tangle this on the way out there where I could have just unwrapped it..." and starts it up. We close the garage door and he starts getting ready for work.

I: that was a LOT of work. My hair was wet. I just caught pnemonia.

S: you'll forgive me when you go to work and your car starts.

I: not if I die of pnemonia.

S: oh dear! you have to leave in about 5 minutes.

I: glad my car will be warm.

S: well... if it's not by the time you go, it will be by the time I take clark to school. Take the van and leave me the carseat.

I: I still haven't packed a lunch... or had breakfast!!

S: I'll bring you some on my way back from dropping Clark off.


How on earth he made it to work on time, I'll never know. His car still won't start. I did get food ready for him. I just can't get it there. I tell you what, I sure wouldn't want to single handedly push a car up a hill first thing in the morning with wet hair on an empty stomach with no hope of food in sight. I hope he orders a Philly or something.

My Hero!

Yeah so... spiders. I don't like them crawling directly on me or my babies, but I am not afraid of or grossed out by them. If I see one I don't recognize, I capture it, look it up online so in the future I'll know if it's friendly or not and then flush it. If I see one I already know is friendly, it has a pretty decent chance of life depending on my mood.

Well... I was having a friendly sort of afternoon and saw a great big fluffy happy happy spider taking a little walk across our wall. I went over, took a good look, told him to be on his way and told the kids "Okay... let him be, but he can live," thinking they would enjoy watching him crawl around the wall for awhile. I mean... It's not like they can watch Thomas the Train *all* day.
But that does not capture the imagination of a BOY. Nope. His response was "or... we can SQUASH IT!" So I consented and he ran, cut me off and tumbled into the dining room ahead of me shouting "I will! I will!! Can I kill it Mom! I get to squash it! Please can *I* kill it!? I know how! I know how!!!" grabbed a napkin and stood there quivering in anticipation of me allowing him to assert himself as a man and kill the spider.

Upon receiving my "yes, yo...(u may)" he was off. I've never seen a kid run SO fast!... until he tripped over the leg of a chair. I've never seen a kid fly so far. Or land so hard. On tile. He screamed, and being Clark, he screamed at me "I DIDN'T WANT THAT CHAIR THERE!" But the splat he made was enough that even with the scathing references to my horrible chair to running toward spider space planning, I went rushing to his side and scooped him up to comfort him. I sat there rocking him for a minute and while he was screaming "oh! It's still hurting! It's STILL HURTING!" I got a huge scary scenario in my mind of his leg being broken and having to throw everybody into the car and go to the ER.

Apparently, he had plenty going through his head too. He bolted up mid-scream-sentence, stood and wobbled for a second on the hurty leg and said "I gotta get the spider before he goes away! Wanna see how I squash him!?"

He squashed him. He showed me how one of spidy's legs even came off! He flushed him. And then he took me over and showed me how he "even didn't get any spider guts on the wall! So can I kill *all* the spiders, mom?!!!" Who needs Tylenol when you have a spider in need of death, eh? :)

And, I have to say, his spider killing skills are impressive! I didn't know shining armour came in his size... but there you have it! My cute little knight is ready to gallop off and rescue any spider-frightened damsels in distress. Just move your chairs before he gets there, please.

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.

Why?

I wouldn't change a single thing about her and she is designed perfectly to specifications and lovingly created. So... I'm not questioning the design or anything.

But every once in awhile, I do kind of wonder why oh WHY is Hank's arm just long enough to reach out and grab my nose while nursing? No matter how I try to move my head away, that little grabbin' Han is just right there.
I also question why the baby has such strength that once she has my nose, I can't wrench it from her grasp. And while we're asking questions... why does she think it's so ridiculously funny!?

Not among my questions: "am I making enough milk?" They say you can tell by looking at the corners of a baby's mouth to see if she is getting anything. With Han, you just make her laugh and see if any comes out her nose.

Hannah the Sunday School Teacher

Oh that Hank! She is so very sweet-spirited and inclusive. She's such a sweet little hostess, friend, helper and teacher.

Today she was sitting, reading her book out loud and Clark was concerned because she wasn't reading it right. So without getting her little feelings hurt or anything, in her most Sunday School teacher-ish way, she turned the book around and showed me the chair in the picture.

"See?"

"See "Lahkie?"

"hmm... something's not quite right since I read to you guys."

"See? You messed it all up."


"Class is over. =)"

Lost In Translation

Dear Daddy,

I know I'm only 1 year old so I don't communicate everything I want perfectly yet. I feel like we had a little issue at post nap snack today that I wanted to clear up. When I say "all done," it means I am all done sitting at my high chair, not nescessary that I am all done eating. I am perfectly happy to eat any food someone may offer me or drop on the floor. That being said, in the future, would you mind waiting until you set me free to consider my leftovers fair game? I enjoyed watching you eat and all... but I prefer to watch from the floor.

Thanks for your kind consideration :)

Hank

Hey Everybody, Come See How Good I Look...

Meet my latest little work :) I am pretty proud of her since she is completely my own design. She even has fat rolls on her little legs and I think you'd be hard pressed to find a more realistic crochet doll :) She sucks her own thumb, holds hands with other dolls like her, and grabs anything metal. Her favorite toy is jingle bells and this marvelous tin tea set that my mom has. She's just like Hank though... She likes to grab things from people and everything she grabs, she puts directly into her mouth. And like my little baby Clark, this crazy baby bites the spoon whenever you try to feed her and you have to fight with her to make her let go! The 1st one I made has been a favorite of every little mommy who has played with her (even Clark gives her a massive vote of approval!), so I can't wait to send this baby off to her very own mommy!

The little girl I made her for has lots of pretty blonde hair. I wish I could have found blue eyes to match hers.

You can almost see the fat rolls on the back of her knees. Note the belly button and the cowlick on top of her head. I am very pleased with her little feet, so notice them too....

and the sideswept bangs =)

Okay, I'm done tooting my own horn. :) Isn't she a doll?? ;p

Think Pink

Hank was very exuberantly loquacious this afternoon because the back of her little kitchen is pink. I was amazed that she recognized it at her tender young age. I wasn't amazed to know she likes pink. She was asking for pink chuckies before she was ever born.
I have redesigned the blog in her cute little honor. It matches the blanket and bib her ever-loving Grandma made for her. (Love that ever-lovin' Grandma!) What do you think? Doesn't it just scream Hannah?

What a Nice Niece!

Ever have one of those days where you just miss your niece? Yeah... I have them a lot. I got to spend the whole day with her yesterday!!

So today was brutal. Knowing all that cuteness was being hogged by her mommy. Selfish sister. Naughty chess-winning sister. Uber-cute-baby-having sister. If only I were better at scooping up the camera instead of the niece, you all could see how stunningly cute she is.

It must be brutal for you. Knowing all that cuteness is out there, but it's being hogged by me. Selfish Susie. Naughty chess-losing Susie. Uber-non-picture-taking Susie. If Melanie just weren't so distractingly cute, maybe I'd remember cameras exist.

It must be brutal for her. Being so cute and hogging it all to herself. Selfish sweety. Chess-piece-slobbering on bugface. Darling goldfish-drooling baby. Uber-huge-stride-taking-wobble-walking duckie. If only you weren't so absurdly cute maybe I would be getting something done instead of blogging about you.

COME BACK HERE YOU MELANIE!