Archive | September, 2012

I picked a really BAD time to stop drinking wine!

24 Sep

A few weeks ago, I decided to stop drinking wine in an effort to become healthier, both physically and spiritually. I have awful timing! I didn’t realize then, that in a few weeks, we would be going to Hawaii for my sister in laws wedding.

Before you say,”Ah, Hawaii!!! How lucky is she,” let me explain… WE ARE TAKING THE BABIES AND THE TEENAGERS. Yea, not so envious of me now are you?

On Thursday morning, we are loading up 2-10 month olds, 2 teenagers, 2 car seats, the big double stroller, several suit cases, and along with a few hundred innocent by-standers, boarding a non-stop flight to Hawaii.

As I sit here and write this, I feel the anxiety welling up in my inner most being. I feel my heart beating a bit faster and my palms are getting sweaty. WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? This is playing over and over in my head like a broken record. Haley on a plane for 5 hours… are you kidding me? I really wish I was. But the plane ride is only the beginning.

Yesterday, I started to write down all the things that were coming to mind regarding this “trip.” I started a list of all the things I need to pack and all the things we need to buy once we land. (ie, diapers, baby food, cereal… Valium… ok, not the Valium, that will be in my purse ;)) Then I realized I had forgotten about some very important things. Like, where are the babies going to sleep? What are we going to do about nap time since they are on a tight schedule? How are we going to push that clunky, big, double stroller through the sand and on the grass? Does our hotel room have a microwave and fridge? Is there a separate sink in the room aside from the one in bathroom? The more I thought about all this, the more the stressed I became, and then the real question dawned on me… HOW AM I GOING TO DO THIS WITHOUT WINE?

I think we know the answer, I AM NOT!🙂

Oh yes, this trip is going to be very memorable. Between the morning at the spa, the bridal shower, grooms luncheon, nap times, diaper changes, teenager wanting to go to the beach to look at cute boys, rehearsal dinner, making bottles, dealing with the heat, getting babies ready for the wedding, getting MYSELF ready for the wedding, the actual wedding itself, pushing the stroller everywhere, loading and unloading car seats, making sure the diaper bag is always loaded, and the luau… I would say that deserves a glass of Chardonnay or 12. (Oh and this is just Friday and Saturday)

So, now that I am all worked up and even more worried than I was 10 minutes ago, when I sat down to write this comical post, I will step away from the computer and go lock myself in the closet.

But in all seriousness, please know that there WILL be some very entertaining blogging coming your way, as I fully intended on documenting our “Traveling with Twins” adventure. I will be sure to let you know all the Do’s and Don’ts we are going to learn over the next few days… and yes, I will be writing with wine in hand 🙂 (just kidding)

Many Blessings~ Summer

I’m Not Waving; I’m Drowning

20 Sep

“I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.”

These are the words of a British Poet named Stevie Smith. Her most famous poem lent its title to a collection she published in 1957, simply tilted “Not Waving but Drowning.”

Her brief, twelve-line poem pictures a dying man thrashing about in the surf, gesturing wildly, yet unable to attract the help of people passing by on the shore. The passersby see him, but they think he is waving. Some walk on, and some even wave back… leaving him to drown.

Have you ever been there in your life? I sure have and more than once. I recall a very specific time where my arms were flailing all around and people would nod and wave because that is what they thought they saw me doing, little did they know, I was not waving; I was drowning and about to go completely under.

The funny thing is that a wave does not always mean that someone is saying,”Hello” sometimes it means they are saying,”Help.”This was my reality when my entire world was crumbling right before my eyes. All the things that I thought had value or gave me value, had disappeared and I was left with a brokenness that made every part of my being ache.

I don’t think people knew how bad off I was. I think that I had become so good at wearing “masks” to cover the “real” me, that when I wanted someone to see my wave as a cry for help, they saw a hello.

But, God saw me. He saw me struggling to keep my head above the water. He saw the turmoil in the very pit of my soul. He saw the pain, emptiness and very deep-rooted wounds that had created such brokenness.

In this book, the author talks about a gift that her son gave her one year for her birthday. He saw an advertisement in a magazine for a stepping stone kit. In the magazine they showed a picture of the finished product and it was beautiful. The boy was very disappointed when the kit arrived and inside was, as he described, “A box of broken things.” His father had to explain to him that he would use the pieces to create his own pattern and make a unique, one-of-a-kind gift for his mom. Once he understood this, he went to work, and she said that stepping stone was perfect. All the pieces were arranged in the very order he had placed them, and what she loved most was that he had scribbled in the concrete, “I love you, Mom” with his finger. That special stepping stone is in her back yard and every morning when she goes outside to drink her coffee, she sees that stone… that gift, that means so much to her, but was once just “a box of broken things.”

I believe that God sees our brokenness… but also sees the final product, what only HE can make from that it. When we come to him in pieces, lost and needing to be “repaired,” He gets to work. He begins to strategically place all the pieces of our brokenness and make something that becomes a unique, one-of-a-kind masterpiece.

I love Isaiah 43:19, which says:

See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.

So many times we feel like we are going to drown but that is because we are too busy looking behind us, and not ahead. We let our past become the focus of our future. You cannot drive a car if you are looking in the rearview mirror. You have to look through the windshield, and I truly believe there is a reason the windshield is MUCH bigger than the rearview mirror. That mirror has been strategically placed over the windshield so our eyes can catch a glance of what is behind us, before we return our gaze on what is ahead of us.

I am so thankful for the redemption I found in the cross. Without the cross, and what Jesus did on it, I am a HOT MESS. I believe with all that I am, God is asking us to leave everything behind, and follow Him, because he has something brand-new in store of each of us, just as he promised in Isaiah. He knows if we are waving “Hello” or “Help.”

So in closing, I pray that if look at the state of your life right now as “a box of broken things,” that you will make a decision to not let it stay that way. I am so glad that I finally gave up and surrendered everything to the Lord. I allowed Him to grab my hand, and drag me to the shore.

I am looking forward to Chapter 2… The title alone already has me excited and I pray that each of these entries will encourage you, just as they are me!

So, until tomorrow… Many Blessings~ Summer

God loves broken people (and those who pretend they’re not)

19 Sep

Yesterday was the kick off for the fall session of “Women of Faith,”  which is a women’s Bible study group at my church.

Last week, after not really being sure which study I wanted to do, I ended up choosing,“God loves broken people. (And those who pretend they’re not.) I think it was the title that caught my attention, but it was the description of the book and study that kept it.

If there is one word I use to describe my past, it is BROKEN.

Many of you reading this know my story, but for those of you who don’t, let me just say that is by God’s grace and mercy that I am here today.

As I was outside this morning, sipping on my extra strong coffee, and reading through chapter 1 of this book, I decided that I would blog as I go through this study. In the first chapter alone, I think I had 5 “Ahh haaa” moments. I can already tell that this book, is exactly what I need and I know God is going to continue to restore this once very broken life.

So, later this evening, when the babies go down for the count, I will begin writing about this journey I am on. I will go chapter by chapter and pray that God uses it to help you, no matter where you are in life, or how “unbroken” you think you are! 😉

Eeekkk, okay, I am excited. Now, time to get in “mommy” mode and feed the girls lunch!

Until tonight, have a great day!!!

Many Blessings~ Summer

What you NEVER say or ask a mom of multiples (or ANY mom for that matter)

18 Sep

This is a real conversation that took place at Costco today:

Lady: Ahhh, are they twins?

Me: Yes.

Lady: Both girls? (Hints the reason they are wearing dresses and giant bows in their hair)

Me: Yes.

Lady: Wow, they don’t look-alike! (Now, she wants to become observant”

Me: No, they don’t.

Lady: Do they have the same father? (Insert crickets here)

Me: Okay, have a nice day.

And with that, her Q&A session was over.

I know that I always joke around about some of the questions, comments and advise I have been given over the last 13 years, but what I am about to write here is by no means a joke. In fact, if you are one of the people who feels that it is your God-given duty to stop every pregnant woman or mom pushing a stroller and ask her questions, let me make this VERY clear… IT IS NOT. In fact, just as soon as you are out of her sight… She is cursing the fact that she ever met you and your barrage of questions. Trust me, I do it almost every time I take the twins out in public!

So, I am here to help you. Yes, that is right. I am here to ENSURE that you are never cursed but rather praised by moms everywhere. To do this, I have created a little “guide” of things you are to NEVER ask another mom, expecting mom, woman or even a turtle. But if you are like my mother, and you always feel compelled to talk, I have added what you SHOULD SAY. (Please note, all the questions and comments I am writing about, have been asked or has been told to me over the last 13 years. And because I have two sets of twins, most of these are geared toward multiples.)

DISCLAIMER: I personally feel that you should simply smile and keep on walking anytime you see a random stranger!!! Remember “Stranger Danger?” (just saying’)

Ok, here we go.

Never EVER under ANY circumstances ask following:

* When are you do? I mean really why do you care? Unless you are planing on buying her a gift or bringing her dinner after she delivers her bundle of joy… it is not your concern. And what if she is not pregnant? Ouch. Keep walking.

* Did you have them vaginally? This one is always a favorite, because every unnecessary question requires an unnecessary and uncomfortable answer. No, I gave birth through my BUTT.

* How long were you in labor? Because this is usually followed by a story about your labor experience… don’t go there. Most moms (especially with multiples) dread going out… have VERY limited time… and have no idea who you are, so your labor story is pointless on every level.

*Are you nursing? Only if you are willing to help out and lend an extra boob should you ask this one. If not, then IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!!

* Did you conceive naturally or have “help?” Unless she is “Mary” something tells me she had help one way or another, so save yourself from getting the “She deserves the STUPID card”… and never ask this one please!

*Were you trying to get pregnant or was this a surprise? Again, why would anyone care? How is knowing this going to make you a better person after you get the answer? EXACTLY.

* (When there are two) Are they twins? Okay, if they look like they might be the same age… are dressed alike… or have shirts on that say, “Thing 1” and Thing 2” common sense is going to tell you, YES they are probably twins. (Most fraternal twins do not look-alike. So again, use your brain and just observe the above noted hints, this might help you conclude, yea, they shared a womb, but look different.)

* Do you have a boy and a girl? Or if there is just one… is it a boy or a girl? USE YOUR EYES! Here are some helpful ways to determine the sex of the child… If they have earrings… probably a girl. If they have a bow in their hair, or in my kid’s case, glued to their head… probably a girl. If they are wearing a shirt that says, “Daddy’s little man” or “Mommy’s big boy”… probably a boy. If they are dressed in yellow, green, or grey and do not have earrings, a bow, or a lot of hair… don’t ask at all… that one is a hit or miss and I say when in doubt… just keep walking.

* Are they identical? If you were dumb enough to ask the question noted above, and the patient parent was kind enough to answer, and tells you one is a girl and one is a boy… use the process of elimination… they are not identical. If they are both the same sex, but look nothing alike, again… process of elimination. Just save yourself the shame.

* Do they have the same father? Ok, really? I don’t think I need to explain this one… but hey, if you are dumb enough to ask that; ask if they have the same mother too.

* Are you planning on having anymore children or are you finished? Again, unless this information is going to be life changing for you personally… why do you care? You are wasting time that poor mother can never get back.

BONUS TIPS: Here are just a few comments that most moms of twins really don’t care about or need to know!

* I am a twin. Good for you. You deserve a gold star.

* My mom’s grandma’s neighbors daughters friend… has twins. Well gosh darn, wish I could welcome her to the club.

* Oh you have “Double Trouble.” Thanks for pouring salt on an open wound!

* Your poor husband. Screw You!

*I bet you never sleep. You’re right I don’t. I am a vampire with insomnia.

* Wow, you look really good for just having a baby (or babies) I know many think this is complimentary, but it is not! In fact, it just a reminder that we have a “you just had a baby/babies” body.

* You are so blessed. Yes, any parent is, but when you are beyond sleep deprived, wearing the same outfit for three days in a row, smell like poop while draped in spit-up, and can’t really hear what you are mumbling because the echos of screaming are ringing in both ears… blessed is not the word we feel and really just want to punch you in the face 🙂

Now, what TO say:

NOTHING

How about you just open the door for her when you see her struggling to maneuver the big ol stroller with a screaming baby or babies inside and then kindly nod and KEEP WALKING. This my friend, (AND MY MOM,) will speak volumes. It will say that you actually DO know someone with twins or a baby, and they have given you the “guide-book” and you have followed it. It will say you respect her privacy and that you have your own life and don’t need to be a “Nosey Nancy.” So, unless a mom starts a conversation with you… be her hero, and just let her get in and out of wherever she is.

One day I will write a book and possibly take my act on the road. Until then, I will keep educating people (MY MOM) with comedy and charm. And for the over sensitive reading this… I am only kidding. I LOVE all your questions and comments, and your advise… is priceless. HA HA HA

Many Blessings~Summer

This is a picture taken today… and I think Reese’s expression sums up her’s and my frustration to the
Father comment. Love it!

Today’s “Unexpected” Twin Question

7 Sep

This morning I decided to be brave, and take the babies with me to Macy’s. About 20 minutes into our shopping venture, I began to wonder if I was brave or flat-out crazy. I think you know what the answer is. CRAZY! I was hoping that since it was around nap time, they would fall asleep in the stroller and I could get a bridal shower gift for my sister in-law’s upcoming wedding. Hoping was not enough. They were wide awake and very vocal the entire time. Oh well, lesson learned.

As a mom of twins, you learn very quickly that you are going to attract attention. You realize that complete strangers are going to ask you questions NO ONE should ever ask another STRANGER and you will be given ridiculous advise that you simply have to nod and grin at. It comes with the territory and I got over that about 13 years ago with the first set. But this morning, while pushing the big double stroller through the lingerie department, a sweet little lady stopped to look at the babies and asked me a question I don’t recall being asked before. “What is the best and worst part of having twins?” Huh? I just looked at her… This is one question I don’t have a rehearsed or generic answer for. I don’t recall exactly what I said, but her question got me thinking and here is what I have come up with.

The Best Part: My answer may not be what many of you are expecting, but hear me out. The best part of having two at once, is that I have learned I am capable of doing so much more than I ever gave myself credit for. I can carry two babies up a flight of stairs, while stashing one bottle in my bra and the other in my pants. I can feed two babies at the same time AND fold laundry. I can function on little to no sleep and somehow keep going. I can cry and laugh at the same time.  I have mastered the art of tuning out all crying and or screaming. I can see them, but hear NOTHING… It is great. I can deal with two very different personalities wanting my attention at the same exact moment. I can carry two car seats with the babies in them, and also do bicep curls at the same time. Oh yes, there is not many things I cannot multitask.  And although I am trying to bring some humor to this, I have realized that I limit the things I think I am able to do. But put me in the situation and somehow, someway, God gives me the strength and I am able to accomplish what I thought was impossible. Which leads to the very best part and that is receiving all the love and joy my daughters bring into my life on a daily basis.

Onto the second part of her question and I have decided to re-phase it from, “What is the worst part,” to “What is the hardest part?” (I don’t really like how, “Whats the worst part” sounds.) So for me, with 13 years experience under my belt, the hardest part about raising twins is learning to delegate time so that each child feels the same amount of love, respect, and attention. I am sure this is hard for any parent who has more than one child, but I think where it differs with twins is that they are never alone. From day one, they have to share. They share the womb ;)a bedroom room, toys, clothes, birthday’s, and of course, the time they get from mom and dad. Even though they don’t know any different, I find myself struggling with feelings of guilt and wanting to make sure they are never in competition of my love or time. Whether they be 13 years old or 9 months old, as a mom, that part of my heart never changes. There is only one of me, and now, four of them so all I can do is my very best to make sure that each one of them feels valued and loved for who they are.

So yes, being a mom with twins is not always easy but I would not trade it for the world. However, ask me that same question when I am having to pay for two college tutions… AT THE SAME TIME and I am pretty sure that my answer to the “Whats the worst part” will be different then today’s!

Blessings ~ Summer

When you REALLY need a good hard laugh… just read about FARTING!

5 Sep

Last night, while casually checking out the latest gossip on Facebook, I came across a link that one of my good friends had posted. The title alone captured my attention: “The fart that (almost) altered my destiny.” I had to  read this one, so I clicked the link and was taken to a website that is now bookmarked on my computer.

As I began to read, I had to put the TV on mute so I could share with my husband. I knew he would totally appreciate this one. Within seconds the tears were streaming down our faces and neither of us could contain the laughs coming from our belly. I don’t care how old, educated, or classy you *think* you are, when someone is talking about farting… you KNOW you laugh.

I absolutely love finding websites that are just funny and make fun of the things that happen in life. Let’s be honest, life can be very humorous at times, so why take it so seriously? So, enjoy the story and make sure you check out the website for a daily dose of humor!

 http://hahasforhoohas.com

Like everything in life, farts have a time and place.  However, I never realized that in the wrong time and place, flatulence had enough power to alter my course in history.  Well, it can if it’s the third date with the man of your dreams.  And, if it makes his eyes burn.  If God destined us to be together, I was one SBD away from foiling His plans (that’s “Silent But Deadly” for you prudes).

It was about five years ago.  I was trying to lose a few pounds so I was staying away from carbs.  That’s when I met my husband, Rob.  On our first date, he booked the next two.  He liked me.  I liked him.  Things were looking real good.

He picked me up in a Cobra, Mustang and his pathetic attempt to win me over with a car totally worked.  I’m not shallow, but since I spent most of my twenties picking men up because I didn’t want my hair to frizz in their non-air conditioned jalopies on 3 wheels and a 15-year-old spare, I welcomed his fancy sports car with open arms.

We arrived at the restaurant and Rob was ordering food I hadn’t allowed myself to eat in years. I didn’t want to be “that girl” so I ate, drank, and oh, was I merry.  Later we shopped a bit. Rob surprised me by buying an expensive pair of shoes that he caught me eyeing.  Was this love?

That’s when it happened.  Gas strikes in two different ways – uncontrollable toots or sharp, shooting pains that feel a lot like dying.  I thought I was dying.  Not to make a scene, I told Rob I suddenly wasn’t feeling well and probably needed to head home.

On the way home in his Cobra, he tried to hold my hand and ask me lots of questions, but I wasn’t having any of it.  The pain was so bad it felt like I was being stabbed with a bunch of tiny forks.  Then I realized …

My God, help me.  I have a horrendous fart on deck.  I’m in trouble.  Big trouble.

The more I held it in, the more pain would shoot through my stomach and down my legs.  I was even having to raise myself off the seat, gripping on to my door and the dashboard.

“Seriously, you need to hurry – I’m in a lot of pain.” I managed to say through gritted teeth.

“Wow, it’s that bad?  What’s wrong? Do I need to take you to a hospital?”

How do you tell a man you just started dating that the reason you’re writhing in pain is because you have to fart?

Well, you can either tell him, or like me, let the fart speak for itself.

People, hear me.  There was nothing I could do.  As impressive as I am with sphincter control, this was out of my hands.  Slowly, it eeked out.  The more I tried to stop it, the more it forced its way through the door.  However, to my pleasant surprise, there was no sound.  I sat silently, sweat accumulating above my upper lip.  Ok, maybe I got away with it.  Maybe I’m home free.  Then it hit me.  Not an idea, a cloud.  A horrific, fart cloud.  Not in a, “am I smelling something?” sort of way.  More like a “is someone dead and rotting in your trunk and am I in hell?” sort of way.

Suddenly, I panicked.  “Roll down the windows!” I screamed (yes, I literally screamed it like I was in a horror movie).

“What? Why?” Rob asked, starting to freak out because I was freaking out.

“I can’t roll down the windows, unlock it!  UNLOCK IT!”

“What’s going on?” Rob yells back to me, “Why are you …” then it hit him.  I could see it in his eyes.  Was it surprise?  Horror? Water started to accumulate at the base of his eyelids, “Oh my God, I CAN TASTE IT!” he screamed.

“Roll down the windows!”  As I screamed, the toots started to flood out uncontrollably.  I scratched and clawed at the window like I was being kidnapped.  Rob, unable to see either by fart cloud or panic, kept turning on the windshield wipers instead of unlocking the window.

It was chaos.  We were acting like we were under siege by gun fire.  We were under siege alright, just not by gun fire.

Finally he was able to hit the right control and he rolled down our windows.  We both gulped in fresh air.  I was horrified, yet happy to be alive, then remembered I just farted on the man of dreams, then sorta wished I was dead.

We sat silently for the rest of the way home.  Although the shooting pains had subsided, I now desperately needed to use the bathroom, in an urgent, explosive kind of way.

He pulled up to my apartment and before he could come to a stop I had already jumped out, “Ok, thanks for dinner, sorry about the fart, love the shoes!” and ran in to my apartment like I was running from the cops.

I burst through my door and ran straight for the bathroom, where I was finally able to unleash and make noises that no one should ever, EVER, hear coming from another person.

Then I heard it.  Rob’s voice.  Right.  Outside.  My.   Bathroom.  Door.

“Anna?  You left your shoes in my car and your front door was open.  Where do you want me to put them?”

“Get away from the door!” I scream like Reagan from The Exorcist.

“Ok, I’m sorry.  Are you okay?”

*toot* *toot* *splatter* *ungodly noise*

“I’m fine, Rob – just leave the shoes there.  I’ll call you later okay?”

“Okay, are you sure you’re …”

“I’m fine!  Get away from the door!”

This man!  I mean, I love him, but take a freakin’ hint!

Finally, I heard the front door shut, and the Cobra engine zoom away.  I thought that was the last I’d hear from him.  I didn’t think it was possible to ever see a man again after he screams he can taste your fart after only knowing you for 48 hours.

But, to my surprise, I did.  A couple of days later, actually.  Now we’re married and he’s lying on the couch while I type this … “It was your rack that saved you,” he just lovingly reminded me.

Well, thank you boobs.  You saved us.  You saved our destiny.

Whats your favorite holiday?

5 Sep

I love this question because A.) It reminds me that we are approaching the holiday season and B.) I simply love talking holidays. So, to answer the “plinky prompt” of the day, my answer is: THANKSGIVING.

Just last week, while strolling alone, through the aisles at Costco (yes, as a mom with 9 month olds, going to Costco alone is the highlight of my day so that is why “alone” is emphasized here) I spotted something that caught my eye and made my heart happy… an oversized “fall-like” wreath. It was orange, brown and red, with ribbons and decorations of pumpkins and acorns draping from it. It was screaming “Thanksgiving.” I wanted to buy it right then and there, but remembered I already had one sitting in my garage. I felt like dancing down the aisle while singing “Oh Happy Day,” but didn’t want to blow my cover and be asked to leave the store, because then I knew “my alone time” would come to an end, so I controlled the impulse and kept walking.

There is something about that time of year that brings great joy to me. When I was a kid, Christmas was my favorite holiday, but that was because I wasn’t “Santa.” As an adult, Christmas becomes more of a burden each year. In fact, I am glad when it is over, but not Thanksgiving. Oh no, I love it and wish it lasted more than a day. Is there a “Jewish version” of Thanksgiving… one that lasts 8 days? If so, please let me know so I can sign up.

In all seriousness though here is what I love about Thanksgiving and the fall season in general:

  • Running in the cool evening breeze.
  • Watching the trees change color.
  • The smell of pumpkin spice lattes filling every Starbucks I go to.
  • Sipping wine while sitting by a fire.
  • Little reminders to be “thankful” where ever I go.
  • Writing my annual “thanksgiving” letters to my family.
  • My Grandma’s apple pie topped with vanilla ice cream.
  • Being able to wear sweaters and UGG boots… at the same time.
  • Running the annual “Turkey Trot” as a means to make myself feel better about how much I am going to eat later in the day.
  • Watching my Grandpa carefully carve the turkey. That is his special job and he is amazing at it 😉
  • Watching football and the Macy’s Day parade.
  • Getting ready for “Black Friday.

I could go and on, but what I love most about Thanksgiving, are the memories I make every year with my family. Memories that are built around a table eating, laughing and simply enjoying the moment.Writing all this is making me wish it was November and about 25 degrees cooler outside, but until then, I will mentally prepare for my favorite time of year and look forward to new memories and traditions that will soon be made.

So, What is your favorite holiday and why?

Blessings ~ Summer

What habit does someone close to you have that you wish you could change?

1 Sep

This one was very easy for me to answer, because as I am sitting her writing this, I hear it coming from outside; my bulldog’s snoring. I love that dog like a kid, but there are only so many hours in a day where his snoring is tolerable.

Before we bought him, almost two years ago, I had done extensive research on the breed. I knew that they were considered “high maintenance” dogs and wanted to be prepared. After talking to other bull dogs owners, reading medical research online, and discussing things with my Aunt, who makes the Dog Whisper look like an amateur, I knew that a “bully” was the breed for our family. They are lazy, fat, but full of personality. When we went to look at the liter of pups, our dog Cane, chose us. I had my eye on a female. The breeder had sent me pictures of her so she was the one I was going to look at, but then Cane decided that he wanted us to be “his humans.” I was sitting on the floor surrounded by puppy bull dogs, basically I was in heaven, and this little man backed up into my lap and just sat there. It was like he knew that I was a sucker and that was all it took. He went home with us that night.

When he was a pup, the snoring wasn’t so bad. We had him in our room for a while, but as he grew, so did the volume and depth of the snoring. We moved him from the foot of our bed to the living room in hopes that we would not hear him. That hoping did not get us far. He was loud. At the time, we were in a condo, so the walls were thin and area small, so when we moved to a 2100 sq., foot house, we thought that we might escape the noise. Once again, we were SO wrong. Somehow it got worse. There are times, no lie, our walls vibrate. It has woken me up at 2:30 in the morning because it sounds like a large machine is in our room. The only time I don’t really hear it, is if he is sleeping with one of the big girls in her room downstairs. (How that child can sleep through his snoring is beyond me, but it just goes to show that she can sleep through anything.) The best part is that he has the ability to walk and snore. Stand and snore, even eat and snore. That is talent friends.

My fear is that this snoring habit is only going to get worse as he ages, kind of like my Grandpa. I am just thankful for ear plugs, because at the rate we are going… we might need to invest stock in an ear plug company! If you know of any, please send me their NYSE symbol… thanks 🙂

Blessings ~ Summer

Toddlers and Tailgating

1 Sep

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Tomorrow kicks off the 2012-2013 season of USC football. Usually, I would be excited and looking forward to a fun day at the Coliseum, screaming and cheering on the team, but I am thinking this season might be a bit different. Here is why:

BABIES

Last Saturday we did a “trial run” with the girls by taking them to the annual football picnic. Let’s just say that we learned football, yelling, heat, sweating, long lines, big strollers,diapers, bottles and crying don’t mix! There is nothing like trying to change a baby in a bathroom without a diaper changing station. Talk about getting creative. Which reminds me, I believe there needs to be a law which states every public bathroom must have a diaper changing station! Enough said. Anyway, back to football. After a very long day, my wonderful mother-in-law and I decided that we need to rent a “mini wini” and start a babysitting service in the parking lot of the stadium.

I think it would be a huge success. Here’s how it would work; ;you drop off your kid(s) at our tailgating area. You sign a consent form that basically says we are not liable for any damage done to your kid while in our care and you take off. From there we will entertain. Actually, the large flat screen TV will be the entertainment. We will have tents set up in a row for “nap” time. We will have a healthy snack that will be given at half-time. We will ask the marching band to stop by and maybe a mascot or two. We will charge a reasonable fee, and in our lounge chairs, while sipping on chardonnay, we will “tailgate with toddlers” (mine included.) Brilliant idea, right?

Okay, so back to reality; I will not be going to many games this season. I guess I am okay with it. Watching the game from the comfort of my home, will be much better than trying to calm down screaming babies who don’t want to sit still, while in the company of 90K fans. Once again, the responsibilities of motherhood just aren’t fair (*inset BIG long sigh here*) So until the day comes when I can go to a game childless, I will dream 🙂

Blessings ~ Summer

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