Best. Christmas. Ever.

I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

We were supposed to close on the house on January 9th, but Jeff had other plans. Two days ago, I got the mail out of the mail box and went through it, separating junk from bills, like I always do. I saw a letter from a bank that we don't bank with. Usually, I just toss stuff like that and figure that they're trying to get us to switch banks, but this was the second one we'd gotten in two weeks, so I opened it.

It was sort of a statement looking thing, with Jeff's name on it. Something about transferring funds from one account to another, as requested, on certain dates, etc. I FREAKED. See, this past May, my purse was stolen and about 2 months ago, someone tried to open a credit card in my name. I've been a little more paranoid about ID theft ever since.

So I called Jeff, in an absolute panic, and asked him if he'd opened an account somewhere else. (We had planned on doing this after we moved and thought maybe he'd done it early) He said he didn't open an account, so I said I was going to call the bank immediately, to get to the bottom of this. I was worried about this hurting our ability to close on the house in January and was convinced someone had hacked into our bank account and had transferred everything.

As soon as I told him I was going to call the bank, he said, "No, don't do that."

That was weird, so I said, "What is going on?!"

He said, "Ok, the cat is out of the bag" and proceeded to spill the beans. He closed on the house last week and had been planning this as a surprise for a little more than 2 months. He'd set up a tree and decorations at the house and we were supposed to go over on Christmas Morning to see everything. (He was going to have our next door neighbor call us on xmas morning and tell us that water was pouring out of our basement door, so that he'd have an excuse to drive us over there.)

I was floored.

We decided that the surprise could still be salvaged and that we could take Andy over to the house on Christmas Eve and spend our first night there. After we got home from Louisville last night (Jeff's grandma has a xmas eve party every year) Jeff and Andy went to get Chinese food (a tradition of ours...it's the only place open on xmas eve!) and Ben and I went to the new house. I cleared the presents from under the tree (they were from Santa because we weren't supposed to be there until xmas morning) and about 5 minutes later, Jeff and Andy showed up. We told Andy that Santa set up the tree and the house, etc and that it was officially ours.

Oh. My. God.

You should have seen his face. (You can, too, as soon as I upload pictures. My camera is at the new house, I'm blogging from the old house.) The kid was jumping up and down and giggling and squealing. He turned to Jeff and said, "This is the best Christmas ever, Daddy!"

We ate our first meal off of paper plates as we sat on the tile in our kitchen. Santa left xmas jammies for everyone in their respective bedrooms and the boys put theirs on as soon as they had their very first bath in the new house. We borrowed a friend's air mattress and slept on the floor in front of the tree and fireplace.

The boys slept until 7:20 (which, if you ask me, was the REAL xmas miracle, seeing as how they're always up at the butt-crack of dawn) and we opened presents. The best line of the morning was right after Andy opened his castle from Santa. He looked at us and said, "Wow! Santa got me two castles! One to play with and one to live in!"

We all stayed in our xmas jammies and went to Jeff's parents' house and had a wonderful time. We had a great breakfast, Ben and I got to take a nap, the boys' scored even more goodies, the kids played with their cousins, we had a great lunch and then we headed back to the old house. Jeff let the dogs out, fed them, grabbed a few things and then took the boys back to the new house.

I stayed back so that I could pack up some dishes and some stuff from the fridge. I'm also waiting on a load of laundry from the dryer and as soon as that's out, I'm heading back home to join them for a late dinner and then bed.

Tomorrow, Ben goes with his Grandma Sue until Sunday so that Jeff and I can paint the rooms on the 2nd floor. (The whole interior of the house is one color, and although it's nice, we'd like some other colors in the bedrooms.) The beginning of next week is going to be mostly spent at this house, getting things boxed up and then we want to start moving stuff next weekend.

I want to wish everyone the merriest of merry Christmases and nothing but peace for the New Year. We are all so very blessed to have each other, especially during these times.

Stay tuned for pictures!

I believe

I, mother of two boys, tough as nails, raised in East L.A., generation "y"er, believe in Santa Claus. I hadn't believed in the longest time, especially when back in 2001, Jeff and I asked him for babies and he SO didn't deliver that year or the next. But two nights ago, I started believing in him again.

Jeff had been working late all week and would come home for dinner and then head back to the office. On Friday, he decided that he'd take a longer dinner break and we'd go out for a meal. We went to Frisch's and the parking lot was a madhouse. I dropped Jeff and Andy off at the door so they could put our name down, and Ben and I went in search of a parking spot. My parking karma kicked in as it always does (just ask anyone!) and we scored a parking spot in front of the restaurant.

I was taking Ben out of the car and locking it when he started to go nuts. "MOMMY! WOOK! SANTA KWAZ! WOOK, MOMMY! HO HO HO!" I turned around and sure enough, there was a nice old man inside the restaurant who had an uncanny resemblance to the Head Elf. He was getting up from a table inside and putting his jacket on. I was really hoping this guy would have a good sense of humor about my 2 year old's uncontrollable excitement. After all, if you have a real, white beard and a round belly and little eye-glasses that rest on your rosy little cheeks and nose and you go out in public in December, someone is bound to say something.

So we got inside and found Jeff and Andy waiting for a table. I went over to Jeff and said, "You're never going to believe who's here." Just then, the curious old man walked up to the counter and paid for his meal. He turned around and looked right at us and walked over. Ben, of course, could not contain himself and started in again with the whole, "WOOK, MOMMY! SANTA KWAZ! WOOK!"

The smiling, old man looked at Ben and said, "Well, hello there!" Ben said nothing and just sat in awe. At this point, Andy noticed the carbon copy, but had a look in his eyes that told me he was skeptical about him.

I said, "Say, 'Merry Christmas' Benny" and Ben managed to eek out a small, "May Kissmas".

He said, "Merry Christmas to you, too, little guy!" and left.

I had goosebumps. However, they were quickly eradicated by a very suspicious Andy. "That wasn't really Santa Claus, right Mom?"

"Of COURSE it was, Andy! Who else could that have been?" I said.

"Yeah, well why wasn't he wearing his suit?"

Jeff came to the rescue with, "Well, Uncle Matt doesn't always wear his police uniform, does he? That doesn't mean he's not a real police officer."

I added, "Yeah. He was just getting off work from the mall and was hungry. Even Santa Claus needs to eat."

Andy looked very unimpressed with our answers and said, "That wasn't him."

Just then, the old man walked back in and handed the boys each a candy cane. The bespeckled senior winked at Andy, put his finger to Ben's nose and said, "Be good, now, boys" and left. All doubt was gone from Andy's mind.

Now, up to that point, I hadn't been bit by the Christmas bug. Sure, I'd sing along with Christmas songs on the radio and I'd made and addressed holiday cards (although, I still haven't mailed them out yet) but I just hadn't been feeling it. Maybe because we're getting ready to move, maybe it's because we don't have any decorations up (I am NOT packing up an entire house AND decorations) maybe it's because there's some pretty big, bad things going on in the world right now. I don't know.

What I do know, though, is that two nights ago I remembered what it was like to believe. Until that night, I didn't remember believing in Santa and all of the magic that surrounds the season. Because of the kindness and charm of a perfect, sweet stranger, I have a glow in my heart that I plan to keep forever.

I'd like to end this entry with the question of a very curious 8 year old and the answer from a wise newspaper editor:

"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so. Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus? Virginia O'Hanlon 115 West Ninety-Fifth Street"

"VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there.

Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world. You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Francis Pharcellus Church

Go Elf Yourself!

It's a week before Thanksgiving and already, Santa's elves have done their Christmas shopping for the boys, the Christmas cards are almost done and if you click the link below, you can see that I've already "elfed" the boys:

http://elfyourself.jibjab.com/view/ofZwUn2LdfhrYa8KCmib

Enjoy!

Yes, we did.

I wanted to keep this blog strictly family, scrapbooking and other non-war-starting topics, but I really felt the need to address a historic event. Between Monday, November 3rd, 2008 and declaring our independence from Great Britain 232 years ago, we (and "we" meaning only white men until 1870, only men until 1920, only men and women 21 and older until 1971 and after that, everyone 18 and older) have elected 42 different presidents.

On Tuesday, November 4th, we elected the first African-American.

This election was, without a doubt, one of the most intense, longest, political roller coaster rides our nation has ever experienced. This election was the first one that completely consumed me, made me excited about the process and the history being made and made me feel like I had a voice and an actual candidate in which I could believe.

I'd never had a political yard sign on my lawn. I'd never worn a campaign button. I'd never put a campaign magnet on my car. I'd never been to a rally. By the time this election was done with me, I'd waited in line for three hours in the biting, sleety cold of February to get into an arena to hear Obama speak. I'd been both high-fived and berated by people who saw the campaign button on my purse. I even made over 100 phone calls from an inner-city campaign office, to complete strangers, asking for their support on Election Day.

I lucked out and was put on the press list for Obama's final campaign rally in Cincinnati, last Sunday. The night his grandmother died. The air was electric. People; young and old, brown and white, confident and unsure, they were all there.

I was even lucky enough to meet David Axelrod, Obama's Chief Campaign Strategist. It was after Obama's speech and Mr. Axelrod had just finished talking to the editor of either the New York Times or the Washington Post, and was heading out of the stadium. I figured that if I wanted to meet him, it was as good a time as any. With my camera around my neck and press pass on my chest, I walked in his direction and said, "Excuse me, Mr. Axelrod?"

He stopped and turned to look at me. I continued, "Hi, I'm not with any paper or news station. I'm not really anyone, really...just a stay at home mom" and with that he replied, "Oh, don't say that! What's your name?"

"I'm Andrea and I did what I could to help out with the campaign. Earlier today I made a bunch of calls from a campaign office, I've donated, I've brought food to campaign workers, I've done what I can. I just want to let you know that I really believe in what you guys are doing and I think you guys are doing something great."

With that, he extended his hand to me and smiled. "Thank you for what you've done. It means a lot to us. Thank you." Look, I know politicians and the people behind them are supposed to be convincing, but I really saw a genuine, sincere person in Mr. Axelrod. (And no, that's not me in the picture with him)

The following day, I made preparations for a small Election Night party (shuddup...I'm a civics geek and proud of it!!) and on Tuesday, Jeff and I took the boys with us to be part of history.

I've voted in one presidential election and one mid-term election since moving to Kentucky and it has never taken me more than 10 minutes to park, vote and leave. On Election Day 2008, it took us an hour.

Now, being the manic scrapbooker I am, I brought my camera along with me, but wasn't exactly sure that the poll workers would let me bring it into the booth when I voted. (Not that I couldn't have taken all three of the workers, whose combined age was easily over 600 years old.) Not only did I get to bring my camera in with me, but Andy was able to come along and watch his momma vote for the next President of the United States.

After Jeff and I voted (actually, Ben pressed the "vote" button for him, which automatically disqualifies Jeff's vote, what with Ben being under 18 and all) we went into another room where they had a kid sized voting booth set up.

Now, I want to make this next bit perfectly clear. Jeff and I have talked to Andy about this election but have never told him who to vote for. We've only talked to him about the process, who was running and who we were voting for and why.

So you can the giggle-fest I kept quietly tucked inside my throat when Andy voted for Obama.

However, the gigglepallooza died a slow and agonizing death when he then checked the box for Mitch McConnell. *gag*

Later that night, I headed over to Barb's house and watched the Election coverage with a few of our friends. I even made chocolate mousse. (Ha ha...get it? Sarah Palin? Moooooose? Mousse?? Oh, forget it.)

We played some political trivia, did an election crossword and word search, and as the polls closed across the country, I colored in a giant map on a white board, and kept tally of the electoral votes.

The moment we'd all been waiting for came at 11:01pm.

I let out a sort of scream-yell-cry-gasp thing. We all cheered and even hugged. When we watched McCain's concession speech, I didn't expect it to affect me the way it did. I thought he was very sincere, honorable and humble. (Oddly enough, THAT was the McCain I remembered from years ago; the McCain I wanted to vote for. Oh, the irony.)

Watching Obama's speech was so very moving. I tried to take everything in; the images, my feelings, the message. I was so overwhelmed. The Obamas are a beautiful First Family and I can hardly wait to see them in their new roles.

In closing, I feel better about the future of this country and our world than I did a week ago. I really feel that what lies ahead of us is unwritten and so very full of possibility and peace.

I am so very proud to be an American.

Ben is two

Thank you for this, Katie & Greg.

Taking a breather

I apologize for not updating this thing more often. Things are going to simmer down after we move in, but until then, I'm making two round trips to Andy's school every day, had been taking him to Karate twice a week (we're on karate-hiatus until we move) and now with Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas coming up, we're in full gear.


There's been a ton of stuff going on that deserves an update, so I'm going to take the next couple of days to touch on each one. The first is one of the most exciting: THE HOUSE HOLE! Although, now that it's got a roof, bricks, paint, etc, it seems sort of silly to call it a hole. But, the name stuck when Andy exclaimed it a few months ago.


The last picture I posted was of the first level walls going up. A few days later we had this:

Then they gave us a roof:

And then Ike blew through. Luckily, neither of the houses took on any damage!! The same day the above picture was taken, I also got some shots of the inside:

Then they gave us brick. All but two of the houses on our street are red brick, so we wanted to do something different. The picture below makes the house look a little more red than it is, but it's a really nice brown in person. The shutters are going to be a dark chocolate color.

Then we had the pre-dry wall walkthrough with Rich, our project manager. A few days later, we had drywall everywhere! The picture below is the view from the living room, with your right shoulder to the fireplace. You're looking into part of the kitchen and the upstairs hallway:

They've done a ton more since this picture was taken, so I'll take my camera with me when I pic Andy up from school, tomorrow. Well, I have to collect a stool sample from the kittens (YAY, WHAT FUN!!) for their vet appointment tomorrow (did I mention we're keeping the kittens? Long story, don't ask Jeff) and I am in dire need of a shower and some tea. Then it's my nightly rendezvous with Jon Stewart and then I'm off to bed.

More tomorrow!

I fink Benny frowed up!

That's what we were greeted with this evening. The little Pike People had been in bed for a few hours, I was watching the Daily Show and Jeff was defending his fort on the computer. Andy bolted downstairs, yelling "I fink Benny frowed up! I can smell it!" Benny didn't just "frowed up", but he frowed up his lunch which he'd consumed at noon, which consisted of popcorn shrimp, milk and a mall cookie. Let me tell you, 12 hour old milk, popcorn shrimp and mall cookie do NOT a pleasant smell make.

After a bath, new pjs, a cuddle on the recliner, Benny frowed up again. This time, he nailed mommy. Nice. This time the milk, shrimp and mall cookie were heavily diluted with stomach acid. Jeff stopped hosing down the boys' room and brought a yakking Ben back to the bathroom.

Benny clean up: Take Two.

So it's 12:29am and I'm showered, re-pajama'd, all of the Pike men are half way to la-la land and I had the bizarre urge to blog this event. I really hope the puking stops. See, he pulled a Linda Blair Saturday night, then on Monday, it was Andy's turn to pray at the altar of St. John. Now that it's Tuesday (technically Wednesday) it looks like Ben has been tapped to take over and blow more gravy. But why stop there? I wouldn't be able to use all of my vomit jargon if the puke fest ended now! Poetic phrases like, producing a pavement pizza, calling God on the big white telephone, spewing, heaving chunks, up chuck, chunder from the land down under, toss cookies, technicolor yawn, call to the seals, liquid laugh, hork, gut soup, stomach tsunami, and whistling beef.

It is bizarrely pride inducing to know that many different ways to say "throw up".

Anyhow, did I mention we're supposed to go to Pennsylvania on Thursday? Did I mention that consists of a TEN hour drive? Did I mention that it would be a BAD idea to bring two barfing boys on a trip that long? Did I mention that I think I might have missed a spot where the ghost of Ben's lunch landed on my foot? I'm going to go re-de-funkify now. Ew.

Random reasons why I love raising boys

Reason #521: At any given time, a sword/light sabre fight can break out between Captain Jack from Pirates of the Caribbean and Emperor Palpatine from Star Wars. I love that a brown hoodie sweater and two scraps of fabric from a past Halloween can spark the imaginations of my guys.

Reason #228: The taller one considers me a damsel in distress, in need of rescue from the shorter one. (Reason #228.1: They remind me that it is perfectly okay to wear a costume over pajamas, in the middle of the day.)

Reason #92: They turn the dryer into a prize-filled, mystery-treasure chest. You just never know what you're going to find in there.

Lately, my favorite quote has been "Girls make sense; boys make nonsense." I got that from this article from Wondertime Magazine. When I finished reading it the first time, it made me welcome the possibility of being a mother to all boys. Bring on the sword fights, curious smelling bedrooms, farting contests and scrapbooking in only blue, green and brown.

Can I take a nap, now?

We've been going full throtle as the summer comes to an end. As I type this, Jeff is on an airplane on his way home from a two day trip to Orlando, Andy is in school, Ben is playing with his trains, the kittens are sleeping (yes, I said kittens. More on that in a minute) and shirtless men are building our house. (The mother in me wants to drop off a gallon of sunscreen...don't those men know anything about skin cancer?! Those guys are all brown and leathery...YUCK!!!) I don't have a whole lot of time (need to leave to pick up Andy in about half and hour) so I'll make this quick and let some pictures do most of the talking.

Summer has been awesome. Andy is playing his first-ever season of soccer:

Ben is finally enjoying the water:

My friend Barb became a foster mom to a baby girl, and hopefully, she's going to be able to adopt her. I was lucky enough to be able to go with her to the hospital to pick up the new baby!

We have some walls and windows at the House Hole and on Monday, they're going to put the big, wooden, triangle thingies up (you know, those things that support the roof):

My favorite cousin, Larissa, came to Cincinnati for a visit. I haven't seen her in about a year and a half and it was so nice to have lunch with her!

And about a week and a half ago, I inherited 1 1/2 week old kittens. Barb's kid's best friend's dad (got all that??) found them at work. I hadn't planned on keeping them (I wanted to get a cat when we move to the new house, but didn't want to deal with a cat while we were moving) but I'm a sucker for cute and the kittens won that argument. Andy named them. When I brought them home, they were each about 7oz and in about three days, had gotten up to 9oz. I haven't weighed them in a while, but their eyes have opened up more, their ears aren't as curled in, they're walking (like a couple of drunks, but still), playing and even purring. Here's Frisco (a boy):

and Friday (his sister):

Well, I have to get going. I'm taking the kids out for lunch and then have to get my allergy shots (which, by the way, have been working SO well!!)

Happy Thursday!

Building a foundation

*double meaning alert*

Today was Andy's third day of kindergarten and today was the third day my eyes leaked a little. This MUST stop. Seriously. I am gritty enough to change a flat tire, tough enough to travel as a lone parent with two children under five to California for two weeks, and brave enough to have an Obama yard sign in a very Red county in a very Red state. Yet, every day for the past three days, the 44-inch 5-year old pictured below has made me cry.

I can't help it, though. I drive into the "drop-off" line, pull up to the curb and out hops my very excited kindergartener. I roll down the window and as he runs to the door of the gym I yell, "I love you, Andy!" He stops, turns and throws me a sweet, dimpled smile and yells back, "I love you too, Mommy! See you after school!"


Gah, I'm leaking again.


Must. Stay. On. Point. Ok, foundations. So I REALLY want, nay, NEED to be Room Mom this year. I need it like Michael Phelps needs water. I need it like Hillary needed delegates. I need it like Paris Hilton needs a Valtrex. You get the point. So what better way to land the title of Room Mom than to lobby for it? Worked for Jack Abramoff, right? Wait, bad example.


I think I might have gotten my foot in the door with these puppies:




They're both filled with Dove Dark Chocolate Nuggets. Look, I love Andy, but after a few hours with him, one does need some dark chocolate. Don't think of them as bribes or kick-backs. No, think of them as my way of laying the foundation on which to build my fabulous reign as Queen Room Mom of the Grade School Universe.

Ok, without the "Queen/Universe" part. Unless his teachers are cool with that.

Anykissass, after I dropped the man-child off at school, I drove over to the House Hole.

WE HAVE A BASEMENT CONCRETE SLAB THINGIE!! LOOK!

The big door-hole is for the sliding glass door, then there are two, large windows and then the door next to that is the door we're going to use to take the dogs in/out of the house. (That part of the basement is being partitioned off and will be unfinished so that we can clean them off before they come in.) The concrete stuff on the second level of the second picture is the garage.


And remember an earlier post where I mentioned the picture-in-the-foundation thing? Well, about a week or so ago, Jeff took a wedding picture out of his wallet (yes, my sweet husband carries a picture of us on our wedding day, in his wallet! Well, used to) and put it under the gravel that the slab was eventually poured on top of.


But then he felt bad because there wasn't a picture of the boys, so he went back a few days later and burried a picture of Andy and Ben because they're a major part of us. Then I felt bad because we're not done growing our family, so I went back a few days after that and burried a small heart shaped button so that our future kids would be represented as well. I draw the line at the dogs, though. I'm sure they'll burry enough in the backyard, on their own.





Well, it's 11:29 and I have to pick Andy up from school by 12:03. Honestly, who makes up these ridiculous schedules for grade school? Starting school in the middle of August, pick-up time at 12:03. What, 12:02 was just a minute too early?



Whatev.

I didn't cry

Ok, I totally cried. But you would have, too, if your first baby was sitting at a desk and turns to you and says, "When are you guys going?" When you have kids, you want them to be independent and brave, but when they are, it stings just a little. One of the many paradoxes of parenting. And just to underscore how bittersweet today was, I'd like to share two pictures:

(Yes, I used the "2006" to cover up a dead plant. Ah, the perks of photo editing software)

The four of us got to Andy's school at about 8:30 and went into the gym. There were easily 100,000 kids and parents present. No, not really, but it sounded like it. When the principal took the mic, she said, "Ok, Mann Elementary School...can I get everyone to go to a Zero?" and held her fingers to her thumb over her head. The teachers all put their "zero" fingers in the air and the room fell silent. This was NOT in the kindergarten handbook (come to think of it, there wasn't even a kindergarten handbook) and it looked like some sort of secret sign language code.

I swear, elementary school is weird.

Andy's teacher is Mrs. Frolo-Baker and I got a good vibe from her. Anyone who can get away with wearing a hot pink top and pants similar to these , is pretty cool in my book.

I'm sure it was just my mommy-eyes playing tricks on me, but when Benny and I went to go pick Andy up from school at noon, he'd grown three feet and looked like a young man. But when he reached out to hold my hand, I knew I had my baby boy for just a little bit longer...

Say 'ello to my leetle fren'

This amazing event first took place on Saturday, but I knew you guys wouldn't believe me unless I had pictures to prove it. (It's ok, I wouldn't have believed any of you, either.) I fed a hummingbird out of my hand!! First, I believe introductions are in order. Friends and family, this is Archilochus colubris, or Archie for short. Archie, this is everyone.
It all started when Jeff was sitting on the deck Friday night. He was drinking Mountain Dew *gag* and a hummingbird buzzed right up to him and darted around Jeff's bottle. After the bird flew away, Jeff poured some of the radioactive liquid into the cap and held it in his hand. The bird came back, buzzed around some more and then drank from the cap. As the poor little bird flew away, he exploded. Feathers and high-fructose corn syrup were scattered all over the yard. I guess the sugar, yellow number 5 and carbonation was just too much for the little guy.

Ok, he didn't really explode. But I have it on good authority that he's developed ADHD and is now an insomniac.

Anybirdy, this gave me an idea. The next day I took the hummingbird feeder off of the kitchen window, sat on the deck and waited. Not more than two minutes later, one of the handful of hummingbirds that we attract came by. I've never been that close to one of them, before, so I was really surprised at how loud their "humming" was. He hovered around, checked me out, even pooped on me. The little guy finally decided that he could trust me enough to actually perch while he fed.

Feeding a hummingbird by hand wasn't on my bucket list before, but you can bet it's there now. It's so awesome to be close to something so beautiful, and to have such a tiny creature trust you enough to land on you.

I tried all weekend to get pictures, but I was always out there too late in the evening. I finally got a bunch of pictures today. Here they are, for your viewing pleasure:

I love the smell of Lysol in the morning

Pardon my French, but this morning was shitty. No, really. Ben woke up, took his diaper off, played in yesterday's meal and THEN decided to let us know he was awake. Nice. From now on, that boy wears pants to bed.

Anypoo, at lunch time today, the four of us went to the house hole to watch them pour concrete. They've done footers and yesterday, put up the forms (brand new forms, by the way. The construction worker-guy who told me was very proud of this). They poured the stuff for the basement walls today, tomorrow the forms come off and then in a few days, they pour the foundation.

I didn't think I'd be as interested in the construction of the house as I would be the decoration of the house, but watching everything today was pretty cool. The concrete truck pulled up and was not able to escape the mommarazzi. Andy was a tad freaked out by all the noise.

Then they loaded it into the pump-truck-thing. Yes, the pump truck has the word "Schwing" on it. No, I was not able to refrain from making a Wayne's World reference.






















Then this guy (complete with Atari-Lederhosen) summoned his mad Tetris skills and moved the crane-hose-pump-thing to where it needed to go.







This next guy is my hero. He stood on the forms, 100 feet in the air WITHOUT A HARNESS. Ok, so maybe it was closer to 10 feet in the air, but still. 1 foot off the ground is too high up, in my book.














While we were out in Union, we stopped by Andy's new school. I registered him yesterday, but forgot his birth certificate. We dropped that off today and even got to see his new classroom. Jeff and I are taking him to school on his first day of kindergarten on Monday, August 18th. I still can't believe that the itty-bitty, 4 1/2 pound baby I held for the first time, 5 years ago, is starting elementary school next week.


Well, I have to get some class packets ready for a scrapbooking class I'm teaching in Indiana this weekend. I have 9 people signed up and they haven't even seen the layouts and cards we're making! I'm flattered!


Nighty-night!