Boy's Night In

So one day, spur of the moment, I went on a "girl's night out" with Honey's sisters. We went shopping. It was a nice change from staying at home every night. We went to the mall, we tried on clothes, I put them all back on the hangers (that's what you do when you are poor--try them on and put them back), and we came home. When we got back to Grandma's house (where Honey and the Boy were hanging out with Uncle Matt), we saw what the guys do for "Boys Night In". They teach my child new tricks.

This little "trick" is now referred to by the Boy as "Stay". This trick is performed regularly, much to Grandma's dismay....

And here's the video proof of what "guy's night" means to Honey...

(if you watch closely at the end, you'll see the Boy signing for "more")

I have overcome...!

Once upon a time, when someone said something bad about me, I cried or got mad. I haven't overcome that quite yet.

Once upon a time, when someone said something mean about my friends, I got really mad and started yelling. The occasional curse word escaped my mouth (or a string of them). I have only partially overcome that. (no curse words, still get angry)

Once upon a time, when someone made fun of something I liked, I got hurt feelings. This is the one I have overcome! Hooray for overcoming!

Exhibit A:

I wanted to watch a movie and I wanted Honey to watch it with me. I casually asked, "Honey, want to watch A Walk to Remember with me?" I was secretly eager for an enthusiastic response. (hey, I never said I had overcome my naivete)

Honey was looking down, busily focused on something, and said,

"Actually, I've got to go outside and rub my forehead on the concrete until there are deep, raw, bloody grooves."

I was taken aback by such a response. It took me a second to register what he was telling me, and then he continued,

"If I had to choose between the more pleasurable of the two, I think I would have to go ahead with the forehead on the concrete thing."

Once upon a time, this might have hurt my feelings. But this time, all I could do was laugh until my sides hurt. And then watch the movie another day when Honey was gone.

Maybe this means I'm on the road to "happily ever after."

Piddle Puddle

Our little Boy is cute. And precocious. And active. And clever. And a whole lot of other things...

Yesterday, I was getting him ready to get in the shower with his daddy (Honey). I took of the Boy's diaper in the bathroom and turned around to put it (the diaper, not the Boy) in the diaper pail. I hear a little voice say "Uh oh...." and turn around to a little "Piddle" Puddle on the floor behind me.

No big deal, right? It's only a little puddle! He's about to get in the shower, I took off his diaper, I should have expected it... Thankfully the bathroom floor is linoleum! I step past it to find a dirty towel to wipe it up with (why use a clean one when there is one that's dry and just waiting to be washed?), and in that half-second, I hear a *thud!*

I turn around to see my poor little Boy laying in the Puddle of Piddle, with a very startled and hurt look on his face, followed by tears and wailing! He tried to step around the Piddle, missed, stepped IN the piddle and then slipped on it! How sad! And yet....SO HILARIOUS! Am I an unfeeling mother because I couldn't stop laughing...?

HOWEVER--to redeem myself--I did pick him up to comfort him, paying no attention to the Piddle that was now getting on my clothes. I love my Boy, so I calmed him down before handing him in to Honey in the shower.

What a sad (yet amusing) tale! (I'm still chuckling through my sad face....!)

And on a lighter note....I recently took this picture on my ancient cell phone (hence the low quality):


This little guy LOVES to go outside. One morning he put on my shoes (notice they are on the wrong feet) and promptly declared " 'Side! 'Side!" I guess he was ready for the day just like that.... Personally, I prefer to wear more clothes, and be able to walk properly. But, to each his own...!

More to come!

Ok, so this post doesn't update anyone on the Boy...or Honey...or even ME, but at least it is something!

The Case of the Dastardly Duck

On a cold, dark night....in a dark and dangerous alley...a creature lurked behind a large crate, awaiting the opportunity to pounce on its prey... an innocent little boy who was simply trying to figure out what this strange and mysterious creature was...

Turns out it was a duck. Oh and it was a warm sunshiney day on BYU Campus. I brought my Boy over to the fountains near the Bell Tower to eat a sandwich, maybe see some ducks, and to just be outside. Boy's first time meeting ducks--should be fun for him! I thought. So I threw a couple of pieces of crust to the ducks to try to lure them closer for the Boy to see. After a couple of bites of his own, the Boy would look at me, then the ducks, then at me and back at the ducks. He pointed at one of the ducks (his new thing--pointing) and I saw the duck reach towards him. He began to cry, so I told him about ducks and how they wanted to share his sandwich. As he reached for another piece of sandwich from me, I wondered why his fingers were so dirty. "Weird," I thought. Then he turned to point at the duck again.

This time I saw it: The duck actually nipped his finger! BIT HIM! My poor boy! (that's why his finger was dirty, the duck had bit him already!) He cried harder than before, so I scooped him up in my arms and told him we wouldn't feed those ducks anymore. Then I pointed at the ducks and said, "Go away you mean ducks!" The Boy was happier with this response--even giggled. This seemed to give him confidence again because he wiggled down from my arms and started following the ducks down the sidewalk, making a noise all the while of "Qua! Qua! Qua!"

Smart Boy! I didn't teach him what a duck says, but he picked it up from them himself. (Honey was very impressed as he listened over the phone....)

We won't give up on feeding the ducks--we'll just be a little wary next time we go.

My Helpful Boy

My Boy is so helpful. He likes to help me type. He likes to help me move the mouse. He likes to cling to my pant legs and help me walk. He even likes to bring me things when I am in the shower.

You see, I started to take a shower--silly me, I thought the Boy would be fine playing by the tub. Upon rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I opened my eyes to see his cute little face. He brought me toilet paper all the way over from the roll (you may have noticed that the tp is still attached to the roll and wrapped behind him). I must not have been looking for a long time because there was quite the pile of tp in the tub! He was very proud of himself.

(I just love that it's stuck to his feet.)

And for the record--all the stuff on the floor was NOT there before I got in the shower.

I have learned now to put the garbage can up high and the tp is taken off the roll while I have a few moments to myself. However, the Toilet Plunger has become my new companion in the tub--the Boy likes to throw it in with me. Maybe he wants it to be clean too...?

TGIF

Thank Goodness I (have) Friends!

I have survived these last few days because I have friends. It is so true. I feel hugely blessed!
Reasons why my friends made the difference recently:

• My relatives are my friends. Sisters-in-law are lifesavers. Lori gave me an opportunity to help out, which I appreciate! I love to help out! Cristy let me borrow her truck, which helped me get rid of my coffee table and have more space in my living room. Also, by letting me borrow her truck, there happened to be a MoTab cd playing, which made all the difference in my mood--beautiful showtunes that calmed my nerves. The homebodies played with my baby, which always makes me happy to see him adored and spoiled (by someone else).



• My visiting-teachees are my friends. My friend called me to babysit for her--yay! I love to help out! She is great and her little girl is adorable. We went swimming in the backyard. We ate Mac-n-Cheese. We ate crackers and frosting. And she (the little girl) asked why my baby was "chewing" on me (nursing). That made me smile....and cover up better.
  
  
• My friends stick by me through the years (and the tears). My dear friend Jannica came by the other night to just be with me. She had just returned from a week of girls' camp, was tired and needed to unwind. But she came over, played with my baby, and joined me for dinner. I think she saved my life (or at least my sanity). Thank you for adult conversation and saying that my cooking is good. :)


My mother-in-law is my friend.

• She saved me this morning. I had an awful bout of food poisoning and she came by, brought me a drink, and took my baby off my hands. It's awful to be hunched over the toilet, unable to get up, and hear your baby screaming, knowing there is nothing you can do at the moment to help him. Thank you for saving me!
  
  
• My Honey is my best friend. He came home early from his campout this weekend and helped me out by giving me "alone time." I had been inside my little apartment for most of the week with a sick baby--I was going stir crazy! I was so sad to be left home by myself with a whimpering baby on a Friday night, but he came back quickly Saturday morning and gave me time to go off and do something by myself. I don't know what I'd do without my Honey. *sniff*

Thank Goodness I (have) Friends!

The Long and Short of it

This post is so long over due that it's embarrassing.

So I've been growing my hair out (with only minor trims) since 2004. I had always believed that my hair wouldn't grow long--it just stopped when it hit my shoulder blades. Granted, maybe that's because I would get impatient at how slow it grows and cut it. But nevertheless, a roommate of mine gushed at how beautiful it would be if I grew it long, so I tried. For 5 years.

And grow it did...

It grew and it grew and it grew. And finally, when I could only put it in a ponytail, or braid, or blow-dry it for 10 minutes, I decided it was time to go under the knife! (well, scissors anyway)

So I called my VERY talented friend--who is AMAZING by the way--and made the appointment before I changed my mind. She was great; gave me several opportunities to back out if I wanted, counted to three, and then SNIP, SNIP, SNIP! And the hardest part was done. After that was the fun part--the washing, the head massaging, the pampering, the staring in the mirror. Then there was a little disbelief, but no crying. Probably 14-15 inches cut off, and not one single tear! I'm such a big girl!

(this was the 2nd round of cut-off)

BEFORE:

AFTER :
(incidentally, this is not my favorite picture...)

Notice the difference in color. I thought I was losing my blonde and going dark!

It took me a couple of days to do it myself so that I liked taking a picture.

And now I'm really enjoying the length! I can still wear ponytails, and it doesn't take NEARLY as long to style it. And it doesn't get caught as much as it did before (i.e. stuck under Honey's arm when we sit together, stuck under the straps of my purse, and flying up to get stuck in the door of the car when I sit down in a rush...)

Truthfully, one of the biggest reasons I cut it was because the Boy was always pulling it! I thought that would change with it being short....NOPE! He still pulls it, but it isn't as hard to untangle his fingers now.

So, I'm happy. :)