The Un-Studio

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember. Art, whether I like it or not, is part of me. Sometimes I despise the skill, as it frequently proves itself completely and utterly useless. Other times it doesn't seem entirely worthless. Of course, when someone finds out that you can, in fact, draw more than mere stick figures, they find it absolutely fascinating. Strange. If I find out someone can draw I usually am mildly interested. Perhaps that makes me a bad artist. I did, after all, barely pass art history class...all four semesters of them. Ugh. Boooorrrring. Just sayin'. So basically, art happens for me pretty regularly. Someone always needs or wants something. Does this bother me? Nah. It's a skill and I'm happy to help when I can. Here's the problem: Drawing while sitting on an old cushy couch does not equal a happy back...or neck...or knees...or shoulder...and pretty much all in-between. There was a day when I had a snazzy art desk and a nifty chair to help ease this situation. Oh, I still have the desk. Problem is, I don't have a place to put it. Short of sticking it in our over crowded sun/play room, I'm all out of space for a studio. Plus it's freezing in that blasted room! Who can draw with numb fingers, right? Well...actually...I did draw with numb fingers when I worked as a graphic designer years back. No heat for the starving artist. Lucky me. I'm not willing to revisit that moment in my life. So until the day when me and my trusty old art desk can be reunited, I'll be cozy on the couch with my pencil in hand. I've actually been so busy with art lately that I haven't had much time in the evenings to do much else. (Hence my lack of blogging Aunt Rhonnie. :-) I sink into the couch with my stuff, plop on Vampire Diaries (or something of that nature) and sketch away! My brother-in-law has asked for art for his upcoming Chiropractic clinic. So I'm drawing lots of spines. I must say that not many people can say that they've spent an evening watching vampire shows while holding a spine replica in their hand. It's an odd image to see. A bit surreal actually. How fitting. The most fascinating thing about no studio are the kids. They love going into my bedroom and seeing the new things I've drawn. They don't quite grasp the spine images, but they ask about them. The most frustrating thing about no studio? Well...let's just say that my $1.89 per pencil colored pencils have been found scattered around the house. Just a tip: If you spend hours on end drawing something, never leave it sitting at the level of a 5 and 3 year old. Plain white paper on a flat surface and colored pencils equal one unhappy mama. I don't get mad at them...but I do smack myself repetitively in the head as a friendly reminder to put the pencils higher next time.

Merry Christmas!!

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope your day was blessed and beautiful and as wonderful as ours. From our house to yours...wherever you are...Merry Christmas!!

God Bless,
Jessica, Josh, Alex, & Abby

Hawk Stalker

Look at me...blogging today. More rare of a day, it could not be. I'd like to say that I have a substantial reason for not blogging. I could easily blame it on time constraints, holiday insanity, never-ending bouts of cabin fever...but alas, though it could easily be true of any one of those reasons, the actual truth? Writer's block. Honestly, I've lost a good deal of my inspiration to write - in any form. Perhaps the drive will hit again. But recent uncontrollable life happenstances have rendered the otherwise useful and more imaginative sector of my brain, all but useless. Whatcha gonna do, eh? So it's been a couple of weeks since my last entry and what do I choose to blog about? No, not my kids. Because that would be way to predictable and far more appreciated by most readers. I'm going to introduce you to my stalker. He's brown, beaked, talon-ed, winged and has an insatiable appetite for what I can only assume to be our two helpless, yet impenetrably caged, rabbits. He...er...or she I suppose (sorry, I refer to all animals but cows as male for some reason)...has been a steady 'guest' at our house for over two weeks now. It's a red-tailed hawk. Weird, right? I first noticed him one day when I went out to put the bunnies in their highly unprotected ground pen. Before I got that far, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. On my fence, I see this:


He was just watching me. Creepy. I ran in to get my camera and shot a couple of pictures. Eventually he became bored with me and flew the coop. The red flag in my head said, "Don't put the bunnies out, dummy." So later in the day I went back outside and there he was again! Watching...as if waiting for something. Strange. The next day he was back. And the day after that? Back again. He's always there now. In a tree, on a fence, on the swingset, on the kid's slide climber. Just...ya know...sitting there...watching. He's only been gone one day which so happened to be the one day when it was like 60 degrees outside. Probably hunting. But rain or shine, our hawk stalker is always there. So what did I do? I started feeding him. Yeah. Dumb. I know. It's like sentencing my bunnies to certain annihilation. I started throwing raw chicken out in his favorite places. I can't be sure he's the one eating it, but I'd bet good money it is. Anyhow, my ultimate goal is to train him to come to me when I call and he'll whistle Dixie on command. I shall call him Squawky and love him always. Okay...now I'm just being ridiculous. Anyhow...here's some photos of Mr. Bunny stalker. Weird stuff around our house I tell you. Weird stuff...

The First Program

Well, we had our first school program for Alex last night. I was pretty sure I knew what to expect as I had my fair share of programs back in my school days. And being on the opposite side of the program was really great. I had a blast watching Alex up there with his classmates belting the Christmas tunes to the best of their ability. I pretty much knew what every song they were going to sing was because Alex comes home from school singing songs over and over again throughout the days. They had quite a few songs and did the little motions to the words. Cute, cute, cute! I felt my proud mama face shining last night. I gotta say that Alex doesn't skip a beat when it comes to anything school related. I was going to walk him up the stage behind the curtain and help him get in place like so many of the other moms. He beat me up the stairs and was behind the curtain before I had a chance to say a word to him. So I let him go it alone. *sniff* Just another one of those mom moments I suppose. Anyhow, they had singing and a slide show of school with about a billion cookies and soda after the show. Now, naturally Alex had to eat only the cookies that I brought so it wasn't really that great. As I stared at the hundreds of colorful cookies it felt like one of those scenes out of a horror movie with the high-pitched violin stabbing it's eerie warning in my mind. Food potluck = food allergy nightmare. Not my favorite part of get-togethers. But, Alex does great so I can't really complain. He's a good little allergy kid. So all in all, it was a great evening of our first of many to come school programs. I can't wait for Abby's first one. How fun!

Alex and his school buddies on stage.

Singing a song. I bet you can't guess what song. :)

Abby really enjoyed watching the program. She sat pretty still the whole time.

Alex in his 'fancy' duds after the show.

And earlier that day after church, I made the kids pose for a photo in their 'nice' clothes.

My Brother, Drew Brees

Now, by the title of my blog entry you might be thinking, "Brother?? Wait...what brother? Is Jessica pregnant?" Of course, the answer is no. If you are an NFL football fan in any way, shape or form, you might be asking, "Wait a second...they aren't related to Drew Brees. What is that fool talkin' about?" Let's break it all down before any more confusion ensues, shall we? First thing you should know is that Alex, my sweet little five year old child, is obsessed with football. He talks about it all the time. The kid can spout off names, numbers and teams better than half the adults I know. It's absolutely mind-boggling. The second thing you should know is that before Alex's obsession, I had absolutely no idea who anyone was in the NFL and could recognize about two of the professional team logos. I knew who the Dolphins were because of Ace Ventura: Pet Detective and knew who the Patriots were because my husband would kill me if I didn't. So knowing these two very specific things, you would understand the look of confusion on my face as Alex walks up to me and says, "Hey mom...Drew Brees is my brother!" with a smile from ear to ear. I cocked an eyebrow and stared at him blankly. Yep. That's all I could do. Eventually I found my tongue and muttered, "Brother? Huh? What...who...wait a second...huh??" He then, I kid you not, without so much as a skip of a beat, looked at me and said this: "Drew Brees is the quarterback for the Saints. He's number 9. He's my brother." He then proceeded to smile and run off through the house with his football playing imaginary catch with Drew Brees, his self-proclaimed "brother". This has been going on for weeks now. Still to this day, I have no idea how he came to this conclusion. So if you're looking for an explanation, please let me know if you ever find one. Now keep in mind that on a day to day basis, he learns more and more football stats. Another example of his obsession is as follows. Today he is wearing a green t-shirt and just finished drawing a self-portrait of himself. I said, "That's a nice picture of yourself Alex." To which he replied, "No. I'm Darrelle Revis, mom! See?" I laughed and said okay and he then asked me, "Can you make me brown like Darrelle Revis?" As the light bulb went on over my head about this, I googled Darrelle Revis. I laughed and said, "Oh! You want brown skin because he's black!" He looked at me like I was the dumbest person on Earth and replied, "No. Because he's brown, mom." This is a picture of Alex with two of his hundred drawings of Darrelle Revis:

Let me give you a break down of his drawing.
1. Note the cleverly placed ears in front of the football helmet. Why? So we can see that he has two earrings. Darrelle Revis has earrings.
2. Green. It's all green. Darrelle Revis plays for the Jets...who are green.
3. He's holding a football because he's the corner-back.
4. If you zoom in you'll note that his face is a shade of brown. Darrelle Revis is african american...or 'brown' according to Alex.
5. His name is Revis and his number is 24. (Alex has trouble making the two. It's always backwards.)

So, in conclusion, thanks to my son, I know that Darrelle Revis is the number 24 Cornerback for the New York Jets. He's "brown" and has two earrings and he's "The best player ever!!" Alex's words. And just so you aren't confused...

This is who Alex thinks he is - Darrelle Revis:

And this is his brother - Drew Brees:

Thanksgiving - Rock on, baby!

Thanksgiving Day was beautiful this year. Very strangely beautiful actually, but I'm no fan of the cold so I'll take it! On Wednesday night, we all hopped into the car and headed out, pies in tow, to the great state of Oklahoma. My concerns of driving in the dark during deer rut season were happily unwarranted, as we made it safe and sound, deer collision free. Though on the side of the road, others were not so lucky. The police were very busy that night. Anyhow, I've veered off point. I seem to do that from time to time. Thanksgiving was good this year. We spent it with Josh's family and the dinner was pretty much Alex-friendly save a few minor dishes that he wouldn't have eaten anyways. I, like my mother before me, had pie duty. I spent what seemed to be endless hours baking pies the day before. Lucky for me (and everyone else's tummies apparently) my mom passed along her joy of baking and cooking to me. I know sugar pretty well thanks to her. It was fun for the kids, especially Alex who is always in his element if there are kids around. And Abby was even mildly social this time. Yay for Abby! It was an all around good time and I'm glad we got to share it with Josh's family this year.

Sadly, with every Thanksgiving comes the inevitable story of some crazy family member doing something quite embarrassing and truly memorable. Unfortunately for me, I was that family memeber. What you are about to read is a true...and mildly embarrassing...account of Thanksgiving 2011. We got the pleasure of having our big meal at Josh's cousin's house, which I've never been to before. They had a room in the back of the house that had a card table set up for the kids to eat at. Beside this table were two old, short-back rocking chairs. Yow know the kind, padded for comfort and wooden legs that were built to withhold the many bottoms that grace it's presence. People had been sitting in them the whole time so when the room cleared out and the chairs were free, I happily set my tired butt down and played with an old magic 8 ball with my niece, Linsey. Abby crawled up onto my lap for some down time. My belly was full of turkey and tasty desserts. And the room was quiet and peaceful. All was right with the world. So yeah...that moment of zen lasted about...oh...five minutes. Suddenly without any warning whatesoever, the legs of this timeless rocking chair spontaneously combusted underneath me. The chair legs shattered, pieces of wood flying through the air in every-which direction. I, like the graceful human I am, merely lie there in a strangely humorous position as I push Abby safely away from the now pile of rubble on the floor. My niece is staring at me with a look that said, "Why is my strange aunt turning bright red and giggling uncontrollably from the floor?" You must understand that when the chair exploded, it also made a quite obvious, earth-shattering sound that could, in fact, be heard on the other side of the house with ease. I'm sure at first, there was concerns for another possible earthquake aftershock, but earthquakes aren't known for giggling. Why was I giggling? Simple. I was absolutely, positively, without a doubt...mortified. I'd just finished eating my six helpings of dessert so I'd already felt freakishly overweight as my cheap wal-mart belt groaned at the pressure of my unusually large meal. So naturally, breaking a chair of the host's house was not looking so good. And as soon as the rest of the house heard the sounds of chaos coming from the back room, their natural reaction was to go in to the room, one by one, to see what could have made such a raucous. Now, if efficiency has taught us anything, once one person sees the cause of the loud booming sound, they could essentially turn around and tell everyone else, saving the poor embarrassed soul from reliving the moment over...and over...and over again. But this was not the case. As each person enters the room, I have to explain to them individually, amidst my constant strain of giggles, that I had in fact shattered the rocking chair by merely sitting in it. As Josh's cousins sift through the rubble of a now worthless chair, I apologize and attempt to regain a shred of self-respect. Sadly, I think the remaining shards of my self-respect will forever be lost with the toothpick like remnants that littered the floor. What have I gained from this experience you might ask? Well, I now have a healthy fear of accepting invitations in other people's houses to 'Have a seat.' I also learned that there is, in fact, a correct answer to that age old Thanksgiving question, "Should I have another piece of pie?" The answer would be NO. You definitely should not. As a matter of fact, I think I'll just swear off of pie...for now.

And that my friends....is the rest of the story.

Hoofprints

Wait! Don't click away from the blog! You're in the right place. I swear you are! What was once The Lemonade Stand has changed. Why, you ask? Eh. I got tired of looking at the lemons. Too bright. Okay. So maybe the reason is slightly more significant than that. Basically I've been wanting something, oh...I dunno...more uplifting? Is that the right word? I ain't gonna lie to ya. It's been a rough couple of years. But hey, who doesn't have rough times? Well...I can think of a few randomly famous people, but we'll skip that.

Basically, as I was sitting around thinking of blog titles that I could use that would encompass who I am, what I believe, and just fit a little better, I thought of the poem Footprints In The Sand. You know the one right? Who doesn't? Just in case, you can read it here. Back in February when I was faced with the loss of Daisy, my cow of 21 years, I remember praying with her in the pasture. It was one of those moments that define who you are. I remember knowing that God was taking care of her from there. I also remember how hard it was to take that last walk with her. I pictured the footprints that would be in the sand of that journey. At first there would be two sets of footprints when God walked beside me. But the harder it got to reach Daisy, there became one set of prints when He carried me in that hard time. With faith, I walked again and in the sand were two sets of footprints as He walked beside me. As I began that long walk with Daisy, there were not two, but three sets of prints that day. Two sets of footprints and one set of hoofprints. As I walked with my friend, both of us terrified and hurting, the footprints became one again. Because there on that part of my journey, He not only carried me, but Daisy as well.

That's how life is. Like everyone, the footprints in the sand of my journey are ever changing. There are so many that walk with me. Big footprints, small footprints, pawprints...and of course hoofprints. But like the poem, I'll always know that no matter how many footprints there are, there will always be at least one set - always there to carry me and the ones I love.

So there you have it. I know, I know. Too deep, right? Well...that's how it is sometimes.

Change

Hey everyone! Change is a brewin' on my blog. My goal is to have it up and where I want it by tonight. (Aunt Rhonnie...I promise...I'm on it! :-)

Arrr! It's Halloween Matey!!

Was that pirate talk in the subject line Jessica?? Why yes. Yes it was. Why you ask? Well, Because I am a pirate! Well, actually I was just a pirate for Halloween. For years now, I've wanted to get in touch with my inner pirate and there is really only one day a year that it would be socially acceptable. Ya know...unless you're actually a pirate. Anyhow, moving on. Halloween gets to be more fun every year with the kiddos. I love that they love it as much as I do. They love dressing up, decorating, and carving pumpkins. And candy! Dare we forget the candy? The first Halloween with Alex trick-or-treating was depressing as finding milk-free candy made me feel so bad for him. Every year it's gotten easier and this year even Alex was looking for non-chocolate treats. What a smart kid! I was so proud of him. He asked me if I could take out all the chocolate for him and when he went to a house where all they gave him was chocolate, he'd say, "Aw man! Chocolate!" Of course they both have buckets almost full of safe food even with all the dangers picked out. And Abby, though normally suction cupped to my leg, was a quite the trick-or-treater. She was the first to the door and yelling "Trick-or-Treat!" with the best of them. She was super polite too. Always saying thank you. I'm just so proud of my kids. We went to our church so the kids could play games and get prizes and then came home and went trick-or-treating. Alex was Captain America, Abby was a fairy princess, Josh was Harry Dresden, and I was a pirate. Abby originally got a costume that was a barbie princess but after seeing the girls at Alex's school dressed in tutus and wings, we had a last minute wardrobe change. Too bad I didn't know this before I spent ten bucks on a barbie costume. Oh well. It was so much fun this year. I know it's weird to say I feel blessed on a holiday like Halloween, but I sure felt that way. I hope you all had a great time as well!

Here's my cool pumpkin. I call him Mr. Juggles. I have to pictures. One with the lights on and one with them off for the full effect. The little pumpkins have faces carved into them too but it's hard to see in photos.

My little trick-or-treaters hard at work!

Alex with his buddy Wesley. Captain America and a Firefighter. Cute.

Some people had pretty cool decorations. This one was super fun.

And of course there's me. I loved my costume.
Pants and shirt: Goodwill $5
Arm cuffs, Hair beads, belt, etc: Free from items around the house & a good ol' needle and thread
Hair: Mine (two-hours to braid)
Being a pirate: Priceless

Birthday Pictures...Finally!

Alex with his Mighty Morphin Power Ranger cake. It was super fun to decorate.

Well, I finally have some access to Josh's computer. Of course, it's definitely not a day later. More like a week. But hey...I tried. Anyhow, Alex got to celebrate his birthday more than once. One big party with the family and one party with his classmates at school. Both were equally fun and both involved a good deal of cake decorating from me. Theme for the big party was Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (his choice, not mine...if you were wondering. Not that I was complaining as I'm in total love with the show.) For his class party, he wanted Captain America. So, I'm happy to say that I delivered both to the best of my ability. Both ending in success. I must say that this round of birthday party was really enjoyable. I don't think I've seen him so happy. Especially after the loot he got for gifts. I can sum up the presents in three points: Super heroes, Big boy bike, nerf gun. He's in love with them all! Thanks again to everyone who made Alex's birthday so special. We are truly blessed! Oh...and yes. I have photos this time. Here ya'll go!

The mighty Thor!

Captain America shield cupcakes. Yeah...I know...I'm awesome. :)

Birthday boy with the birthday crown at school. He loves preschool! So many new friends.

Happy Birthday Alex!!

Even though my computer is still mostly dead, I cannot ignore this amazing day. Today my wonderful son turned five years old. Five! Wow! I feel like all the birthday posts are like this. It just always seems so incredible how fast they grow. Alex is turning into this little boy with traits that leave me speechless almost daily. His compassion and caring for others (especially his sister Abby) have shown me just how wonderful of a kid he is and how amazing of a man he will grow to be. His Great-Grandma gave him a card with $20 in it for his birthday party this past Saturday. A couple of weeks before, he'd seen a nifty spy-kit in the toy section of a Dollar General. He asked if he could have it for his birthday and I told him that if he got any birthday money that he could come back to buy it. When he got the money he promptly remembered the spy-kit and asked if we could go so he could buy it with his 'dollar'. So Sunday, we went to the Dollar General. Naturally, Abby wanted a toy as well, but I had to explain to her that it was Alex's birthday money and that I wasn't going to buy her anything that day. She was very upset about this. So Alex walked up to her, without any prompting from me whatsoever, and said, "It's okay Abby. I'll buy it for you with my dollar." I told him he didn't have to do that but he insisted that he wanted to. I was speechless. He's been doing little selfless acts like this more and more often. It was just one of those moments when you say to yourself, "Wow. I'm just so proud of this little one." And I am. Both of my children as so amazing and I am so blessed. Thank you God for my wonderful children. Five years old, and already exceeding my expectations. Alex, I'm so proud of you! Happy Birthday to my little boy! Tomorrow I'll attempt to rip the computer out of Josh's hands in hopes of uploading pictures from my camera as a part 2 to Alex's birthday blog. We had a wonderful birthday party with all the family. It was a blessed day and I thank all of you that came to celebrate with us! Happy Birthday Alex!

Computer Woes

About...oh...I'd say one and a half years back, I decided to treat myself to a brand new, shiny computer. A Laptop to be precise. I believe now that I made two mistakes that I will now share with you so that you do not make the same mistakes in future laptop purchases. Mistake #1: I bought the cheapest laptop that was on sale at Wal-Mart. Mistake #2: I decided not to get the extended warranty. Because I, like many other people, see my purchases as invincible. Why, oh why, would I spend the extra $30 on something as ridiculous as this when it comes with a free one-year warranty? What could possibly happen to my indestructible laptop? Well...let's see. The screen could randomly start dying. And then it could eventually start making sizzling sounds as it goes black until it never pops on again. Then it could leave you with a worthless hunk of junk and no warranty to fix it. Yep. That's exactly what happened! So I'm on Josh's computer now and as he dominates the computer time when he's home, blogging is temporarily a thing of my past. I'll be back as soon as I can either get my laptop fixed or buy a new one. Hmmm...the temporary blogging break may become more permanent than I thought. I'll blog when I can rip Josh's keyboard out of his kung-fu grip. See ya all on the flip-side!

Eat THAT Little Debbie!

Uh-huh. You read that title right. I'm talkin' smack on everyone's favorite snack time friend. Ms. Little Debbie. She's always conjuring up some sugary goodness that's chock full of goodness. And by goodness I really mean, thank goodness I didn't exceed my lifetime sugar levels by devouring the entire box by myself. I'll admit I'm not immune from her devilish plan to create an entire world of diabetics. I walk past that aisle every time I go shopping. My Little Debbie vice? Strawberry Shortcake Rolls. Mmmm...I'm drooling. But! Yes. I said 'but'. When we discovered Alex's milk allergy, I looked at every box of her goodies and noticed milk in all of them. I looked that curly, brown-haired trouble maker square in the eyes and told her to take a hike! That was the end of my 28 year relationship with Little Debbie. So at our local tiny grocery store, what do they have set up on those dingy white shelves right by the checkout? You guessed it. A collection of Ms. Debbie's greatest hits. And some new releases as well. Alex consistently eyeballs those rainbow boxes of treats. This past weekend he looked at the shelves and noticed a new box. In light of the season, there was a new item: Football brownies. Well, you should know that Alex is in love with football. The kid can spout team names, coaches and players pretty darn good for a five year old. He was ecstatic about the brownies and excitedly begged for me to buy them for him. I had to use the dreaded, "Sorry buddy. Those have cow milk in them," phrase. He put them back and gave me the sad pouty face that breaks my heart so often. (Darn you, dairy industry! Why must you make so many tastefully deadly things?) So I knelt down and said, "How about I go home and make you some football brownies?" His frown turned upside down and he was bouncing with joy again. So home I went and whipped up a tasty batch of football brownies. They look almost exactly like the store bought ones and taste a whole lot better (theoretically speaking of course). No preservatives and mine even had chocolate chips in them. Bet you didn't put chocolate chips in yours Ms. Debbie! All in all, the brownies were gone in 24 hours and were a huge hit. Plus, I earned massive 'Awesome Mom' points. Move over Little Debbie....Little Jessie is in town! (Hmmm. That doesn't have quite the catchy ring to it that I'd hoped it would.)

Uh-huh...yeah...that's right! I'm awesome! (Now picture me spiking one of my football brownies on the ground and doing my 'touch down' dance.)

Yummy stuff I tell ya! Just ask my biggest fans!

Twins

Twins run strongly in my family. Not so strongly that there’s a set in every house, but strong enough to be note worthy. My dad’s a twin. I have twin cousins. My brother has two sets of twins. So there you have it. I, on the other hand, do not have twins. I also am not a twin to another human. So you might find it interesting to know that for what it’s worth, I can’t stop being accused of having one. Growing up, me and one of my brothers were mistaken for twins quite frequently. He is less than two years younger than me so it can be understood. Of course, I’m not around him enough to be compared anymore. With two brothers on opposite ends of the country and one who doesn’t even have the same hair color as me, why oh why would I be called a twin? One word. Mandy. For some reason, people keep mistaking us as twins. And what’s funny is that the accusations have become ever increasing as the years go by. They say that married couples live together for so long that they eventually begin to look alike. Mandy and I have been friends since the 5th grade and consistently hang around one another so perhaps this is becoming true of us. There are similarities for which you would have to be blind to miss. Both of us have the same red hair…same length as well these days. We consistently seem to wear the same color combo of clothes…purely unintentionally of course. And we have an uncanny ability to finish each others sentences when talking to other people. And heck...our kids refer to us as Aunts. Come to think of it…it is a bit odd, isn’t it? We’re not related. Seriously…our gene pools could not be more different…on several levels. But as you can easily see the similarities are uncanny.

Same hair color (I'm older-obvious by my white streaks) and same sense of style. Very fashionable. And may I just add, the same genuinely beautiful skin tone and overall beauty.

Same body type. Though you can probably tell that Mandy works out more. (Looser loin cloth.)

Ah, heck. we even have the same pathetically corny and slightly immature sense of humor.

So as you can so obviously see...people can't help but to compare us. What made me make note of such an obscure point? I found it strange that in the span of three hours two weekends back, three total strangers asked us if we were twins. Not just sisters. Twins. It makes me laugh. They are always so amazed to find out that we aren’t even related. Seriously though, we don’t see it. I think from now on we should just go with it and make a game out of it. I’ve always been a fan of witty comebacks. Next time someone asks, I’ll nod and say, “Yup. She got all the looks and I got all the brains.” (Just kidding Mandy...you got the brains too.)

Now you must understand that the hilarity of this situation goes further. One night Mandy said, "That's it! I'm chopping off all of my hair! Then no one can call us twins!" Sooo...fast forward to the Great Sleep over with her kids. She comes waltzing up to my door to pick up the kids with a full-on make over. Ten inches of her hair...gone! Mighty fine hair cut, if I do say so myself. Pierced ears and lookin' pretty doggone snazzy! I, in my run down jeans and holey shirt with hair slopped back in a rough pony-tail and bags under my eyes from watching four little tornadoes for 32 hours, stared back and said, "Twins, no more!" We went out for the first time together not three days later to Wal-Mart to do our shopping. One of the workers looked at us and said, "Are you two sisters?"

Priceless. Guess next time one of us need to just shave our heads. "Not it!"

The First Great Sleepover

I remember my first sleepover. It was a terrifying experience for me and I remember not sleeping a wink in fear that someone might dip my hand in warm water or put shaving cream in my sleeping bag. Granted this sleepover was a slumber party and I barely knew the girls. As I was quite possibly the single most unpopular person in my grade, you can understand how it might be a bit intimidating to subject myself to the mercy of a group of female peers. Scary. Of course, perhaps my first sleepover wasn’t the one I’m thinking. Forgive me if my mind is a little rusty in the youth memory department. In the event I’m wrong, my mom will surely call me promptly with a corrected version of the story. So, here I am, several years older with wee children of my own. A three and almost five year old and I’m already having a sleepover. Of course, they are my niece and nephew via Mandy so perhaps sleepover is the wrong term. Nevertheless, there are children that are not my own hunkering down in my house without their parents. Mandy and her hubby escaped for a 30-hour trip all to themselves. They get to experience the joys of silence, adult themed music and conversation, and eating without food being thrown across the room. I’m beyond thrilled that I can give them that experience. I’m sure they will enjoy their time off for good behavior. So far, the night has been fairly good. Granted, no one went to sleep easily and poor miss Greta went to sleep begging nonstop for juice. (Don’t ask.) Wesley kept referring to me as ‘Aunt Mandy’. I’m fairly certain he was delirious from exhaustion, as he didn’t go to sleep until 9:30. Tomorrow it’s a bright and early morning of chocolate chip pancakes and preschool. So here’s hoping the rest of the night goes smoothly. I can only hope that Wesley and Greta don’t go home permanently scarred from their four-kids-in-one-room-at-night experience. All in all…it’s been fun. On to the morning.

*Ugh...on an updated side note...It is 6:04 in the morning and I'm awake with two of the kids. The ladies decided to early rise. I'm not built for pre-sunrise...

A Moment of Silence

Please take a moment to pray for those who lost their lives ten years ago on that horrible day that changed the world. I know I'll never forget where I was, what I was doing, and how I heard about the World Trade Center attack. I was in my art class and my teacher said to us, "Well...it's a terrible thing that's happened. *silence* The world will never be the same. But life has to go on." And so it did. But we will never forget. God Bless all those that lost their lives and those that must live every day with the loss and memory of it all. God bless our troops that fight to prevent this from happening again and God bless America. Amen.

Sooo....yeah

So I was googling images tonight for a t-shirt I'm looking for. (Don't ask...it's a geek thing.) I didn't think much about it until... *POP!* Right there, smack dab in the middle of all those images, I saw a familiar face smiling back at me. It was a picture of Abby. Huh. I gotta be honest with myself now. It made me feel a little...well...weird. It's not like I was googling images of "Abby" so how did it get mixed in with all those pictures? What process does google use to match images to searches? I suddenly had mixed feelings about my blogging days. Now, I'm well aware of what a 'public' blog means. The thing is: I don't have many readers. As far as I know, it's just the few bits of family out there that may or may not check up on it once in a blue moon. So I kind of brushed it off until I showed Josh. He was less than thrilled about seeing her image on a google image search. Has my comfort zone suddenly become less when it regards the world wide web? Perhaps my paranoia just hit me a little harder than normal. I could be tapping into my inner agitated mama bear who's simply trying to protect her cubs from the dangers of google-searchers. Or maybe the caramel sauce I added to my hot cocoa just now has added just a tad too much sugar to my diet and disrupted the fine balance of reason in my brain creating strange, paranoid delusions. (Caramel has been known to do that you know.) It's hard to say. The cure for my sudden concern is simple. Go private. Do I? Don't I? I'm just not sure. Me? A private blogger? I'd be one of those bloggers. *shudder* (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) Perhaps it's in my future. I don't blog as often as I used to anyways. Maybe tomorrow morning the rantings and concerns of a slightly odd mama will have dulled significantly. The effects of the caramel sauce will have worn off and I'll be able to think clearly again. Until then: To go or not to go private? That is the question.

It's Morphin' Time!

I have another secret I'm going to share with you, because I know you won't tell anyone. Right? Just between you and me. Ready? Ok...

I love The Power Rangers.

There. I said it. Whew! Here's the funny story on how it all started. I'd love to say that I was a mere child of ten years when I began to watch The Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. But that would be a big ol' stinky lie. Because Power Rangers debuted in 1993...that would have made me 15. Not exactly the age the show was aimed at. But I watched it. And when I couldn't be home to watch it? Yeah. That's right. I taped it! With VHS tapes. I climbed up on the roof in the morning to adjust the ancient TV antennae, programmed the VHS, and timer-recorded it. My horrible half hour obsession. Don't judge me, by the way. The average age of a Power Ranger fan is in the early 30's. So ha! (I know. That doesn't justify my patheticness.) Anyhow, the abnormality of my unnatural enjoyment of this show goes deeper. When the re-runs showed during the butt-crack of dawn, the local TV network advertised a contest for kids from ages 7-12 years old. If you sent in a postcard with your info on it, you could win the drawing for a set of 13 Power Ranger videos. Too old, I was. So I entered it under my youngest brother's name and guess what? I won! Never been so excited in my life.

So, fast forward to present day. I hadn't really seen the Power Rangers in quite a long time. My video collection was lovingly stored at my folks' house. But I hadn't forgot them. When I drop the kids off to play over there, they began to want to watch the old tapes. Alex became hooked and Abby is following closely behind. So enter the role of modern technology...Netflix. Lo and behold! They have all the episodes on there for instant play. Woo-hoo! So every day, I sit down with the kids and we watch two episodes of The Mighty Morphin Power Rangers together. And guess what? My love of that cheesy show has been rekindled. I have fallen back in love with the theme song and the teenage drama riddled with the constant foiled plans of the evil Rita Repulsa and her desire to conquer Earth. So my kids and I have found a very common ground. We love to watch it and I haven't missed an episode yet. They beg me daily for our Power Ranger time. And the movie? Oh yes. There was a movie. Love it! So call me weird. Call me geeky. Call me a Zord...because It's Morphin' Time!

Remember...it's our little secret. *wink*

Insomnia

1:21 a.m. - Yep. that's what time it is as I sit here writing this. I still have 15 more minutes before I can officially turn in for the night. I don't suppose that I can truly call my condition insomnia as I do, in fact, dearly want to go to bed. Yet, here I sit for the eighth night in a row, fighting sleep at my computer. In short, Alex is sick. He picked up a nasty little cough from somewhere and I am dealing with the after effects as I always do. By avoiding sleep. Asthma is nasty. It's not the most horrible thing in the world, but it's not fun by any means. Alex doesn't seem bothered by it. Even at his worst breathing, he's rip-roarin' ready to go. Then there is me. The mom. I'm the one that makes it so he can continue to be rip-roarin' ready to go despite the wheezing. Normal colds that involve just the runny nose and icky green snot don't keep me up at night quite as badly as the coughing colds. Once the chest congestion hits him, it always gets worse at night. I spend half my night sneaking into his bedroom and counting his respiration as I hover over him with my trusty sidekick: Mr. Stethoscope. I've become quite proficient with the stethoscope, actually...if I do say so myself. So for five nights now, my bed has had to wait until the next scheduled time for his asthma meds. I'd love to say that the alarm clock could wake me up to remind me to go dose him, but I'm so tired these days that I can't always hear the blasted thing when it goes off. And when I do hear that incessant beeping of the alarms beckoning me for the fourth time in a night, it's all I can do to drag my big butt out of bed as I battle the pounding headache that plagues my waking. So, needless to say, I'm exhausted. Sadly, even with an alarm set, these particular nights are filled with restless sleep from my worry about my sweet little guy. Abby's cough was just as icky this time, but she's about over it. And she's even two days behind him if that tells you anything about Alex's reaction to colds like this. Alex is a trooper though. He wakes up for his treatments and never complains once about them. And Abby? She just ignores the loud sounds of the nebulizer and rolls over and sucks her thumb. Good kids. I couldn't ask for a greater blessing through all this. So here I sit. Insomniac Mom. But it doesn't matter. My kids are totally worth it...bags under the eyes and all. Night all...

The Great Rewrite

If you've not noticed the counter jump on my dreaded Denied-O-Meter to the right, then you should know that I'm getting rejections/denials from my manuscript query pretty much consistently. I have four more out to the agencies and am fully expecting them to be rejections as well. These four places have the basic 'if we don't respond in four to six weeks, then assume it's a no' response system. I'm on week four right now with them and have yet to get a response so I'm going to jump to the negative 'glass-half-full' assumption and plan on editing my Denied-O-Meter to 28 very soon.

Am I frustrated beyond belief and attempting not to burn the hard copy in a fit of pent up rage then burying it in the backyard under the giant pile of rabbit poop? Yes. Yes I am. Do I want to turn tail and run screaming into the night like a teenager in a cheesy horror movie from the big bad agent of denial? I think that's a fairly accurate description of how the inside of my brain is thinking. So yes. Am I giving up? No. Blast it all! I've failed over and over again on several things but I am not giving up on this venture. Not yet at least. I originally gave myself a year to query. That year mark is quickly approaching. So this weekend I discovered something. My story isn't good. Now don't go thinking I'm a pot of self pity boiling over into the fires of doom. I'm simply saying that as it seems that I've yet to even get the most mild form of interest in my book then I must assume that it isn't the countless agencies. It is me. Heck, not many people have read it. And half that have read it are biased and the other half have yet to finish reading it. And then there's the few that said they'd love to read it but never really showed interest past that point. That, my friends, is not a good sign. If I can't get an agent to read it then there's always self-publishing. My theory is that if I can't even get family and friends to read it for free, then what stranger would pay money freely to do so?

So it's time for a change. Josh and I had a nice long talk on the way home about my book and we both agree it's a great story. The problem isn't that the story is bad. It's the execution. It doesn't hold that certain unique spark that it needs in order to be marketable. Thanks to a writer husband who is well versed in books due to his avid reading obsession, I think he's helped me find the right road I need to travel to get it just where it needs to be. So that's my plan. As much as I don't want to admit my failure, it's time to buck up and start over. It's time for the thing that I never wanted to do. It's time for a rewrite.

Introducing The Doc

So I have a joke for you. I'll even provide the possible answers in handy quiz form. Ready? Okay.

What do you get when you cross a brother with a doctorate degree?

1. A sudden spike in family members with chronic back pain.
2. The unwilling opening of a family customer based free clinic.
3. A Broctor
4. My brother-in-law
5. All of the above

Answer? C. A Broctor! No...just kidding. I'm guessing it's probably E...all of the above. But really this was my way of saying that my Brother-in-law is officially a doctor. He graduated from Chiropractor school this past weekend and we got the honor of attending his big day. I think he's been in school for like...I don't know...twenty years now? Okay, so maybe not that many years. (But probably close to it.) I was a willing guinea pig for his outpatient clinic but now I can officially, and proudly, call him my doctor. It was a nice graduation. I actually wish that all graduations were so short. Afterwards we went to the celebration party which yours truly made the most impressive cakes for. (That was me tooting my own horn.) These bad boys took seven cake mixes, ten pounds of powdered sugar, 21 eggs and one case of carpal tunnel to complete. Together they weighed in at somewhere over 25 pounds. That, my friends, is a whole lot of cake. It was a nice party and the kids especially had fun with the mass amount of cousins and kids running amok through the church. So, not that my brother-in-law reads my blog, but I would like to take this moment to say congratulations on everything Ben...er...Jeremiah! (His real name is Jeremiah, but I was introduced to him as Ben...his middle name. It's confusing. I know.) Well done Doc! Couldn't be prouder!

Photos now. So let me start by saying that these photos represent another fine moment of irony. I'm a huge fan of irony. Heather...that would be the Doc's wife :-)...forgot her camera and asked to use mine. So the irony is, even though I wasn't the one using my own camera, I still magically did not appear in any of the photos. But I really was there. I swear. :-) Isn't irony fun?

It's blurry, but it's the picture that makes it official. This is my brother-in-law graduating.

May I introduce The Doc and the Doc's Wife. Or is it Mr. and Mrs. Doc? Perhaps Dr. and Mrs. Doc? I just don' t know enough about etiquette. Sorry guys. I don't use last names on my blog for safety reasons.

The Doc and his bro (a.k.a my hubby) and sister. Siblings. Pop quiz. Who is the oldest? If you don't know...I'm not telling. :)

The Doc with his siblings and folks.

Look at all those kids! Good thing he's a doctor with all those mouths to feed. Just kidding. Only three of them are his.

And the cakes...with last names omitted. That's the reason for the fuzzy white blotches on the frosting. Blog safety first!

Tip-Toeing Through the Mine Fields

Here lately it's been...well...interesting. Life. It's hard to say what it will throw at you. This summer has been quite trying for me and sometimes I get a bit jittery to turn another corner. But just as easily as there could be something scary around that corner, there could be something equally wonderful and amazing. I'm waiting for the amazing things because I know they will come one day. But, this day was not yesterday.

It started with a fever around 2:00 in the afternoon. Alex was definitely a bit off and seeing as he'd been around a lot of kids this past weekend and out of his element, I wasn't surprised to see it. What I was surprised to see was Josh coming home, hunched over and in severe pain. At first, I assumed he'd hurt his back. Occupational hazards, you know? When he said he felt worse than he'd ever felt before in his life in a barely audible voice and I saw the pale skin beneath the dirt, I knew something wasn't right. He said his entire body was cramping up, he'd thrown up twice, and had to pull over due to his vision going out. All it took was one question: "Did you work in the heat all day?" When he said yes, I immediately thought it was heat related. Of course, he went downhill fast. He collapsed onto the floor in entire body cramps and then suddenly I heard him whisper, "I can't breathe!" Boom. That was it. Ambulance was in route. It was looking like he was having a heatstroke. He said he was sure he was having a heart attack. I kept my cool, but inside I was falling apart. Now before you get all freaked out, it wasn't a heart attack. His pumper's working fine. They took him away in the ambulance and suddenly I couldn't believe what was happening. I was in the car, dropped the kids off with my folks, and on the way to Josh. The hospital kept getting further away for some reason, but I got there eventually. I had called for prayer from Josh's brother and had him pass the word along. They didn't hesitate and were already in the car on their way...just as worried as I was. He didn't have a heatstroke, but it could have gone that far fast. He had what they called acute renal failure. His kidneys were all dried up and he his body began breaking down and eating his muscle to survive. Dehydration to the max. Four bags of fluid and a few tests later, he finally had to pee. The doc said that if you don't pee, you're not hydrated. First of all, the doctor said 'pee' and not urine. I loved that. It lightened my mood significantly. We all came up with a great t-shirt idea. "My kidneys are happy. I peed today." (Sorry. Had to joke a little. :-) All jokes aside though, it was scary and horrible to watch happen, but thank God he's okay. He's off work until Friday under doctor's orders. Actually the doc's orders were, "Get a red box DVD and relax for two days with lots of fluid." Done.

As for Alex, his fever is getting better, but he's got something else going on. His face is twitching. I took him in this morning and the doctor said she thinks he has tic disorder. Basically it's an involuntary tic that is caused by severe stress or illness. Well, I'd say we have that covered as he watched the five big guys hook daddy up to tubes and take him away to the hospital. Poor kiddos. I sent them to my room while it was happening but you can't hide everything. Let's just all pray that things get better quick for all the people in my house that I hold so dear to my heart.

So basically it's simple. There are no maps through the crazy thing that is life. You can tiptoe through the mine fields but eventually you're gonna hit the bumps you just didn't see were right in front of you.

Preparations

In three short weeks, I will have a preschooler. I must admit, I'm a bit nervous about the whole thing. Why am I nervous? Three things.

1. Life threatening milk allergy
2. Life threatening peanut allergy
3. Viral induced Asthma

Why do those three things scare me? Easy.

1. "Little Johnny's having a birthday today! Cupcake and Hershey bar time!"
2. "What's that on your hand little Billy? Peanut butter?"
3. Germs, sneeze, sneeze, sneeze, cough, cough, flu, germs, germs. *wheeeeze*

Did that make enough sense to you? Well the whole 'trust a total stranger with the protection of my child' thing isn't settling as nicely into the black pit of my stomach as I'd hoped it would. As they say, you can't protect them from everything forever. Anyhow, in light of the new school year, I am loaded down with things I need to do before it all begins. Not only do I need to buy the school supplies and get the medical records filled out, but I also get the joy of ordering a second medical alert bracelet *cha-ching!*, double inhalers*cha-ching!*, double Epipen Juniors*cha-ching!*, and stock up on frozen cupcakes for all the 'little Johnny birthdays'. That first day of dropping him off at school will either end with me in tears and sick with worry or with me sitting outside the school window behind a bush watching for the rogue attacking Reese's Peanut butter Cup...ready to pounce at any given moment. Do I chance being kicked out of the preschool because of my obsessive nature to nurture and protect? Probably not. I'm not that scary...yet.

In more preparations, Alex (and Abby as well) gets to visit the eye doctor next week. Family eye doctor trip. That should be a barrel of happiness. It's Abby's first time so we'll see how that goes. Next up is a trip the pediatrician for a shot appointment. Hep A never got done but it's got to be done before school according to what I've read. And naturally, the oral milk challenge was never done because of Alex's knowledge and understanding of his own allergic situation. I have had some problems convincing him to willingly drink cow milk at the doctor's office because he knows it's dangerous. How do you reason with him when he tells you, "I can't drink cow milk, I'm allergic and it will hurt me!" I've taught him this for his entire life so how can I tell him otherwise? So I think I may have convinced him, but it will cost me a blue Mighty Morphin Power Rangers costume. Which, by the way, doesn't come cheap as it is vintage and hard to come by. Sadly, I'm not sure I want to even do the challenge anymore. But I'll delve into that can of allergen-free gummy worms another day. For now I'll get started on all of the preparations. Excuse me. I'm going to go drain my checking account now.

One of those posts

You know...I'm such a dedicated blogger. It's like the best thing I do. I'm consistent. Consistently inconsistent. One of those little things that I should be doing is sharing photos with the dedicated family that check this blog in hopes of finding a shred of evidence that I do, in fact, own a camera and am capable of taking pictures with it. I do upload pictures from time to time but I do so tease those hoping to see pictures of my sweet little children. I'm sure they see a photo underneath the long written blog and think, "Oooh! Photo!" And then they see the actual picture and say, "Oh. Just a squirrel. Joy." And then I upload another photo and they think again, "Oooh! Photo!" And then again, "Oh. A spider. *sigh*" So, mostly for my mother-in-law who I know enjoys seeing all the photos of the kids, I now present you with...well...some photos.

First up, let's start with what we've spent the majority of our summer doing so far. Sitting outside and playing in the little kiddie pool. Note that it was actually well into the 100's as far as temperature goes and those two are, in fact, covered up with towels. But still cute.

I got the camera out and said, "Okay guys! I'll take your pictures but you have to run when I say 1,2,3...go!" They laughed hysterically as they were running.

Mmmm...red dye #40...nothing but the finest for my family. Note that the ramifications of giving children a concoction of high fructose corn syrup, sugar and red dye #40 (blue dye too) 2 hours before bed is not good. Not good at all. Though it sounded like hyped up elephants running amok through my house after this, it was actually two children with dilated eyes climbing my walls. Seriously.

Oh what to do, what to do with my boring evening. Oh! I have idea! Let's put dad's night pants on and see where that takes us! Yep. I'm just glad it wasn't my pants. Cuz that would make me feel just a tad fat. Kinda funny though.

And I had to throw this in here. Because it's just not natural. I'm proud to say that I finally got my corn harvest from the garden. And what a harvest it was! I think I might successfully have gotten enough to feed...oh, I don't know...let's say...a really hungry worm or a not-so-hungry squirrel. The 'normal corn', by the way, is not of my growing.

Isn't it beautiful? All that hard work and massive water bills really did pay off for me this year. I think I'd get more full eating the tube of chapstick...

And as an added super special treat...a video! Alex watched America's Got Talent one night with us and there was a magician on there making things disappear. So Alex, that little character he is, wanted to show us his skills as a magician. We were laughing so hard. He asked me show him how to make himself disappear so I did what I could and he tried his hardest to do the same. Funny stuff.

If I wrote a kid's book about the past two months...

...it would go something like this:

The Big Old Pile of Suck

By: Jessica Blogger

I woke up this morning and I asked life to send me a good day. I decided to get a puppy. I named him Titus. I loved that little puppy. But life sent everyone in my family a dog allergy. Everyone but me. I didn't like it, but I sent it back.

I woke up the next morning and I asked life to send me a good day. I sat down on the toilet and felt the floor move. Life rotted my bathroom floor and sent me loads of icky mold. I didn't like it. So I sent it back.


I woke up the next morning and asked life to please send me a good day. Life sent me a black widow infestation. I most assuredly didn't like it. So I sent it back.

I woke up the next morning and asked life to please, please send me a good day. Life ignored me and sent me shingles on my thigh. I definitely didn't like it. So I sent it back.

I woke up the next morning and asked life to pretty please with cherries on top send me a good day. Life continued to ignore me. It sent me a round of antibiotics. With that, life sent me a brand new shiny penicillin allergy. I liked this least of all. So I sent it back.

Now the next morning I woke up and begged life to find it in it's heart to send me just one good day. And it happened! Life sent me a beautiful new bathroom where you can sit on the toilet without falling to your doom. I loved it and thanked life for my good day.

So then the contractor sent me a bill for $2,900 for three hours of work.

I didn't like it.


So I sent it back.

(not really.)

The moral of the story? Nothing really. I just thought I'd share why I've avoided blogging...in children's book format. Cuz...ya know...I'm a writer. :-)

*Dedicated to Mandy. Because it was her idea. :-)*