Everyone remembers the Folgers jingle right, "The best part of waking upppp is Folger's in your cup..." I totally agree with that. I need coffee in the morning, preferably first thing in the morning. Now, as a mother I don't usually get it FIRST thing, but it's pretty darn close. However, even as a mother NO ONE should have to wake up to what I did this morning...

I heard Ben fussing this morning. Now, because I live such a life of leisure and because Andrew works nights and gets home in the morning just before Ben wakes up he usually gets him up and they have some bonding time in the morning. So when I heard him I waited for a minute to hear if Andrew was home yet and to hear him clomp up the steps in his boots.

No Andrew. I roll over and look at the clock. It's 7:45. That's pretty good. Usually Ben is up at 7:00:01. So he slept late this morning. My alarm was set for 8:00 so I would have been getting up pretty soon anyway. All that to say I ...

Last night, I was laying in bed ready to watch Survivor and Logan and Cael came up to watch with me...and Todd was reading on the bed. They really only like the part they call "games" (when they do the challenges) and they just play on the floor or in their rooms with their toys when there is just "camp life" and "talking" going on. Most episodes have two different challenges in them. Last night, as the two teams were hearing the directions for the first challenge, Logan asked me which team I wanted to win. So, I showed him the team I was hoping to win, and he said, "Ok, then I want the other team to win." Cael said, "I'm with you, Mom." I didn't really see the problem coming... They do the challenge, the boys and I cheering on our respective teams (Logan doing a lot of asking me, "Mom, who is winning now, my team or your team?" an ...

I don't know why you are tired of reading your blog and insist that I write in mine.  I'm not good at this.  Your blogs are much more entertaining.  Since I'm here I will oblige you and update everyone (whoever bothers to read this-which I think is NO ONE) on what is going on in our lives.

So, Matt still has no job.  We're still enjoying that he has no job.  Matt does have an interview in 2 weeks (check the family calendar!).  I feel like I should be more excited and grateful about this than I am.  Part of me wants to scream, "OF COURSE YOU GIVE MY HUSBAND AN INTERVIEW FOR A JOB WITH THE YOUTH GROUP WE'VE GIVEN OUR LIVES TO FOR THE PAST 4 YEARS!  HOW DARE YOU CONSIDER ANYONE ELSE FOR THE POSITION!  YOU SHOULD JUST GIVE HIM THE JOB AS A SIGN OF RESPECT AND BECAUSE HE DESERVES IT!"  And then the other part of me wants to cry because this is what we've wanted for&n ...

This was a moment more of frustration than the first entry in this blog.  Not that I'm under the delusion that anyone who knows me is under the delusion that I am a perfect parent, but just so we're all clear about that I'm posting this story.

I've been sick for about five days so that knocks about 50 percent of parenting energy out right off the bat every time that I open my eyes. This morning Ben was really fussy and clingy. He wanted down, no up, no down, no up...and on and on this went. It didn't help that I was sitting at the computer and so I was really trying to do my own thing and wishing that he would do his own thing as well. As it turns out 15 month old babies aren't really into "their own thing".

So I'm sitting at the computer and Ben wants up and so I pick him up and he's fussy and wants down so I put him down and he's fussy and wants held again and so on and so forth. After about five minutes of this I've had enough on a ...

I hate our library on post. They have the worst fiction section I've ever seen, unfriendly librarians, and no board books in the children's section. In fact I have not found a library within thirty minutes of us that does have board books. Can you believe that?

Anyway, the library is not my favorite place to take Ben. He doesn't like his stroller, he's loud, and it's just not a child-friendly place. That said, I've found it easier to go once or twice a week and just stay for a very short period of time instead of trying to keep him occupied for a lengthy browsing.

I was there yesterday and within moments of being buckled in he was unhappy. So I'm hurrying along giving him various non-toy items to play with and picking them up after he has flung them to the floor. When I was in the last aisle I set him free by one of those round wheelie step stools thinking he'd just bang on it or push the stroller up and down the aisle.

He bangs on it. Once. ...

It's funny to say that Matt is unemployed.  First, it's not something I ever thought would happen to us so that aspect is a bit surreal (to use a word that is totally over used).  Second, unemployed men are supposed to be depressed not the happiest they have ever been in their entire lives.  Third, Matt spends so much time working at the church it feels like he really does work there full time.

I'm not really upset about Matt not working.  It has actually been one of the best times in our relationship.  The lack of money totally sucks but we've been getting pretty used to that over the past 5 1/2 years and especially over the past 15 months we've been in school.  What could be good about it, you ask?  Well, Matt's happy which makes me happy which makes us getting along a whole lot easier.  We have a lot more time to spend together now...something that has been sorely lacking since we started school an ...

So this blog is going to function mostly as a dumping ground for information so that I don't forget to write this stuff down about Ben. This is actually the first time that I've written anything down so he's going to have a pretty sparse baby book. On that note, if anyone you don't clean out your email inboxes very often and you happen to have any of the updates I sent out when he was little and you want to send it back to me I'd really appreciate it. I thought that I had them saved, but can't find them.

This is Ben's list of words at almost 15 months:

Uh-oh: I threw something down and now I can't reach it

Tada: I am an amazing baby

Mama: You are an amazing mother

Dada: You are an amazing father

Ba: Book

Baba: Bottle

Wa-hoo: Man that was fun

Shh: Fish or crash

Kkkk: Kitty< ...

I find myself in this position a lot so I might turn this into it's own mini-blog. I say something to Ben and then wince and have to backtrack..."what I meant to say was...." Luckily, he doesn't pick up on these things yet so maybe I can get myself under control.

Today I had left my Bible on the couch and Ben had found it and was flipping through the pages. Then he started flipping...with great enthusiasm. The binding on my Bible is not great (unfortunately, since it was a gift from Mom and Dad and has my name on it) and so I didn't want to lose any more pages. So far I've got all the books I'm just missing some maps and reference material. :) Anyway. I didn't want Ben to break my Bible. So I said, "Ben, Bibles are not for babies."

OPPS!!!! What I MEANT to say was, "Ben, let's trade. Here's a book for you and please give me my Bible."

This blog entry is instructional in nature...a how NOT to exercise in, well, exercise.

Let's start with some background information. Travel with me in time to November 2007. It has been a year since my son was born, I went crazy and then back to relative sanity, had a baby, nursed him for a year, it was time to write a novel, the holidays were coming, I was as fat as I had ever been in a non-pregnant state. I was ready to get myself and my house fixed up. So I hung up a calendar and wrote down what I was going to do everyday: Drink a bunch of water, not a let a drop of soda pass my lips, do my devotions, work on my novel, and exercise. It was great. I was doing it. I was amazing myself. Okay, so I had a little trouble not drinking Coke, but I was working on it. I lost one pound. The angels were playing their heavenly trumpets for me.

Then I got appendecitis, my right ovary went beserk, I went to the hospital, they kept me there, my baby weaned himself, it hurt ...

Logan had his second ever dentist appointment today. The first time we went, six months ago, Cael and I went back with him, watched the whole process, took pictures to email to Pa Jim and Grandma Judy, then helped him choose a toothbrush and a little prize afterward. Today, the three of us were sitting in the waiting room reading books together. The dental technician (or whatever they call the person who does all the actual teeth cleaning and stuff before you see the dentist for 45 seconds at the end of your visit) came out to the waiting room, called Logan's name, and we all got up to go back with him. She said to me, very politely, "After the first visit, we like to take them back for their cleaning by themselves. We'll get you if we need you." I didn't know quite what to say to that. It wasn't like I thought they were going to hurt him or anything, but he IS only three, and I guess I wanted to be there. But, the three year old in question couldn't have cared less if I was there o ...