Our growing family! (Settle down everyone)

I should’ve known better than to look at the picture…

A family who attends the boys’ school has Goldendoodles like us.  Adam mentioned in the fall that their doodle was expecting puppies.  I laughed (out loud) at the idea of adding to our crowded house.  We are hosting a high school international student from Brazil this year.  He is wonderful- but I jokingly said that we can only have 7 heartbeats in our house at one time (I’m sure Beta fish also have a heartbeat but I didn’t want to leave any room for confusion).  Not to mention, Ginger (our 9 year old Goldendoodle) blends in perfectly with the marble floors and anticipates where I might walk next… all throughout the day.  Tripping over her isn’t my favorite thing to do, so the idea of a (literal) ankle-biter sounded like too much.  Meanwhile I have 2 close friends with doodle pups who would share tales of potty training and chewed shoes.

There were 3 puppies in the litter- and one unclaimed.  Well, when I saw his picture, I was toast.  I quickly revoked the heartbeat policy and set up a secret date night for Adam and I to go meet this little fella.  Meeting a puppy and thinking you might not take it home is kinda like making cookies and saying you’re not going to have any.

The next day we drove back with the boys in the car- they were completely unaware of what was coming.  (and frankly I was too- only a day before)  We surprised them with their new puppy (every little kid needs a puppy at some point right?!). We quickly decided his name was Gus.  He was too roly-poly to be called anything else.

Ginger continues to be the best dog ever.  She has taken to Gus quickly, playing hard when he comes after her and correcting him when he’s gone too far.  She’s the best at wearing him out and we are sure that Gus is keeping her young.

Party pooper

This is one of those stories that I should’ve written down the day it happened… but as you’ll soon read, this event was all consuming.

Just under 4 years ago, while still living in Dallas, we vacationed in Florida over Christmas.  Riggs was around 6 months old so venturing out to restaurants was always exciting and rarely relaxing.  This particular evening was no exception.  When necessary, Adam and I take a WWF tag-team approach in these scenarios where one of us wolfs down our meal while the other is on baby duty.  We chose to eat at a Mexican restaurant with a nice patio.  Riggs was getting restless so Adam tapped in for the first round.  He took Riggs with him to the bathroom so he could wash his hands before dinner.  I quickly put in our dinner order.  Adam was nowhere to be seen, and I chalked it up to one of his hero dad moments. I pictured him walking around the restaurant, taking his time so I could savor my meal.  I ate my fill of chips and salsa (delicious might I add), and our food came soon after.  I enjoyed every bite of my tacos.  On one of my last bites, I became suspicious.  As much of a hero dad as Adam is, he also LOVES Mexican food and it was very out of character for him to be anywhere BUT where the chips and salsa were served.  I started craning my neck around to see if I could find him. I heard a familiar cry and saw a familiar silhouette walking up to the outside of the patio from the oceanside of the restaurant.  And then I cocked my head as I realized it was in fact Adam and Riggs- but Adam was soaking wet from the waist down, wearing no shirt, and Riggs was swaddled in what seemed to be Adam’s shirt.  He gave me a very direct “let’s take this to go” cue so I got our check and met him at the van where he shared the story….

While in the bathroom (how appropriate) Riggs had quite the “blow out”- not just your normal up-the-back situation… but everywhere.  ALL over Adam’s shirt, down Adam’s shorts, and into Adam’s shoes.  Mind you, Adam was in the bathroom washing his hands. He is a tidy guy. He isn’t afraid to get dirty, but he would rather it be on his own terms (and that it not be from a diaper).  I’ve had my fair share incidences so I think this may have been a right of passage for Adam. He was at a complete loss for what to do – he couldn’t walk through the restaurant in his squishing shoes- this would likely violate health codes… and then what?!  This was a situation no amount of wipes could handle.   He didn’t dare call to me from outside the patio- his and Riggs’ clothing were so offensive and people were eating!  And some of them, refried beans! …so he headed straight out the exit and kept walking… across the oceanside highway and to the beach.  He didn’t stop there, he kept walking- with soiled clothing and a screaming baby (Riggs probably wasn’t feeling his best)- down the beach into the water.  He waded out (fully clothed) until he was almost chest deep to rinse himself and Riggs.  He emerged to see the confused faces of the beachgoers.  His walk of shame continued back to the restaurant where he dumped (pun intended) Riggs’ clothes into a trash can.  We joined him at the van – full and happy from our delightful meal.

Not surprisingly, the big boys found this story to be quite entertaining right off the bat–it took slightly longer for Adam to see the humor in it.

(Not so) awesome possum

It all started on the eve of Adam leaving town.  We got the boys down early and were chatting in the backyard and noticed a terrible smell.  “Something died” – Adam was sure of it.  But this wasn’t the biggest fish we had to fry that night- our AC went out and we were staging multiple fans, bowls of ice, and wet washcloths on the boys so we could survive the 80-something degree heat in our house.  We decided we would hire our live-in exterminators/pest retrievers (Max and Bo) to investigate.

Fast forward to tonight.  I’m not really sure why I make mental plans or form expectations- but I was hoping (counting on?) getting the boys to bed on time so I could have a minute or two to myself.  Everyone had a job- Riggs was my clean up helper, Max was picking up from an activity, and Bo was running laps around the pool with Ginger to wear her out.  He stopped short at the fountain and glanced into the “jungle”, as the boys call it.  “MOM! I FOUND IT!” Bo called.  “It looks like a really really big rat…. like the size of a cat.”  Every boy in the house (and probably on the block if they knew) dropped what they were doing to get a set of eyes on the carcass.  Antonio (our exchange student from Brazil) confirmed it was the size of a cat…. then he disappeared to do his homework….or just to hide in his room- we aren’t sure which.

Upon closer inspection, the boys see a thick tail and realize its a possum.

“Bo throw some rocks at it to be sure it’s dead and not just pretending!” Max instructs, while wearing a chip clip on his nose to ward off the most potent evidence of death I’ve ever smelled.  “If he’s pretending he’s REALLY good at it.”  (this was the extent of my contribution- and I hollered it from the doorway…. If I’m hiring work to be done, I’m not going close)

We had a quick briefing about some clean up guidelines, gloves and masks were distributed, and the boys went to work.  The audio from my side of the pool was priceless.

“Okay Bo, free money, or dead possum, free money, or dead possum.  Nope, I can’t do it!” Max chattered.  “I’ll give you 5 of my dollars if you bag it Bo.”

“Okay- I’ll be a man.”

“Oh no, oh no Bo.  It’s arm just fell off.  Get it’s arm Bo! Whoa what’s that?!?  Oh no!  MOM!  There are maggots.”  Max is a gifted (micro) manager.

Through a series of concerning twists and turns, the body ended up wadded up in a bag (not sealed) and placed in a banana box (with holes) from Costco.  There’s no way that thing was going in our trash can but there are some construction dumpsters nearby so the boys put the box on top of the van and we drove (slowly) a couple blocks.  Max was in charge of disposing and was saying (very loudly) “Okay so we just have to dump the body and get out of here quick!”

“Oh no oh no!  There’s hair on the top of the van.”

We figured driving 30 mph on the way home would blow away any possum hair.

In the end, my brave boys rescued me again.  Could I have done that on my own?  Im-possum-able.

Emergency Eyewash

I feel like giving the context will only make this post more entertaining.  We decided to move forward with our home renovation.  Things got dusty so we thought it best to move out…. Fortunately we have incredibly generous friends who offered their home to us!  They purchased a new home and had not yet sold their old house so we eagerly accepted the offer.  In true Clampett style, we loaded up the boys, our clothes, kitchen supplies (it was empty, remember), groceries, a stroller, a modem, backpacks, toys, dog, dog food, dog supplies, Jeff (Bo’s fish), everyone’s pillow, bedding, air mattresses, towels, toiletries…. you get the idea.  We got away at about 8:00pm the night before our exterior wall was demo-ed.  Needless to say, when we finally got to their house, we were tired but relieved.  Come to find out, huge empty houses are the things kids dream of.  The boys were exploring every nook and cranny and scream-yelling everything they found.  At one point Max said “hey they converted one of their toilets into a sink!”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”  I found myself face to face

with a bidet.  If there is anything that could top off exploring an empty house, it is finding a gadget that cleans your rear.  Especially if you’re between the ages of 8 and 10.  I don’t like to miss a chance at being world’s coolest boy mom, so I decided to show these kids that I knew how to operate this dream gadget.  

Just when they thought things couldn’t get better… “Check this out!”  I leaned over the bidet (see also Old Faithful) and received an emergency eyewash type blast to the face.

House-buying 2014: See also shameless house-stalking

After two years of renting in Richardson we were ready to buy a house.  Our favorite neighborhood was Canyon Creek – with winding streets and big trees, lots of kids, and one too many 0’s on a lot of the home prices…. so we knew that if we found a home in CC it would need to be old and smelly and have thick curtains, shag carpet, and paneling.  I had my eye on a vacant-looking house with a big porch and big trees.  I used my internet research (creeper) skills and found the homeowners name and new address, sent a letter in the mail, and waited.

About 3 months later I received an email from the owners.  After making sure I wasn’t an axe-murderer, they invited us to see the house and we were able to purchase it!  After about 6 weeks of work (remember how I said it had to have old carpet and thick curtains and paneling? Check, check, checkity check) it was ready for us to move in!

Before and after pictures coming soon!

 

1, 2, skip a few

I’m SURE that’s a typo on the previous post’s date stamp.  3 years!?!?!  I started this blog as a way to keep record of pictures and memories… but sometimes the memory-making trumps the memory-recording.  We have enjoyed 3 years of fun, adventure, house-buying, baby-making, house-selling, and cross-country moving.  Through it all we have seen the Lord’s blessing and provision.

I want to slowly add posts in the order they happened to repopulate the 3 year silence with the appropriate NOISE!

A girl named “Really pretty”

In mom world, through a series of very reasonable steps, sometimes I find myself in a situations saying things that seem unreasonable.  Take yesterday for example.  I had the following convo with my friend Callie:

Me: Callie what are the chances the boys and I can swing by and cut another hydrangea from your yard?  We are fostering a crippled monarch that has been subsisting on the nectar from the one you gave me last week.
Callie:  Please write that down somewhere right now.

The funniest part was I wasn’t trying to be funny.  I was completely serious.  And we went.  With garden scissors and a mason jar. 

Now follow my steps and tell me that you wouldn’t be in the same place.  First, tender-heart Max LOVES butterflies and particularly monarchs.  So when we heard about the special monarch exhibit coming to Dallas last week, we leaned all the way in.  We did butterfly art, crafted the butterfly lifecycle, checked out butterfly books.  The exhibit was worth every penny.  We were given nectar-soaked q-tips and had Monarchs all over us.  Max was beside himself.  (Meanwhile Bo had to practice some serious self-control so as not to stamp on the ones landing underfoot.  Don’t judge.  Pretty sure Bo wasn’t aware of the Monarch on him below.)

 

And as is expected when proper demographic research has been conducted, there was a stand outside the exhibit selling LIVE chrysalises for only $5!!!  I couldn’t resist and I’m sure many other moms are with me.  So we headed home with a little wedding-reception type plastic cup and lid with a hot-glued chrysalis hanging inside.  (Dear insect rights activists — I’m sure they volunteered to be glued to a plastic cup lid.  And secondly, do you have kids?)  From our research we knew what to expect – darkening chrysalis, then emergence of our butterfly.  The waiting game wasn’t easy.  After what seemed like an eternity, she emerged!  Max named her “really pretty” (she was destined for a life of humility) and we watched carefully as she stretched her wings and we planned to wait 12 hours for her wings to unfurl and dry out and then….her triumphant release!  

However, Really Pretty’s wings never unfurled and Max noted “isnt’ it strange that she’s an insect with only 4 legs?”  What did we do wrong?  Too much status checking?  Too much light?  “Maybe it was the gorilla glue mom.”  Come to find out when we were on a date night, the boys were showing their sitter the chrysalis and she came loose.  The sitter (and boy scout) resourcefully found the gorilla glue (thanks Max) and reattached it.  I’ll put my money on gorilla glue poisoning.  

And so, unlike any other Monarch in the world, Really Pretty got to play the part of castle guard, princess, Lego leading lady, etc. and we got to be Really Pretty’s foster family.  Every attempt at flying ended on the floor.  After 4 days on the hydrangea, when the petals began to droop, we figured it was time to get a new bloom.  And so we called Callie.  See?  You’re right there with me!  Let me know if you need her number.

 

 

Bo is 3 (and then some)

Many moons ago our little Bo turned the big 3! You may be thinking, “I could’ve sworn Bo had a fall birthday” to which I would say “please don’t swear.”  Okay, okay — November 21!  In my defense we’ve had a busy fall complete with almost weekly trips to South Carolina (more on that later).

For Bo’s big day, Adam had the most spectacular idea (mental note – with respect to manpower, having the 3 year old birthday party idea come from your husband is a definite plus)  — he proposed a nature hike in the wilderness of north Dallas.  You laugh, but we actually live within half a mile of the coolest little stream and trail.  And so we invited 20 of Bo’s closest “parallel play” friends and hit the woods.

Of course, we had to go scout out the trail before, gathering 20 walking sticks, and planning how we would stage the party.  Each kiddo got a bag with a magnifying glass, trail mix, smores, and a map detailing where the buried treasure was. There was a tent, there was hot cocoa, there were sharp marshmallow roasters…  It was a blast.  We may or may not have remembered to sing “Happy Birthday” to Bo but I’m still not convinced he knew the party was for him – he was just having the time of his life running around the woods with a huge stick.

Cake pops 1, Jackie 0

I feel funny jumping right into this post like there hasn’t been a HUGE gap… but then I feel equally funny pretending that people read this or notice 🙂

So a lot has happened.  One such event was Max’s 5th birthday!!! Our little man is 5!  We love his funny sense of humor, his many many thoughtful questions, his many quirks, and his tender heart.

Max decided the pool was the perfect place to celebrate.  And because he still loves Veggie Tales he requested a Veggie Tales theme.  In trying to keep a tidy pool deck, I thought cake pops would be fun.  My friend had a “cake pop kit” with the right pans, etc so it sounded like a breeze.  We decided to do red “bob the tomato” balls and green “french pea” balls.   I had big plans to make it a hands-on, learning activity.  They glued eyes on mini cucumbers, decorated a planter for the cake pops, and then took on the cake making.  I gave both boys their own bowl, their own set of ingredients, and aprons.  Of course, there were some spills, some flour on the floor – but nothing major.  Then we got to the ball making. We were careful to do each step with the first round (Max’s chocolate).  They came out great.  For set #2 (Bo’s), I forgot to spray the pan in all of the excitement. (Story of Bo’s life, right Bo?)  So the vanilla balls split in half as soon as we pulled the pan apart.

I kept my cool and thought we could still pull something together… we could make some of them the “old fashioned way.”  So we had 12 chocolate balls and a huge pile of destroyed cake…. and about 30 people coming to the party.  Time to get creative.  We forged ahead with Max’s — melted the chocolate bark, colored it red, and started dipping.  Every cute little “Bob” popped off the cake pop stick and floated around the melted chocolate.  The ones that held on were losing cake crumbs left and right.

Armpit sweat begins.

Once we had dipped all of the in-tact balls and gotten over the fact that they looked nothing like ones on the box, we moved on to disaster #2.  I found a recipe for making cake balls that called for mixing the cake with frosting.  Of course we didn’t have frosting, but we could make it from scratch (which in mommy world is way easier than driving to the store and unloading/reloading two kids).  So, we got out the 49th bowl and started making frosting.  We mixed it with the cake and started rolling balls.  At this point, I’m the only one still engaged with this learning activity.  And the only thing I’m learning is that I should have BOUGHT cake balls…. and unfortunately my pride and competitive nature refused to throw in the towel at this point.  I was going to defeat the cake balls.

So we rolled about 20 balls, threw them in the freezer to harden and melted more chocolate.  I remember reading that oil added to the chocolate makes it “flow” better so I thought I’d give it a try.  Fail.  The chocolate scalded.  The cake balls split in half.  I may or may not have started to cry.  “Oh no… oh no no no.  Mom please don’t cry…” -Max

Regroup. Maybe some Bob cupcakes would work?  I finally convinced Max of how awesome bob cupcakes would be.  Of course we didn’t have any mix (remember, we were making it from scratch and “learning”). I called my sweet neighbor (with two girls under 2 and pregnant with twins… so she has plenty of time to help ME) and asked if she had any flour. We were going to need to make another cake.  She didn’t but conveniently had a husband between jobs and despite my pleading for her to not worry about it, he showed up at our door with cake mix and cupcake liners.  Penguins liners.  Seemed appropriate considering our progress thus far.

When it was all said and done the cupcakes turned out great and of course Max loved them, imperfections and all.

However, the day wasn’t without other excitement — when I got to the pool at 9:40 (20 min early to stake out a spot for our party at the awesome kids area of the Plano pool) a sign above the check-in station said “The children’s area is closed until the after noon of July 2nd due to fecal contamination” (this was the morning of July 2nd.)

Armpit sweat returns… shaky pre-cry voice ensues….

It turned out the sign was a mistake and they opened (which could have been a health hazard, but I didn’t care at this point).

We had a great time celebrating Max’s special day.  And the cake balls were a hit.

Picking up chicks at Adam’s work

…These are the sorts of things Max says.

A few weeks ago we were up at Adam’s school on the weekend – playing in the gym, lifting weights, etc – Adam had allowed a baton twirler use the gym for rehearsal.  The boys were captivated and watched her practice for quite some time.  Fast forward the next day (I believe at church) when Adam overheard Max telling someone that he “watched a girl dance with a pole at my dad’s work.”  Well, you can’t say the kid was lying.

On Monday we heard that Mrs. Ennis’ 5th grade classroom had hatched baby chicks and so we took a field trip to the school…. to pick up chicks.  I mean it IS Adam’s work after all.  The boys loved it and Bo immediately snatched the toothpick-boned chicks up by their necks.  They made noises I didn’t know were possible.  There was also an incubator with 4 unhatched eggs.  Well the 5th graders are taking turns housing the chicks over the next several weekends, but shockingly enough no one wanted the privilege of housing the unhatched (potentially unfertilized) eggs, which incidentally require flipping 3 times a day.  So the Millers were the winners (losers?).  We are going to the school today at 4:00 to pick up our incubator and will probably be watching that thing all weekend praying for an Easter miracle.  If not, we might be making a trip to a local farm or farm supply store to fake a hatching.  We will keep you posted…