On The Frontline with Fleas

I know it's rare that I blog anymore so it's probably rare that anyone reads my blog anymore. It's probably better this way because there's a topic on my mind that I think I'd probably like few people to know about.

So why blog about it for all the world to see, right? The only excuse reason I can come up with is because it's therapy for me. Seriously. It beats having to pay my therapist this week.

You see, I am blessed to live in a wonderful country. America's my home and for that I'm grateful. The city I live in is a cute, little country-farm-folk-mid-western town with a cobblestone street right down the middle of town. The lawns are well cared for. No gangs roam the streets. Mangy dogs are unheard of. The neighbors are kind, thoughtful and considerate. Everyone keeps our town looking modern and civilized.

We have electricity, running water, carpeted homes, dishwashers, wash machines and freezers. We have indoor kitchens complete with a refrigerator and some of our sinks even have a garbage disposal. We have air conditioned homes and vehicles and a reliable heat source in the winter. We lack nothing when it comes to civilization standards and nothing in our town reflects anything close to a third-world-country-type issue.

Basically, we appear to lead a clean, sterile, modern life. It's all so perfect.

But, despite living in our nostalgic little town with all of our modern conveniences, the house on our street that we call home inhabits an infestation. A horrible infestation.

It's so bad, we find them in our beds, our carpets, our furniture. We finally put a bounty on them and anyone willing to catch one and drown it, gets a penny. One hunt will get you over $0.65, easy.

You can stand in different places of our house and feel like your standing in popcorn. Or feel like sand is being thrown at your feet. The infestation thunders your skin with it's existence and you feel like a giant, living pin cushion. Or like a lab specimen that gets it's blood drawn on a constant basis. You feel like the lively hood of an entire population of something sub-human.

You itch constantly. You fidget consistently. You can't stand to be in your house. You know, that place you call home.

The infestation I'm referring to is called, fleas.

So. We decided to exterminate the fleas and get "flea foggers." We planned the day accordingly, arranged the house just so in order to fully utilize the foggers and we followed the instructions carefully. You have to keep your house sealed up for 2 hours while the foggers fatally fog the flea's family farm's factory and facilities.

The fleas only got worse. They upped flea larvae. They increased flea bites. They attacked the victims of this house with even greater vengeance.

So. We decided to exterminate the fleas and get stronger "flea foggers." The kind of foggers where you seal the house for 4 hours instead of 2. And you set 8 off at once instead of just 2.

I stripped all the beds and piled the bedding in the middle of the living room. I collected all the throw rugs and piled them on the bedding in the middle of the living room. I gathered chair pads and throw blankets and piled them on the rugs piled on the bedding in the middle of the living room. I picked up any fabric-type object under the beds that could possible be a flea factory and piled it on the chair pads and throw blankets piled on the rugs piled on the bedding in the middle of the living room.

There was an Eiffel tower sized pile in the middle of the living room.

It was a big job collecting all that stuff, cleaning out under beds, moving furniture to get to hard-to-reach places and I was tempted to give up because it felt so futile. And exhausting. And pointless.

But, then another flea would bite my ankle and I'd remember once again why I was on this mission.

Before you start on a flea raid, I found that it helps to do something like fix your hair or put on a cute skirt or spray some perfume because you'll then feel at least half civilized.

With a vengeance we attacked the fleas. 8 bombs went off at once and we fled our house for several hours. We patronized a local laundromat and activated 17 loads of laundry. We folded it all and neatly piled it in laundry baskets. And in random stacks around the van.

Upon arriving home, we aired our house out, like the directions said, before bringing the kids back in. While opening windows in the few short minutes I was in the house, a words-can't-describe-how-terrible-he-is flea bit my foot. The fleas are undaunted!

After the house aired out, Toby and I meticulously vacuumed all the rugs and carpets, steps, mattresses, cushions, nooks, crannies, you name it. Fleas continued to bite. We carefully made the beds with only the bare necessity blankets (I have a thing for a pile of blankets on a bed) and bagged up the rest of the blankets and quilts in large plastic garbage bags.

The fleas continued to bite.

To this day, they have only worsened. If I go on a blog strike again, don't take it lightly. Maybe give me a call or text or email or something just to make sure we haven't been taken hostage. Or carried off as war refugees.

Nothing would surprise me, really. These fleas are possessed and certainly the cause of our sure demise. I'm ready to put a for-sale sign up and sell our house as a scientific lab to some poor college student who is researching the evolving species called, the flea. Or maybe just send a notice to the city clerk that our house should be condemned. Not sure the city clerk would care to know but at least I'd feel better informing someone that our home has become a flea bag and we're the unlucky victims that get to live in it. And the city clerk does sound like an official sounding name for an official sounding person.

So. With that, our therapy appointment has ended. Come back soon for another life changing account of this far-fetched-flea-fairytale. The festivities are sure to continue.

The Life Beyond my Blog

So it's been what, like 6 weeks since I posted last? Yeah, it's been awhile.

If you think my posting habits were the only thing that changed, you're wrong. Everything has changed in my life... even down to the location of my computer.

Unless you don't want to read a list of things that have changed in the past weeks, skip down to the end of this blog where it says, "posted at such and such an hour." That's the part of the show where this post will come to an end.

Those of you that are still reading, here's my bucket list completed...

The kitchen changed. It grew a new pantry and the bliss it brings is almost as unbelievably miraculous as the magic beans in the Jack and the Beanstalk story. (In case you are as uneducated as I was until recently, you can ask my kids that story. They're pretty up on that story since they ask Toby to tell it every night after supper.)

On that same note, my knowledge of Jack and the Beanstalk changed... I now know the story. The rest of the story.

The dining room changed. A doorway was blocked off, boarded up and filled in with a book shelf on both sides and a china cabinet flanking the edges of the old doorway. Yeah, a picture is worth a thousand words so I'll just shut up until I get a picture to post. Another doorway was bored into the wall and for days several hours it rained lathe and plaster dust. You could write your name in the dining room table and come back later and write something else.

A new stair way was etched into the blue print of our house and at last, the "stairway leading no where just for show" (a Fiddler on the Roof moment there, sorry) had a place to end up: the new "stair room" as we seem to call it. It's our old room and is simply an extension of the dining room now but we're still adjusting to the newness of the stairway location. You can still catch Toby (and myself, I'll admit) heading through the kitchen to "go downstairs" since that's where our old steps were. One day Toby did that with an arm load of 12' long pieces of lumber. Talk about going the wrong way on a one way street. (our kitchen is only about 6' wide....)

Our room is changed. Our old room is no longer a bedroom; our new room is no longer what it was before it was our room. I know that sounds confusing but if you think about it, it makes sense. At least to me it does. You see, our new room used to be Janae's room and a play room and a storage room for a bunch of stuff that would fit in the tiny closet and under the low bed. Toys littered everything. Clothes covered the toys littering everything. It was rarely a pleasant site. Now it's practically a honeymoon suite. And the bed is high, which was a big deal to me since I have always always always wanted a high bed.

Our house now has a hallway. A big feat for our tiny abode. And because it now has a hallway, our bedroom and bathroom now present themselves as a master bedroom suite. It's so sweet.

Organization has changed. Basically, organizing is happening around here at last, folks. I have always loved to organize and find just the perfect canisters and boxes and bins and baskets to fit everything just right. Now I have room to actually put all the organizational boxes and bins and baskets and stuff away. I was so excited that I didn't know where to start. So I went to the store one day and while looking at 12" high containers to store dry goods in, I noticed that the container was dishwasher safe: TOP RACK dishwasher safe, that is. And it all made me wonder what kind of scam that was to get you to buy an item with the assurance that you could actually conveniently wash it in a dishwasher. Have you checked your top rack in your dishwasher? There ain't no 12" clearance in mine, I'm afraid. Needless to say, I washed it in the sink... the old fashioned way.

Our marriage changed. We gained an anniversary and have ended up in the "6 year of marriage" bracket. Due to pre-committed to plans, we had to delay the celebration of our anniversary until a later date which we commenced upon at the earliest convenience. We had a lot of fun eating without 3 children spilling their drinks and dropping food and begging for egg nog. (Janae's latest kick.) We talked uninterrupted about the serious things in life like survival in the case of disaster, the importance of water sanitation and what to do in a nuclear attack. We went to Menards. We balanced the Menards trip with a quick stop at TJ Maxx. We like to maintain a sense of balance in our marriage. (that's why he's tall and I'm short(er).)

My brother and brother-in-law left for their last stint of training before heading to Iraq for a year. It's a weird mixture of hope and sadness and admiration that I feel when I think about that. A blend of emotions not often experienced in life. We pray for them daily and trust God to keep them safe. And bring them home!

I became an aunt to a pea sized baby. (compliments of my sister before her husband left for Iraq).

I also became an aunt to bean sized baby. (compliments of my sister-in-law who is a little farther along than my sister.)

And I even became an aunt to a 10-pound-bag-of-potatoes-sized baby. (compliments of another generous sister-in-law.) This baby is close by though and is the snuggliest, sweetest, darlingest little guy you could ever meet. I feel partial to him because he looks a lot like my boys did and in some ways feel like I could legally kidnap him and get away with it since he is very much Nelson.

(All these babies appearing in my life make me feel left out and like I should be joining in the baby boom.)

We have a guest room now. A little bed-and-breakfast-suite-guest room right off our front door. If you should ever need a place to stay while in these parts of the world, we have a bed for you. And a few pillows too. I guess because I have no tiny baby to consume my time with, I can focus on completing projects and organizing and painting and decorating. Something I haven't done for a few years.

Our cat had kittens, raised the kittens and then moved the kittens on. Well, she didn't do all of that by herself of course but you know what I mean. Our cat also was declawed which makes the level of stress in our home go down to about -0 since she can come upstairs without savaging the leather recliner.

What used to be a leaky basement with ugly cement walls now is our family room, a very compatible-to-life laundry room, a semi-organized storage area and a nice clean office space for the husband. Like I said, everything pretty much has changed around here.

Our basement project is complete... at least for the next 5 years.

And finally, even my blog has changed: it has a new post. With all that change going on, it seems that a change in my blog would've just happened -- I mean, if even my tiny kitchen could grow a pantry, surely my blog could just grow a post, right? Well, now it's happened.

Thanks to all who check back often to see if I've updated. I really hope to never leave you hanging for so long. But, in the event I do, here's some of my favorite blogs of the week to visit....

The mom to that 'Pea Sized' baby

An amazing kitchen make-over for $10

Life in a Shoe

Tammy's Recipes (it doesn't just have recipes either.)

A friend of mine who lacks consistency in blogging (but what she does have, old though it may be, is still worth your reading time.)

A friend of mine in the tropics of central America supporting families pursuing homeschooling (lots of fun pictures... except they do eat guinea pigs there.)

For fear I may leave out certain blogs that I don't intend to slight, I'll stop right there with my list of favorite blogs this week. There are a ton more I'd recommend and enjoy but I need to move along and cease from hyperlinking anymore links into this post. Duty calls...

A House Mouse

So I was up late last night. Who cares? I mean, what's new about being up late? I do it all the time.

But this time was for reasons other than the usual.

I have a entrepreneur child. He goes to work with his dad and comes home with broken cool tools, stale sweet pop, junk food a special treat... you name it; he's got it. He's always filthy dirty and tired and not hungry. He claims he doesn't need supper because he already ate. Upon further inspection, I learn that it's lunch he's referring to when he says he "already ate."

Anyway, the point is, usually his treasures and immediate post-work-upkeep are quite minimal yet indeed exciting.

Until yesterday.

I went out to the truck to meet them. It was dark. Landon was just getting out but he was chattering and excited about his latest treasure.

"Hey mom! Look at what I have!" he held out a small plastic cup. I could see two dark shapes but didn't think they were anything more than, well, I didn't know for sure.

Then he reached inside and pulled one out.

"Look, it's a baby mouse," and the thing perched comfortably in his hand.

Either these rodents were just too tired and exhausted from their day of child's play or this thing was actually adopting Landon as it's new mommy.

I glanced at Toby. He seemed completely natural and an unaffected by the two baby mice that just rode 50 miles in his truck LOOSE all the way home.

"We need to feed them some bread," Landon said. "They're hungry."

And that's what we did. Finding a nice warm spot on the stove in a nice little empty wipes container (that I had almost thrown out that day but thought I should save it for the "just perfect" need) and a nice little piece of bread made soggy by powdered goats milk and reverse osmosis water, the little mice settled right in.

At bedtime, I wondered if the now cool stove was going to be a good place for these tiny creatures and I racked my brain thinking of a warming device that wouldn't be a fire hazard.

I thought of a lamp. But I couldn't figure out how to hang a lamp upside down without drilling a hole in the ceiling or some other obvious spot.

I thought of a heating pad. But those aren't advised for small animals.

I thought of the guinea pig. But she could get mice lice from these babies.

I thought of the oven. But it had a butter spill in it that wouldn't be good to leave exposed to heat while we sleep.

I thought of the furnace. But we hadn't turned that on yet this season and I didn't think it was technically cold enough to do so.

I thought of getting up and turning the stove on throughout the night. But I didn't really want to lose that much sleep.

And then I thought of this laptop that seems to emit as much heat out of the vent thingy on the side as the low setting on our stove does. A perfect solution.

The baby mice snuggled in warmly next to their new heat. Just before I finally fell asleep, I slipped out to check on the baby mice and make sure they weren't too hot/cold.

And then I went to sleep wondering how many of them would be dead by morning.

Thankfully, it was only one who died but Landon didn't seem too concerned...

"I'll just have to find another one, I guess."

I guess he's starting a new business. Perhaps he can figure out how to get rid of sell off the filthy mice living freely in the basement???

What War is to Me

9-11 is here again and we all tend to think back to that day and What I Was Doing When The Towers Fell. Yet the consequence of what changed that day was not fully known until about 2 years later when a whole army of troops entered the war zone that our enemy came from.

I vividly remember that particular day, in March of 2003, because I had just celebrated the happiest day of my life: my wedding day, and I felt almost guilty that I could be enjoying such happiness and bliss while other wives were saying goodbye to husbands they'd never see again. It's almost sad to realize that every time we celebrate our wedding anniversary, our nation commemorates another kind of anniversary, The War on Terror.

Have you ever read the news and found an article about troops heading into Iraq or Afghanistan or North Korea or some place where bullets fly and bombs explode? I'm sure you have. You can find those articles anywhere and if you miss today's edition, tomorrow will likely have something new about the war anyway.

Did you ever think twice about it when you saw a line of soldiers ready to take off on their mission? Did you ever just think in the back of your mind that it was their choice; they chose to be on the battle field so "what's the big deal" and then quickly scanned the page for another article? Did you ever think twice about a soldier going to war?

If you're like me, probably not. Soldiers are made for war. Why act surprised or sad when you hear of a whole troop of them boarding a plane and heading to a war torn foreign country? We all know that's their job.

I used to not really think about it. I mean, I appreciated the fact that soldiers and military personnel were always on duty protecting my national freedom and life as I know it but I never felt very personal about news stories I'd read or hear. I would hear about the President sending more troops over and just assume he was getting the job done faster. I'd read about a soldier being killed and feel bad but then forget about him as soon as I turned the newspaper over. It was just the way things were and I was glad I didn't have to think about it.

But that all changed one day.

Now, every time I hear about more troops going over, more problems in the middle east, more battles being fought, my ears perk up. I think twice. My heart gets heavy and I look a little closer at the pictures of those men. I now realize that each soldier on the battlefield represents an entire family. A circle of friends. A unit of people. People that are praying for and worrying about that one soldier. A mother stays up nights praying for them. A father reads the news and hopes the critics aren't right in their prediction about the war. A wife fears for the safety of her husband that she won't see for another 10 months, at least.

I never really thought much about the news reports that would blast over the radio about another explosion in Baghdad. I mean, that seems to happen all the time there, right? But now, I won't be able to listen to a report like that without wondering who was killed and if I knew him.

And counting the days until he comes home.

And wishing that the newspaper would write more about the war and the facts that are happening constantly around the bunkers of that soldier I know.

War is hard. And war is real. But, when your little brother heads into it, you realize just how hard and real war really is. And how sad it makes your life.

But, yet how grateful you can feel knowing that your country's national freedom is being defended because your little brother is some place far from home where bullets fly. Where bombs explode. Where wrong is right.

And he's there in that battlefield, with that whole troop of brave men, so that you can stay free. So that your backyard is safe. You enjoy a grassy lawn while he disintegrates mine fields from one of those giant Humvee trucks. Because his dream is that someday that minefield will be a grassy slope. With carefree children playing freely without the danger of evil men producing death and destruction on their innocent lives. Children as innocent as mine will enjoy freedom someday too because someone brave made their home a safe place.

As if it wasn't already going to be bad enough having a loved one in a war zone, my loving and normally-laid-back-and-anti-trouble-causing-sister, went and fell in love and married a soldier scheduled to go over the same time our brother is. I now fully understand the seriousness of 'having all your eggs in one basket,' so to speak.

So, when most couples are enjoying the honeymoon phase of marriage, this couple will be parted because of the cost of freedom. A freedom I will never take for granted, ever again.

That's what war is to me.

Making A Goal To Have Goals

There's been talk around our dinner table and early morning couple time and often in a traveling van and... basically, we've been talking about this a lot lately. And that is about setting goals for our family. Goals are those things that I just never seem to have time for. If I make it a goal, I can't get it done.

Take laundry for instance. I set a goal to get it done and voila! that's that very last thing that could ever be accomplished in that week let alone day. So, understandably, I pretty much have left off goal setting.



Until I began to re-think goals.

Goals should not be lofty expectations set above and beyond our means.

Goals should be practical in that if they aren't done within the goaled time frame, we don't live in uncontrollable regret, ultimately handicapping us from having a positive attitude about life.

Goals are to bring purpose and productivety, no matter if they are completed or not.

Goals are sometimes those things that we have to resort to labeling under the "it's-the-thought-that-counts" category and then go on with life, at peace that some things are best left un-done. (don't ask what things... I don't really know. That cliche' just sounded nice.)

Goals should motivate not demobilize.

Goals should be the umph that gets us headed towards the finish line of a project.

The bottom line is, without goals, our direction and focus is futile. There is no vision.

So, as we purpose to gain some goals that match the capacity of our family and the ages of our children, I have realized that I need to make goals for myself. As a mom. As a wife. As a friend. As a Christian.

It was then I realized that I perform best when I am under a time limit... company is coming and the kids are crabby and there's tons to do and food to make but I fly right through because I know there is only so much time to get everything done before it's too late. Ironically, everything usually gets done. BUT, on a quiet day when there is no time limit, it takes me 5 times as long to get something done. I know... that's weird but true.



Of course there are chore goals we should make (and keep) but also other goals as well. Here are a few of the goals I have set for this summer that mostly apply to me....

Bloom where I'm planted in this tight kitchen
Become an expert "smoovie" (smoothie) maker
Learn how to grill
Get better acquainted with a friend I met last year
Have company more
Drink less coffee
Worry less about my house
Explore the capabilities of having a green thumb (basically, don't kill any plants for at least 6 months)
Catch a snake
Learn how to make better bread
Spend less money
Shop less
Make a quilt
Arrange a romantic master bedroom suite in our 9x11 room
Have a garage sale
Cook something new for supper
Take better pictures
Shed unimportant responsibility
Greet my husband with a smile every evening for the next 365 days and everyday following
Drink coffee with Toby in the morning on our porch swing
Spend more time enjoying playing with my kids

Okay, you may not relate or understand the reason for particular goals I have set but I have decided that living each moment to it's fullest is an option I have everyday to choose. And I am choosing that.

The above goals are just a few things I've been thinking about but writing them down gives me 1) accountability and 2) motivation. Ultimately, it turns these ideas into goals.

"If you aim for
NOTHING,
you'll hit it
EVERY TIME."

Non-existant No Non-sense Naptime

Like the torrent of a hurricane and the power of a fierce volcano, the sharp blast of nap time has whipped through our home once again and erupted in wails from our once happy children.

I just don't get it. It can be a perfectly wonderful day that leads up to tearful nap time and it can be a perfectly awful day that leads up to a tearful nap time. The equation here befuddles me.

Today, all three of them were chorusing together from their own respective places in cries of anguish and sorrow, all confirmations of desolately exhausted and tired children. One of the said children was actually not tired but relentlessly fighting the enemy of starvation. Yeah, that 20+ pounds-of-baby-fat 10 month old. He almost didn't make it. We actually had to coax him back to life just in time with that all 9 oz. bottle of milk. Powerful stuff, that milk is. And then he happily goes on to do what babies do best: maintain cuteness while investigating everything in reach, including that dark corner behind the toilet that you never clean since you can't reach it and no body can see it anyway.

In case you think I accept this strange nap time behavior as normal and healthy, I can assure that I have punished the tears, prized the happy-ness and promised both that when nap time is over, we can all sit on the porch swing and drink strawberry "smoovies" and maybe even a walk to the park.

But, all to no avail. I almost have to stop and ask myself why nap time was ever invented and why moms talk about it being a highlight in their day.

For one child in particular that lives in our home, I offered a spoonful of vinegar if they continued to cry. The said child, amazingly, laid in the napping bed and wailed for vinegar!!! She actually wanted it. And wanting it was making her cry for it. And crying was making her want it more. Or so she thought.

Just like every single solitary day that nap time spreads it's venomous entrails to the far corners of our little house and it's incurable wails infect the very fibers of the carpet, just before the moment you think you might decide to start in with them, it quits. The crying is over. Just like that. Zilch. Hush. Peace.

I glimpse into their rooms and find each angelic child in an exhausted heap, mouths open wide in a mid-wail position, sleeping soundly.

And then it dawns on me why I look forward to nap time everyday.

Facts That Until Now Were Unblogged

March 2 Was A Big Day For Landon. He turned 4, started Sunday School and shared a birthday party with 2 cousins who also share his birthday month. He even got a guitar that day.

Janae Hasn't Participated In Any Breaking News. At least for a few days now. And that in itself is worth commenting on. (Knocking really hard on wood right now...)

Alex Has His Own Room. Or, at least is the only one that sleeps in the living room. He gets a whole full corner to himself which is actually a big deal because our living room only really has 1 full corner. Best of all, he is sleeping so much better now... or should I just say that I am since I can't hear him everytime he cries or makes noise during the night.

Our Basement Will Soon Be Listed In The Guinness Book Of Records. Seriously, it has got to be the world's most challenging basement to waterproof. The Basement Professionals have been here going-on-three-times and it won't be until the middle of March before we know if the problem is fixed. I wouldn't be surprised if they just throw in the towel and give us our money back and advise us to just put a swimming pool down there.

Our Van Demanded A Replacement. If you are wondering why, I'll just say that it would take less time to tell you what was right/unbroke/safe about it than to tell you what was wrong/destroyed/damaged about it. The Lord blessed us with a perfect solution and we were glad to find just what we were looking for right away.

We Made Flubber. And I thought it was a good idea until I went out of the room to talk to Toby (I should've known better) and came back to find blue flubber all over the floor, the table, our bed, up and down and around Janae's pajamas and deep within the fibers of a few spots in the carpet. If you don't know what Flubber is, here's the recipe and a video. The kids spent *literally* hours playing with it.

Toby Is A Really Good Husband. But I bet you all knew that already? Even after 5 years of marriage, it still dawns on me during the few quiet spots in my day that I am married and live with a charming and good husband. I still can't believe it.

Last And Least I Have No Interesting News On Me. So, I guess that's all I have to say about that.

A Time To Build And A Time To Tear Down

Ripped Off Child's Folding Table Cover!
Broken *New* CD Player Hatch!
Important Flash Drive Found In Dryer!
Chunk Of Glass Missing From Favorite China Tea Cup!
Shredded Pants Leg During Naptime!
Ink On Bedsheet During Naptime!
Mud Trails Through Private Residence!

You are probably thinking that I'm writing headlines for a horror magazine or becoming an editor for those dumb check out aisle magazines that your mom always forbade you to read since nothing in them was true anyway. Actually, it's neither. I am writing a documentation of the incidents that have taken place within the four walls of our home recently.

Tools and methods used to implement destruction:

Table cover
Quick moving, swift handled butter knives. The faster the better. Invite your sister to participate. (This happened in 2 minutes max and I was sitting just 10 feet away).

Broken CD player
Repetitious slamming of CD lid with a little added "umph." That's all I have to say about that.

Flash drive tragedy
If it fits in your pocket, then put it there; right? Of course right. She showed me how she put it in her pocket and everything. But, guess who got blamed? The Laundry Lady: because she didn't check pockets... I digress. I have to wonder just WHO would think that leaving an important Flash drive with in a toddler's reach is a good idea anyway? In case this isn't escalated bad enough in your mind, this flash drive held my father-in-law's entire computer on it. And then some. He left for Haiti the day before the missing Flash drive appeared.

Devasted China tea cup
Slam-buffet-drawer-quickly-when-you-hear-Mom-coming. China conveniently topples, falls and chips in sufficient manners. Great method because you never actually have to touch the China but it still gets the job done.

Shredded Pants
The next time boredom sets in when you are supposed to be napping, just begin picking (with your fingers) at the seam of your pants. Like you'd pick your nose. You will soon have a fancy design styled on the knee of your pants unlike any of your friends. The frayed look is in folks! Wear it generously.

Tattooed bed sheet
The next time boredom sets in when you are supposed to be napping, just find a pen. Write your thoughts on the first thing you see and get expressive.

Mud trails
Bring nature indoors! Cram mud generously in your mud boots and proceed to stamp your footprint all over the house. Not much is needed: mud is noticed more indoors than outside so a little goes a long way.

Side notes:

The CD player thankfully did not have a CD in it. That was one less thing that got wrecked that day.

Let mud dry on the carpet then vacuum. It really works. Especially when you procrastinate.

The China tea cup... sadness. I might be able to replace it.

Pants and bedsheets can be replaced.

We learned that Flash drives can actually be washed in a front load washer. And put through a dryer cycle. And still work. Through this experiment, we found that they are actually quite kid proof. Get a few for your kids to play with; it takes a lot to destroy them which is something you can't say about very many toys these days.

I can be glad: at least we all still have all our body parts and limbs intact. When most of the above happened in one day alone, I began to fear for the next moment. And for my life.

But, like my husband always says, "It'll all be fine in end; if it's not fine, then it's not the end yet."

When Life Gives You Lemons, Just Hope Your House isn't One of Them... or your husband's computer

It's funny how you can have plans for a day, make arrangements, prepare, perspire and even pray about an event and then have everything change.

That's what happened today.

We were scheduled to have a major event take place in our basement aka: The Water Hole. We were getting a high class drain tile system put in so that we could use our basement and keep our socks dry. Not only to keep our socks dry but also to store a few kids down there.

This was our list before the basement people came:

1. Clean garage
2. Clean out basement and put everything in pre-cleaned garage
3. Dig 2 large holes next to exeterior basement wall
4. Cut 2 large holes in basement wall
5. Install 2 large windows in the holes in basement wall
6. Sweep up the entire mess
7. Repeat sweeping
8. Do all laundry
9. Move washer, dryer, freezer, non-garaged storage items to center of basement
10. Make plans to leave for the day
11. Resign to having a house full of dust upon arrival home
12. Surrender to vacuuming, sweeping, dusting dust for several weeks from the basement
13. Dust, dust, dust, dust, dust, dust, dust...... etc.

All the above was completed so everything was in order, right? Wrong. Little did we know about the predicament of a very important little thing: the structure that made up the footings, walls and floor of our home. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Toby planned to run errands today in preparation for the upcoming home show. Now, the home show is a big event for us. We advertise our business there and have done so 4 out of the 5 years we've been married. I have a little animosity for the home show. Yes, it helps my husband bring home the bacon and all that good stuff but the home show and I are competing for the same affection: Toby.

You see, we were married February 15, a mere week after that first home show Toby and his brother participated their business in. I was not aware this would be a yearly affair. I was a gullible, young, girlfriend that thought getting married was simply picking a date and establishing a wedding that would transpire into a marriage. I forgot about the anniversaries that always follow a wedding.

So, I said all that to say that every year, the home show falls right before, on or after our anniversary. EVERY SINGLE YEAR. The home show people and I must have been thinking the same dates when we both planned for our big events.

As Toby planned the errands he had to run, I looked forward to cruising around Lincoln with him in a loud, big truck. How romantic! Especially with 3 screaming kids. Well, make that 2 kids and 1 screaming kid.

We woke up this morning to a Nebraska Prairie Blizzard. After the almost 50 degree weather we had the two days before, 8 degrees above zero was pretty cold. (at least we were still above zero though). Toby said his plans had changed because of the weather and he would just stay home and do book work. Fine with me since I knew we'd still all be together like one big happy family.

Then the basement people got here and got right to work. I could here machines running, guys talking and real work going on down there. I ran to the grocery store to get coffee and milk and braved the frigid weather and bad roads.

Arriving home I could hear nothing but Alex screaming loudly in the highchair. He was saying something about being left alone, everyone leaving and wondering why everyone hated him. Tears were literally spraying off his face.

I could hear no work. No people talking. No machines. The silence sounded interesting. I made coffee, consoled Alex and put groceries away while Landon and Janae ransacked the packaged groceries. A ripped package of beef caused by a child's finger and another child wanting to open up a cake mix because he promised he wouldn't eat it was making my day a tad stressful.

And then Toby came up and broke the news to me. I couldn't understand all the logistics but it had something to do with the fact that our basement was originally constructed wrong. The footings were not being used like they should and the floor was in the wrong place. They couldn't install the drain tile. Bummer, especially when you can't just move the floor like you can move a wall.

The crew was waiting on a supervisor to get here before arriving to a verdict and Toby wallowed in a big pool of What Are We Going To Do Now. It sounded bad. This cute little bungalow we bought last year was a lemon. And when you want a house and get a lemon, that is not a good thing. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade but how do you make lemonade out of a lemon house? We figured we'd just have to do that by tearing the entire basement out and starting from scratch. But, how could we do that? We couldn't afford that. So much for new bedrooms. So much for a new kitchen. Poor wasted egress windows already installed in the basement.

The head honcho guy got here and had a few solemn talks on his cell phone outside in the frigid wind and snow. The guys downs stairs started hauling their tools and machines and noise outside back to the truck. Toby looked like he was preparing for a long swim in his What Are We Going To Do Now pool. (that look is similar to what most people would look like when they prepare to attend the funeral of a loved one.) I was trying to find a recipe for lemonade but I had none of the ingredients except for one big fat ugly lemon.

Finally, a verdict was made. The supervisor head honcho guy became the hero. Superhero. He explained the situation of our walls and that there was a product available that would be used in situations like ours. And the best thing was this: the new product (though it cost a tad more) was installed via Epoxy on the existing floor! No jack hammering out the perimeter of the basement floor! No dust! No waiting a week for 18" of cement to dry on the perimeter of the basement before we could build rooms! No more lemons!

Never before have I felt like worshipping something other than God but a part of me wanted to utter reverent praises to Thrasher Basement Systems. They truly saved the day and our house. The only draw back was the fact that they couldn't get here to do that installment until the middle of February. But, what's the big deal? I mused... we already have the home show then, our anniversary and Valentines day... why not add another historical event to that week?

Shortly after, the sun came out. The landscape was covered in a fresh blanket of white snow. The blizzard stopped. It was so pretty. Toby got back to work on his book work. Just then, his computer froze and began to flash really weird. It then wouldn't turn on. Another lemon. Why the computer? Why Toby's computer? He needs his computer for book work just like you need money to pay your bills. He needs his computer for work. For that home show. He doesn't just need a computer; he needs it to work. So, he made plans to take it in and get it looked at.

He went to our reliable, steady van only to crank the key and hear nothing but a dead battery. He decided to try my computer and began to transfer files from his portable hard drive. Word shut down unexpectedly. He had gotten none of his bookwork done all day and it was now 1:30 pm.

Finally, the van battery got charged and Toby left for town. I told him I still wanted to be a wife by the end of the day so please, stay safe and don't have anything else bad happen. He couldn't promise anything and mumbled something about being jinxed.

So, with that, I kissed him goodbye, found a cup of coffee and sat down and blogged. That's my way of making lemonade when life gives me lemons. Aren't you glad?

----------------------

Just for the record and because of the context of this blog, I almost posted this twice to Toby's blog because I didn't see that he was signed in on this computer and not me. I signed out and signed back in twice before it worked. It is a miracle that with all the copying and pasting, this post actually survived it's traumatizing journey to the wide web world.

Wow. A Published Post

There should be a law against more than 5 saved drafts in your blogger post list. There really should. Because, if there were a law, I would be guilty and would go to jail and that's not such a bad idea because no one would stop me from finally getting a nap.

No seriously. This is ridiculous. I have so many "save now" blogs that I am getting tired of blogging anymore because my blog moments last about 3 paragraphs and then they're gone. It's like getting to the punch line of a joke and forgetting the punch line.

Or, if I do still have the thought running in my head, the baby is ready to be fed, or the phone rings, or the cat scratches Janae, or my husband comes home, or Landon cuts his finger with a razor blade and comes upstairs with blood running all over his hand, or it's suppertime and the food is burning, or it's time for bed, or the kids wake up from naps, or I unexpectedly go offline for no good reason, or I run out of coffee in my cup. Constantly, there are things pulling me from my blog.

Okay, where was I? Oh yeah...

So. I decided to not do that anymore. You know, do that. By that, I mean, well, what do I mean? Should I ignore the baby when he needs food? Should I run and hide in the bathroom when hubby comes home neglecting to kiss him... "just wait a sec honey, this blog moment is giving me a headache..." Or, should I just not start blogging ever? Or should I post everything I start even if it's not concluded?

I'm just not sure how to get around this one.

But, while we all think on this, I will say that my mind is very overwhelmingly filled with a whole new set of worms, so to speak. We are remodeling our doll house sized kitchen and completely doubling the space. If you've never set up an entire kitchen from start to finish, you should try it sometime in your spare time even if you don't have any spare time. Even if you don't have an old kitchen to remodel, you should still try it. As a Beginner Kitchen Planner Expert, I can assure you any thought you put into your imagined kitchen is well worth any sleep you lose over it now. Let me know how many drawers you decided to have in your kitchen and if you thought having your trash pull out in it's own separate drawer/cupboard/slide-out-thingy was the most awesome idea ever. Oh, and if you thought it should pull out towards the sink or the stove because you certainly couldn't have it pull towards both.

The reason we can actually change the kitchen is because we are changing everything else in our house except for the four outside walls and all the bed sheets. Actually, we are leaving the living room, a bedroom and the bathroom. Even the back door is moving and the basement steps. You can imagine all the plans, decisions and ideas we are concocting. And all within a budget, of course. We are gaining 2 bedrooms, losing one, building a closet and expanding the dining room one way and shrinking it another. We are also eliminating the leaky basement through proper water management which I am hoping will eliminate the snakes as well.

So, if I go on another unannounced blogging strike in the near future, you will understand that either I a) lost my train of thought or b) have absolutely nothing to blog about or c) am just too busy to blog or d) lost my computer in the mess that is sure to be our home for the next several months.

Okay, I think that was all I was going to say so I'll end here with, The End.

now to just find that button that puts this on the web and not my draft list....

Change For A Time

As a sequel to "Time For A Change," I'll give a little update.

I knew something wasn't quite right with my baby when the most my baby ever did was scream. Not cry or be fussy but scream.

I chalked it up to him being on a bottle, him being a big eater, me drinking coffee a few days ago or him not dealing with a change of weather. I was not even going to think of a milk intolerance and proved it by cutting sugar out of my diet for a day or two to see if that would help.

It didn't help but I still knew Alex did not have a dairy intolerance. I mean come on! what would a person eat if they couldn't have something with dairy in it? Did you know even granola bars are made with dairy?

His diapers displayed some kind of distress but I blamed it on the gas he had from the popcorn we traditionally eat on Sunday night. So, I sacrificially cut out the popcorn. This definitely wasn't a sign of milk intolerance!

Alex would occasionally get a strange skin rash but I knew it was from the humidity, not dairy.

He would also have really strong gas and smelly diapers but even that wasn't from a dairy intolerance. No, this was not that serious.

And then I made that appointment with the lactation consultant and assumed I was going to get help for me to teach him how to nurse. As Alex screamed through the majority of the 2 hour appointment, she somehow conveyed to me over Alex's persistent wailing that we indeed had two problems: he wasn't latching on right and I was eating something irritating to him.

She gave me a list of symptoms and Alex had every single one, except for the bloody stools. The conclusion? Dairy Intolerance.

So, trying to be a good little mom, I cut dairy out. I quit eating cereal, ice cream, yogurt and buttered toast. You know, the real obvious things, the no-brainer dairy products. That helped a little but the screaming seemed to not improve the way the doctor thought it would. So, then I started getting serious and reading labels and that's when I learned that granola bars have dairy in them.

But, he still screams, the diapers are still strange and I'm still confused since I thought a milk intolerance would be the worst "allergy" a baby could have. I'm learning that it's not. The actual cause can be so hidden that many moms and health care providers never find the culprit.

I've heard story after story about colicky babies that are actually weaned from breast milk because they can't tolerate it. They're then put on special formulas only to have to be weaned off that even. Finally, trying goats milk brings relief for many babies.

I told Toby I felt bad that my milk is hurting Alex. And I feel especially bad since if I put him on goats milk, he'd probably do a lot better. Its weird to think that a smelly dumb goat could actually make him happier than me.

So, Toby thoughtfully recommended a goats diet for me and pointed out "all "the grains I could eat that would easily replace the dairy foods in my diet. His grain recommendations? Oatmeal and brown sugar three times a day.

It would be a shame to quit nursing now because at last Alex is happily and sufficiently breast feeding. A nipple shield has done the trick both in protecting me and in adjusting him from bottle to breast. He's a real cuddly baby so nursing is right up his alley. But, if only I could help him quit screaming.

On our recent trip to Wisconsin to visit family and friends and introduce Alex to everyone, I found it quite frustrating that my darling baby spent a lot of time just screaming. I felt like every time I showed up for something, I was arriving with my screaming kid. Every time some one commented to me on who they thought he looked like, they were having to yell in order to be heard over the screaming. Every time someone wanted to simply get a look at our new baby, they had to endure the loud screaming.

Except for one time when Alex amazed me and stayed completely peaceful and sweet and let a mother hold him who just lost her own little baby boy. He was never that quiet for that long for anyone all weekend long. I'm glad he picked that time to be that way though.

As we enjoy our growing (15lbs +) 2 1/2 month old little boy, I'm researching options, substituting foods and improvising recipes. I can't have any dairy at all -- not even to fry my eggs in butter. Which brings me to the next thing: maybe his intolerance includes eggs and soy as well. Yikes.

Read any ingredients list on anything related to food and tell me if you can find something that doesn't have dairy, eggs and soy in it.

Oh, and it has to have calories in it since I am a nursing mom. And if you do happen to find something, let me know.

Accomplishments And Arachnids

I feel successful: 3 pairs of Janae's bloomers that have been sitting in my sewing heap for the past few months have finally been finished. What good timing for bad weather that sent me to the basement with nothing to do but finished procrastinated projects.

In other news, the mentally challenged crickets in our basement left me alone as well while I sewed barefooted, and that is a good thing. Had the electricity gone off I don't know what I would have done.

Crickets function in the dark; I don't. Crickets find me in the dark and that's freaky. Crickets love the darkness rather than the light because their deeds are evil. I don't like their evilness. And these crickets are big and that makes their evil deeds even bigger. In mass quantities, you get even greater deeds of evilness. Yuck.

At least I don't have it as bad as this mom here is having with arachnids.

Did I mention yuck yet?

New House Pictures

Front of house.

Don't let the inviting front yard fool you: the rocked flower bed in front of the porch where the iris plants are host a healthy and fecundate family of snakes. Lots of snakes.

The grass in our front yard is the nicest grass we've ever had but we always wear shoes, thanks to the consistent presence of snakes. There's nothing so chilling as walking through plush grass bare foot only to feel something slide between your foot and the earth.

Did I mention you can look for a snake at any given time and 9 times out of 10, you'll find one? And yes, I still scream when I see one.

Although they are a nuisance, the snakes seem to go well with the Northern Wisconsin Rock front flare of the front of the house. Kinda gives it the "up north cabin" feel you get when you're camping: cabins and snakes. Rocks on houses in Nebraska are a rarity so I feel blessed that of all people to get to live in The Rock House of Nebraska, I do.

I could do without the snakes though.

Our Address etched in stone.

Now that you have our address, please don't send us junk mail. Thank you.

Looking into the house from the front door.


This is the entire half of the house. The other half accommodates three bedrooms, three tiny closets and one bathroom. (not pictured. Our cleaning lady/photographer was only contracted for this half of the house. The rest of the pictures coming at a later date.) This half holds our entry, living room, "office, " dining room, kitchen and basement stair way. We plan to move the office down stairs some day when we get the basement finished. The upstairs "attic" also has refinishing possibilities someday down the road even farther than the finished basement. There's also the possibility of extending the kitchen into something a little bigger but that's somewhere down the road too. It all depends on which roads you take, but owning your own home gives you so many possibilities! If only it provided the check book to match then possibilities could become realities.

The Living Room.



The furniture makes it look bigger than it really is. In real life, the furniture actually makes the living room smaller. On pictures though, it has an opposite effect. Oh, and yes, we do plan to do curtains someday.

The Galley Kitchen.

What you see is what you get. Not a lot of counter space but you should see how much stuff fits nicely in the cupboards. I love being organized! I was going to go with a different theme for the kitchen but decided against it. I stuck with my previous apple theme that I have purchased mostly from second hand stores and garage sales or on major Michael's clearance sales. I hate getting rid of good deals like that.



The "country kitchen" arrow was a $0.70 deal from TJ Maxx. I really do love a good deal.

This is the Other Side of the kitchen, not seen in the first picture.

With no counter by the stove, it does make it a little bit more challenging when preparing meals. But, having the glass top makes the parts of the stove that aren't hot, seem more like a counter. I've been surprised at how much easier this kitchen is to work in than I first thought it would be.

My Kitchen Window.

It takes a lot to smudge that window.

My China Cabinet.

No, not all my china fits but at least some stuff could get out of it's box.

Our Dining Room Buffet.

Craigslist rocks! I found this on craigslist.com just days before we moved. This old piece of furniture by itself wasn't exactly the prettiest thing but it sure can hold a lot of pretties. We topped it with an antique mirror that's been in Toby's family for years. I've guarded and protected it's foggy glass since I first found this heavy wooden framed mirror in a dark corner but never have I had "use" for it. I really do like foggy mirrors, actually. I think they look so old and quaint -- and the fog helps hide a few blemishes like extra pregnancy weight. To spruce up the outdated features of the buffet and make it look like a real antique, I laid an antique beige dresser scarf (Goodwill deal) on it's top and we added a few vintage and antique looking treasures on it and around it.

In the far distance of this picture, you can see a Pot Rack.

My parents bought us this for our last anniversary but since we knew it wouldn't fit in the kitchen anywhere, I hung it out in the dining room and dolled it up a bit with red berries and a red lantern. Kinda gives the whole room a neat effect. Some day I hope to use it for a real pot rack but for now, it's unique. And being used.

And there you have it, the first half of our new house. We love it here and are so thankful for how God has blessed us with this house.

For those of you that have commented on how the "N" page in your address book is getting worn from being erased and whited out so many times, we plan to stay here for quite awhile. At least a year anyway. No really, this is home to us and the community, Church friends close by and family connection we have here has been an overwhelming confirmation that Milford will be home for a long time.

Come see us! Don't worry about the snakes; we'll scare them away before you get here.

(All photo contributions were made in full by Beemoo's Photography. All cleaning and photo props are compliments of Beemoo's Nanny Services. To find out more about this amazing person, visit this site.)

The Sick House

Yes, finally, we have a sick house.

After going all winter with hardly a cold, we have the dreaded flu epidemic. I have to admit that thankfully, it's not been as bad as I expected it to be.

Yesterday, Landon came down with it. A cold and fever.

This morning, Janae had it too.

Now this afternoon, top both of them off with a cough, achy joints and a real hard time maintaining a happy attitude and you get a full fledged illness.

I gave them both baths to help relax and soothe their sore muscles. When I told them they could run more water, I didn't expect Landon to turn it all the way to cold. But, that's just what he did.
I think he was trying to get their fevers down really fast. And, considering he doesn't seem to care for Tylenol too much, a cold bath was a good substitute, I guess.

I replaced their freezing water with a nice, warm bath again and left them to play with an ark, a Noah and a couple boats.

I guess things were going too calm in their nice, quiet bath tub so Landon tried convincing Janae that it was fun to have water dumped on her head. As she protested and wailed and hollered and gasped, he kept telling her how fun it was to have cup after cup repeatedly dumped on her head.
She was too "nice" to do it back to him so I poured water on his head so he'd know how fun it really was.

"Mom! Don't -- I'm SICK!" he protested under the stream of water. I guess in his mind that was a good enough reason to not get dumped with water but that logic didn't seem to include his sister, obviously.

As I strip a wet bed, disinfect a puke covered high chair, clean a heavily soiled bottom as the result of diarrhea, smear Kleenex on overflowing little noses, try keeping track of what meds are given when, figuring out who's taken their vitamins already, tackle the skill of opening a child proof Tylenol bottle with one hand while holding a thermometer under a hot arm with the other, comfort 2 weepy children on my already full lap and try to do a million other life saving tasks, I thank God that had it not been for that darling man that came into my life four years ago, I could be having a very monotonous and lonely day.

And though I'm trying to get actual work done today, you can imagine my defeat when Landon came out of his room a little bit ago, observed the array of suitcases, toys, shoes and luggage scattered all over the living room floor and then said,

"The house is really messy, Mom."

"It sure is," I agreed with him.

I'm hoping for better days really soon. After our nice weekend, today has been quite the contrary.

When all this weary toil and care is past, The Anniversary update is coming to a blog near you! Stay tuned.

The picture to the right was taken during the last morning of our anniversary get-a-way. The kids were with us for the second night. We wanted to have a mini-family vacation after our anniversary so kinda did a conjoined "holiday."

Here Landon and Janae are seen drinking their morning coffee milk (they think it's real coffee though) while watching traffic 4 stories down. Our State capitol is seen in the back ground.

Potty Training Tradition

With the prospect of another child in diapers due to arrive in June, we were contemplating the diaper bill, the frequent activity in our household of changing diapers and just the overall demand a child in diapers can have on a mother and father. Multiply that by three and we were ready to subtract at least one child from the mess.

We had two options.

First option was to give one of the children away. We discussed that option but we couldn't decide which one to get rid of so we scratched that idea.

Second option was when Toby came up with a profound idea: get rid of 1/3 of the diapers instead. That way, we'd only have enough diapers for 2 children and the 3rd child would have to find something else to use or somewhere else to go.

That made a lot of sense to us. Plus, we liked that idea better than giving a child away.

We noticed that since we no longer have to wear diapers, surely one of our children could at least try to quit wearing them as well. It is common knowledge to realize that we inherit so many things from our parents -- either through genetics or just watching them. So, we hoped that perhaps this was one thing we could pass down to our kids. If it's not passed through DNA, perhaps we could just set a really good example.

Not knowing where to start on this example setting, we both agreed to keep our eyes peeled and our ears open to any options.

Amazingly a few days later, we were walking through the store and what should we find but a special "chair" used for eliminating diapers. Kinda like the electric chair effect only not quite as shocking. It had good ratings and there was a picture of a child sitting on one of these chairs. The child appeared to be happy so we assumed it would be safe for our children as well. We made the purchase.

We considered it an investment in comparison to all the money on diapers it would save us. We'll probably have to record this investment in our taxes as well. The IRS is sure to notice the improvement in our budget.

After purchasing this chair, we ceremoniously set it next to our adult sized toilet. We hoped that our children would notice the similarity between the porcelain bowl and this little plastic pot.

It was hardly similar though... it played music when anything passed a certain zone in the bowl part, it had no flusher and it didn't automatically refill with water when you flushed it because like I said, there was no flusher. Plus, you couldn't play with the water in the bowl since there was none in it and it wasn't as fun to fill with toilet paper as you flushed it and watched it disappear because, as previous mentioned, there was not one trace of a flusher. Also, you could pick it up and carry it around the house, even if you were only 2. We all know that regular toilets don't provide that convenience -- a grab and go pot -- like this little chair did but we still had faith that it would somehow do the trick.

At this point, we determined which child would be required to break their steady habit of diapers. We went through a very intense evaluation of each one of our children and came up with the following results:

Child #3: We realized there was no way to connect our unborn babe to the qualities of this rare chair so we crossed that child off.

Child#2: Our darling little girl. Evaluating her personality and fine motor skills, we noted that our most wild imaginations could not fathom her leaving her diaper behind. That left us with our eldest child, the one who will forever carry on our family's name.

Child #1: Ironically, he fit the bill.

The fateful day finally came when the chair and our child were going to meet. And not just shake hands and greet each other and walk away. Rather, this poor, vulnerable little child was required to strip his beloved and warm diaper off and sit his privates on the opening of this cold little chair. Not a very friendly way to greet someone or something you've never met before.

Of course, it had to happen on the very day when my child's father abandoned me and went off to make a living. He stole away early in the morning, ensuring himself enough time to not partake in the festivities looming on the horizon of that cold, winter morning.

Arming myself that morning with determination and a dislike for the diaper bill, I bravely introduced my child to this amazing little chair. Creeping carefully and softly to the shadow of this magic throne, we went through the ceremony of purging the diaper forever from the habit of my son's life. It was quite touching, to say the least.

Miracle after miracle began to happen. Trickles and tinkles were soon heard ringing from the little chair. All throughout that blessed day, such unbelievable activity was practiced around the plastic throne. Diapers were neglected and underwear were the new fad. The chair had marvelously worked it's magic.

I think we will forever celebrate this day as a holiday for the rest of our family's history. Imagine passing something down to our children so rare and profound as potty training. Yes, January 19th will definitely be considered as sacred as a national holiday.

We are now striving as responsible parents to continue being good examples to the rest of our children and also hoping that the DNA built into our other two children -- the girl and the child yet unborn -- will carry the potty training trait in them as well. Maybe someday our house will indeed be diaper free. Imagine an entire generation holding such a strong tradition as frequent and planned trips to the porcelain bowl and full elimination of all diapers.

With the first of our prodigy successfully practicing the fine tradition, we definitely have a start on such a legacy.

Pre-Follow Up

Today was very productive but I'll tell you all about it later. I'm getting ready for bed and looking forward to putting my feet up. If it wasn't for this harsh pregnancy-related sciatica, I'd stay up and do a proper post right now. But, I just can't tonight.

I have lots of pictures to download and then upload to my blog. And yes, every "before" has a following "after" picture.

I'll just say that from my list, I accomplished the following:

1. MAKE LIST (as mentioned)
2. REORGANIZE KITCHEN (rearrange, redecorate, clean, fill new island with necessary stuff, etc.)
3. EMPTY DISHWASHER
4. LOAD DISHWASHER
5. SWEEP AND WASH KITCHEN FLOOR
6. PUT WINTER STUFF IN "NEW" DRESSER
7. PUT AWAY DUFFEL BAG (that's been storing winter stuff)
8. SHOWER
9. FIX HAIR
10. MAKE SELF PRETTY
11. LIGHT A CANDLE
12. PLAY MUSIC (actually, I played a scripture tape instead... so uplifting!)

I also did the following:

1. CLEAN THE DININGROOM
2. LAY TABLE CLOTH AND PLACE MATS
3. STRAIGHTEN UP BATHROOM
4. GROCERY SHOPPING
5. REPACK AND FREEZE MEAT
6. TAKE PREGNANCY PROFILE PICS (actually, Toby did that.)

The kitchen was by far the biggest task but I'm so happy to say that every cupboard (except for under the sink) and nook and cranny is organized and has it's own proper place. This really takes a load off my mind. I'm looking forward to doing lots of cooking and baking now that I have such an orderly kitchen. I splurged this evening and rewarded myself with red, cheery, new kitchen rugs. Talk about paradise and pleasure! It definitely was a good prize for the size of task my kitchen was today.

Stay tuned for pictures and more updates!

On Carpenters, Babysitters and Good Intentions

In more ways than one, our home and household items seem to be falling apart lately. Not sure what is going on. It's like there's some kind of disease going around in our walls, roof and interior.

We have a very able bodied carpenter that resides in our home but his schedule is booked into the next year. So, as his own house falls apart more everyday as he leaves for work, he continues to faithfully repair his well paying customer's homes. Mrs. Carpenter has had to make some rearrangements for the time being considering her better half is not able to occupy his position as chief fixer-upper at home.

Several of the following items in the tips section are already my responsibility but I thought I'd include the whole scope of projects needing to be done around here to give the reader the whole perspective.

First off, I'll start with the most urgent agenda:

Our kitchen table has a perpetual disability. More than once, we've had to interrupt our supper time in order to reposition one of the legs. It may get bumped by a toddler's foot or just decide it's too tired to stand on its own anymore. Once a small infant was placed on top of the table in a small bed and suddenly the table decided to fall. Thankfully, there were no injuries. The baby was miraculously caught in midair by her angel aunt.

Despite good intentions, there have never been permanent repairs on the table since then so you can imagine the continued excitement our table brings us. As it begins it's assent to the floor during a meal, a diner will balance the table until Mr. Carpenter brings his lousy little screw driver and a plastic cup assortment of screws, nails and left over window hardware. The jack-of-all-trades-except-for-table-repair, will empty half of the screws on the floor while Landon and Janae snatch the rest and run off with it for further inspection.

A ping and pop will be heard as the stubborn dry wall screw will refuse to enter the oak wood and would rather continue dropping on the floor. Eventually several folks will be coerced into volunteering their time into table repair so that the whole family can resume their dinner.

One person will hold the leg, another will balance the table top and the two of them will keep the toddlers from running and jumping directly on their dad's stomach as he vulnerably lays under the table in an attempt to get the screw to go through the leg into the table frame. It ends up being quite an endeavor for all those involved.

At last, Mr. Carpenter will deem the table "safe" but not totally fixed. Chairs will pull back up to the table, splashes of water from the recent quake will be wiped up and the toddlers will be fastened back into their chairs. Everyone seems to trust the carpenter's semi-repair by the way they fearlessly sit at the table. The evening's event is soon forgotten as we resume our meal.

A few nights later, the scene is repeated. I finally asked Toby the other evening if he thought we should maybe get a new table. He thought that was probably a good idea. But, since we have two tables and only use one on a daily basis, I think it almost seems foolish to replace a table that we really don't need anymore. Still, we continue to grapple with our toppling table instead of replacing it with another one we have or getting a new one.

Stupid, I know. But when this table is the one Toby bought for us before we were even married, it's hard to throw away something of such sentimental value.

I guess we'll just have to continue screwing screws in it or else send it to it's well worth retirement.

Today I finally decided something needed to be done -- I'm sure we're running out of screws by now. I observed the full layout of our house in the living/dining and kitchen area and decided that we could indeed send the kitchen table to it's eternity and put the dining room table in the kitchenette area. Our dining table is mostly used for storage anyway and I thought that maybe if we eliminated that from the living/dining area, we could have a cleaner looking house.

So, here's tip #1:

• Eliminate any unnecessary clutter traps: furniture, tables, baskets, chairs and kitchen cupboards if necessary

For tip #2, I found this out today:

• If you want to make your kitchen feel new, clean out the fridge.

Tip #3 only works if you have an open floor plan:

• If your living room can only be arranged one way and you're tired of shuffling your furniture around in hopes of finding a new niche for one of the items, retire your kitchen table, move the dining table into the kitchen and spread your living room out into your dining room.

Tip #4 is difficult for me because I know how much this might step on toes for my local carpenter:

• If your son's sock drawer continually leaves the bottom of the drawer in the dresser every time you pull the drawer out and all the socks fall through the gap onto the floor and the drawer isn't getting repaired by a professional (ie. husband), get a new dresser. I haven't tried this tip yet but I'm sure it would work.

Tip #5:

• When you leave to run errands, leave specific instructions with your children's babysitter (ie. their dad) that the wallpaper is not allowed to come off the bedroom walls. Suggest checking on the children every 2 minutes in order to eliminate the inconvenient destruction. Remind your babysitter that wallpaper peels fast even if the kids are being checked on every 15 minutes.

For tip #6, I would have to recommend this:

• If you notice that you're suddenly putting "underwear" and "socks" and "clothes" on your shopping list, do laundry. You may be able to save a little bit of money on your yearly clothing budget.

Unfortunately, I know tip #7 too well:

• If your children suddenly look like they're coming down with chicken pox, do not be alarmed. Instead, thoroughly wash all their bedding, vacuum their rooms very well and wipe straight tea tree oil all over their bodies. Then, bomb your house for fleas and leave for two hours. In three weeks, repeat the entire process. And the next three weeks, repeat. Repeat that several times for several months. If your fleas disappear, let me know how long it took so that I can have an idea how long we're in for this.

And finally, I wish I would've known tip #8 before it was too late:

• NEVER ever buy a house that has fleas in it. You can eliminate tip #7 if you follow this tip's advice.

Other than a leaky roof, broken windows and a rotting deck, we should have a pretty good handle on our household upkeep and repairs. By this spring, we are talking of getting another fixer-upper in the form of an old house (not a double wide like we currently have) so are enjoying the minimal repair work we have now.

For now, I need to get back to that kitchen table before somebody crashes it on their toes.