Baby Come Back

Dear 1/2 Cup Measuring Cup,

I miss you.

There.  I said it. 

I know I didn't appreciate you while you were here.  I took you for granted.  I just didn't realize how good I had it.  You were so versatile!  Not only could you measure 1/2 a cup, but you could also measure 1 full cup, or, if we were feeling cheeky, 1/4 cup.  I loved that about you.

It's been two weeks since you left.  I have no idea where you went.  You left no note, not a trace.  Did you run off with Spencer to explore the back yard?  Did you take Josh's dare and jump into the garbage can?  Did you make yourself a new home in Cole's box of baby toys?

Why did you leave me?  Why?

Please, just come back.  I promise I'll treat you right.

Love,

Maren

Methinks the Boy Needs A Break From the Wii

It used to be impossible to get either Josh or Spencer to say any prayers other than at bedtime.  They'd have none of it.

Now?  Fights.  Every day.  "My turn!"  "No!  It's mine!"  "Waaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!"  Apparently they are now a very spiritual set of brothers.

This morning as I put breakfast on the table, Spencer sat down and then suddenly got up and ran out of the room yelling "I have to go potty!"  (Because in our house if you have to go potty you announce it to the world.  Loudly.)

Since Josh was still at the table I asked him to say the prayer.  From the bathroom we then heard "Nooooooo!!!  I say prayer!!!"  Spencer came streaking (in all senses of the word) back to the table, demanding that he say the prayer. 

I told him that boys who leave the table suddenly and then come back naked don't get to say the prayer.  Sorry.  All the while he and Josh yelled back and forth at each other "It's my turn to say the prayer!" "No, it's mine!" "No, it's mine!"

I secretly prayed that I could go back to bed, but knew that would take a miracle and I'm not that righteous.

After much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth Spencer stomped back to the bathroom.  Josh said the prayer.

A few minutes later Spencer came back to the table and quite snidely remarked "I said a prayer.  In the bathroom."

"What?!" Josh roared

"I said a prayer!  So there." Spencer responded.

Josh stuttered and yelled and literally shook his fist and then said "There!  Your prayer is off" and he waved his fist as if he had a magic wand.  I thought it kinda weird that Josh used a magic wand; not for the logic of it but because he thought of it.  We're not really a magic wand kind of family around here.  (We're more sword and gun people, at the moment.)

"No it's not!" yelled Spencer.

"Yes, it is!" said Josh, with more wand waving.

Back and forth back and forth until I finally told them that the next one who spoke wouldn't get to play any computer games today.  Then I explained that you couldn't turn off a prayer, so knock it off.

"Yes you can!" interrupted Josh.  "I turned it off because I'm player number one!"

*facepalm*

He hadn't been waving a wand.  He had been pretending to use a Wii controller. 

Patiently Waiting

This morning Cole was sitting in his high chair, patiently waiting for his breakfast.  I don't know why, but the sight of his two little chubby hands completely charmed me.  Goodness, Cole, you're a cutie!

Too bad he gives me that weird grin whenever he sees the camera now.  (I think he thinks he's smiling...)

What You See Here...

 ... is not a baby taking a bath in the kitchen sink.

No, what you are seeing is a diversionary tactic.  The water is diverting the baby's attention away from Momma, who he decided needed to hold him All. Day. Long.

The baby in the water diverted a certain three year old away from torturing his older brother All. Afternoon. Long.  Of course, it also made him extremely jealous of the baby, but listening to his demands of getting the baby out of the sink so he could get in was much better than listening to the battle cries between him and his older brother.

And the splashing from the baby diverted the six year old away from his video games, which he would happily play All. Day. Long.  If Momma let him.  Which she doesn't.

And what did momma do during this time?  Cleaned up the kitchen, emptied and loaded the dishwasher, started on dinner, worked on her calling, and anything else she could accomplish while not having to hold the aforementioned baby.

Self-portrait Tuesday

I think we have the same eyes.

A Few Random Bits of Information

On Saturday I decided that we were going to clean our living room and hallway carpets.  They were desperately gross.  While getting ready and vacuuming, Lance went the extra mile and decided to vacuum under the couch cushions.  With Cole on the couch.

We're such good parents.

By the way, Lance and I now both officially hate our couch.  Enough to replace it.  If you see any cute ones let me know.

Cole is back to his jolly old self.  (He might be Superman, but he was still grouchy with the ear infection and all.)  Today he happily rolled around on the floor, babbling, pulling off his socks, and chewing on his feet - for an entire hour.  I love this kid.

He's not always happy, though.  Late this afternoon he would just bawl and bawl if I put him down.  So I put him in the sling and he was happy as a clam.  I love the sling but don't use it as much as I used to.  Mainly because it now carries a 22 pound wiggly piglet.  Even with both arms free, it's hard to get much done with him in there.

For FHE tonight we made cookies for Josh's primary teachers because he was so rotten in class yesterday.  (He actually had to be taken out to Lance.  Yikes.)  Josh was adamant about having chocolate chocolate chip cookies, but I didn't have enough regular baking chocolate.  So I bit the bullet and got out my super-fancy-high-quality Guittard baking chocolate that I had been saving for a special occasion.  I only used 3 ounces, but it still hurt to be using it on something as plain as cookies.  (Especially because I didn't have high quality chocolate chips to go with them.)

The chocolate was so pretty once it was melted that I had to take a picture.  Is that weird?  I didn't think so.

International Food of the Month: Falafel

When you think of international food, what comes to mind first?  Italian?  Mexican?  Thai?  Taco Bell? (I really hope not.)

How 'bout Israeli?  (Betcha didn't see that one coming!)

I went to Israel for a summer semester abroad in 1998.  I fell in love the with the country, the people, and the falafel.  It was sold on just about every street corner and in every little hole in the wall.  I ate it in the at a trendy little cafe in the New City that felt like it should have been in Europe somewhere.  I ate it in the Old City in a tiny hole-in-the-wall Palestinian restaurant that had a large picture of Yassar Arafat on the wall.  (I got one for free from that same restaurant just because I had blue eyes.  Sweet.)  Falafel is to Israel as hamburgers are to America: abundant, cheap, and in varying degrees of tastiness.  I thought the Palistinians made it better, but I'm sure the Israelis would argue with that opinion. 

Whatever your opinion on Middle Eastern politics, just know this: falafel is good.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that if all their leaders just sat down with some fresh falafel and a couple of Fantas, they'd be able to iron things out in no time.  (Someone should probably mention this to Hilary.)

It's time to falafel, baby!

If you are unfortunate and don't know anything about falafel, then let's start with the basics.  Falafel is a chickpea patty that is fried.  You can have it as a sandwich, on salads, on it's own as an appetizer... you get the idea.  It's easy to make and very inexpensive.

I got the majority of my recipe from this sweet book I picked up on clearance at Sam's Club a few years ago.

It's pretty cool and has some really interesting recipes and great photos.  (A must for any good cook book.) The falafel recipe it has was a little weird because it included fava beans.  What the what?  So I poked around online and came up with a pretty good conglomeration. 

First, you start with the chick peas.  You can use the canned ones, but I decided to do it the old school way and just soaked a pound of dried ones overnight.

Here are the other ingredients you will need:

Eight chopped scallions, 1-2 tsp cumin, 1 tsp red pepper, 2-4 cloves chopped garlic, a handful of parsley, a good handful of cilantro, 1-2 tsp Kosher salt, and 2 tsp of baking powder. (Ignore the bread crumbs.  A few recipes said to use them, but I decided not to at the end.)

First you pulse the chickpeas in the food processor.  You want it to have texture but still pretty fine.

Then, and here's the hard part, you toss the rest of the ingredients in and chop it all up until it's really fine.

It's a beautiful thing. 

Now at this point you could heat up the oil and start frying.  Or you could put it in the fridge for later. 

Or the next day, if your baby happens to need a quick doctor's visit.

Now, at this point we need to take a little break from the falafel and introduce something else I fell in love with in Israel: hummus.  Hummus is a funny thing: people either love it or hate it.  I lurrve it.  And I feel that's it's crucial in the whole falafel experience.  Oh sure, you could eat a falafel without hummus - but why? 

Here are the ingredients you need:

Look familiar?  You'll need one can of drained and rinsed chickpeas, 1-2 tsp cumin, 1/3c lemon juice, 1-2 cloves minced garlic, 1-2 tbls olive oil, 1-2 tbl tahini, and a handful of cilantro and parsley.  (The herbs and cumin are more of an Egyptian hummus ingredient, but that's what I like.)

In case you're wondering, tahini is sesame paste.  You can buy it at most international markets for pretty cheap.  It's an essential ingredient in hummus, so don't think you can make it without!

Throw everything into the food processor and chop it up into a paste.

If it's a little dry just add some water while it's running.

You want it creamy but with just a touch of texture. 

And yes, I did eat that entire spoonful.  Hummus is good on it's own or with pita chips, carrots, celery, cucumbers, any type of veggies.  Mmmm...

Okay, back to the falafelage.

First you heat up some oil to 350 degrees.  All the recipes say to use olive oil, of course, but that's pricey around here.  So I just used veggie oil instead.

Next, you need to make the falafel patties.  I used a 2 tbl cookie scoop.

Plop it out on a cookie sheet.

And flatten.

Pretty.

I decided to test one to see if the oil was hot enough. 

It was, but I didn't cook it long enough.  The inside was still just a little underdone; not gross, but not delicious, either.

I later cooked them in batches of five for a good three to four minutes each, turning them occasionally.

Sorry for the bad picture - winter lighting is tricky in that there really is no light.  Anywho, you want the falafel to be a pretty medium brown.  Drain them on wadded up paper towels.

In Israel you mainly eat falafel in a fresh pita with lots of veggies and some hummus and other sauces.  Store bought pitas are of the devil, so I make my own.

And look!  I've been practicing and can now roll my pitas out in circles instead of amoeba shapes.

Mostly.

Falafel are usually served with Lebanese salad, which includes lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, red onions, and radishes.  I didn't have tomatoes (I refuse to buy them in the winter) and forgot to get radishes (due to a certain incident) so here's what we had.

I made tahini sauce (tahini, garlic, lemon juice, salt and pepper) and dill sauce (sour cream, dill, and salt) to go with.

First you put the sauce of your choice on the pita, then the falafel.

Pile on the veggies, and then the hummus that you forgot to put on before.

Doesn't that just look divine?

Cole really wanted some.  It's strained peas for you until you get some teeth!  (We Madsens teeth, crawl, and walk late.  It's great.)

While Lance and I snarfed our pieces of falafel heaven, Spencer played with his pita.

Josh got a little farther, actually putting the falafel on his pita.  But I think he only did that because he wanted to play with the tongs.

*NOM*NOM*NOM*

After I ate I decided to play around with my food a little.  I call it Falafel A La Maren.  Heck, at some fancy restaurant they'd probably charge $10 a plate for something this tasty.

I'd pay it.

International Food of th... INTERRUPTED.

So today I was all set on doing my first International Food of the Month.  (That's what won the poll, by the way.)  Even though Spencer didn't have school because of an ice storm, and he and Josh were fighting like cats and dogs, and Cole had a cold and was so clingy when he was awake (but slept more!), I was bound and determined to get it done today! 

I started the make-ahead stuff this morning.  I cleaned house.  I worked on a little bit more of the meal.  I cleaned up my messes in the kitchen.  I dealt with Josh's now-daily 38 tantrums.  I broke up a few more fights. I even vacuumed and mopped - no small feat these days.

It was 3pm and I was just about to start on the last part of the meal when Cole woke up from his nap.  Usually I just lay him on a blanket while he drinks his bottle, but this time he wanted to be held.  No problem; I had a little extra spare time.  I was holding him when all of a sudden WHAT IN THE WORLD IS COMING OUTTA THAT BABY'S EAR!??!?  Mucousy-greenish-brownish goop started pouring out of his ear.  It was nasty.  It was grossing me out.  It was just about to get on my couch when I finally grabbed a nearby burp cloth.

It didn't seem to to hurt him at all.  He got a little irritated with me wiping his ear for a good five minutes, but he gave more of an indignant "Quit messin' with my ear, lady!" whine and swipe with his hands, rather than an "Ouch!  That hurts!" cry.

Now, I have three kids.  We've been through three broken bones, a couple of cases of thrush, RSV, ear infections, strep, fifths disease, pink eye, and a large assortment of strange rashes, colds, and flues.  During all of that, I had never seen ear goop like this.

I quickly called my pediatrician and they were able to get me an appointment in 30 minutes.  I love my pediatrician, which is why I'm willing to drive 17 minutes to get there.  The doctor took one look at his ear and whistled appreciatively.  Apparently Cole's eardrum had ruptured and there was a good-sized hole in it.  This was especially impressive because he had only started showing cold symptoms the night before.  At 1:30am the night before, to be exact.  (He was up off and on all night - never too upset, easily satisfied with a bottle, so no need to really worry, right?  Boy, I'm a baaaad mom!)

Now, in college I had a double ear infection which culminated in two ruptured ear drums.  IT HURT.  It hurt it hurt it hurt.  I remember sitting on the ER bed with my toes and fingers curled because it hurt so bad.  (Actually the pain was worst right before the eardrums burst.  But whatever.)  My ears bled for two days and oozed grossness for another three.  I've been in hard labor for 36 hours straight, and I'm telling you having your eardrums burst is not for the weak of heart.

And yet here was my seven month old in my arms, happy as a clam, stripped down to just a diaper, and trying to grab the pediatrician's stethoscope.  It boggled both the doctor and I.  He is now know as Superman there.

So anywho.  We were walking out the door, prescription in hand, when I realized that we would have to go to Wal-Mart to get it filled.  Wal-Mart.  The very site of Josh's very loud, very public indiscretion yesterday.  The place I had just yesterday vowed to never return to with Josh.

But I had to.  HAD to.  Why?  Because I'm cheap - Wal-Mart's pharmacy is way cheaper than anywhere else.  And they're close to my house.  And I knew they already had all of Cole's info. 

So I braved it.  With two little boys and the demon child.  (Sorry, Josh.  I'm still not over it.)  In the pouring rain.  Incentives were used.  Threats were made.  Twenty minutes passed.

And we survived.

Whew.

So, International Food of the Month tomorrow.  Assuming we have no more surprise doctor visits.

EPIC Tantrum

Friends, your life is in a sad state of affairs when you are too embarrassed to go back to Wal-Mart.

If you've read my blog for any length of time, then you probably know who the culprit in this story.  Yes, Dr. Destructo himself, Mr. Josh.

Let me first preface this by saying that after his routine 3-4 morning tantrums, he was actually in a pretty good mood.  And he had had plenty of sleep the night before and a 2+ hour nap the day before.  Let me also say that I take Josh on errands all the time, and he's generally pretty good.  Oh, I get the regular whining and touching-of-things-that-should-not-be-touched.  But on the whole, he's a pretty good little shopper.

But not today.  Ooooooh boy, not today.  Halfway through my list he decided to start his epic tantrum.  In all honesty I can't remember what he got so upset about.  I think it had something to do with yogurt.

It started with the whining and the crying and the yelling, and then Josh broke all protocol and dove directly into the rolling around on the floor, screaming incoherently, and refusing to do anything but have his fit.  We were in the snack aisle.  (I had won a free bag of bagel chips!  Score!  Kind of!)  He started the rolling and the yelling and then he did something new: he decided to hang onto the bottom of the cart so that I couldn't move. 

Well, I could still move, but I didn't really want to finish my shopping with a three-year-old dragging along on the floor.  A girl has to have some principles.

He continued this off and on for five minutes while I walked up and down the aisle to grab a few more things, leaving the cart, with Cole placidly watching his psychotic brother, in place.  But finally I had to actually move the cart.

At this point I had a few different options:

1. Pick Josh up and carry him.  This would only be short term since it's quite difficult to carry a writhing three year old while pushing a cart.
2. Drag him along.  Like I mentioned before, not really an option.  Plus, he'd probably let go as some point and get run over.
3. Stomp on his fingers and run away, pitying any kidnapper who decided to steal the wailing demon child.
4. Pick him and Cole up and just leave the store.  But not really; I hadn't been grocery shopping in quite a while and really needed some food!
   
5. Gently pry his fingers off and briskly walk away, ignoring his horrible behavior knowing that he would eventually follow.

I chose five.  It was a wise move.  Well, inasmuch as that I was right - he did get up and follow.  Bellowing and crying all the while.  Every time I stopped the cart he would scream and roll on the floor and hang on the cart.  Sometimes he would change things up and run away and demand that I buy certain items - like the most expensive jar of peanut butter on the shelf.  Or a plastic banana hanger.  Or some shallots, which I actually did need but only put in the cart while he wasn't looking.

This continued for 15 minutes.  I got lots of looks from people.  Fortunately, it was early in the morning so it was mostly mothers with small children out.  They all gave me the "Hang in there, sister!" look of compassion.  But a few grumpy grandparents gave me the "Why don't you beat it out of him?" look.  One single guy looked at me and grinned a "And that's why I am never having children" look.

By the time we got to the check out he was louder than ever.  (Seriously, I had thought he would have slowed down by then.  Nope.)  I started to put things on the counter.  Josh ran away.  Towards the bananas.  So I had to chase him down, which was really an attractive sight, I'm sure.  A kind employee stopped him for me and refrained from giving me parenting advice.  (Which I've received before.  Never appreciated.)

This happened two more times.  On the third time I hoisted him up over my shoulder and carried him like a sack of potatoes, where he stayed until we had paid.  At this point I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.  I was on the verge of doing both, but wisely refrained, deciding we didn't need to add to the spectacle.

I paid, apologized to the cashier, and left the store. It seemed like everyone in there stared at us as we left.  They probably were. 

Which is why I can never go back to Wal-Mart again.  At least, not with Josh.

Oy.

So now we're home.  Josh was sentenced to his room, where is he now snoozin' away.  Apparently tantrums of that magnitude take a lot out of you.  Unfortunately, I have to wake him up in 20 minutes so we can go pick up Spencer.

Man.

If I were a drinkin' kind of gal, I would be sloshed by 5pm tonight.  But I'm not.  Instead I'm going visiting teaching, which is more spiritually uplifting and a lot better for my liver.

1,000th Post!

So how lame am I?  I offer an awesome 1,000 yen prize for my 1,000th post giveaway and the contest ends on a Thursday and I don't even get around to posting the winners until Monday.

But in my defense I've been a bit busy.  A day-long temple trip, getting ready for said temple trip, cooking, cleaning, church on Sunday, running after run-away Sunbeams, taking naked children to church, taking two hour Sunday afternoon naps to recuperate from church, visiting teaching, watching the 24 season premiere last night.  Exhausting. 

But enough excuses. On to the winner!

First, if you entered my giveaway, thanks!

Second, if you didn't enter my giveaway, what up?  I know there are a lot more of you out there reading this.  My site reader doesn't lie.  Are you shy?  Scared?  Adejectively-challenged?  Oh well.

Third, a few of my favorite entries:

• Best 80's throwback: Ginger, who entered "Rad".  Totally tubular, Ginger.
• Best made up word: Heidi, for "Fantabulous".  Wait - I just looked it up and it's actually in the dictionary.  Dang.  Well, now your award is "Best use of a word to make Maren feel dumb".  Enjoy.
• Best use of a word that I love but never get to use: Trista, for "Droll".  Seriously, love that word.  But how often do you get to use it in every day language?  Not enough, that's what.
• Best use of back-handed compliment: Laura, for "Mind numbing".  (Just kidding Laura - I knew what you meant!)
• Best for making me laugh: Christy, for "Slinnest", her word verification for the comment, and for her bonus simile "His musical taste was very refined, like someone who can tell butter from "I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter".  We are kindred spirits living too far apart, Christy.
• Best appropriate adjective: Gina, for "Stalkworthy".  Thanks... I think. :)
• Best copy cat: Amy (my newly found old Fairfield, CA friend!), for "Splendid".  But that's okay, because the woman has six kids (five of them boys) and still finds time to blog, be Primary President, and keep her sanity. Impressive.

Okay, so here goes.  Magic random number generator, give me a number between 1 and  32:

Comment number 4 - GINGER!  Congrats, Ginger!  Fame and glory and an Amazon eGift card for $11.02 (Based on today's exchange rate) are on their way.

Naked Church-goers

Lance is the Executive Secretary for our ward, so he's always at church a lot earlier than the rest of us.  Which means I have the fun job of getting all of the kiddos dressed and off to church in time.  For about six months now Josh has been difficult on Sunday mornings.

Okay, that's putting it a little too mildly.  He's been a little imp of Satan.

Every week I have to fight, threaten, argue, and finally force him to get dressed.  For whatever reason he thinks that if he doesn't get dressed then he doesn't have to go to church.  Which makes no sense whatsoever because that has never happened and never will.  Three-year-old logic, I guess.

I hate Sunday mornings.  Loathe them.  Dread them.

So yesterday I decided to try a different tactic.  If he fought me on getting dressed then I would just not get him dressed; as simple as that.  I got his underpants on when the real fighting began.  Instead of arguing, reasoning, threatening, etc., I just calmly told him that I had other things that needed to get done rather than fight with him.  If he wanted to get dressed he could come find me and I'd help.  Otherwise, he just would not be getting dressed.

He couldn't believe his good luck.  He smiled and ran around and shouted "I'm not going!  No church!" 

To which I burst his bubble and replied, "Oh, you're going to church.  You'll just go in your underpants."

He stopped in his tracks and gave me an "I'm not sure I really believe you, Mother Dear" look.  I left the room and worked on getting Cole dressed and ready.

Twenty-five minutes later and he was still runnin' around in his skivvies.  I asked him one more time if he wanted to get dressed.  He backed away, afraid that I'd grab him and force the issue.  "No."

"Alright then," I replied.  And I started to put his church clothes in a bag.  "Grab your blankie; you'll be cold in the car with no clothes on."

It took some cajoling, but he got in the car.  He was not happy about it at all, but he didn't fight nearly as much as I thought he would.  I think he was a bit in disbelief about the whole situation.

We got to church and he kind of freaked out, but mainly because I wouldn't let him bring his blankie in.  We have a solid 'no blankie' rule that goes into effect once the blankie becomes a source of entertainment rather than comfort.

We were just outside the Primary room and in the foyer area for a while.  Josh decided that he wanted to go into the chapel, where he thought it would be warmer.

"Sorry," I said. "Little boys who don't have clothes on most definitely cannot go into the chapel.  That is a very special room to Heavenly Father and we need to be reverent and respectful in there.  If you don't want to wear clothes to church, that's fine.  But you won't be in the chapel.  You'll be in a boring classroom with mommy or daddy, with no books and no toys.  And you will have sit on a chair the whole time."

Josh pensively mulled this over.  He knew I had the upper hand.

And then a family with five little girls walked in. 

Josh rushed in the Primary room, where I was.  He looked at me.  He looked at the little girls.  He tried to hide behind me.  I moved.  He looked up at me, defeated, and growled "I want my clothes!"

So I helped him get dressed.  He wouldn't wear his tie, but I figured he'd had enough punishment for one morning.

*******

Just as a side note, this exact same thing happened to my mom with my youngest brother, Kevin, when he was around Josh's age.  My mom was the Primary President at the time and my dad was the bishop, so she had to get all three of us kids dressed and off to church by herself, too.  For whatever reason Kevin hated church at the time and kept having fits about it all.  And one week my mom really had to be to church early, so she took Kevin in just his underpants and dropped him off in my dad's office once we got there.  Kyle and I thought it was hysterical.  Kevin did not.  I think my dad wisely kept his opinion to himself.

It's all just a little bit of history repeated, isn't it?

The Definition of Multi-Tasking

At one point today I found myself doing all of the following:

• Spoon feeding Cole his lunch, while listening to his displeasure at my slowness.  I translated his indignant babbles to be something along the lines of "Hustle, lady, hustle!  I'm HUNGRY NOW!!!"
• Helping Spencer read his latest I Spy book selection that he checked out from the school library this morning.  And no, he could not wait until later to do this.  "Mommy, where is (insert random object listed on page)?  Where is (insert another object on list)?"
  
• Lecturing Josh about why we do not lick people.  Ever.  Because it is gross and germy and no on ever likes it.  Especially mommies and big brothers.  And babies, even if the babies don't seem to mind and smile when you do it.
  
• Listening for the dryer buzzer to go off because I had a few things in there that really needed to come out right then so they wouldn't wrinkle.  Which is ridiculous because I never remember to get those clothes out, but hope springs eternal, right?
• Eating my lunch. I know, the nerve of me to eat lunch.  At lunch time.
• Arguing with Josh about whether or not he had to go potty, despite the fact that his knees were locked together, he was jumping up and down, and his hands were... well, where little boys always seem to have their hands.
  
• Trying to make a mental note about a few "to-do's" I really needed to get done today.  Which as of this moment have completely left my mind.
  

Stamps for Sale

I know I've written about this before, but I can't remember when the post was.  So sorry if this part is a rerun.

When my mom died I inherited her rather large and extensive stamp collection.  (Seriously, the family joke was that she was spending all of our inheritance on her stamp addiction.)  I was kind of into stamping at the time and started doing it more and more after my stamp supply windfall.  I made lots of cards and cutesy things.

This was back when I only had Spencer at home.  And he took naps.  And was an easy baby.

But this is now.  Now I have three kids.  And one of them is Josh, the no-napping-three-year-old-terror (at least that's what he was today...)  And I have a calling that keeps me pretty busy.  And a home to clean.  And hours that I have to waste sleeping.

Anywho.

I haven't stamped anything for probably a good two years.  And I've known for a while now that I probably won't do much stamping again.  I don't have the time and do most of my creative work on the computer.  And even though all those stamps were taking up valuable storage real estate in my house, I just couldn't bare the thought of parting with them.

It would have been like parting with my mom.  All over again.

But something happened last December.  One day the idea of selling the stamps just popped into my head.  And it felt right.  And I knew my mom wouldn't mind.  (It's not like I'm selling priceless antiques; they're just stamps, for Pete's sake!)

So.  I'm sellin' my stamps.  Interested?

You can see them all here.

Self-portrait Tuesday: Momma's Bed

This afternoon I was in my room sorting my stamps and deciding which ones to keep and which ones to sell.  (More on that later.)  Cole decided he needed to join in on that action.  And since the lighting was so good and the baby so cute and I had my camera out, we had a little photo shoot.

Then the big brothers came in to stir things up.

We tried to get Cole to "eat feet", but he wouldn't cooperate.  However, Spencer and Josh were more than happy to oblige!

Then Spencer decided to try to pick Cole up, which was hilarious because he just couldn't do it.  He kept saying "Man, this baby is strong!", when really what he should have been saying was "Man, this baby is fat!" or "Man, I really need to work on my guns!"

Josh bounced around and caused general mayhem in his own Joshie way.

Look!  It's a self-portrait.  And it's Tuesday!

It all ended with a three-boy dog pile, with Cole triumphantly on top.  Kind of.  As you can see, he was extremely pleased with himself.