Just a little Diddy I came up with all by myself.

Hush little Nonie don't say a word.

Mama's gonna buy you a pretty bird.

And if that pretty bird don't sing.

Mama's gonna buy you a platinum ring.

And if that shiny ring don't shine (?).

Mama's gonna pick you a clementine.

And if that clementine tastes sour.

Mama's gonna grow you a big sunflower.

So hush little Nonie don't say a thing.

Your Mama loves you and she knows everything...

sanibel sounds

I am taking my own advice. Enjoying every minute.
I am listening to the birds in the trees, the ones who are whispering
"count your blessings"

"appreciate the time here,

enjoy everything Sanibel has to offer"

The same birds who are whispering:

" do you know how lucky you are???"

are also the birds whispering:

"racket back"...

Sleep Nonie Sleep.

Sweet Nonie has graduated from crib to bed. 1/2 a bed actually, but more on that later.

Ever since the bed migration (3 nights ago), I've had the distinct honor of lying with her until she falls asleep. A bad habit, I'm the first to admit it. But given that Sweet Nonie no longer drinks from the yellow bottle that was an extension of her right hand for 8 months straight - I'm betting we'll be able to nip this habit too.

Tossing and turning doesn't really come close to describing what Nonie does before falling asleep. I'm amazed and intrigued.

I thought I knew her. But now I'm not so sure.

She thrashes about. Blanket surfing. Kicks my chin. Bangs her head on the bed.

Over and over and over.

But always, when in need of a break from the antics, she'll find me.

In the dark she'll give my inner arm a quick swipe. Or she'll swing her head close to mine and breathe milk breath into my face. Sometimes, once she's made contact she'll let out a squeal. Her actions are fleeting and make me realize how primitive humans are. She's comforted by the closeness and senses when I've moved a mere inches away. Mother monkey.

Tonight, despite how cute she was - I contemplated giving up. Could she be nocturnal? I wondered.

But then she found her nose. And her nose seemed to calm her (picking it). Suddenly, she's occupied - pinching into her nose with her thumb. She gets into a routine. Pick. Roll around. Pick. Roll around. Pick. Pick. Roll all around. Pick.

Pick pick pick.

Then in an instant she's doing this...

...and I have wet boogers on my cheek.

EYEpad 3G 4.0

The next generation is here.



It's the EYEpad and it comes in green.

Note its versatility as its user lounges amidst a sea of potential packing items.

Notice the freedom with which she breathes at night, or can you only just imagine it?

The EYEpad is hot. Or it should be. Because when it is cold it makes it hard to sleep.
But when it is hot it really clears up the nasal passages.

Admire the baba. My, how it has outlasted the rest of its generation. For the other things that are 26 on that bed are looking rather rough around the edges.

It's the hottest in sleeping fashion.

Been sinkin low, but the opposite of that

You know that sinking feeling you get when you flush the toilet and the water decides to defy gravity and move slowly upward?

You know that moment of relief you get when the rising water stops just shy of the top of the toilet bowl, because it never really overflows but just looks like it's about to and then stops?

You know the panic that sets in when that feeling of relief is smashed and the water just comes spilling over the top? Toilet paper clinging onto the inside water like an anchor, while liquid that should be moving down into the sewer pipes spills onto the floor.

You know that "really?" sensation you get as you frantically pump and tear school-grade paper towel out of the dispenser and begin to slowly but surely (surely?) start the clean up?

You know how you respond "um, yes" to the person on the other side of the door who asks you "is there an issue"?

Because you are not in the privacy of your own home? But at work?

I do.

Done not Perfect

This is they way I like things. It's a simple concept for me. I like projects.

Especially easy ones. One and done. One day that is.

Plans, blueprints, multiple steps, HECK NO. Not for me.

I married someone quite the opposite. Plans, charts, structure, and MEASURING are the only way he can move forward with the household tasks I have in my head. When we bought our house I wanted to paint every room. And I pretty much did, preggers and all I took my paint can and brush and splashed paint all over these walls. It is FAR from perfect. But I did it. And at the end of the day I could say that it is done. And even if it means when I lie in bed at night I look at the jaggedy paint edges, or when in Xavy's room I cringe when someone (heaven forbid) close the door and see the number I did (or didn't do) on the green stripe.
But I came up with a way to get the best of both of us (my ambition and his perfection). I became a demolition expert. I take my clippers and saw and hack away at bushes, then leave the nasty root to be dug up by the root digger fairy guy. I pull up our gross sunroom carpet. First just a corner to see Bri's reaction. Then the whole thing. It was glued down so me and Xave and our hammers pulled for a couple of days. When I removed it and bought the stick down tiles I knew it wasn't a job for me (math, corners...my head would burst). So I set the measurer up to do his handy work.
Thanks goodness for him. Because we went from the smelly cat pee rug to a place where I can do this



It's PERFECT, for the chicken dance, or any other type of dance.

A peep diagram

If I am the peep in the front

then the principal is the peep in the back.

He can't quite catch me.

Even though he came looking today.

Little did he know I was heels up at the doc (aka traumatized and uncomfortable).

Even though he called today.

Little did he know I was heels to the pavement with Butter (aka running and KICKING HER BUTT).

Which brings me to another point. That dog drags behind me and then gets home and wants to play ball. BALL?

Which brings me back to my other point. Why is he trying to catch me? ME?

Hopefully I know why.

And if the why I am thinking is not the why that I think it is then I think I should keep running.
But not with Butter.
'Cuz she's slow.

The first day of the rest of our days.

I was asked today to send pictures of my wedding to someone. Electronically.

They wanted to see them as they are considering having the men wear tan suits in their upcoming August wedding.

This required me to locate my wedding album and SCAN a picture in.

Was it really that long ago that we were married? Before the digital age?

My word. Time sure does fly...

After reviewing the photo above, I have decided several things:

1. The hubby and I should have worn king & queen crowns. As you can see, I fixed that one all by myself - errr with a little help by some fast and furious online photo editing.
2. I should have planted a big red-lipstick smooch on the hubby's cheek during the sermon (fixed that one too).
3. Never noticed before today, but do examine the picture for yourself. That is me pulling the hubby down the aisle.
   
4. And finally, those band aids. So NOT necessary. Who told me to put them there anyway? Shame on you.
   

Let me cut to the chase.

I am tired.
Lethargic.
Drained.
Lame.

And it is all because of the two girls seen here.



The furry one has decided she would like to wake up at 5:25. No, 5:20. Actually, make that 5:15.
I think she is a rooster.
I also think she ate one of my boogery tissues off the bedside table last night.
We are on a strict diet.
So I guess that was dessert? Or an early breakfast?
I don't know.
But there were definitely two last night, and now there is one.

The other one is neurotic.
Can't make up her mind about the lesson she is teaching on Thursday.
Keeps checking books out of the school library.
Because maybe she wants to do something about Earth Day?
Wait no, she should make all the kids an origami _________.
Or was it the shapes?
The librarian said "Wow you have been busy".
Because then she returned all the books.
And checked out a new one.
Definitely the cow.

And she says things to Eric like "Thanks for putting up with my _________ (frustrationness/crankiness/tiredness/worriedness)".

And he says "Hopefully it will all be over on Thursday."

When really shouldn't he be saying "What ____________ (frustrationness/crankiness/tiredness/worriedness)?"

Aha. So it is real.

Oh yes she did....

Nearly four days home and I'm (still) coming down, down, down off vacation highs. Then there was Sanibel. Then there wasn't Sanibel.

I've never been good at transitions. Homecoming was mostly sweet with a little bitter. Finn Finn our Fabulous fish was (is) alive and skittish - thanks Emah (for the alive part, it is Nonie's big goofy grin pressed against the side of his bowl that makes him skittish). Daffodils graced our kitchen table and milk was in our fridge.

We picked up right where we left off - zooming here, there, everywhere - it makes me wonder if we really were away at all. Did I just dream that whole thing?

But then I get around to unloading my numerous pictures. One by one by one they flash before me and I can just feel the sand stuck between my toes. I can just see the Osprey circling high above the warm pool where I'm spending 2 hours giggling with Nonie and Dec. I can just picture the people scooping shells into buckets, laughing together, cycling for miles - oh wait, that's us. I can just. Sanibel was all that.


And Sanibel was even a little bit more. Oh yes it was...

But, then I get to this picture and I pause...

Is that? Did she..? Wha..?

I rub my eyes.

Oh yes, she did.

I didn't dream it.

Granny's Got Game (set and match).

Boys.....

Amount of peepee cleaned up off the floor today:

Ranger-1

Xavy- 1

Amount of poopoo cleaned up off the floor today:

Ranger-1

Xavy-1

Amount of times saying no, get out of here, you smell, OUTSIDE:

Ranger- 1

Xavy-0

Amount of times I've said you're _______ boy (fill in a good, a bad, a smelly, mommy's)

Ranger- 4

Xavy- 6

Amount of times temperatures have been taken in the ear:

Ranger- 1 (by Xavy)

Xavy- 2

Amount of time spent napping:

.....wait for that. They're both out now.

Love my boys and sick days.

The battle

Once again I found myself near Butter's rear end.

Armed with my weapon



we headed to the back porch.

I was reminiscent of the days we would clean before someone came to clean, for Miss Butter has an 8am appointment at the beauty parlor tomorrow. But brush we did. And cut. And fight.

These are the pants I wore into the battle.



Needless to say, it was hairy.

I brushed, and I snipped. And I brished and I snupped. And because she could not squeeze my hand in agony, I let her bite it.

She is a sweet girl, she did not want to bite me. Every time I stopped the brushing she would lick my hand, and swat at the brush.

I said "stop".

I think she was saying "stop" too.

And after a while, I did.



We made some progress.

She is much pleased with herself. And fancies herself to be the prettiest girl in the house. And because of my swollen allergy eyes and kankersore lip, I do believe she's right.

Now she rests. And considers her thoughts toward human held tools.



Tomorrow is another day for her. More snipping and tugging.

But by then, she will have forgotten about the battle.

so

she crawls into my bed last night

because it is "safer"

and after a while i think she must be asleep

so i sneak a peek

and she is wide eyed

staring at me

her mama

and she whispers

"i was noticing,

today,

at school

that you are prettier

than any other mama"

and i gulp down a lump

and think

yup.

and so is mine-

'Ello (or, Arf)

Arf from Richmond!

My first full day here was pretty good. The girl took me to the park twice this morning. Then she left me for the day. I went exploring and learned to nudge open the closed door. No harm done, just wanted to snooze near her sock drawer.

When she got home we went for a run. I had a quick dip in the Winooski River and the girl trotted with me around some fields. It was quite pleasant. I even saw some little kids and let them pet my head, but they weren't as cute as any of the kids I'm used to seeing.



On our walk home the girl stopped me to snap some pictures. I must say I make this background look lovely.



Luckily, when we went out this afternoon the girl remembered her special bag. This morning she just flung with a stick if you catch my drift. I looked at her like she was NUTSO for picking that up. She said "now you're a city dog" and I didn't understand what she meant until the hot smelly bag followed us home.



Later, we played some more ball and I really showed her my stuff.

After that, she put a yellow string with numbers on it around my belly. Maybe she is measuring me for a tutu?

All of this means I am tired and if you need me you can find me by the boy because he doesn't make me do stuff.

Woof and kisses,
BCup

G'bye

See ya snow tires.

You can take your "tenaciously clinging" treads, and "less rolling resistance". Go enjoy your "dedicated winterness" and "dual action calabratizing" (I made that one up). You can have your loud sticky sound against the pavement and your amazing state of the art gas guzzling feature.





I'll take your more peaceful 3 season friends. The ones with the worn down treads and years of experience under their belt. I prefer their "sitting in a musty basement in a plastic bag for three months" smell to your "I'm so great in the snow just give me one more storm" attitude. I'll embrace their relatively speaking eco friendly dig into my wallet for gas.

I'll take them.

'Cuz they mean (spring) business.

HIGH SOCIETY

miss bugsy t. bugsleberry

cordially invites you to tea.

today.

now.

don't be late...