tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69039228079924709922024-03-05T13:05:14.280-06:00Three Boys and MeA study in male-dominated household ailments (MDHA) associated with being a female outnumbered in a house of boys.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.comBlogger367125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-77491161208989990842010-12-28T08:57:00.003-06:002010-12-28T09:02:06.935-06:00Signing OffSome days I miss writing this blog, but most days I don't. I kept it up for as long as I did as a sort of digital scrapbook for my boys when they get older. It has been a relief to not observe every action, every moment and try to figure out how to turn each one into a fun blog post. I am back to enjoying those actions, those moments instead of stopping to take mental notes. <br /><br />Thanks to those who followed my blog. I enjoyed writing it, and am now going to continue to enjoy not writing it.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-1988670779788016002010-04-17T08:34:00.002-05:002010-04-17T08:36:14.072-05:00InactivityMy blog posting has taken a back seat to work travel and spending time with the family when I am home. The boys haven't stopped being interesting, hilarious, and surprising - I just haven't had the motivation when home to write about it. Maybe soon I'll start again.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-24614978320935891962010-03-22T06:57:00.002-05:002010-03-22T07:23:41.373-05:00Age is RelativeI was watching a movie with my boys the other day (have you seen Band Slam? Great movie!), and it contained a preview for the new Twilight movie. The boys have always wanted to watch the Twilight movies, which amazes me since when they do have bad dreams they are usually about vampires. After seeing the preview for Twilight New Moon, I think they changed their minds about wanting to see it. The preview was scary and freaked them out.<br /><br />And, being a mom who seldom gets to prove herself right, I couldn't resist a little I Told You So. "That's why you can't see the Twilight movies." <br /><br />"What are they rated?" Jack asked.<br /><br />"PG-13. But some PG-13 movies are closer to PG, like Harry Potter, and some PG-13 are closer to R, like Twilight. Does that make sense?"<br /><br />I was expecting an argument about how if they get to see some PG-13 movies they should get to see them all, but they didn't argue. My explanation made sense to them. Or they were still too afraid from the Twilight preview to make their case for seeing it.<br /><br />For Jack and Luke, aging is not a progression of years but a series of milestones based on rules and restrictions. These milestones include things such as when they can ride in the front seat of the car, when they can have a cell phone, and when they can watch Lord of the Rings. These types of milestones have deadlines associated with them that are moving targets. There is no set in stone age for when they can do these things. <br /><br />If one of their milestones was "When can I drive a car?" I'd have a clear answer for them backed up by law and the fear of arrest. But, for now, I'll just have to continue to answer in vagaries. And I believe it is for this reason, and my fault entirely, that now my boys "Can't wait until we're M for Mature so we can play Bioshock."Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-89825831511111892112010-03-15T06:06:00.002-05:002010-03-15T06:06:00.560-05:00Intruder AlertThe tornado siren was going off. It took me a few minutes to notice it fully because the t.v. was on and the sun was shining. It wasn't the first Tuesday of the month, so I knew it wasn't a test. I looked outside. No clouds whatsoever. I got online. No tornado warnings. So I guessed it was just a test after all.<br /><br />When I picked the boys up from school, I asked them if they had a tornado drill. <br /><br />"Yes! And a fire drill!"<br /><br />They were both happy about the break in their monotonous day of learning.<br /><br />"I like the tornado drill the best," Luke said, "because I get to go downstairs." Downstairs is the domain of the older children, and grades K - 2 rarely get to go down there.<br /><br />"I like earthquake drills," Jack said, "because I get to crawl under my desk."<br /><br />These drills are clearly games to them, but I think they understand the threat that drives the drills. They know the meaning of tornado and earthquake and what they have to do to stay safe in the event of one of these disasters.<br /><br />Then Luke said, "In Kindergarten, I liked the Intruder Alerts because I got to hide behind my coat in my cubbie."<br /><br />"What's an Intruder Alert?" I asked, having never heard the boys mention these before.<br /><br />"We pretend there is an intruder and we get to hide."<br /><br />What sounds like a game to play in the backyard during the long summer nights is actually the scary reality of the possibility of harm coming to my kids at school. Though they understand the threat of nature related dangers, I don't think they could ever grasp the reality of a person coming into a school and hurting children. I think that is beyond their little imaginations, and they have HUGE imaginations.<br /><br />It saddens me that my kids have to take a break from school work and fun to practice skills to use in the event an intruder enters their school. Unfortunately, in our world today, it is necessary. So, although I am not happy that the need for these Intruder Alerts exist, I am happy that the school is taking steps to protect my kids. And I pray that the day never comes when they understand the real meaning of the Intruder Alerts.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-15430401874253954452010-03-10T06:54:00.003-06:002010-03-10T07:07:37.777-06:00Neverending NightmareNow that I am "grown up" it is easy to forget the sheer horror I felt as a kid after having a particularly scary nightmare. I rarely have nightmares nowadays, and when I do they are made up of spiders, tornadoes, car crashes, or graduations where I discover I hadn't attended class all semester. These nightmares have an affect on me, but not the way nightmares surely did when I was a child and they were made up of monsters and my inability to scream or run away.<br /><br />Jack had a nightmare recently about vampires. In his nightmare he was bitten by a vampire and I was shot and killed. He was, and still is, disturbed. While the possibility of him being bitten by a vampire is nonexistent, the possibility of me getting shot does exist even if that possibility is the minutest of the minute.<br /><br />But it's not the part about me getting shot that has him upset. It's the vampire part. Usually when the sun comes up, bad dreams go away. This one just won't leave for Jack. He asked me to look at his neck for any marks. I did and told him I didn't see anything. "Look for two little spots close together." Nothing. "Why are you asking? Did you hurt your neck?" "No," he said. "The dream just seemed so real."<br /><br />Ah. I was looking for vampire bites. <br /><br />Then later he came up to me and said, "If I was a vampire, I'd run into the sun to die because I wouldn't want to live my life as a vampire. I don't want to drink blood."<br /><br />I began reassuring him again that he has not been and would not be bitten by a vampire. EVER.<br /><br />"I guess it wouldn't be so bad," he said, "if you and dad and Luke and Meemaw wouldn't mind if I bit you and then we could all be vampires together. And we would get to fly."<br /><br />So then Luke and Jack started a conversation about the super powers held by vampires and Jack finally woke from his nightmare.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-42508638762045710812010-03-02T06:00:00.000-06:002010-03-02T06:00:10.347-06:00Step Number One...<div>When Luke is not listening, we sometimes call him our little evil genius. It is a running inside joke. He of course is not evil, but he has these underlying attributes that when combined with his smarts have the potential to form a potent and interminable adversary.</div><div></div><br /><div>I know that he is a sweet, good-natured, caring boy who will grow up to be a sweet, good-natured, caring man. But those nano-second glimpses we get of his ability to manipulate; his scheming and conniving mind; and his enjoyment of pulling one over lend a slight corroboration to our nickname for him. Watching him is sometimes akin to watching Harry Potter - you know he is good but the potential exists for him to use his substantial power for performing dark deeds.</div><div></div><br /><div>Lately I've been thinking that the evil genius joke has run its course. The superstitious bone in me thinks that if we say it enough, we may just cause it to be true. And I would hate for Luke to overhear our joking and get his feelings hurt.</div><div></div><br /><div>But then I snapped this picture the other day while he was sleeping:</div><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK9kQRo4SyGA5zzS3pwspP7jdEpZqRqlx7S0SJzk9ci703J2V_Z8xfNU6z0m0Q1T-6xw4HXAM2p64cHo2vCpD3B7g_u8OxJSgByP8m4pvd2oqkvgL1Bt0xGEZBGWkYhY2kp5gk9yZSK9o/s1600-h/IMG_5415.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442657642222324354" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK9kQRo4SyGA5zzS3pwspP7jdEpZqRqlx7S0SJzk9ci703J2V_Z8xfNU6z0m0Q1T-6xw4HXAM2p64cHo2vCpD3B7g_u8OxJSgByP8m4pvd2oqkvgL1Bt0xGEZBGWkYhY2kp5gk9yZSK9o/s400/IMG_5415.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>I think prerequisite number one of being initiated into the evil genius club is having the ability to sleep with your eyes open. </div><br /><div> </div><div>P.S. Way to go to the other genius in our family, my cousin Clayton, who scored big time on his ACT!</div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-88088767011206998202010-02-25T07:51:00.002-06:002010-02-25T08:06:00.454-06:00Observant (Or Not)I have always thought that I would have made a great detective. I think I have an astute attention to detail. I notice things often that others don't notice. I can tell almost immediately upon walking into a familiar space when something is different or has changed. I have in the past described John's activities at home just by looking around at what was different from when I left the house in the morning. <br /><br />So when the nurse at school called me to tell me about Jack's injury, and I told her I was with him at school and would come by and talk to her, I was surprised when she said, "So you must have seen it." <br /><br />"Seen what?" I asked.<br /><br />"The huge lump on his forehead. It's very hard to miss."<br /><br />I hadn't noticed anything wrong with him, and as I stood in the hall outside of his class talking to the nurse on my cell phone and berating myself quietly for being a bad mother, I wondered why he hadn't told me he was hurt.<br /><br />"You need to stop by on your way out so we can talk about watching for warning signs of a concussion."<br /><br />I agreed, and apologized for being a lame mother that doesn't notice a huge lump indicating my child had experienced a potentially concussion-inducing injury.<br /><br />I went back into Jack's room and made a bee-line for him and his injured head. I started moving his hair around to see the injury. "Mom, gosh, stop it! What are you doing?" He was behaving like a normal 8-year old being embarrassed by his mother in front of his class. "Why didn't you tell me you got hurt?" "Because I didn't."<br /><br />So I called the nurse back. She was adamant that it was Jack. I asked Jack's teacher, who had taken the injured boy to the nurse, and she said that it wasn't Jack. The nurse was surprised and couldn't figure out what had happened. She either wrote the injured boy's name down incorrectly or the injured boy gave her my son's name for some reason. Jack had not been hurt, and I hadn't failed to notice the goose-egg on his head that the nurse made me feel so bad about not seeing. I felt vindicated. <br /><br />So a couple of days ago Luke said to me, "I think you need to give me some medicine. Haven't you noticed I've been coughing since Thursday?" I hadn't really noticed. Last night, he complained about not feeling good, but I thought it was just his cold and cough and him trying to get out of school. At bedtime I took his temperature. It was 103. He vomited all night. <br /><br />So I guess I'm not that observant after all.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-30726970414456869062010-02-18T06:47:00.004-06:002010-02-18T07:03:48.127-06:00Sin City<div>Here's what you get at New York-New York in Vegas if you ask for a room away from the roller coaster:</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3mT4Lxz-IemUt0COeYbmLtNfiHAahK9r-DsXW3XC_moQsE3DFmVQ81O2Cy-eVhH7AsctDy54VuGGBgA24PPlIDRe-VdtVBFDsPMW-NbL50Ak5XylVxQ3DpTrIWcP6o9DHAPcitLHUULQ/s1600-h/IMG_5376.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439564471725671522" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3mT4Lxz-IemUt0COeYbmLtNfiHAahK9r-DsXW3XC_moQsE3DFmVQ81O2Cy-eVhH7AsctDy54VuGGBgA24PPlIDRe-VdtVBFDsPMW-NbL50Ak5XylVxQ3DpTrIWcP6o9DHAPcitLHUULQ/s400/IMG_5376.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>That is the view out of our window. We couldn't have been any closer unless we were directly under the tracks. I guess they figure no one is going to sleep in Vegas before the coaster stops running at midnight. They never met me, though.</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>But, I ended up succumbing to the temptations of the city and was not disturbed by the roller coaster. I stayed up late, I drank beer, I smoked cigarettes, and I gambled (and won!), all the while trying not to think of my grandma and how disappointed she'd be. </div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>I also returned to my normal self upon hitting St. Louis soil. Other than playing poker with the boys and their authentic poker chips we brought them from Vegas, I have no desire to gamble. After stepping on the scale, I have no desire to drink. And my throat is still recovering so I have no desire to smoke. I was in bed last night before 10:00 pm.</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>I guess you could say I'm boring again. But I was really fun in Vegas.</div><div></div><div></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>P.S. Happy Birthday, PeePaul. Enjoy your day off and have a great birthday!</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYKg8r_xMTreG7WyXXVPMQ48SdBUauEvKdbvbk3EXFaYOb-5DsHE8SR02wfHsZhl8QbPLx_aOTeNs26lKsqLXRJCI6qYfTE_MJUFeDn8UBPl7ovSIZtPGaVPkMB5MxlyQH-QM6X1NA_H8/s1600-h/Colorado+2008+106.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439567925272333122" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYKg8r_xMTreG7WyXXVPMQ48SdBUauEvKdbvbk3EXFaYOb-5DsHE8SR02wfHsZhl8QbPLx_aOTeNs26lKsqLXRJCI6qYfTE_MJUFeDn8UBPl7ovSIZtPGaVPkMB5MxlyQH-QM6X1NA_H8/s400/Colorado+2008+106.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-50813450584039775002010-02-11T06:00:00.000-06:002010-02-11T06:00:05.120-06:00TraditionsMy mom would hand my sister and I each a metal bowl and spoon. She would tell us to pack the snow down hard into the bowl.<br /><br />We would bundle up and head into the yard with our tools. We would be careful to walk in a straight line to disturb as small an area of fresh, white snow as possible.<br /><br />We would scoop the snow, careful not to dig too deeply. Grabbing dirt or grass would render our scoop worthless.<br /><br />We would scamper from one spot to the next, avoiding any spots with tints of brown, yellow, speckles or other evidence of contamination.<br /><br />We would fill our bowls, scooping and packing, scooping and packing until snow overflowed the brims.<br /><br />We would carry our bowls into the kitchen, and then transfer the snow into our cups. A scoop of snow, a pour of Coke, a scoop of snow, a pour of Coke until we had the perfect combination of snow to soda. The perfection of a winter slushy.<br /><br />This week, we finally had a snow day. I told my boys about winter slushies with the fondness and nostalgia of an adult longing for the simple pleasures of childhood. They seemed willing to try. What they weren't willing to do was collect the snow. <br /><br />So I collected the snow careful to avoid even the most minuscule speck of off-white knowing Jack would refuse to try the slushy if he thought the snow was dirty.<br /><br />I transferred the snow into cups and poured in the soda. I added straws. I took the slushies to my boys. I waited for the reaction.<br /><br />I got a "gross" from both of them. I was amazed. Maybe the delicious taste is rooted in the preparation, and they did not participate in that step.<br /><br />So, I guess my hope of carrying on the winter slushy tradition has been dashed. I guess I will have to stick with the winter tradition of Jack putting snow down Luke's neck as soon as we walk out the door.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-37799357506463667702010-02-06T09:47:00.003-06:002010-02-06T09:56:40.727-06:00Luke's Special Night<div>Jack had his first sleepover at a friend's house. They got to go to Monkey Joe's and stayed until it closed. Then they went to Incredible Pizza and stayed there until it closed. Then they went to the friend's house and watched a movie and played games. They were up until 2:00 am. They got up at 6:00 am the next morning. I don't know if that mom is my hero or my worst enemy.</div><div></div><br /><div>When Luke heard about all of the fun things Jack was going to get to do, John and I told him he could have his own special night. He could pick where he wanted to go, where he wanted to eat, what he wanted to do after, and where he wanted to sleep.</div><div></div><br /><div>He picked Texas Roadhouse for dinner, then we came home and played penny-ante poker. He slept in a sleeping bag in front of the fire.</div><br /><div></div><div>Little did I know I was raising an old west cowboy. </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW3Yb3aRpY4TNCriqa3_EQ6vt8FK_DM6Q7nfzpw-J4t38w_nosdDnFfVECWjwcG7wQ-tzY8S-WSNmK8a8mHcbgyYO3owaTk1GYY5yXRxr2Cl9DdYT2JDmLJIq5EMfHyAffiT8VW1Yx87o/s1600-h/Colorado+2008+054.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435159582481758850" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW3Yb3aRpY4TNCriqa3_EQ6vt8FK_DM6Q7nfzpw-J4t38w_nosdDnFfVECWjwcG7wQ-tzY8S-WSNmK8a8mHcbgyYO3owaTk1GYY5yXRxr2Cl9DdYT2JDmLJIq5EMfHyAffiT8VW1Yx87o/s400/Colorado+2008+054.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-23938975327025679042010-02-01T06:00:00.000-06:002010-02-01T06:00:04.025-06:00My Fifteen Minutes of Fame<div>Up until now, we have avoided <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kidz</span> Bop. Jack and Luke are both music lovers and have preferred to listen to the real deal, which just happens to be much of the same music that John and I like. When they heard Fireflies by Owl City on an ad for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kidz</span> Bop 17, they asked John to buy it. And when John found out it came with a bonus CD, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Kidz</span> Bop sings the Beatles, he couldn't resist. I guess that is his sneaky way of getting the kids to listen to the Beatles since they won't do it through Rock Band.</div><br /><div></div><div>I find <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Kidz</span> Bop to be a slightly more annoying version of the songs that get overplayed on the radio. But I do enjoy listening to Jack and Luke sing and a couple of my favorite songs made it onto <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Kidz</span> Bop 17, though I suspect that after a few rounds of hearing them performed in this fashion they will be crossed from my favorites list.</div><br /><div></div><div>One of the songs on the CD is Paparazzi. I explained to the boys what the word paparazzi means. They asked me if I have ever been "a paparazzi." I said no, but that I was famous once and was hounded by paparazzi. They did not believe me. In fact, they told me to shut up. </div><br /><div></div><div>I felt I had to redeem myself, so I told them that in college I was famous because I was the Queen of Love and Beauty. Their eyes got wide. "Are you teasing?" they asked. </div><br /><div></div><div>"No, I am not."</div><div></div><br /><div>After a pause for reflection, Jack said, "Dad got really lucky."</div><br /><div></div><div>Luke said, "All the boys must have wanted to marry you."</div><div></div><br /><div>I didn't deny it, choosing rather to bask in the glory of their awe. Especially considering that the day before I had spent most of the day labeled by them as "Trash Lady."</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0AKtz8x2nOhXEGIy1Z5cq-EsGc_-eraCtq_zgW1DL4-ANPA6UP7kzRy0vUgPFyWB17_iJzBRHYGM0XOfYz3G7hyphenhyphen30CsXb16EBvSv5pZ2EGg07kQeY6KMlQyrCy2R3tpYX1_tywfz_jrc/s1600-h/St._Pats_002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432954353533693106" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 146px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0AKtz8x2nOhXEGIy1Z5cq-EsGc_-eraCtq_zgW1DL4-ANPA6UP7kzRy0vUgPFyWB17_iJzBRHYGM0XOfYz3G7hyphenhyphen30CsXb16EBvSv5pZ2EGg07kQeY6KMlQyrCy2R3tpYX1_tywfz_jrc/s400/St._Pats_002.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-18997925908736852292010-01-26T06:00:00.001-06:002010-01-26T06:00:04.254-06:00Vegas, Baby!On occasion, my work travels take me to a fun city perfect for piggy-backing a family or parents-only vacation. Such an opportunity has come up for a work trip to Vegas to turn into a weekend vacation for John and me (with a couple of our good friends coming along as well).<br /><br />With the details still very sketchy and the trip itself up in the air, the boys heard John and me talking about it. They were VERY upset. They reported that they have ALWAYS wanted to go to Vegas.<br /><br />How do you explain that a place with moving and talking statues, erupting volcanoes, pirate ship battles, roller coasters, circuses, tigers, dancing fountains, water parks, and on and on is not a place for children?<br /><br />Luke crumpled when I told him sometimes parents need a kid-free vacation. He cried and cried that he was in bad need of a vacation. "How many days are in a year?" he asked. I answered 365 days. Through his tears, he espoused the unfairness of getting only one vacation a year when there are so many days in a year.<br /><br />Reminding him that he gets the ENTIRE summer off, that we spend at least one week a year either in Florida or Colorado with other one to two day mini-trips in between, and that his life is pretty much one giant vacation did not help calm him down. Rather, he began packing his suit case to run away to a family that would take him to Vegas.<br /><br />To Luke, it's not a vacation unless air travel is involved.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-20752255466551694962010-01-21T07:32:00.002-06:002010-01-21T07:38:44.070-06:00Career TalkJack and Luke like to talk about what they want to be when they grow up. Their thoughts on future careers have stayed fairly constant through the years, with Jack doing something related to fish and the ocean and Luke doing something related to animals. <br /><br />Jack has started to branch out a little bit, realizing the range of possibilities for someone with his talents and interests. He talks about cartoonists, video game designers, and other outlets for his creativeness.<br /><br />While Jack talks often about what he wants to be, he rarely names things that he does not want to be. Except for one thing. He does not want to be a police officer. His reason?<br /><br />"My goal is to go my whole life without ever getting shot."<br /><br />It's nice when your kids goals are in line with your own.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-68268099615490384592010-01-14T06:40:00.004-06:002010-01-14T07:01:17.226-06:00Our Own Indiana Jones-Style Booby Trap<div>We really dislike our basement ceiling. It is too low. It is made in such a way that you can't remove the tiles to access what is above and then put the tiles back in place. It is full of holes from cable running projects. This is what I see when I look at our ceiling:</div><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4_1rYPWpkfJ7_QnAseUwYanVmYsta8CVtZ6VqPEYRXN-hLlKo9osu9oJIFEGrlXl1VTiFxpyjbXVfQxXZi85mVslIlbHuyOatZec9tgsNGmgH_EPWafFHTrlyY3n7q_TqCQWJ2a_CFw/s1600-h/IMG_5289.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426575578002995362" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4_1rYPWpkfJ7_QnAseUwYanVmYsta8CVtZ6VqPEYRXN-hLlKo9osu9oJIFEGrlXl1VTiFxpyjbXVfQxXZi85mVslIlbHuyOatZec9tgsNGmgH_EPWafFHTrlyY3n7q_TqCQWJ2a_CFw/s400/IMG_5289.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div>We are in the process of planning to tear the whole thing down. We will either put up a new drop ceiling or leave it open, depending on what we find and how bad it looks. The previous owner tended to stuff things up in there, so it should be an interesting project.</div><div></div><br /><div>But, in the meantime, we have found a use for the mess of a ceiling.</div><div> </div><div>Thanks to a willing Daddy and his persistent children, my kids finally have their own Indiana Jones arena.</div><br /><p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwHSjJAbnEyxgGwfR_LNA0bWFlw9eQ738adS8a2GiEKkxER6e3fj8LcXWp_ybiT6BjBIiNZN1dJ64P6Lek' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p>Before long, they had us reenacting scenes from the various Indiana Jones movies. Luckily, they did not want me swinging on the rope. I don't think I could have pulled that off.</p>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-88971253707975997812010-01-08T08:10:00.003-06:002010-01-08T08:24:33.620-06:00TimingThe time it took for school to be canceled for a snow day from when Jack and Luke started asking for one: 68 days<br /><br />The time it took them to decide they were ready to play in the snow from when they woke up: 4 hours<br /><br />The time it took me to find the snow gear: 20 minutes<br /><br />The time it took to find alternative snow boots when I realized the ones that fit were in John's car still covered in mud and cow poop from New Year's Eve: 15 minutes<br /><br />The time it took me to convince Jack that it was o.k. to wear women's boots to play in the snow because he couldn't go out in tennis shoes and it was my old boots or nothing: 8 minutes<br /><br />The time it took Luke and me to get dressed in all of our layers of snow gear: 10 minutes<br /><br />The time it took Jack to get dressed in all of his layers of snow gear: 22 minutes (he is my slow child, taking after my Grandpa Kirby)<br /><br />Once outside, the time it took Jack to hit Luke in the face with a snowball, successfully ending our outside time: 20 minutes<br /><br />The time it took to doff all our gear it took so long to put on, shove it into the dryer so it would be ready to put back on when they decided to go back out in 15 minutes, and clean up the floor from the melting, muddy mess: 18 minutes<br /><br />The time it took for me to remember snow days are not all they're cracked up to be: 0.5 secondsHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-33782602548481836742010-01-04T07:18:00.003-06:002010-01-04T07:38:26.904-06:00New Year, New Old TraditionsSince at least 1993, John and I have been ringing in the New Year with our friends <a href="http://www.aboneill.blogspot.com/">Angie</a> and Brian with few exceptions. Our celebrations have run the gamut, from attending a ritzy banquet at a hotel to me going to bed at 11:00 with the flu. No matter the venue, the night together always started the New Year right.<br /><br />This year we continued the tradition, only Brian was not physically a part of it. Brian lost his battle with cancer on March 17, 2009. The holidays hit his wife, children, family and friends hard drawing more attention to the void because of the special time of year and the traditions that will never be the same.<br /><br />Although not physically there, Brian's influence was all around. From the bonfire and cigars to the heated games of Euchre to the stories and laughter, it was a night that I think Brian would have enjoyed immensely. I even stayed up until after 1:00 rather than the 12:02 I am famous for. <br /><br />Angie and Brian's boys, our boys, and Angie's sister's son spent the day climbing hay stacks, traversing fallen tree jungle gyms, riding four wheelers, and playing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">DS</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Wii</span>. They even found an old (or new - who knows?) pair of underwear in a broke down pickup truck, and if you know boys you know that was a hilarious find that made the day. <br /><br />By nightfall, the adults were exhausted and declared kid new year at 9:30. After about one minute of horn blowing, stick clacking, yelling, and drinking sparkling grape juice outside in the cold, the kids unanimously declared kid new year boring, loud and cold. That is all but Luke who fell asleep at 8:30 and missed the whole thing though we tried to wake him many times. Jack was especially sad he did not get to wish Happy New Year with his brother at his side, but quickly forgot this sadness the next morning bright and early when the New Year kicked in with a bang and the boys started their traditional brotherly bickering. <br /><br />And I'm happy to report that the New Year has not diminished my boys' effect on the ladies. Angie's adorable niece had them smitten. I asked Luke if he likes babies and he said, "You mean hot babies?" I asked him what a hot baby was. He replied, "You know - hot chicks." I said I didn't mean hot babies. I meant real babies. With diapers and drool. He said, "I'll stick with the other." I guess I don't blame him. He changed his tune though when she started dancing to the music from his MP3 and saying his name. <br /><br />Jack liked her right away and informed me that, "I am going to make her fall in love with me so she becomes my slave." To this I laughed and he said, "What? That works on babies." To which I replied, "And on women." I am proof enough of that.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-35126706020117519772009-12-28T09:07:00.007-06:002009-12-28T09:31:53.847-06:00Four Christmases<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBC2cZB2rIPrISaFUIpnbsWfstuCJeGmS6Welm8Y7GHkHFaeUL0MlleuueayDbr1P1M81pNRW54fT9bYbQrLk7yUgH85PWcpR19N8B0_Pf3pGFZLWV02S3VHhdZRuItKcr2agTqAc6EyA/s1600-h/IMG_5238.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420307776403877842" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBC2cZB2rIPrISaFUIpnbsWfstuCJeGmS6Welm8Y7GHkHFaeUL0MlleuueayDbr1P1M81pNRW54fT9bYbQrLk7yUgH85PWcpR19N8B0_Pf3pGFZLWV02S3VHhdZRuItKcr2agTqAc6EyA/s400/IMG_5238.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I know there is a movie that came out recently with Reese Witherspoon and Vince Vaughn titled <em>Four Christmases</em>. I have yet to see that movie. I have, however, lived it.<br /><br />Our Christmas was a wonderful whirlwind, with the boys anxiously looking forward to their first Christmas (Jeff City at John's parents'), second Christmas (St. Louis at my mom's), third Christmas (St. Louis at our house) and fourth Christmas (Courtois at my dad's). And these four Christmases did not disappoint.<br /><br />Santa delivered exactly what they asked for, and even managed to produce a picture of Rudolph as requested by Jack. I love the mystery and excitement that comes with believing in Santa and will miss it when they stop believing, but the whole hunt for presents and setting up for Christmas morning will sure be easier once Santa is no longer in the picture.<br /><br />One of Luke's favorite gifts was a gift I received that he somehow declared both of ours. It is a cooler stool, and I don't think I'll ever get to use it. It is in his room, filled with WebKinz.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWNLUn5IJqodHDxa3nE58b39bhmU9XEs5gVAyw2D6Z3RB_XYs6I00T622Ln3RJ69Kc8MXngs4Jo16fT-Won8dTfXyXZPBQ59Ul_HqkiuA_cUjoV9BD3fyR0oz0psG1CBhy3fWaPxdH18/s1600-h/IMG_5257.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420306046208146274" style="WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWNLUn5IJqodHDxa3nE58b39bhmU9XEs5gVAyw2D6Z3RB_XYs6I00T622Ln3RJ69Kc8MXngs4Jo16fT-Won8dTfXyXZPBQ59Ul_HqkiuA_cUjoV9BD3fyR0oz0psG1CBhy3fWaPxdH18/s400/IMG_5257.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />He also got a camera, and has been working on taking that one perfect shot that will gain him notoriety as a photographer. This one he believes is the winning shot.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFlEahLpCjkPL25mUq4uWz_ihXAa9jwyL8sd15vN_T_5Ktc4yaRRCyH8BryPATJtxsWXrJjRchhVS1KbJwR2CAn0QdB_AOQvDA_DiUaJpGEKqtV5Lt1O7Eq2Hy1Tj6hbwNB7J8n3ofT0/s1600-h/DSCI0082.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420306755568070882" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFlEahLpCjkPL25mUq4uWz_ihXAa9jwyL8sd15vN_T_5Ktc4yaRRCyH8BryPATJtxsWXrJjRchhVS1KbJwR2CAn0QdB_AOQvDA_DiUaJpGEKqtV5Lt1O7Eq2Hy1Tj6hbwNB7J8n3ofT0/s400/DSCI0082.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We always see the most interesting things at gas stations on the way to my dad's house.<br /><br />Jack got a DSi, and I haven't seen his face since.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjVvG9nGFnii-ib92hEEHVpy3yZ-dPiEPjUYrPJ8BegrB-9Ei45ZEbTlS9EaGTOAUDNZ9yMaTw-wriUZUwffOR3YJvxmrTGRjJcciCYfiSEiz22yPKJL9zQ2Ivd7d5XO0Y1_6kgHjxZY/s1600-h/IMG_5265.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420308730777142770" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjVvG9nGFnii-ib92hEEHVpy3yZ-dPiEPjUYrPJ8BegrB-9Ei45ZEbTlS9EaGTOAUDNZ9yMaTw-wriUZUwffOR3YJvxmrTGRjJcciCYfiSEiz22yPKJL9zQ2Ivd7d5XO0Y1_6kgHjxZY/s400/IMG_5265.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />For the next five days, we plan to play our games, laze about, stay up late, and sleep in. But first, I have to figure out Jack's new alarm clock as it went off this morning at 6:00 am.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-44866192062676698022009-12-17T05:56:00.011-06:002009-12-17T05:56:00.574-06:00Happy Birthday, Mom!You helped me get through high school.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQj5hUh4-HYtIrF-1SNML0c6WewxH6V5mBE6bK43CCEYZQGUr-05R962-ytflxelzV-xlT6tgesdDxdLlH1S6-S1ZjGP5ZHracjwP9tchfNennxhRQHBNpsnc_1d_jnzhN-WU8d975Rak/s1600-h/high+school+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415804586313892898" style="WIDTH: 333px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 378px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQj5hUh4-HYtIrF-1SNML0c6WewxH6V5mBE6bK43CCEYZQGUr-05R962-ytflxelzV-xlT6tgesdDxdLlH1S6-S1ZjGP5ZHracjwP9tchfNennxhRQHBNpsnc_1d_jnzhN-WU8d975Rak/s400/high+school+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />You helped me get through college.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVaOlBhy_BLOBd0JCck7NoFg3GgVbUBCbQFG4WeYBXQd_YpdLGXGTcYkus43oNhmFqkgRb6kdc8-dVSiovmsLvtExzhxuJDYCxypP0IhgJdvpFIlzTTsPEwIvlksY2-60lHXINLQrG_oo/s1600-h/college+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415852036110335490" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 381px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVaOlBhy_BLOBd0JCck7NoFg3GgVbUBCbQFG4WeYBXQd_YpdLGXGTcYkus43oNhmFqkgRb6kdc8-dVSiovmsLvtExzhxuJDYCxypP0IhgJdvpFIlzTTsPEwIvlksY2-60lHXINLQrG_oo/s400/college+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br />You helped me find a job when I desperately needed one.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnX-yUglv2LYPdBmbK9caaXCpu9rgrODfBL3Jt3QhWU0kBrLeM5dL6Wu94tPoA9m83hVoNmYpoUWRr11yU24KnYE9lfWDcSAfAU70tscKaYMmFSW4gaQGtSjhrkdwc66RFwn67df7A0D8/s1600-h/job+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415805000827997826" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnX-yUglv2LYPdBmbK9caaXCpu9rgrODfBL3Jt3QhWU0kBrLeM5dL6Wu94tPoA9m83hVoNmYpoUWRr11yU24KnYE9lfWDcSAfAU70tscKaYMmFSW4gaQGtSjhrkdwc66RFwn67df7A0D8/s400/job+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />You helped me get married.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkS46kwRzh3Vf32wzuBJsskur0NPyDQ18NC0M21GFlz0ShufGUbizqlqKX_TLtz_mawGnL_fOwXi7eeEL7aIm85XGVpitykowQXqCoqTWoEwDIJEKPZfa4fOKGmEFyViKzaAT_0yAXCUk/s1600-h/Wedding+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415805370816423522" style="WIDTH: 277px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkS46kwRzh3Vf32wzuBJsskur0NPyDQ18NC0M21GFlz0ShufGUbizqlqKX_TLtz_mawGnL_fOwXi7eeEL7aIm85XGVpitykowQXqCoqTWoEwDIJEKPZfa4fOKGmEFyViKzaAT_0yAXCUk/s400/Wedding+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />You helped me give birth to Jack.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLiHcxr3kmChozjhyphenhyphenG0fuSTCgfwhq46i3QUaSKgQYqvQcafYJrkdodRPU1oQO1Syr61u3nDqKa0-9cdaK5AHNh6nLuAPZxbKBUf2EKmO0YlK5ffXz7vX3AU-fRIl498AynaNl4YjmIkyo/s1600-h/Jack+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415804828033670482" style="WIDTH: 295px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLiHcxr3kmChozjhyphenhyphenG0fuSTCgfwhq46i3QUaSKgQYqvQcafYJrkdodRPU1oQO1Syr61u3nDqKa0-9cdaK5AHNh6nLuAPZxbKBUf2EKmO0YlK5ffXz7vX3AU-fRIl498AynaNl4YjmIkyo/s400/Jack+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />You helped me give birth to Luke.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4KxRlftT-7TNiOmVBhrPugiJLNIu_7VnVH2ZV57ViNYOrgcBEnobO50svJN6XJz4xehTqADM49Pqk9dcmTKXGrszeWy_S121j5EzWDuibIzVPSJlkIwh9JAA_2NK-lpDYHawzgWYpTk/s1600-h/luke+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415851611833702402" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 311px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4KxRlftT-7TNiOmVBhrPugiJLNIu_7VnVH2ZV57ViNYOrgcBEnobO50svJN6XJz4xehTqADM49Pqk9dcmTKXGrszeWy_S121j5EzWDuibIzVPSJlkIwh9JAA_2NK-lpDYHawzgWYpTk/s400/luke+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />You helped me grow up.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LW40IwUcXBAgW45fj6rfg9B5qnSHu6bz1rDlm6CvPZ0jURHr3l7bz7nWPulM4_RfqBh3WgJb9c-_nedkabVWXPweqkmb9JJxkcADk8YpevtXEetpEa0cqX0YbGmmlDM21kQ_lz8zsF4/s1600-h/kids+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415806490857672002" style="WIDTH: 358px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LW40IwUcXBAgW45fj6rfg9B5qnSHu6bz1rDlm6CvPZ0jURHr3l7bz7nWPulM4_RfqBh3WgJb9c-_nedkabVWXPweqkmb9JJxkcADk8YpevtXEetpEa0cqX0YbGmmlDM21kQ_lz8zsF4/s400/kids+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Every milestone in my life you've been there, guiding me and moving me along a path that I could be proud of.<br /><br /><br />But more importantly than the big events, you've been there for me always. All day, every day.<br /><br /><br />I love you. Happy Birthday.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-13989966211061305372009-12-15T08:00:00.000-06:002009-12-15T08:00:06.717-06:00To Spend or Not to SpendJack surprised me.<br /><br />After Christmas Jack often has a case of the Christmas blues. He is sad and doesn't know why or how to put it into words. I try to explain to him how it is normal to feel blue after Christmas, after spending all of your hours surrounded by family and laughter only to have to start thinking about going back to school, after getting to stay up late almost every night and have every day bring something special, after waiting for weeks to open your presents and suddenly it's over.<br /><br />So the other day he came to me and said, "Sometimes I feel bad after Christmas." I started to delve into my Christmas blues talk but he stopped me. He said, "I know that, but I feel bad because I think you spend too much money on me and in these hard times we should be saving money. Maybe you shouldn't get me so much this year."<br /><br />I was glad to hear that Jack correctly relates the presents he gets under the tree to the status of our bank account. I'm glad that he has a feeling of financial responsibility, but I don't ever want him to feel responsible for our finances (at least not until he is a top-paid major league baseball player).<br /><br />I thanked him for his concern and assured him that we were doing fine and that there was no need for him to worry about money.<br /><br />Then he added two things to his Christmas list.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-90637813746565240392009-12-12T07:40:00.004-06:002009-12-12T07:44:36.096-06:00What'd I Say?My blog has captured someone's attention. I don't know why, but my post <a href="http://3boysundermyroof.blogspot.com/2009/10/beyond-dead.html">Beyond the Dead </a>has become the target of repeated junk comments. Every day, a few times a day, I have to reject a comment such as this:<br /><br />最近旦那とマンネリで全然Hしてません。正直もうかなり欲求不満です…誰か相手してくれる方いませんか?空いている時間は多いと思うので都合は合わせやすいと思います。お互い楽しめる関係になりたいな。人妻でも平気な人いたら是非相手してください☆一応18歳以上の人限定でお願いします。上はどこまででも大丈夫なんで<br /><br />Do these symbols actually mean something? Please, someone tell me if I'm being cursed.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-50542283721308297182009-12-11T06:01:00.000-06:002009-12-11T06:01:00.298-06:00Sleep SymphoniesJohn has only once told me no in regards to topics for this blog. I asked him if I could record him sleeping and put it on the blog. Not video, just audio. He said absolutely not. <br /><br />John is a melodious sleeper. He's got his standard snoring, but he also has a symphony of other sounds that he makes while sleeping. I can't describe them. That is what the recording was going to be for.<br /><br />I am a good sleeper. I can fall asleep just about anywhere, and it takes me only about 3 minutes once my head hits whatever pillow I am using. But, it has to be dark and it has to be quiet. And I'm cranky if it is not dark and it is not quiet and I am in my own bed. It reminds me of a scene from the movie Candy where she's trying to sleep and he's trying to watch t.v. and he ends up with his face nearly pressed against the screen and a blanket over him and the t.v. so the light doesn't disturb her. <br /><br />So sometimes I wonder if it is just me and my need for silence that makes it hard to sleep through John's snoring.<br /><br />The other night Jack and Luke had a sleepover in our room while I was out of town. John had fallen asleep with them, which is next to impossible as they are both active sleepers with legs and limbs flying about all night and smacking whoever happens to be next to them in the stomach and head. And Luke can sleep through just about anything. But that night he woke up, woke John up and said, "Daddy wake up. You're snoring three different ways."<br /><br />See? Symphony.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-15999189339239599462009-12-07T06:00:00.000-06:002009-12-07T06:00:02.258-06:00No Hablo InglésSome say English is one of the hardest languages to learn for non-English speaking people. But why should it be? <br /><br />Each letter in the alphabet has one distinct sound and use.<br /><br />OK, never mind that, but there is only one letter or combination of letters for each distinct sound.<br /><br />Ummm, well, there aren't words that sound the same but are spelled differently.<br /><br />How about each word only has one meaning?<br /><br />It seems that every rule has an exception. No wonder it takes twelve years of school to get it right.<br /><br />Right now in school, Jack is learning about verbs, nouns, plurals and possessives. If you were a teacher, how would you explain plurals?<br /><br />To make a word plural, you always add an "s", like one snake, two snakes.<br /><br />Unless the word ends in an "s" already, then you add an "es", like one bus, two buses.<br /><br />Unless the word wants to be Greek or Latin, then you remove the ending sound and add an "i", like one cactus, two cacti.<br /><br />Unless the word ends in a "y", then you take away the "y" and add an "ies", like one baby, two babies.<br /><br />Unless there is a vowel before the letter "y", then you just add an "s", like one toy, two toys.<br /><br />Unless the word is "deer", then the plural is "deer".<br /><br />Unless the word is one of those words that follows no rule at all, like mouse/mice, child/children, or man/men.<br /><br />Jack is doing pretty well with learning his plurals, but tends to follow the basic rules for those irregular words he hasn't memorized yet.<br /><br />He brought home a worksheet the other day in which he lost a point for not correctly providing the plural form of "woman." His answer? "Ladies." I think he should have got bonus points for that answer.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-533674713542814292009-12-02T05:59:00.002-06:002009-12-02T06:14:09.780-06:00Breaking NewsI wake up daily this week to a newspaper riddled with world changing news.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sphere.com/2009/12/01/obama-makes-the-case-for-a-wider-war/">President Obama is intensifying the war in Afghanistan.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://news.aol.com/article/mass-murder-suspect-anthony-sowell/795121">A serial killer is indicted.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://news.aol.com/article/tareq-and-michaele-salahi-accused-of/791932">Mr. and Mrs. Reality TV fool security and meet the President.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://news.aol.com/article/laid-off-workers-set-to-have-health/791637">Health insurance coverage is expiring.</a><br /><br />With all that is going on, the news Jack shares when he gets home from school is, "Did you know Tiger Woods crashed his car after cheating on his wife?"<br /><br />So we talk about rumors, and spreading gossip, and how exactly he knows about Tiger Woods and his reported cheating. I never got a clear answer on that one.<br /><br />He did ask, "What's a tabloid?"<br /><br />And I said, "Exactly."Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-43031821132558858272009-11-26T06:00:00.000-06:002009-11-26T06:00:01.414-06:00Simple. Innocent. Loving. Real.My son Jack is a caring, sensitive child with overflowing empathy. He often will give answers such as "World Peace" or "To End Hunger" when asked what his wishes are. And I'm sure he does want these things, but is he giving the answer he thinks he should give, the answer that he thinks adults want to hear?<br /><br />Jack's school Thanksgiving assignment gave a glimpse into the real Jack, and I liked what I read. It reminded me that there is a child inside that head of his.<br /><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">What I am Most Thankful For</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em></div><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><div align="center"><br />I am most thankful for my family. One reason I am thankful for my family is because they love me. I am also thankful for them because they buy me food. I also love them because they buy me stuff. They are a great family because they let me watch t.v. Those are some reasons I am thankful for my family.</div><div align="center"></span></em></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6903922807992470992.post-4340452330961255812009-11-23T06:35:00.007-06:002009-11-24T11:57:36.564-06:00Fun With GlovesMy dad and step mom live in an idyllic country setting about two hours south of St. Louis. It has a pond fed by a natural spring. It is surrounded by National Forest. It is quiet and private. It is picturesque. It is nowhere near emergency services.<br /><br />So, 10 days ago when my dad thought he was having a heart attack, my step mom had to drive him to the nearest hospital, which then helicoptered him to St. Louis.<br /><br />He arrived at the hospital on Saturday. All day Saturday, Sunday and Monday, they alternated between getting tests performed, hearing that the tests showed nothing wrong with his heart, and sitting for hours without any information at all. On Monday night my dad was ready to check himself out. The doctors and frantic tears from Linda convinced him to stay for one more test.<br /><br />On Tuesday they performed a cardiac cath. On Wednesday they performed triple bypass surgery to repair three of the five blockages. He woke up during the surgery, something they said would never happen. He also put up quite a fight with the nurses after the surgery, trying to get out of bed and pull out his tubes and wires. It took four of them to hold him down and finally get him sedated. The phrase, "Strong as an ox" comes to mind.<br /><br />On Thursday morning they removed the breathing tube and moved him out of ICU one day ahead of schedule because he was doing so well.<br /><br />On Friday they diagnosed him with MRSA, the antibiotic resistant superbug.<br /><br />On Saturday, I brought the boys up to surprise him. They weren't allowed in the room because of the MRSA, but they could stand in the hall and talk to him, which they did.<br /><br />And what do you do if you are a young boy at the hospital? You play with medical gloves. They make great balloons. Luke discovered while wandering the halls of the hospital that if you squeeze them just right while wearing them they make a fun squeak. Luke was happy to demonstrate this fun trick.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2sWQ5do9nlQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2sWQ5do9nlQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Yesterday my dad got to go home. He will have months of recovery, but I think he'll surprise everyone with how quickly he gets there. As long as his five large dogs take it easy on him.<br /><br /><div></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06021115136487735411noreply@blogger.com5