Sam The Cook

Recently Sam's been in helper mode. He wants to help do anything I'm doing. Which sometimes is absolutely no help at all, but in the spirit of building his little servant heart, I usually indulge his over zealousness. I guess it's not really hurting anything to just dust behind him as he flings his dust rag around the room. We'll work on technique later.

He hasn't really gotten the whole idea of sorting laundry yet. But he's really good at throwing clothes into the washer. And if the vacuum wasn't the same size as him, he'd wipe those floors out in no time. And if I wasn't positively certain he'd have his Thomas the Train bath toys floating in the toilet, I'd unleash him on the bathroom. But the goal here is to clean, not make a bigger mess.

But he really likes to help cook. He's always wanting to smell and see anything that's in the oven or on the stove top. And he likes to sit on his stool while you are cooking and watch. And sometimes touch when Mommy's attention is diverted.

When I have some extra time, I let him help me stir and pour ingredients. He is dying to crack an egg, but I haven't yet let him indulge himself. I'm fairly certain we'd end up with egg on the wall. Or at the very least, shells in our brownies.

The other day we made some cookies for an after dinner treat. But I have to keep a close eye when he is stirring. On more than one occasion, I've turned around to do something else only to hear a giant "Mmmmmmmm, that's good!" come from Sam who has decided to taste test whatever he is helping with.

And this morning he informed me he needed 5 pancakes for breakfast. Five. He was very specific. I only let him have 3, because sometimes his eyes are bigger than his little tummy.

Thanks for being Mommy's little helper. Even though we need to work on your actual working skills...

The legacy of people much wiser than me...

For some odd reason, I remember a summer long, long ago that my grandmother, Mom Peg, insisted on us learning Psalm 23. Yes, we call her Mom Peg. Blame it on oldest cousin Kevin. He had grandparent naming rights as the first to be around. Her name isn't even Peg. It's Sylvia. I digress.

So, Psalm 23. I learned all six verses of it, although as a child, I swear the Bible I was using had at least 47 more verses in chapter 23. Any chance it's been shortened since I learned it? Or I was just a way dramatic child who was being taught to hide scripture in my heart by those much wiser than me? Probably that.

Charlie has had to learn Psalm 23 for school and for AWANA's on Wednesday nights and has knocked it out of the park! Seriously people, the kid can memorize anything! And remembers everything that is said. Which means, don't say anything in front of him if you don't fully intend to follow through with it. (He still thinks we are going to Disney World the second Sam turns 5 because one day a really long time ago, I told him we could go when Sam got older. And in his head, 5 is older.) And it also means I don't believe him even for a split second when he tells me he forgot to do something I just told him to do. You didn't forget, you're just doing what you want to do instead of obeying. Don't get me started...

Back to Psalms...because the Summer I learned this passage is forever in my memories, as well as the actual verses (yes, I still remember it), I wanted to show Mom Peg the tradition that is being passed along.

You can follow along, too. Just to make sure he does it right...

1 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. 3 He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; My cup runs over. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me All the days of my life; And I will dwell in the house of the LORD Forever. Psalm 23:1-6 (NKJV)

GO CHARLIE!!

Yum.

We have had a fairly laid back weekend. Hence the two posts in two days. How do you like that, Julio?  We wrapped up Charlie's basketball season and finally got the basement cleaned out today. That will make me sleep better just knowing that the space below me is clean, organized and free of dead bugs.  At least for now.

I'm always looking for and trying new recipes to combat the ho-hum routine of Taco Tuesdays and Spaghetti Saturdays. Some turn out great. Some we strike from our "Let's try that again!" list. Tonight we had one of those dishes that will stay on the list.

Qualifications for most recipes that I try are as follows: No ingredients that I can't get for a reasonable price at my local Kroger. If I have all the ingredients on hand, it's immediately got an upper hand on something that calls for say, salt-preserved anchovies. It also can't take me half a day to prepare said dish. I'm all about food, but my time is far too valuable to begin cooking dinner right after lunch. After all, laundry and 1st grade homework beckon.  Also anything I can make ahead of time is a winner in my book.  Feeds into my inner planner.

I found this recipe on my faithful bag of Martha White Buttermilk Corn Meal Mix and since I had all listed ingredients, I knew we had to try it.

Canyon Casserole

A few side notes.  I actually used frozen corn, just because I had half a bag leftover in the freezer. And mozzarella cheese. But that was because my thoughtful husband used the cheddar cheese making me a quesadilla at lunch. Don't think it really affected the taste all that much.  I also made it earlier this afternoon and stuck it in the fridge.  Which meant, come dinner time, all I had to do was pop it in the oven.  The messy kitchen clean-up was already taken care of.  Spectacular.

I spiced it up with some crushed red pepper. Like I do almost everything. And actually made some rice and served the casserole on top. I also eat rice with almost everything, so that was just a given.

We all loved it and had seconds.  Well, except Sam, who was having one of his 3-year-old "I'm not eating and you can't make me" moments.  Yet he still felt it necessary to ask repeatedly for a cookie.  Let's just put it this way.  He still hasn't eaten and is pouting on the couch at this very moment.  And before you call CPS, his plate awaits him whenever he decides he is ready.

I digress.

So feel free to try this.  And share your own tried and true EASY recipes.  I'll be at the ready with my apron and mixing bowl.......

Warm & sunny, please.

Since this week has included a tiny touch of Spring amid the painfully cold Winter we have had, we headed outside the first chance we got.

Sam was a little confused and thought he needed his coat and hat. He almost wouldn't go outside without it. Once outside he let me know, "It's hot, Mommy! It feels better!" I wouldn't call it hot, but 60 degrees does feel much better than 2.

We rode bikes, threw our frisbee on the roof, ran in circles, amused ourselves with sticks, took a couple of turns down the slide and played basketball with our bicycle helmets on. Yes, my friends, safety first at the Cook house. You never know what kind of trouble you might get into while playing basketball.  Especially playing with Charlie. He plays full-contact basketball. I think I'm the one that needed a helmet.  And a full set of football pads.

We are learning what a foul is.  And that it is a bad thing to whack your Mommy in the face.  Just payback for the snowball, I suppose.

We petitioned the Spring-time fairies for more of this splendid weather and broke out the 'ol grill for some BBQ. We didn't actual petition anyone. I just took advantage of the weather to get Kenny to cook. It worked.

I've decided to ignore the weather man in hopes that the forecast will remain the same as it was today. Warm and sunny.

If I ignore them, it can't get cold again, right?

I'm smarter than you.

I've decided that my kids must think I am a raging idiot. Really.

I tried to remember from my own childhood when I realized that my parents were smarter than me. I'm thinking it was right around the time I realized that the good Lord had blessed me with some common sense. Which was not that long ago.

So, for the next 18+ years I will stand with my hands on my hips, use my mommy voice, pretend I have eyes in the back of my head and give death looks with the real eyes in the front of my head. All while you act like you didn't hear what I said, try to hoodwink your brother out of Wii playing time because you think I won't notice, continue to push buttons on things when you have no idea what might explode if you persist just because you need to touch every button, and wad your face into the most foul positions because you think it will somehow let you get your way. And sometime during your mid-twenties it will occur to you that I am smarter than you. And always have been.

You may be able to grin and use those big brown eyes to elicit the "Oh, poor little orphan" response from other people. But I'm your mom. So while I love you dearly and will do anything in my power possible to give you the best life I can, that doesn't work on me.

Anymore.

Yes, I know you are only acting your age and I'm certain I'm only being paid back for acting like such a little turd as a child teenager. You keep acting as if I'm a dummy and I'll keep sharpening my Mommy skills. You did get a head start on me. I didn't know kids your age could be so sneaky. You may try to wear me down. But I am bigger than you. You can smile and make me laugh. And I won't forget that you've been sporting an attitude all day. You can ignore me. But I can ignore you. You can be super silly. And I can laugh loudly at you. You can be super annoying. And I can ignore you again. But I will win.

I love you to the ends of the earth. Remember I came 7,597 miles to get you.

And I will always be smarter than you.

EDITOR'S NOTE: We have very well behaved children. They do have their moments when they push limits.  Usually (and thankfully) when no one else is around. I do love them and would do anything humanly possibly for them. But I am still their Mommy. They will obey and respect us as their parents--all the time.  Mommy voice or not.  Yes, people...it's your job to make sure your kids are doing those things. Now. Go hug your kids.

Vomitona. The Spanish word for vomit.

At some point during my five year stint at THE University of Alabama, I was certain the Lord was calling me to be a nurse. Turns out, we must have had a great misunderstanding because I couldn't seem to pass all my classes no matter how hard I tried. That and puke makes me...well, puke. So I got a degree in how to professionally clean up puke. I mean, early childhood development.

Yesterday I get a call from Nicole who was picking up the kids from school. She was laughing and wanted to know if I had talked to Charlie's teacher or the school nurse. Of course I had not and since she is laughing, I am assuming Charlie is alive, but hasn't had a great day.

Turns out during Spanish, Charlie got puked on....¿Qué la mierda? Wait, wait...that's not the best of it...ON HIS HEAD. I'll pause while you throw up a little in your mouth. Because that's what I did.

As with most 7-year-old boys, the details are a little vague. He told me he was laying on the floor. (Note to self: find out why he was laying on the floor during Spanish...) And I do know he got it in his ear. Gag. And the school nurse made him wash his hair in the sink and gave him a new shirt to put on. Thank you, school nurse.

I'm just eternally grateful that this happened at school and not with me. Because he probably would have had puke on both sides of his head after I saw him. He handled the whole episode fairly well. Much better than his Mommy would have.

I put him in the shower the second he walked through the door from school. And his biggest concern with the whole thing was if he had to take another shower before bed. And it wasn't "hair night". Why did he have to wash his hair??

Gross.

"Yes, he looks JUST like his father."

I know our family looks different. But I honestly don't think about it much until we are out somewhere and I notice the stares. I always immediately assume my fly is open or I have toilet paper flying from the seat of my pants. It usually takes me a second to realize what they think the real problem is...

And I love some of the conversations I have.  Today I took my fully African son with me into the local Dollar General to pick up a few things. While checking out, the lady asked Sam, [Insert Spencer County accent. That's just straight up hillbilly for those of you that don't know.] "Why aren't you in school today, buddy?"

Since Sam's attention was on the bright flashing Valentine's display and he was paying no attention to her (more evidence that he is indeed 3, despite his height), I responded that he was only 3 and wasn't in school yet.

She exclaimed over how tall he was and how he looked like he was older. Then she turned to me and said, "You are kinda short. His dad must be really tall! How tall is your husband??"

Long pause.

"He's actually only about 6'2". And extremely white."

Okay, so I didn't say that. I really wish I had said I had never met his father, but really would have loved to have the opportunity to. And just sat and watch her try to figure that one out.

I did say that his father was quite a bit taller than me. And gave a quick explanation that he was adopted from Ethiopia and also has a really tall brother.

"Oh. Well, that's really nice."

Thanks. I think so, too. He does get his good looks from his dad though...

Can't touch this...

You honestly don't want me to break into the rest of that song.  MC Hammer would be terribly embarrassed.  Plus, I got rid of my Hammer pants a long time ago.  Promise.

I have watched this over and over and just about peed in my pretend Hammer pants laughing every time. This is our pastor's 5-year-old son, Jake. The oldest of 4, soon to be 5 kids at home. (Honest.  Why would I joke about something like that?)  So no older siblings to be learning this kind of stuff from. Jake broke it down for us last night at our Superbowl Party.  I was much more entertained by this than the game.  Turn your speakers up and enjoy...

The many sides of Charlie

Sometimes I feel like I live with the Cat in the Hat. Is it really necessary for everything to rhyme? I guess I could give him a break since he's just trying out new words that he is learning. The child literally never stops talking. Or just making noise. Since about half the time it's not actual words, but just gibberish that you would think I would understand by this point.

But as annoying as that can sometimes be, I'm also realizing that in addition to our Dr. Seuss tendencies, we also have a little historian on our hands.

This came the other day in the car on the way home from school..."Canada is north. They are our neighbors. Mexico is also our neighbor. And Europe is bad. Very bad. All the people leave and come here. So we fight them. They are so bad. I don't want to ever go to Europe, Mommy."

Great. There goes my plans for world travel. Man.

And despite all this, I discovered the other day that Charlie is quite the ladies man. Except he doesn't know it. Typical of a 7-year-old boy. Or any man.

This all came out at a birthday party where Charlie was one of just two boys. Surrounded by all the girls from his class. And I'm pretty sure the other boy was just a cousin of the birthday girl. They were so excited when Charlie arrived. It seems that his attendance at the party had been the topic of conversation before our arrival. The girls were all certain Charlie would be there.

Apparently all the girls think Charlie is soooo funny. One reported that she loves to look into his beautiful brown eyes. Gag me with a spoon. Another told her mom she's gonna start laughing like Charlie because his laugh sounds so much better than hers. I tried to find out why they all like him so much. Turns out, he's the only boy that will play with the girls. So, naturally they all think he is just 'o so dreamy. Again, just a side effect of having girls for your best friends.

I hope the girls won't be disappointed when they find out that Mr. Love Boat doesn't have a clue about Valentine's Day. As you can imagine, that wasn't really high on the list of things to celebrate in Ethiopia. It probably came right after setting aside a day to observe the habits of a groundhog. I've tried to explain it several times. He was not impressed. With either holiday.

Until he found out that he might get candy. That he can get on board with.

They better just back off. Because his Momma has dibs on him until he's at least 35. No one will be taking those "beautiful brown eyes" anytime soon!

Charlie's also recently become quite the basketball player. Well, let's just say he's learning. Gradually.  He did score 10 points at last weeks game. But it seems that sometimes he just forgets what is going on. The only good thing he has going for him...he doesn't really have to jump to get the rebound. Since he's at least a head taller than most of the kids, he just puts his hands up and usually comes down with the ball. I think that's why his coach thought he was gonna be good. Sorry, Coach. Along with the tall comes terribly uncoordinated and a touch of I-have-no-idea-what's-going-on. He'll get it down pat soon enough.

Until then, we'll hold the recruiters (and the girls) at bay.

I did it.

Blogger has had a new layout, template and editor for quite sometime. Problem was, I liked the old one so much, I didn't want to commit to the new...in case I didn't like it. I have commitment issues. Except for Kenny. I do like him.

So. I finally did it. I switched to the new stuff. And I do like it. There's really no change on y'alls end except for the look. What do you think?

And a new picture. Just so I can play with the new editor options. I just found this picture. It's our not-so-spectacular church directory photo that was taken right after the boys came home. Can you tell?? They are so little...



There is a funky little toolbar just below that allows you to email, etc, etc any of the posts that I write.

Because I'm just that entertaining.

The best part about winter is...

"Wen I go sledding with my Mom. My Mom thow snowball in my fase. Me an my bruther sled down the hill. I make snowangl in the snow."

Thanks, Charlie. Now your teacher thinks I'm a complete meany. Although, I'm pretty sure I did nail you in the face the last time it snowed. In my defense, you're short. And my aim is bad.

Next time, use your writing assignments to pick on someone your own size. And quit telling your teacher I fling things at your head. They might lock me up.

If a look could kill...

I've decided Sam has extra muscles in his face because he makes some of the most expressive looks I have ever seen come from anyone. But especially when he is playing the Wii.

This is hard core stuff. Don't get in his way while he is gaming. Those looks will kill. The funny part is, he does this even when he's not playing and it's his turn to just watch. He stands there jerking and jumping around making horrible faces like he is actually playing himself. And excuse the laughing in the background. You'll see why soon enough...

31 Reasons We Love Daddy!

Somebody is turning 31 today, so in his honor...31 reasons we love Daddy. As told by Charlie and Sam. With a little (ok, maybe a lot) help from Mommy.

1. He works really hard. (That was the first thing Charlie said!)
2. When I asked Sam, all I got was uncontrollable laughter and "I love Daddy!"
3. On occasion he surprises Mommy with a caramel frappicino. With extra caramel. She really likes those!
4. He tells super cool jokes. Like "pull my finger". Mommy loves when he does that...[insert sarcasm]
5. He plays with us.
6. He washes Mommy's car. (Thank you!!!!)
7. He lets up stay up late to watch The Flintstones.
8. He tickles us.
9. He's really funny. Or tries to be.
10. Almost as funny as Mommy.
11. He takes us to school. Mommy is really fond of that since that means she doesn't have to leave the house at 6:45. AM.
12. He gets us food.
13. He cooks supper for us. (I asked if sometimes I helped with that and was told no. We'll see who gets any food next week...)
14. He shares his food with me. (I'm seeing a theme here....)
15. He usually lets us get away with more than Mommy does! (That was from Mommy.)
16. We throw stuff at each other. That's fun, too! (Now I know why there are multiple dents in the wall...)
17. He lets Mommy take a Sunday afternoon nap.
18. He carries me on his feet. Puts me high on his feet! (I think we are referring to the airplane game...)
19. He watches HGTV with Mommy. She really likes that.
20. I asked Sam again, trying to get something out of him..."I just got something. What do I say, Mommy?" Huh? I'm confused.
21. When we fall asleep with monkey sunglasses on after a hard day of basketball and playing on the bouncies at a birthday party, he helps me get ready for bed.
22. He's super good looking. And kinda cute, too. (Or so Mommy says!)
23. He goes to church with me.
24. He takes super good care of two little boys when Mommy needs to do stuff like go to the grocery store. Or just have 4 and a half seconds of alone time.
25. He fixes our broken toys when Mommy doesn't know how to.
26. He loves Jesus.
27. He loves two little boys more than life itself.
28. He loves Mommy, too.
29. We play with my monkey and he hides it from me. That's really funny!
30. He calls to check and see how Mommy is doing during the day. You know, in case we are driving her crazy or something.
31. He is the best, the greatest, the most wonderific daddy ever!!! And Mommy likes him a lot, too!!

Happy Birthday Daddy!! We love you bunches!!!!

Welcome to Nothingville Baptist Church!

I know I've told y'all multiple times about our church being located in two trailers that have to be set up in the local middle school each Sunday and Wednesday.

We've had church with no water. With no electricity. With no workers. With frozen diaper wipes. With no curriculum. With stolen trailers. Well, actually without the stolen trailers. Pretty much we have the most awesome people in the world and we can have church with or without any parameters you dare place on us.

Sunday provided us with a totally new problem. Both of our trailers with everything from diaper pails to drum sets are locked behind what we like to consider a very secure location. Well, Sunday it was just a little too secure. As in, the motorized gate was frozen shut. And the owner of said secure gate was enjoying himself far, far away on the beaches of Hawaii. Nice. A lot of help you are.

So, we did church with nothing.

It's not as bad as it sounds really. And funny to watch people's faces as you tell them they can't have their customary Sunday morning coffee. Or that we are using folded up towels as a makeshift diaper changing table.

Go HERE to see a couple of pictures and to get Nicole's take on the whole thing.

We made it work and I was thankful all over again that we serve next to such flexible people!

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

And while you are over there, check THIS out. Russian Baby Gymnastics. You have to see the video for yourself, but I'm just assuming they haven't heard of shaken baby syndrome! Or they have and call it Russian Baby Gymnastics.

Much Ado About Nothing

Ok, ok. I didn't mean to anger two and a half of the three readers that I have.

I know I haven't posted in several days. Or weeks. We are still here. Just maybe a little frozen. I have to live life in order to have something to write about. So, I was busy doing that. And thawing out. And honestly we just haven't been all that interesting here lately.

But newsflash: I have funny kids.

We had tater tots with our lunch on Sunday. I know we've had those before, but Charlie had a most difficult time remembering what they are called. [Insert accent.] "May I have some more tick-tocks, please? Ok, no. Some more totorinos? Potato tops? Chicken nuggets? No? I don't know what you call them." I prefer tick-tocks actually. That's our new name for tator tots. Way more fun than tator tots. He does that on occasion. Just make up words for things he doesn't know. And why not. He's on his third language, so we'll give him some wiggle room.

Sam just wanted to paint with his toothbrush the other day. And was very insistent about it until I gave him an actual paintbrush. Seems we just had our brushes confused. I know the paint is washable and non-toxic, but something makes me think the dentist wouldn't approve of that method of whitening.

We've also had buzzy legs around here lately. Never had buzzy legs? Me either. And unless Charlie's legs have been hitting the non-existent liquor cabinet in our house, I'm gonna guess that his legs were just asleep from him crouching in weird positions while he worked on his Lego creations.

The boys also recently discovered Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs. And they love them. But this was after a heated discussion in front of the Kroger checkout lady with Charlie in which he informed me in no uncertain terms that eggs don't have chocolate and peanut butter in them. So there was no way what he was holding in his hand was an egg. Ok, Charlie. You are right. I'm wrong. Again.

So, we'll go back to our ho-hum routine, try to get through at least one week without a snow day (at this point we're gonna be in school until late July) and I promise to post more even if I have to make up stuff. Deal?

No pressure. Right, Julio?

Good Housekeeping

I am full aware that I am raising boys, which can be much different that raising girls. I've always said I wanted boys. Girls just seem like too much drama. Yes. I know I'm a girl. But I was never much for the drama that the other girls seem to get into. And God in all His humor, gave me at least one little boy who does have a dramatic flair.

And the other little boy. Well, he is well on his way to being a much coveted husband for someone. Nothing wrong with starting them early on the basic chores, huh? Hey, he asked to help! And believe me, it didn't last long.



Sam's got the floors covered. And Charlie is the best dishwasher unloader ever. He can catch any speck of food the dishwasher may miss. And will tell me all about. He's really almost too good. Annoyingly good.

My New Year's Resolution: to have the boy's cleaning the whole house independently in the next 6 months. You think I'm kidding...

Does this thing come with instructions??

We...er, Santa...brought the boys some rather cheap, but fairly functional, sleds at Christmas. The boys begged to go play all day today. I managed to put them off until the afternoon, but eventually had to face the brutal wind and sideways snow so we could test out our new high-tech plastic cruisers. Now, we don't have the best hill for sledding, but when you are from Ethiopia ANY hill with snow on it will do! And our front yard is actually a much larger hill, but sledding down a big hill followed by being squashed by a passing car is really no fun for anyone.

It's our own personal "Danger Zone". (I was feeling "Top Gunny" this evening. For whatever that's worth. Plus it made the boys seem like they were going way faster than they actually were.)

Enjoy.........

Merry Ganna!

January 7th is the day that Christmas is celebrated in Ethiopia. So, in celebration, yesterday we went to our local Ethiopian restaurant, The Queen of Sheba. Plus, I'm a slacker mom and haven't quite gotten around to learning to cook Ethiopian food. That's as far as the celebration went, mainly because I hadn't given it much thought until Friday since all my energy was being put into actually surviving some sort of crazy funkiness that involved running a fever for a week. (Yeah. Probably the same thing Kenny had here.)


Get all that chicken, Sam. This was after he took his injera and wiped all the goodness off the chicken!


Grace & Emma looking on, shocked at the show the boys are putting on. Notice they are satisfied with their simple (and clean) rice & chicken dishes. Although, they did feel a little left out, so they opted to eat theirs with their hands, too.


Is it good, Charlie?


You notice he has it almost ear to ear...

I really should take a video, because taking the boys to eat Ethiopian food is really quite entertaining. For one, most of their food is not the easiest to eat if you are actually trying to stay clean. Mainly because they don't use utensils, but injera (flatbread) to pick up the food. Now let's be honest. Sam can't eat anything without making a HUGE mess, so you know allowing him to eat solely with his hands is only going to make that huge mess worse. And second, the boys eat like we haven't fed them in weeks when we go in there! I can only imagine why. Think about your favorite comfort food that your Granny only makes once a year...doro wat is the boy's comfort food! Clearly. So they gobble it up so fast you barely even know it was even on their plates. Gone. Plate cleaned. Spotless.

I'm gradually learning. This time I put extra napkins on the side of my body facing Sam because he sloshes around so much when he's eating. I came away fairly clean this go round. I laugh as the other patrons excuse themselves and they simply wipe the table. Little do they know when we leave, a complete linen change will be in line. White tablecloths meet their match with Sam. And next time, we will pray before the food gets there. You can't actually set an order of doro wat in front of the boys and expect them to not dive right in. It was like watching a crack addict going through withdrawals as they had to wait for all to be served and for us to pray before being allowed to chow down. And yes. I just compared my children to crack addicts. Sue me.

Remember next year...January 7th. Find your local Ethiopian restaurant and go try it out!!

Just a common criminal

A few weeks ago I was invited to a New Year's Party on January 7th at 9:00 am. Downtown at the Hall of Justice. In Courtroom 101. With many other common criminals.

Okay. So, it wasn't a party. And I was only invited because I felt the need to drive 48 mph through a 25 mph School Zone. While zooming past a cop, who I saw, by the way. Which apparently gets you an automatic invitation to that courtroom party in 101. In my defense, I didn't realize I was in this so called School Zone and the normal speed limit is 45 mph. Three miles difference. You can see why I was a little surprised about my party invitation. Surprised would really be an understatement. Ticked off would be a better description. And after almost 15 years of driving, this was my first ticket. Ever. Promise.

I could never be a criminal. Not even a little bit of one. I was almost in tears just being at the courthouse. Of course, this was probably a combination of me not having a clue what was going on, running a fever and feeling a little like dirt, and being surrounded by people who either hadn't bathed or had bathed with Bath & Body Works newest scent, Ashtray Surprise. Slight sensory overload. I was there with people who had traffic tickets, drug charges, hadn't paid their child support, had multiple warrants out for their arrests, DUI's and one guy who had apparently done some very bad things to a whole lot of people that he was having to pay thousands of dollars of restitution to. Nobody was being nice to anyone and just forget about even using manners. Let's just say I was a little out of my element.

So when it was my turn to stand before the judge and she asked me how I was pleading, I threw my hands in the air and exclaimed, "How did my life get to this point?? HOW?? I'm guilty. Guilty." And collapsed into a puddle on the courtroom floor.

Okay, so that's not really what happen. I met with a little man over to the side of the courtroom who explained to me if I would plead guilty, I would only be responsible for court costs and the judge would recommend driving school since this was my first offense. And it wouldn't affect my insurance rates. So, after smiling politely at the judge, I not-so-confidently gave my guilty plea. I mean, no one wants to stand up in a room full of people and admit you are guilty. Even though I really was. After making certain they were done with me, I hightailed it out of there faster than an ex-con who had violated his parole.

And if you see me out on the road now, I'll be the Granny driving the Explorer five under the speed limit. Having to go to court was more of a deterent for me than the actual punishment. Maybe. I havn't been to driving school yet, so I'll let you know.

Christmas via Pictures

Christmas pictures as follows. You know the drill: hang out, eat, open presents, eat again, hang out some more and do it all over again at the next Christmas gathering.

So, enjoy.


My favorite thing about Tristan's new scooter: I was rocking him to sleep the night he got this (his mommy was sick) and we had to drive his scooter up and park it by his bed. He sat up in my lap, looked over and said, "Goodnight 'cooter. I love you." And laid down and went to sleep!




Notice the far right corner. Charlie is beside himself because he was reading the letter that Santa had left saying his presents would be coming on Sunday night! How in the world did Santa know we were in Alabama??


Don't hate because you don't have any footie pajamas. Or pajamas with socks, as Charlie calls them. And Tristan is giving me an ear full because I am very obviously on HIS tricycle! Which he loved almost as much as his 'cooter!


Being silly with Kenny's family. Sam would have no part of it. Although, if we would have asked him to smile, it would have been all silly.



Hope you enjoyed our Christmas via pictures. We had fun and miss you all!!