Full House

Just how big was the townhouse shared by the Tanner family and all their friends and relatives? At one point, they had nine people living there!

We'll have nine people in our house, come Fall. My brother, Andy, and his wife, Lura, moved in with us. They brought their kids, Westley and Marcus. So we have a pretty full house now. It's been pretty fun, so far. Westley is 2 years old, and he is a lot of fun for the boys. They try to do everything he does. Marcus is 4 months old, and is the smiliest baby I've ever seen. I've only heard him cry a few times, and they've lived here for almost a week. Compare that to my boys when they were babies: they only cried a few times every ten minutes.

We have two rooms in our basement that they moved into, and we just share the rest of the house. It's nice to have another wife around. Someone else to help cook and clean. The only difficult thing about the situation, so far, has been that Westley has a built-in alarm clock that is set for 6:30 a.m., no matter what time he went to bed the night before. I'm sure it's harder on his parents than it is us, so I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining. But he wakes up our dog, who in turn wakes up my boys, who wake me up, and I'm not such an early morning person. My boys aren't either; if they wake up before 8:30, they're just grumpy for the rest of the morning, so I usually try to get them to go back to sleep.

So the last week has been a whirlwind of making sure there's room for everyone and their things (we have had to get rid of a bunch of stuff, for which I'm glad; David and I have lived in this house for less than two years--how did we get so much junk?), unpacking, getting kids used to new beds, and other things that go along with moving. It's been wild.

Adventures in Grocery Shopping, Part III

I guess posts with this title are becoming a regular thing, so I'll probably just have to turn it into a series or something.

Today's adventure was actually someone else's adventure. We were in Wal*Mart, just cruising the aisles, looking for menu ideas, and we went to turn into the rice aisle but there was a big commotion in the middle of the aisle. So we went down a different aisle and doubled back to the rice. As we got closer to the group of people, I saw a little old lady laying on the floor. She had some blood on her hand, and a Wal*Mart employee was radioing for someone to call an ambulance. I surmised that the lady had fallen and, as is common at her age, had probably broken something. I felt so bad for her, and also her grandchildren, who were with her. The grandchildren were young, maybe around five and eight years old, and the younger one was just wailing. She looked so scared. The lady herself was pretty brave. I even heard her try to make a joke. It didn't console her granddaughter, but at least then I knew she was conscious.

The experience made me wish, though, that I knew First Aid, or was an EMT or something. If I had been the only one around in that situation, I wouldn't have known what to do. I would have known not to move her, but other than that, we'd be in trouble. I don't really know what to do if something happens to my kids, either. David mentioned once that he thought that some kind of First Aid certification should be required before they let you leave the hospital with your baby. They make you watch the Shaken Baby Syndrome video, and one little video about CPR, but they don't come and test you to make sure you know how to do it. I've seen dozens of videos and papers with diagrams on how to perform CPR, but I've never practiced. I would be scared to try it, should the need ever arise, and worry that I'd do more damage than good. I've decided I'm going to take a First Aid class; that will be a goal of mine this summer.

We Love Countrywide

Sunday was our (as in David's and mine) anniversary. I think it was the Cotton Anniversary. Last year was Paper, next year will be Leather. I guess I've got a long way to go before I get some diamonds. We didn't do much since it took place on a rainy Sunday (that sounds like an oxymoron). Yesterday we went to dinner at Sandbagger's, a bar and grill in town. They have cost-efficient steak dinners. Okay, they were cheap. Not incredibly high-quality, but when you only pay $11.75, what can you expect? We then attempted to see a movie, but the "dollar theater" is now the "$7.25 theater," and since they still show the same old movies that have been out for months, and they haven't made any improvements in the theater itself, we decided it wasn't worth it. So we went over to the brand-new theater, which also costs $7.25 and is much, much nicer, in addition to showing new releases. But this place had five theaters showing Shrek 3, and the other five theaters showing movies we'd never heard of and weren't interested in. So we rented a movie.

The highlight of our anniversary was the big fat check we got from our mortgage company. We got one twice the size for David's birthday, back in April. They over charged us for taxes last year, and we didn't get the money back with our tax return, so the mortgage company sent us the refund. That was April's check. Recently, we signed up for a MMA (Money Merge Account) to pay our home loan off faster, and with that account paid off our second mortgage early. So this month, Countrywide refunded us the interest we'd over-paid. I wonder if they'll send me anything for my birthday...

Our Outta Sight Friday Night

I went to bed early last night. Before 9:00, even. And I still couldn't get out of bed before 9:00 this morning. I didn't sleep well; a little someone gave my bladder a fantastic kick around 3 a.m. and after I used the toilet and went back to bed, I didn't fall back to sleep 'til almost 5. So that took its toll, but I think mostly I was just too tired from all our excitement throughout the day yesterday. It went something like this:

3:30 p.m.: Drew and Owen woke up from their nap, grumpy as can be. I was almost tempted to just put them back to bed. I gave them a little snack and we decided it would be good to get them out of the house, so we loaded up and went to the park.

5:30 p.m.: We finally got bored of the park (I think David and I got bored long before the boys did), so we hopped back in the car to head home. On the way, we drove past the railroad yard. I was impressed at the size of it, so David took us on a tour. It's about three or four miles long, so it took some time to go through it.

6:15 p.m.: We passed a car dealership on our way home and decided to stop and look at some cars. We ended up test driving a Suburban, which is way too much car. I felt like I was in a bus; I was sitting up high, and close to the front of the vehicle, and there was still all this vehicle behind us. By this time, the boys' snacks started to wear off, and they were getting really crabby. Drew screamed practically the whole time we were driving the Suburban around.

7:00 p.m.: We stopped at Skippers to get dinner. The lady working the counter didn't know how to work the gift card we gave her, so she called her boss and he walked her through it. We were about 86 cents short on the gift card and didn't have any cash (I cleaned out our car the other day and put all the change in our coin jar), so we put the remainder on the credit card. We're awesome. But it took a long time and Drew was getting even more crabby than he already was, so he and I waited outside while David and Owen waited for our food.

7:20 p.m.: We finally got home to enjoy our fried fish and greasy fries and chowder. I was thinking we'd have a nice quiet dinner, then go for a walk so David could sleep (he had to work last night). Drew and Owen had other plans. Drew was happily dipping his fries in tartar sauce, making a lovely mess all over his face, arms, shirt, legs (don't know how he got past his tray to get the stuff on his legs...), hair--basically everywhere. Owen kept his more contained; it went straight into his hair. I didn't see him do it at first, so when I noticed his greasy hair with bits of pickles in it, I asked, "Owen, how in the world did you get all that stuff in your hair?!" He was all too happy to show me. He dipped his little fingers into tartar sauce and carefully rubbed it into his hair. He did it multiple times, until he was out of tartar sauce.

8:00 p.m.: Got the boys into the tub. I was happily finishing my chowder while they bathed, when suddenly Owen started screaming. I looked up from my take-out cup and there he was with some brown stuff on his hand. That's right. He pooped in the tub. So I whisked the boys out of the tub before it could really get all over them, and went to clean out the kitchen sink so I could finish bathing them (they still had tartar sauce in their hair), figuring I'd just clean the tub out later. Owen was standing behind me as I was getting the sink ready. Drew was running around the house, happy as can be to be naked; he even stood in front of our open front door and yelled "Hi!" to the neighbors... Then Owen started screaming again, and lo, he had pooped on the kitchen floor. Sooooo glad we have tile and not carpet like some crazy kitchens have. So I chucked Owen in the sink, and yelled for David to come clean the floor for me and put a diaper on Drew before he had a chance to do something similar. Before David could get into the kitchen, the dog decided to help out and clean up some of the mess for us. Well, I couldn't have that; the boys let Vito lick their faces from time to time. So I shooed him out and finished washing Owen's hair (he didn't find the sink very enjoyable. At all). David cleaned the floor, and I washed Drew's hair (he liked the experience only slightly more than Owen did).

8:35 p.m.: Finally got the boys diapered and dressed, put them in bed and cleaned out the tub. I'd had more excitement than I could handle. David went to take a nap before work, so I decided I'd call it a day, myself. I left the kitchen in much disarray (but at least there were no more 'surprises' on the floor), and went to bed. And slept soundly until 3 a.m. ...

Car Shopping

Our local radio station has been playing advertisements for Car Wars, a big car sale where some of the dealerships get together in the mall parking lot and compete for customers. When David heard the ad, he asked, "When is that sale?" I told him, and asked, somewhat facetiously, "Why, are you planning to go?" He said of course he was planning to go because we'll need a new car by Fall; we probably won't be able to fit three car seats in the one we have. I tried not to think too much about it, but it turns out he was serious.

Today, we moseyed on over to the mall to see what they had. Our search criteria include a third row in the back, non-minivan*, better than 18 miles to the gallon (preferably much better, though surprisingly hard to find in a modern SUV), and leather seats (not mandatory, but a plus, since we're having a devil of a time keeping the seats in our car clean with sloppy kids and a hairy dog). We found just one that we liked, and a couple more that we might settle for to save some dough.

Our hunt will continue. I've been looking online and found some lower-priced cars, but they had a lot of miles for their age, and putting the miles on a car is something I like to do myself, not have pre-done when I purchase the car. I'm hoping to get this new car before July, which is when my mom, my boys and I are heading to Colorado for a family quilting party (sounds riveting, I know).

I'm so excited; I love major purchases. But at the same time, I'm trying not to get my hopes too high, in case we decide to save our money and just squish everyone into the car we've got. I suppose it'd be possible, though tricky.

*I don't know what I have against minivans. I rode around in and sometimes even drove my friend's Astro Van (well, it was her mom's van, but it was the vehicle the kids were allowed to take to school; you know how it goes) in high school, and it was the coolest--we thought it was, anyway. But something inside of me has changed since then, and I just can't bring myself to drive a minivan anymore.

Locks of Love For Dogs

It's that time of year again: from late April to mid-November, Vito munificently leaves little bits of himself around the house for all of us to enjoy. Dust-bunnies have no place in our house; Vito's fur takes over everything.

I swept and mopped yesterday, and I didn't want Vito to immediately ruin the effects, so I took him onto the back porch and brushed his fur. It came out in clumps and filled up a plastic grocery sack. Then we took the hose and sprayed him so he'd shake off his fur. He did accordingly, only to promptly run through the cloud of hairs, then take off and roll around in our dandelion field, getting dandelion puffs all over himself, thus defeating the purpose of all we had accomplished.

I just wish there were something we could do with all his fur when he sheds. I know of a few dogs in Thailand who could really use a nice coat. And some cats, too. But, because I'm pretty sure it wouldn't get past customs, I just threw the bag o' fur in the garbage. What a waste.

Second topic for today:

Yesterday was our first experience with "You break it, you buy it." We were at the book store and we ran into some friends that used to be in our ward, one of whom David works with, so we were chatting and the boys got pretty bored so I handed them a couple books to look at. One was a very cute pop-up book titled, A Day At The Farm. So David and I are standing there chatting about credit card points and cruises (our friends are going on a cruise, and we're saving points for one), when suddenly I hear, rrrrriiiiippp. I look over and there is Owen, holding a little paper rooster that used to be in the book. Oops. So I put the rooster back in the book and said to David, who didn't know the book had been ripped, "I think we should get this book for the boys. They seem to really like it. AndOwenbrokeitsowe'rekindofobligated-topayforit." Luckily, it is a book that the boys really like, and it only cost $6. Not too bad. And the rooster was easily glued back into place. But I've learned my lesson about letting the boys play with things in the store. And I'll make sure they are much, much older before I tell them the story about the purchase of the book, because I don't want them getting any ideas.

Our Dandelion Field

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm very glad it's Monday. I had kind of a rough weekend. On the plus-side, my mom and my brother and my sister came to visit us for the weekend. On the minus-side, I'm not very good at playing hostess and it really stresses me out. I feel like I have to be on top of everything all the time, and that's just not my style. But we did have a lot of fun, too. On Saturday morning, we went to the park and played soccer; David gets together with buddies and they all play every weekend, but I usually just watch all the kids (half of which are mine), since I can't run much anymore and I don't want to get hit with the ball. So this Saturday we went as usual and Roz and Kevin played too, and I guess they enjoyed it quite a bit. And my mom helped me with the kids, which was nice, 'cause there were a couple more than usual.

Then, Saturday afternoon, I went with David to get my Mother's Day present, but we didn't have a lot of time because he got called to work, so we're going to continue the hunt today (I'm getting new shoes, which sounds like a lame present, but I love shoes, and kind of need new ones, so I'm excited).

Saturday evening dinner was fun, but crazy because it took longer to cook than expected, and people were starting to get cranky (mostly me). We had our back door open as we were sitting down to eat, and our neighbors' grandkids were outside playing on their trampoline. Every time they jumped up we could see their little heads pop up over the fence. Then we heard, "Look at all those dandelions!"

"Where? Oh! That is a dandelion field!"

They were talking about our backyard. It was kind of funny, in a self-pitying kind of way. Our yard is a constant source of irritation to me. We have some weed-n-feed, but I don't want to put it on the grass until we get our sprinkler system going, because I'm afraid it won't get watered in well enough otherwise, and it will kill what's left of our lawn. We haven't been able to get the sprinkler system going because we don't have a key long enough to turn it on. We don't want to purchase a key until we're sure of what size we need. So we called the landscaping company that blew out our system two seasons ago, and they don't answer their phone or return messages (we've been trying for a year to get ahold of them). They obviously don't want our business. In the mean-time, we've asked people at church if we can borrow theirs; some don't have keys long enough, and others say, "Oh, yeah. I'll bring it by sometime" and never really do. So that's why we have a dandelion field. I feel like the guy with the hole in his bucket from that little kids song.

I'm going to leave this post at this; I need to go mop the kitchen floors (I mopped them a few days ago, I'm pretty sure, but it looks like I haven't mopped them for years) and I've already exceeded my daily allotment of Internet time. Then, I'm going shopping!!

Sad Little Drewbie

My dear little Drew got sick yesterday. My boys don't get sick very often, and, as I've stated in previous posts, I think it's because they share so much with our dog. They let him lick their food before they eat it, they dip their cups in his water dish and take a drink, they've even helped themselves to his food a time or two. Anyway, sick he was yesterday, and I felt so sorry for him.

Drew seemed just fine when he woke up from his nap. We put shoes on and hopped in the car to go check out the sale at the fabric store, which is going out of business.* We went to the dryer parts store first, to get a little part for our broken dryer. Then we went to the fabric store and looked at all the great clearance items. They were selling everything, from threads, cloths and buttons, to the wall fixtures the stuff was being displayed on. It was an Everything Must Go! kind of sale. Well, in the midst of looking through spools of ribbon and picking up all the ones Owen hurled onto the floor, I heard Drew start whining really softly. Very unusual for Drew, whose preferred method of getting attention is to scream. He started whining a little louder, and by the time I had made my selections and was paying for them, he was almost in tears. He looked so pathetic.

On our way home, we stopped at Wendy's to grab some burgers. I gave the boys each a french fry to eat on the way home, and Owen, in typical fashion, said "Mum" as soon as his was gone, so I gave him another. I offered one to Drew, but he didn't take it so I ate it (couldn't let it go to waste). At the stoplight, I turned around to see if he'd like another fry, and he wouldn't even look at me. When we got home, I discovered that he hadn't even eaten the first one. He kept yawning, so I just put him to bed.

Drew woke up from his second nap of the day burning up. I took his temperature, and it was 102. So I gave him some Infant Tylenol and some water. Sweet little Owen gave him a cracker, which was a generous gesture, because he usually only shares if I tell him to. Drew just sat on the couch and sipped water and whimpered for about 25 minutes. Then, as I was calling my mom to request advice, he started screaming. Ol' generous Owen had stolen his water. I guess Owen figured Drew was feeling better by then, which he was. His temperature dropped to 99, and he started looking at his animal book and making all the noises the farm animals make.

It was a mysterious little illness; I'm glad it didn't last, because he was miserable. And so far, he's been just fine today, too.

*David always wonders what I get so excited about fabric stores for. And he's always surprised that they stay in business as long as they do. And yet, he called me yesterday on his way to work and told me that this store was having a sale, and that I should go check it out and see if they had anything I need. I could write a whole post about my experience at that store yesterday. Those ladies working there were so condescending and impatient. The vibe I got from them was that you have to be over 60 to know anything about sewing and crafts. But I'm still going back again, hopefully without Drew and Owen, 'cause there were some great buys there that I didn't have a chance to snag.

All This At My Tender Young Age

I got a letter from the Social Security Department the other day. At first I thought I was in trouble because I haven't yet changed my info from my maiden name to my married name, and I've been married for (almost) 2 years. But upon opening the letter, I discovered it was a statement showing my earnings from when I started working as a teenager up 'til now. It seems to me that ol' G-Dub and his cronies over in Washington D.C. want me to feel as though the government taking money from my paychecks for Social Security will have some benefits for me by the time I'm ready to retire.

My personal feeling was that by the time I'm old enough to retire, there will be no such thing as Social Security; it will be depleted, or possibly replaced with something not quite as good. But since I got that letter, I now realize that I will be taken care of: by the time I retire, I will have earned enough Social Security to live quite comfortably to the end of my days. But only if the end comes within a week of my retirement. If things are looking this good already, I can only imagine how great they'll be after I put in another 30 years or so. WooHoo.

I Guess I Thought It Was Self-Explanatory

I gave Drew and Owen their first ice cream cones today. It wasn't their first ice cream, or their first cones; just the first time eating the ice cream in the cone. Owen picked his right up and ate and loved it. He decided to sit down and eat it, so he plopped down on the kitchen floor, which I thought was a good idea.

Drew didn't do as well with his at first: he took a lick, and decided it was too cold. He looked at me like, Why would you do that to me? And he ran away crying. But then, the sweetness reached his tongue, and he came back asking for "Mum" (that's how he says "more"). So I gave the cone back to him, and he took another lick. I guess he didn't find that an efficient way to get the maximum amount of ice cream, so he tried tipping it upside-down and eating the cone end first. I suppose I really should have done a better job of showing him how one goes about eating ice cream in a cone. Once he got it down (as "down" as a 1 year-old can "get it"), he wandered around smearing ice cream all over his face and somehow his belly. Next, he decided we should say a blessing on our "food," so he folded his arms, thus getting ice cream on his back. The kid's talented; what can I say?

I tried to convince Drew to sit down by Owen, so we could keep the mess somewhat contained, but he would have none of it. Then Owen figured wandering around with ice cream looked like more fun, so he stood up, too. His process of standing up involves putting both hands on the ground and pushing himself up. One of those hands was holding an ice cream cone which went squish, squash onto the floor. Owen didn't even care. He commenced eating as soon as he got his balance. I almost felt like I shouldn't let him eat it; the floor wasn't incredibly clean, but I wasn't in the mood to deal with a tantrum, so I justified it: It will just strengthen his immune system. The actual mess on the floor didn't bother me; our dog will clean messes up as long as they don't involve fruits or vegetables. He's so picky. Most dogs just snarf up any kind of people food when they get the chance. Vito actually sniffs something first to see if it's worth the trouble.

Over all, the boys were pretty pleased with their treats. So much so, that they didn't even fuss or squirm when I wiped off the stuff that didn't get into their mouths (which was probably close to half...).