Hellllooooo, Aurora

In an effort to get to know our new city, tonight we attended a "movie in the park" at Phillips Park. The movie started at 9pm, which was a little past Morgan's bedtime, but we chanced it. She had a late nap today and she could always sleep on the blanket. We ended up leaving early as she had had enough, but we weren't too sad b/c the movie night was free, so no outlay of cash was lost.

We doused ourselves with generous amounts of "OFF" bugspray. Dan threw together a quick cooler of drinks and we were on our way.

There were lots of families there. I think we're going to have to try that again. I definitely recommend it.

Who's that Kid with the Oreo Cookie?

Tonight we introduced Morgan to the Milk-Sogged Oreo. Dan and I were in Meijer picking up a few staples when we both saw the "Double Stuf" package. We gave each other the "Should we?" glance and then the "Uh-huh" look.



Morgan took to the cookies quite quickly. Her response?

"Mommy, can Daddy and I have much?"

Morganisms

After reading the "Giant Jam Sandwich", I asked Morgan what the name of the bugs were in the book.

"I can't say it, " she complained.

"Yes you can." A mother knows her child's abilities.

"Wasps-ps-ps." She has a hard time saying only one "ps" ending.

(Trying not to laugh.) "Good job, Morgan. Good job."

________________________________

Getting ready to go the pool:

Morgan: "Mom, let's get our babing suits on."

Hehe. At this point I'm thinking that I'm too old to wear a "babing" suit. Better stick to the tried and true mommy suit.


________________________________

Someone told me the other day that the age of 4 is where they remembered their child most. Their child is now grown, but apparently 4 is the magic age where all the stories are. How to freeze time.

Cari's Story

My friend Cari Owen posted this hilarious story of her son, who justed turned two. Check it out.

http://owenhouse.blogspot.com/2007/06/bulls-eye.html

(Sorry, I have a Safari browser and I can't seem to link to the above. You'll have to copy/paste.)

Word

Word that I like:
OSTENTATIOUS

(It means "showy" and is usually used in a negative sense. Ironic how the word "ostentatious" is just as showy as the noun which it is referring to.)


Word that I don't like:
LOINS

I can't think of any possible place where this word could be used without giving me shivers down my arms.

Red Balloon

This morning I had 4 places I wanted to hit for errands. But I knew that my daughter had a 3-errand rule, so I scratched one errand off the list immediately. From the time she was born, Morgan has tolerated the first errand, squirmed terribly for the second errand and, if I'm lucky enough to GET to the third errand, she is screaming or fighting back dramatic pangs of death.

Today was no exception.

The first errand went relatively smoothly. The second errand was Home Depot.

For the most part, the Home Depot errand was not terrible... just the beginning and the end and a little in between. For starters, we got a cart that Morgan INSISTED we get- the last one with the two extra seats in front. Naturally it was the one with a wheel that jiggled so loudly I could hardly hear myself think. I bailed on the cart in aisle 11 and continued the errand in walk mode with daughter in tow. (Mistake #1: Letting daughter walk.)

To help Morgan get through the store with more entertainment, I asked an employee for one of the many balloons he was blowing up. He easily obliged. My daughter was happy with her red balloon. (Mistake #2: Giving child toy which is easily lost.)

Through the remaining time at the H.D., Miss Morgan was regularly falling from chasing the red balloon. Additionally, gusts of wind would catch the balloon and send it soaring to another aisle. Enter crazy, non-cart, merchandise-bearing mother running frantically from aisle to aisle to appease daughter.

But wait, I get stupider.

I had one last item on my list. I needed Potting Soil. The only bag available was the 40 million pound variety. There was no cart in sight except for halfway across the store. I summoned the Errand Muses and put the great heft upon my already full arms. (Mistake #3: Mother has no arms left.)

As I approached the checkout counter of the garden section of Home Depot, a whimsical gust of wind caught my daughter's balloon, sending it straight into the street. Without thinking, Morgan dashed after said balloon. Meanwhile, forgetting that the items in my arms were NOT glued to me, I ran after her with all the merchandise. The alarms went off (naturally) but I was able to grow a third arm in microseconds and grab my daughter from running into traffic. The balloon was instantly gone.

What happened next was inevitable. Morgan wailed miserably for that red balloon, crying dramatically, "My red balloon is gone forever! I will never see it again!"

I confessed to myself that I was not intelligent for all the above reasons, got a cart and went home with my balloon-less daughter.

But enough about me. How was YOUR day?

Dan at "work"

Check it out... Dan was on TV. Here's a still of him playing on the Wii at Google. Somehow, I don't feel guilty loading him with laundry when he gets home.

Here's the link: http://www.myfoxchicago.com/myfox/pages/ContentDetail?contentId=3617534

Back for More Baklava

Today I went to Hahn's Bakery in downtown Geneva and bought this decadence. It's called Chocolate Baklava.

Normally I don't care for baklava, but the last time I went in Hahn's Bakery, the owner described it so well that I thought I'd give it a go. He had me at "chocolate". This scrumptious dessert has a beautiful blend of textures: the airiness of the pastry is complemented by the chunks of chocolate throughout. And then at the bottom there's this gooey, caramel colored filling which can only be described as "so this is heaven".

Feast your eyes.

NOT GOOOOD GRAMMERR

I know that I do my fair share of incorrect spelling and poor grammar, but I still have to share a street sign for an oil change company I saw today:

"GAS PRICES TO HIGH"

I can hear my husband gritting his teeth now.

15 Minutes

A big hootin' THANK YOU to PBS this morning. They ran an ad that encouraged parents to read to their children 15 mintues a day. Fifteen minutes. I can do that. Fifteen minutes is a doable number.

Thank you, PBS, for giving this mother a solid number, a specific amount of time that I should be reading to my child.

Blog

I started blogging before Christmas, but I REALLY got into it after I read a book by Sheri Lynch called "Be Happy or I'll Scream". It's a hilarious fictitious novel about motherhood but I think it's more non-fiction than she'll admit. In any case, it was my inspiration for writing whenever the spirit of motherhood moved me.

Why I am bringing this up? Because it dawned on me today that I LOVE reading my girlfriends' blogs every day possible. I love reading about their triumphs and disasters because, I'll be honest, motherhood can be somewhat lonely at times. There may be lots of warm bodies around the homefront (the three year old variety) but still... loneliness.

I'm sticking my neck out here a bit, but I'm posting my top reasons for blogging. I'd be obliged if you'd do the same. Let's compare.

1. Blogging dusts the cobwebs off my vocabulary and reminds me that adult speak is still used.

2. It helps me when I want to vent about life as a woman and mother. Good or bad.

3. The comments readers post remind me that I'm not alone for the ride of life.

4. It's a creative outlet for me that is kid-approved: Done in 10 minutes or less.

5. It lets friends who want to know about my family's life get up to date without a phone call. Not that phone calls are bad, but daily phone calls are a bit difficult.

6. Not everyone can get together for Bongo.

I got this survey idea from my friend Sarah Short, who posted a survey yesterday, albeit a much more FUN survey, which I am still filling out. I hope to have it done by 2008.

Confession

You're right, Dan. Are you happy? I'm publicly admitting it.

Though I am loathe to admit it, it appears that I am experiencing a low grade hangover. Dan called it. I denied it. But now I freely confess it.

Apparently my frame cannot handle the drinks I had at my cousin's wedding, plus the flight which ensued not 6 hours later. I remember laughing at others who had too much to drink. I was definitely sure-footed by the end of the evening, a bit on the happy side, but still sure-footed.

Congratulations, Dan. You married a non-party girl. Can't take me anywhere. I hope you're happy, wherever you are.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm watching Oprah in a darkened room sipping tea. Shhhh.

Words, words

Morgan: "Mommy, I want to get changed into jeans."

Emily: "Jeans? What? Why? What did you say?"

Morgan: "I just want to get changed into jeans. Not a bath."

Emily: "Not a bath? What are you talking abou... (realization) Morgan- Did you go poopie in your pants?"

Morgan: "Yep."

_____________________________________

In the airport:

Emily: "So, Morgan, did you have fun with Britt (cousin) last night?"

Morgan: "Yep."

Emily: "Tell me about it."

Morgan: "Nope."

Family

Here's some family photos.
1. Britt celebrating his 3rd birthday party with his parents, Noel and Shane.
2. Grammy holding baby Chet, Britt's brother.
3. My brother Bret.
4. My brother Andrew.

Poppi Time

My Dad is called "Poppi" by his grandchildren. Morgan had a fun time with Poppi in his backyard. They even got to see a deer! Click on the images to see them larger.

Wedding Weekend

We're BAAACCCKKKKKKK!

Exactly 24 hours ago, I was traipsing around downtown Annapolis (Maryland) negotiating the cobblestone streets in some strappy black heels on the way to my cousins wedding. The scene was amazing: Annapolis has a ton of romantic history to it, not the least of which is a stunning Naval Academy campus right on the water. My feet complained dearly for the 30 minute walk to the Naval Chapel, but my spirits were high. Nothing could compare to going to a romantic wedding on a divinely perfect, 70-degree day. Plus, I had a hearty throng with me: nine other family members, dressed to the nines, sans children.

We were instructed to go to the Naval Chapel. I was picturing a little white chapel on the hill kind of structure. I was mistaken. Think "cathedral" with all the pomp of royalty. Breathtaking.

The ceremony was beautiful. It was simple and relaxed. The bride laughed gentiley to her father as she was escorted down the very long aisle. I had to look TWICE to see my cousin Tom dressed in his naval formals. He looked so grown up. As he should. As they gave their vows, I was transported to seven years earlier when I had offered my own vows to my loving husband. I wanted dearly to cry, but I held back the tears because earlier that day I had persuaded myself to endure false eyelashes. It was a mistake, I admit. I feared eyelash bombs blurring my already cloudy vision. *sigh* No matter. I still enjoyed a beautiful moment. (Side note: I found out later that evening that my Aunt Margie, mother of the groom, had had a traumatic morning at the salon. She was sitting under some very hot lights getting makeup applied much more heavily than she liked and promptly passed out. She came home, redid her hair and makeup and looked stunning in her tailored gown. In light of that, false eyelashes weren't so bad.)

After the ceremony, we were directed to wait outside for the arch of swords. The newly married couple was introduced and went through. After the couple processed, the bride was spanked by the flat end of the last sword and told "Welcome to the Navy."

After the ceremony, we were lead to a yacht they hired for the occasion. Truthfully, I could have been on a pontoon boat and had just as much fun. The medium sized crowd was very enjoyable and friendly. We were served a variety of hors d'oeuvres as we milled about the deck, waiting for the wedding party. My favorite appetizer was the miniature Maryland crab cake. I confess to coercing several of my male relatives to snag extra crab cakes on my behalf. They were that good.

I won't give a play-by-play of the evening, except to say that there was dinner, laughter, cake cutting and uninhibited dancing. I've never seen a dance floor so crowded at a wedding. What a crowd.

After the lovely evening, Dan and I crashed into four hours of sleep and then caught a flight home to Chicago. Morgan has been watching approximately 4 hours of television here at home while we doze in and out of sleep. Our insides feel like someone took an eggbeater to them, but it was worth it. The laughter, the romance, the food.

Congrats, Tom and Nicole! We truly enjoyed the celebration and wish you all the best.

Reverse Psychology

Here's a way to outsmart those kiddos of yours. It's like reverse psychology, but I amp it up a bit. I owe it all to Oscar the Grouch.

Want your kid to eat a tuna sandwich? Instead of "tuna fish", call it "tuna flesh".

Want your obstinate one to get their hair washed? Ask them this: "Do you want a shampoo-poo or a shampee-pee?" They'll giggle and pretend to be grossed out. Ultimately, their locks will be washed.

And finally, for the one who won't touch their grilled cheese sandwich, tell them, "Oh, I see. You wanted a grilled SNEEZE sandwich, not a grilled cheese. I'll be right back." Then pretend to make a new one, giving them the same sandwich and *voila*... they are eating at last.

Overheard, Part II

Dan and I are sitting at the dinner table last night, sipping cheap wine. We're looking at a seascape painting which I painted last year and put on the living room mantel.

Dan: "Em, don't take this the wrong way, but that painting looks better from far away than it does close up."

Awkward pause.

Emily: "That's okay. It's like me. I look better far away than close up."

Dan: "Haha. That's not true. But do you know what I meant about the painting? It looks more realistic from back here."

A slightly buzzed Emily thinks: "Everything looks better from where I sit right now."

Overheard

"Mom! There's a boo boo on my tongue." She holds out her tongue. She wants me to kiss it. Ewwwwwww.

I kiss my finger and apply it to her boo boo.

A Wedding

Well, tomorrow morning we are off! We're going to Mecca... I mean Maryland... for my cousin's wedding.

I may be alone in this sentiment among married couples, but whenever I go to a wedding I think three things:

1. I'm glad my wedding is over. Marriage is MUCH better than planning a wedding.

2. I'm glad I can be here to witness these vows.

3. Enough with the vows. Where's the cake?

Now this particular wedding is bound to make me feel old because I remember my cousin as a wee baby. There's this recurring thought in my head: "He can't get married! He's only 5 years old!" But he is now a strapping young man of 22-ish. He just graduated from the Naval Academy and will be a doting husband, I'm sure.

Also, for the past 20 years, I have been calling my cousin "Tommy". But now he goes by "Tom". I can't call him "Tom". If I do, I'm admitting that he's grown now.

He's marrying a lovely woman (whew- I ALMOST said "girl") named Nicole. Tom's mother, Aunt Margie, actually taught Nicole in elementary school. Who knew that Aunt Margie was teaching her future daughter in law the basics of, say, sentence structure? "Now, class," she would say, "you NEVER KNOW who you will marry and I insist that you write in proper sentences so that your wedding invitation will be perfect." You think I'm joking, my teacher friends, but you'll take the heat if your future in-law is in your class and can't use a comma correctly to save their life. Think about it.

But back to Tom and Nicole- I'm very happy for you. If you're tired of the wedding hoopla, there's a light at the end of the tunnel: It's called marriage. Congrats to you both!

Dinner is served

Dear Martha Stewart,

You'll be proud of me. Tonight, after playing all day with my daughter, I decided to keep dinner simple.

For the first course I served formed meat-ish cylinders.

I decided to accompany this entree with a 2007 Pinot Grigio. It was a very good year.

And then, to round out the meal, I added a splash of Spongebob Mac 'n Cheese for whimsy and some baby carrots for color.

Feel free to have me on your show. I do have some availability in my schedule in August.

Emily Dykstra, domestic goddess

Zzzzzzz

"Am I a man or a woman?"

This is the question I ask Dan on days that I'm too exhausted to remember my gender. Like today, for example.

I keep fluctuating between being "balanced Mommy taking her time to make this house our home" and "wicked crazy Momma who stays up late with fire in her eyes because she can't STAND it anymore". Ahem. So you can guess what I did last night.

And today, I suffered from the MOMENT I woke up. I forced myself to run this morning before Dan went to work. But running blindly (I was THAT tired) can only be more detrimental than good, don't you think? Then I attacked my list o' things to accomplish today, which Morgan promptly sliced in half. Kids really don't do more than 3 errands on any given day and I'm INCLUDING drive through errands as well. Like banks. Or McDonalds. Just three errands. They're like the magical genie of errands: You get THREE wishes and you cannot wish for more errands.

Then I tried to take a nap with Morgan in my bed. We can do this pretty well normally. But not this day. It wasn't in the cards. Our twenty minute nap-a-rooney involved Morgan trying to squeeze her ENTIRE body inside a pillow case at one point. There was a lot of wiggling and sighing on her part, evidence of her lack of tiredness. But the clincher was when she kept poking me to see if I was awake. I asked her to stop it. Okay, okay. I yelled. I was exhausted.

So now she is upstairs. I put on my best "Mommy needs time away from you" voice and said it in the sweetest way possible.

I've locked myself up in the office, biding my time while waiting for my knight in shining armor to come home.

"Let Mommy be by herself until she remembers her gender again, Morgan."

Prayer

Friday morning, Morgan came up to me as I was working on my computer. "Mommy? Can you pray for me? My poopies are very, very hard to do. Can you tell Jesus to help my poopies?"

Absolutely.

"Cast ALL your cares upon him, because he cares for you." I Peter 5:7

Father's Day

This week, I made a small Father's Day craft with Morgan. It was a craft foam little person. She put foam clothes on it and drew a smile on it for Dan.

So this morning, I gently woke up my sleeping beauty and reminded her of her craft. "Morgan, it's Father's Day," I reminded her. "Remember how you drew this picture of Daddy?" Her response was unexpected: "That's a not a boy! That's a girl!" and she began bawling. "Oh, a girl? Okay, well, fine then. Give Daddy the craft you made," I said, quickly thinking on my feet. "But I want to keep it," she retorted. More bawling.

Defeat. "Alright, Morgan, well just show Daddy the craft you made."

She went downstairs and showed Dan the craft. Then, she got on the phone with her grandma a few minutes later and promptly promised her the foam doll. Lovely.

Free

I like free things. But only if they're GOOD free things. And, if you're within a 10 foot radius of anyone from the Depression Era, you may want to let them in on this little secret, too. Go ahead. Grab that older gentlewoman, help her hold her regular purse and her coupon purse so she can get this valuable information.

Here it is: If you contact a company with a praise or complaint of one of their products, chances are very good that they will give you free product.

It started when I contacted WishBone a while back about the design of their salad dressing bottle. I asked if they had considered another design for the top because whenever I craved their dressing, I would have to endure a thumb piercing good time. I think the cap actually drew blood on one occasion; it quite literally had "fangs". So I wrote the company and told them that I loved their dressing, but didn't appreciate the unanticipated blood draw. They asked for my address and gave me many coupons for free product and many more coupons for dollar off, etc. "Hmmmmm," I thought, "I must use my powers wisely." I immediately called my grandma in Florida and walked her through the process.

A year or so ago I contacted Unilever. Morgan decided to slather her already soft skin with 13 oz. of Vaseline Petroleum Jelly. I frantically called them to see how I could get the product off her body, clothes, hair and bedspread. They were VERY kind and sent more free product. Naturally, I did NOT buy more Vaseline. In fact, Vaseline is not allowed with a city block of our house. But Unilever has a lineup of products that's longer than a game of Dutch bingo. Ding! We have a winner! If memory serves I got some free detergent, too.

Recently I wrote Meijer about their terrible spelling on a product. More free coupons. I wrote McCormick and got about $5 in free coupons.

I did call Connie's Pizza (you know the pizza in the frozen food section?) to tell them that I liked a certain pizza they had and they were dumbfounded. They actually did not know what to do with that information and said something to the effect of "That's nice." Uh-huh. Note to me: Connie's Pizza needs better marketing or, barring that, a heartbeat.

Now, are there any downfalls to this process, you may be thinking. Well, they will have your address so you will be receiving occasional coupons or recipes in the mail. That's not so bad. And you may want to look at the parent companies family of products b/c you will most likely be receiving mail from all their companies. I have not been bombarded, however.

So there you go. You can't say I never gave you anything. Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas.

Swept Away

I mentioned in my last post that my friend Cari came over today. I should've taken a photo of her to prove her existence, but I didn't. :)

Anyway, as a house warming gift, she bought me this hilarious broom. It makes me smile just looking at it. It has this rather odd way of making me WANT to do housework, just so I can be seen with the happy rainbow of it's handle.

Morgan also took a liking to this broom immediately. Sensing that it's vibrancy would garner more attention than her golden locks, she quickly took the broom in hand, intending to sweep the floor. Her short height made for a fulcrum, however, and the broom "attacked" her. She landed thudfully (it IS a word, I tell you) on the floor with a whimper. Quickly assessing that the broom was STILL getting more attention than she was, Morgan bumped the volume of her whimper up to a full blown cry. And then, further realizing that our new guests were concerned about her fall, she gave a bellow that could put an air raid siren to shame.

All this because of a happy broom. hehehe. Something tells me that she wouldn't take kindly to a sibling one day.

Owen Fun

I had my friend Cari Owen over today. She and I worked at Sanford together on some great projects. She was my Art Director and we had a blast.

Then we had kids. We still had a blast working together but our creative moments at work were peppered with day care phone calls and last minute doctor appointments. Oh, and one time Morgan bit someone at daycare, they quarantined her from the other children and I had to pick her up immediately. She was labeled as a "biter", a nomination given gladly by my better, yet younger, 16-year old child counselor at Kindercare. But I digress. Point is, it's darn hard to be creative and keep up friendships with little squirts in tow.

So we met today and had a great time catching up. Here are some photos to prove that fun was had by our offspring. Believe it or not, they actually WANTED to contain themselves in these metal toy bins.

Oh, how rude of me... Cari's son is named Jack. What a sweetie.

Ruth Graham

Oh my. Today I read that dear Ruth Graham, beloved wife of Billy Graham, died at the age of 87. I teared up. What a lovely person she had to have been. For her and her husband to endure the clichés of Christian evangelists all these years and maintain such a strong marriage...what a beautiful life. Here's what her husband had to say:

"I am so grateful to the Lord that He gave me Ruth, and especially for these last few years we've had in the mountains together. We've rekindled the romance of our youth, and my love for her continued to grow deeper every day. I will miss her terribly, and look forward even more to the day I can join her in Heaven."

Being ushered into heaven with those words... is there anything better?

Summer

Today, in an unprecendented Dykstra act of hospitality, I, Emily Dykstra, opened my heart and home to 11 wild children, one of which was my own.

Okay so I'm being a little melodramatic. But only a little. We had an amazing day of summer fun and... note this... technically it's still spring. But don't tell the children because we soaked them with a sprinkler, let them gorge themselves on juicy, messy watermelon and fed them vast amounts of mystery meat for lunch. It was a hedonism, I tell you. Preschool hedonism.

It was interesting watching our children interact. There were two schools of thought, for example, on the cleanliness of the pool. One camp believed that the pool should be free of any grass clippings or bugs. The other camp believed that not only should plant and insect life be encouraged, but that the pool should also be clouded with sand. Generally the disagreements ended quickly with a quick dash through the sprinkler or a maternal shout.

I sacrificed a watermelon to the hungry mass of children. They didn't really eat it. They inhaled it like an Electrolux vacuum hungrily sucking up unmentionables under a bed. The red juice of the fruit painted their little faces and left Fred Flintstone 5 o'clock shadows on their jowls. (See photo below.) My, were they happy.

It's summer, my friends. Welcome, summer. Stay as long as you want.

Potty

Statistically, my daughter should be completely potty trained. We started potty training a year ago. She caught on really quickly and we granted her "big girl underpants". But now she is regressing. A lot. We put her back in pullups and she isn't unhappy.

I'm not really sure if it's because of the trail of miscarriages and all the talk of babies or if it was the stress from the move from our previous house... but she has started to 1) forget to use the bathroom 2) refuse to use the bathroom or 3) be afraid to use the bathroom b/c of her chronic painful constipation. It's so frustrating to train a child in basic bodily functionality and have them not use that knowledge. So very frustrating.

I'm not asking for advice, by the way. No offense. I've just about heard it all and it makes me feel... I don't know... unsuccessful as a mother. I'm just weary of cleaning poop on a little girl who clearly knows how to do it herself. I need patience and encouragement.

Fashion

If you haven't heard me say this a dozen times, I'll say it again: My prime responsibility as a parent is to keep Morgan alive. That's all. Forget learning ABCs or learning to share. Keep her alive.

Here is a photo demonstrating my point: Today Morgan decided to don this ensemble. It's not too terrible, you think, even though it clashes and it's a bit hot for today's summer weather. But wait... if you look closer you'll see that her skirt is in fact not a skirt. It's a shawl that she forced over her head and onto her waist. It's actually somewhat stuck on her until I force it off her little body.

So there are three reasons why I must redress this child:
1. She will pass out at the zoo today if she wears this.
2. Others will pass out laughing at her pink fetish; the fashion police may actually arrest her for disturbing the peace.
3. She can't breathe too well with the waist cinching.

Whew! And my father thinks I watch Oprah all day.

Really truly?

Dermitage claims that in 10 minutes one can have less wrinkles. They show these two photos as a before and after. If they can have this dramatic of results, what's preventing them from erasing leg cellulite? Laughing... not that I have any post pardum leg dimples, but you know... OTHER people want to know.

Call me cynical, but I'm thinking of something that rhymes with False Fadvertising.

At my service

Today I took Morgan to the pool. At last. Some benefits of being a stay at home mother. No office tan today. No sirreeeee.

Before I chanced my outing, I called the pool ahead of time. I haven't officially received my pool pass and wanted to be sure that they would not decline me. Can't take denial too well. You understand. Plus it's a ten minute walk with a person half my size. A jaunt for me is a hike for squirt.

So I called the office and a wonderful woman gave me so much customer service that I almost died of overdose. She made it clear to me that I was paid up in association dues and that I could go. I offered my thanks and prepared to hang up the phone.

"And if they give you any guff, you have them call me directly. They have my office and cell phone," she assured me. I thanked her again.

"Because I was just there this morning and if they don't let you in... well, just have them call me. I spoke with Spencer and John, " she clarified. I thanked her a third time.

"Let me just give you my direct line in case they give you trouble," she added. I quickly jotted down the number, thanked her profusely for her extra assistance and used that "I'm leaving now" tone of voice... the kind that trails off. She said good-bye.

Customer service, I have new faith in thee.

Prophecy?

Today Morgan told me:

"My baby brother will come in 16 years. Right now he's in someone's tummy."

I hope she's not prophetic. I'd be nearly 50.

Choosing to Celebrate

Can I just share? Forgive my French, but this week was crappy. You ever have such a bad week that you don't even want to talk about it? It was that kind of a week. It's too difficult and draining to think of it. Plus, whenever I talk specifically about this week, I relive it.

So I'll summarize: crap, crap, crap. Terrible.

Then, after a challenging week, we went to Michigan to see some old college roommates. We had a good time, but I think all the parents there were tired. When we arrived home, we enjoyed a grand mal tantrum from my belligerent daughter. So we prayed. We prayed that God would redeem the awful things that happened this week which are clouding our joys. We prayed for Dan's job, for strength in raising a daughter while we're getting used to new surroundings. We prayed for joy and patience and wisdom. We prayed that God would take the crappeth out of our lifeth.

There really are a lot of celebrations in our life.

Morton Arboretum

Today we went to Morton Arboretum with some of Morgan's friends. It was great fun. I know what you're thinking: Arboretums = BORING. But no! These traditionally boring yet lovely parks now have features that children would enjoy-- things like sculptures they can play around and water they can play in. Good stuff. Here is a HUGE vine sculpture which the children liked to play hide and seek in.

Click

*sigh* I can't believe I'm doing this. It goes against every fiber of my being but... it's for my little sis.

An introduction: My youngest sister, who I'll call "Rebecca", even though that is in FACT her name, is my alter ego. She is the yang to my yin and quite honestly I covet her "devil may care" rakishness. Being the older sister, I find it necessary to dot all her "i's" when she's very capable of doing it herself.

So here's the scoop: My sister is a poor student (or so she says) and she wants to drum up some cash for diving school. So, if you go to her blogspot and click on the ads, she gets 1 penny per click. I did it once and didn't feel as dirty as I thought I would.

A caveat: My sister has taken to showing a photo of her boyfriend and herself smooching on the blogspot. It's kind of cute, actually. For all I know, that's the added bonus you needed to click away.

Oh, and one more thing: Don't tell my Dad that they're kissing on the blog. My father thinks Charlie is her science tutor. ;) J/K

New Kid on the Block

Another one bites the dust! Introducing... the blog of my friend Kris Wise. She just became a blogger today. She's already blogging away. She has a 3 week old baby, and two other young children. Go, Kris, go!

wisepartyof5.blogspot.com

Sleeping Beauty

Riddle me this: How is it that I can butt heads all week with my daughter, consider tying my tubes out of frustration and then... fall in love with her while she's sleeping? Oy vey. Motherhood.

And then she woke up.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Today I went to the farmer's market in Winfield with Stephanie and got... drumroll, please... herbs. My favorite. Rosemary, basil and thyme! I'm so excited. I also bought fresh peas. I don't recall ever eating fresh peas. They are fantastic.

Gastro Fun, Here I Come!

I have mentioned my recent self-imposed B.R.A.T. diet in several postings. But I haven't had the energy until now to discuss the reason for all this gastro-intestinal fun.

It appears that I have acid reflux, the silent variety. Apparently silent acid reflux can manifest symtoms similar to asthma and have no heartburn whatsoever, thus the reason for the name "silent". I suffered from breathing so much that my friend Beth Tukker took me on a quick tour of Aurora, IL en route to the emergency room last week. They declared me healthy. I quickly googled all my symptoms online and gave myself a diagnosis of acid reflux. The remedy for this ailment is either a) a prescription or b) 2 tablespoons of acid cider vinegar thrice a day. I got the acid cider vinegar tablets last week and I'm breathing a lot better.

In case you're wondering, I did see a general doc earlier and she gave me two inhalers. Seventy dollars of fun later and the inhalers were not working. I noticed that my breathing worsened whenever I ate. (Clue #1)

I also read online that acid reflux is triggered by lifting of heavy objects, stress and a lot of bending over. Which would explain why my symptoms started when I started packing back in our previous house. (Clue #2)

I'm trying to stay on this bland diet, but it's really hard when my friend Ann Vandermeer made FIVE (or was it SIX) mini tantalizing desserts for our last night of small group. Additionally, my friend Sarah Short (from my Baltimore days) is teasing me with DAILY pics of her latest culinary creations. Check them out: http://grshortstop.blogspot.com/

Days of Morgan

I'm on the B.R.A.T. diet (upset tummy reasons) and so I bought some bananas last night. Morgan also likes bananas. She likes to eat them, but mostly she likes to peel them. This is what she did while I was on the phone with Dan's father this morning.

She also likes crafts.

Changes of clothes

This was a classic "what happens when you're not settled in kind of day". This is the reason people don't like to move. A singular example of what happens when we can't get Morgan's clothes situation right:

Morgan kept pooping in her pants. We had to have some changes of clothes.

However, I hadn't kept up with the laundry because of other house needs.

Also, her CLEAN clothes were in a messy heap on the floor.

The clothes were in a messy heap on the floor because the chest of drawers Dan's folks thought they could give us didn't work out so we had to order one. (Thanks for trying, though, Mom and Dad.)

In the meantime, I put the clothes in nice piles (pants, shirts, etc.) on the floor but we had to move them for the carpet cleaners to come last Friday so I stuffed them in a bag.

But the carpet cleaners never came, so the clothes are still spilled out on the floor.

And somehow in the past 3 weeks since we moved, Morgan has outgrown her shoes and lost almost all matching socks.

Which means that every time she messes her clothes, it's a great big treasure hunt to find new ones that either match or fit.

The good news:
1. Morgan's dresser should arrive this week.

2. We went out to Target tonight and bought her a bevvy of new socks and some new shoes.

3. We're doing laundry tonight.

4. We're still a happy family, albeit frazzled.

Stairway

This weekend Dan took a fall. He was carrying Morgan downstairs, skipped a stepped, tried to recover, did a mid-air hokey pokey and then landed. Directly on his knees. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. I thought his knees were broken.

He said he had to land that way to keep Morgan from falling. What a dad.

I gave him some ice and then Morgan attended to him. Here's where it gets good. First, after determining that he needs to keep the ice on his "boo-boo", Morgan thought it would be a good idea if Mommy and Morgan showed Daddy how to walk down the stairs: "Daddy, we'll show you how to walk down the stairs. You don't fall. Watch Mommy and Morgan." I stifled a laugh and obediently followed my overly exaggerative daughter on how to slowly walk down the stairs.

Then she had a chat with him. "Daddy, you should go to big people school to learn how to walk down the stairs, okay?" Nevermind that he sacrificed his knees for her well-being. She was extremely condescending. It was entertaining.

Dan will be more mindful of the stairs. Mostly because a Morgan chastisement is far worse. And he thought I was the nag.

Nate Sallie

My latest endorsement: I haven't heard ALL his songs, but this guy is grooving: Nate Sallie. He's original. Listen to "Lone Ranger".

natesallie.com

Cereal

And good morning to you, too, Morgan!