Robin Roberts, Good Morning America

Robin Roberts of Good Morning America has been diagnosed with breast cancer.

Robin is someone who I have always admired in the world of television. She has such poise and, in my observance, has never given in to crass humor or gossip in her broadcasts. She is a lady.

In this video link, you'll hear her say some words which would be hard to say, but they are true: "God is good all the time." Though I have never heard her declare publicly her faith, I have seen evidence of it in her choice of words and her demeanor. She easily brings God's goodness to her broadcasts.

View it, and pray for her:

http://tv.yahoo.com/good-morning-america/show/30753/videos/3535642

Buds

I like to please my buds. Tastebuds. Here's my latest indulgence which is truly wicked to anyone who is trying to be healthy in the least: Edy's Dibs. They are mini balls of ice cream dipped in a shell of chocolate. They are extremely easy to pop into the mouth and delightfully satisfying.

Also, I did my own taste test yesterday. I bought some Orville Microwave Popcorn and some Meijer Microwave Popcorn. I think I got this taste test idea from my mother. I'm only brand loyal when I have to be, but let me tell you: When it comes to popcorn, be picky. This Meijer popcorn was soggy, salty and reminiscent of styrofoam. I'm coming back, Orville! I'm coming back!

**Post Script: WARNING! WARNING! Eating the serving size of Dibs (26 pieces-which I think is a lot) is 32 grams of fat. The good news is that you could go on a lower fat diet of drinking cream after binging on Dibs and probably lose any extra chub.

Out of Town Daddy

This should bring him home:

Emily: "What did you dream about last night?"

Morgan: "I dreamed that my Daddy was coming home. But when I woke up he wasn't there. He didn't woke me up."

_______________________________

Morgan: "Mommy, stop kissing me. Kissing makes me itch."

This Weekend

We made cookies.

And ate a few chocolate chips.

Stories of Friends

OWEN

At church yesterday, I got to hold baby Owen (Kris' baby) for the better part of the church service. I was in heaven. Granted, he was a little squirmy and uncomfortable (tummy ache?) but it was fun to hold an infant.

After a half hour or so of his fussies, I finally admitted that I needed to call in backup. I saw my friend Jen Ellens and she quickly scooped little Owen into her arms. I'm not exaggerating when I say that he INSTANTLY went limp and fell asleep in her arms.

A consoling friend reminded me that Jen is still breast feeding her own son and that Owen felt more "comfortable". It's okay, Owen. I know I don't have a lot of padding there. Sorry, dude.

__________________________________________


ANNELISE

My friend Stephanie is moving. She and her family spent Saturday night at our place since their new living space wasn't quite ready. Steph's daughter Annelise is exactly 2 years younger than Morgan. They share an October 7 birthday.

Here's a photo of Morgan and Annelise snuggling in bed for a few minutes. Morgan would be a good older sister one day. Plus, she needs someone to boss around, someone to do her bidding. :)

__________________________________________

THOMAS

A few weeks ago I was teaching the 3 and 4 year olds in Sunday school. I was teaching them a story about Elisha and his rich friends who built a room JUST for him (2 Kings 4:8).

As I was teaching the story, one little boy, Thomas, was dissatisfied with the Bible's telling of the story because the rich couple are unnamed. I tried to plod on with the story, but Thomas had a different idea: "We should name them."

Realizing that resistance was futile, I quickly named the couple. I couldn't think quickly enough on my feet for true Biblical sounding names so I called them "Sally and Bob". Thomas grew a smile and sat contendedly on the floor as I continued the story of Elisha, Sally and Bob.

I tend to buck against extra biblical teaching, but since it meant that one little boy would be satisfied and hear the story better, I think God would approve.

Encouragement

Today started off in a poopie sort of way. I was in a grumpy mood because Dan is gone out of town on business. (Yes, again.) The problem is that I adore this man and I'm pretty jealous of the time (or lack thereof) that I get to spend with him. I'm happy to say that we're on the up and up but that didn't change the way I felt this morning.

On the way to Wheaton this morn I was mind grumbling: thinking every possible negative thought about myself, my parenting, wondering if I even DESERVE another child, etc. Feeling pretty low, I hardly noticed the little voice in the back seat.

As if on cue, Morgan blurted out, "You did a good job, Mom!"

"What? What are you talking about Morgan?"

She expounded with this run-on sentence: "When we were at the beach and those boys took that toy from me and you said 'that belongs to my daughter' and you made them give it back to me and I was very proud of you."

An explanation is necessary: Months ago at the pool Morgan was playing with a water toy that two boys took from her. I told them it was hers and asked them to return it.

I was aghast that she remembered this. "You remembered this, Morgan?"

"Yep. I remembered. I was so proud of you."

Out of the mouth of babes. My grumpies left that instant and we went out for breakfast. What a great daughter I have.

Morgan Stories

Tonight as I was researching dishwashers online, my daughter called to me. She had just finished using the bathroom. "Mom!!! Mom! Mom!" she called relentlessly. "I made a poopie." At this point I realized that her voice appeared to be coming closer to mine. Oh no. Please don't tell me I have a dirty buttocked child walking in my direction.

She made her appearance into my office. Well, part of her appeared. Morgan walked backwards and shoved her derriere into the room, pointing at her buns. "Look! See? I told you I did a poopie." Lovely. I couldn't help but laugh and chastise her for leaving the bathroom.

Morgan has graduated into underpants. This is a big deal because her graduation from diapers last year was a little premature; a series of stressful situations caused her to go back to pullups for 6 more months. But now she dons pink polka dot undies or Pretty Pony. She loves them.

Now we just need to teach modesty and we're set.

____________________________________

I tell my mother when she calls that I love this stage that Morgan is in. She is very animated. She is still pretty fiesty, but I think that's a mixture of her personality and her gender. And sin, too- of course, sin. But still, fiesty.

This morning I asked her how her dreams were. Morgan looked me directly in the eye and said: "No answer."

"No answer?" I inquired. "Fine. Then what do you want for breakfast."

"Um, no answer" was her quirky response. I tickled her. "No answer, huh? Fine. Then I won't give you an answer either."

The tables turned and we played the "no answer" response game.

Morgan Dykstra, you are an original.

Beauty and the Beast

This morning, Morgan asked me to play "Beauty and the Beast" with her. Apparently I'm qualified to play the "Beast". This was her idea of "Beauty": a blanket clothespinned around her neck and a pink fishing cap. I tried not to laugh in her presence.

Kitty Grim Reaper

It's time to rant. Dan is tucking Morgan in bed and he *thinks* I'm wiping down the kitchen. hehe. Blog time.

Did you hear about the kitty who predicts the death of nursing home patients? Here, read:
"PROVIDENCE, R.I. -- Oscar the cat seems to have an uncanny knack for predicting when nursing home patients are going to die, by curling up next to them during their final hours.

His accuracy, observed in 25 cases, has led the staff to call family members once he has chosen someone. It usually means they have less than four hours to live"

I think this is hilarious. Imagine yourself as a 99 year old patient, slowly eating your cup of applesauce dinner when (enter Jaws music here) a cute little kitty decides to rain on your parade with the Grim Reaper. Normally nursing home patients like visitors, but not this one! Bet no one is saying "Here, kitty, kitty". If I were a resident there, I would keep a spray bottle of water near my bedside in case Oscar the cat decided to kick my bucket. And if there were another resident who took my prize in Bingo that day, I think I'd smear their bedsheets with catnip. That oughta do the trick.

What's scary is that this cat has been fairly accurate in 25 cases. Did you read that? TWENTY FIVE times.

Next time you're in the pet store and about to drop some dough on a feline, you may want to consider who he comes with. The results could be "grim".

Overheard

Morgan, playing with her doll this morning, said:

"Mom! I wrapped my baby up in a raccoon!"

(My land! I hope not!)

What she meant to say was: "Mom, I wrapped my baby up in a cocoon!"

Morton Arboretum

Here's some photos of Morgan enjoying the Morton Arboretum with her friend Cailey and with her grandparents and Aunt Jill.


Grandma Dykstra made Morgan some clothes, including this new blue skirt!

A Song of Doctors

When life gives you 6 doctors to work with at once, write a song. Here's a little diddy I tossed off this afternoon.


To the tune of "Your Thigh Bone's Connected to Your Hip Bone..."


Your healthcare is connected to your
new job

Your new job will give you a
new prescription drug program

Your new drug program won't let you see your
neurologist

Your neurologist is far away from your
new home

The stress of it all will send you to the
gastroenterologist

The gastro doc will recommend a
general family practice

And when you think you're done with docs you'll
slip in the shower

Then you'll have to find yourself a
new podiatrist

And all this time you're wondering if
you want another baby

Even though you've already seen a
ferility specialist

And your ferility specialist is connected to
your credit card

And your credit card is connected to your
new job

And your new job will let you keep your
new house

But your new job may send you to the
crazy house

Not because the job is bad but because
the new healthcare program which is connected with the prescription drug program which is NOT connected with the dental program will send you to the funny farm.

TAA-DAAAAAA!

Birds

My in-laws just left this morning. Morgan wasn't too pleased about their leaving, which always does a mother's heart good: she likes her relatives.

But they didn't leave without giving us gifts; my father-in-law made Morgan two posts with 3 bird houses/feeders. One of the feeders is specifically for goldfinches which he put in our backyard. Sure enough, this afternoon I caught sight of two beautifully bright yellow birds pecking at the seed. My f-i-l knows a lot about birds. He has approximately 10-15 birdfeeders and houses on his property which he tends with loving care. When I was first married and visiting their Iowa abode I witnessed a bird actually sit on my f-i-l's hand when he went outside. I dubbed him "St. Francis of Assisi" after that.

We are also the proud new owners of a hummingbird feeder. This stirs up a funny story in me: My mother had a hummingbird feeder outside the kitchen window which she would monitor regularly. One particular summer we must have had an onslaught of them because we were filling the container daily. Turns out that our "bird" was a 2 year old red head neighbor. He thought it was Kool Aid and kept drinking it; the evidence was all over his face and chest. We got a chuckle out of that. Sure hope that kiddo doesn't have diabetes now as a result.

I don't think we'll ever have as many feeders as my f-i-l, but for now, it's fun to watch the beauty in our backyard.


**Please note: I finally figured out how to link urls. I'm using a Firefox browser instead of the standard Mac Safari browser. Thanks to Kris Wise for this tip.

Morganisms

Today Morgan used a new word: Meantime.

She actually used it properly: "In the meantime, Mommy, let's read this book."

And then I realized that she had redefined "meantime" when she said, "But in the happytime we can do this instead."

___________________________________

Today Morgan's Grandma and Grandpa left. She was a little grumpy this morning. She wanted a pencil, but the one I offered her was too big apparently. She wanted "little ones like Grandma and Grandpa have". Then it clicked. My in-laws are golfers. They have lots of those half pencils at their house.

Wish for a Dishwasher

I think my dishwasher needs to be replaced. It works but only sort of.

It cleans kind of.

It takes a long time to run its cycle.

And it's loud.

So I consider it a "dishwasher-ish".

I need my dishwasher to be clean, fast and quiet. You know... like the OPPOSITE of children. Clean, fast and quiet.

If anyone has recommendations, I'd be obliged. I'm planning on a new one. I should probably tell Dan about this before I post this but he reads my blog so he'll know soon enough.

Tummy

Hi, friends-

I'm here to brag about my in-laws. My father, mother and sister-in-law are visiting from Iowa. They have been so helpful.

Yesterday I had to have a routine stomach scope procedure. I forget the technical name, but basically they doped me up, stuck a small camera down my throat and took naughty photos of my tummy. It was great fun. My father-in-law took me to the surgical center while mom and sis watched Morgan.

Looks like my stomach is doing okay. Unfortunately for Dan we have to raise the head of our bed by 6 inches so that it tilts. If anyone has ANY idea how to do this, I'm all ears. The doc said that sleeping up on pillows to tilt myself will not be acceptable.

I was feeling really low yesterday. It has been a year of a lot of needle pricks and IVs. I'm really tired of the smell of doc offices. But I reminded myself that I should be grateful for health insurance and for my docs.

Today I'm on cloud 9 because no one is sticking anything but food down into my tummy!

Commentator

I'm sorry, I just have to laugh at how funny this is. My overly social friend Sarah posted a blog giving away some free goodies to those who posted a comment on her blog.

She got 211 comments as of 7am this morning. TWO HUNDRED and ELEVEN!??!?!

Sarah, I dub thee the "Commentator". So here's her blog if you'd like to be number 212.



http://grshortstop.blogspot.com/

From Miss Carriage to Miss Understood

A Christian friend of mine were talking about miscarriage. She and I had reached a similar place in our infertility life as it related to spirituality: neither of us wanted to desperately moan about begging God for a child. We wanted to be women of faith. If God wanted us to have children, we would accept it. If God wanted us to not have children, we would learn to accept that as well. But it's this fuzzy gray "loss" area that is difficult to accept.

In any case, my friend said something profound: She said that some things were worth fighting for.

While it may not seem it, that is exactly what women of infertlity do: they fight for the hope they have with the anticipation that it will materialize into a little person. The Christian walk is a little more delicate because we're told in Scripture to be content with what God gives us: how to reconcile the two worlds of "fighting" and "contentment"?

Today I received a Scripture verse that gave me great comfort in this arena: Isaiah 43:13: "There is no one who can deliver out of My hand; I work, and who will reverse it?"

The Scripture is in God's voice. No one can take anything from God's hand. This is a one-two punch for women who struggle with miscarriages. The medical community has some pretty uncomplimentary names for us: habitual aborter is one. And the word "miscarriage" itself suggests that a woman dropped a baby of her own volition. Both names are terrible labels to give a post-pregnant woman.

But this Scripture puts it all in God's hands: "When I work, who will reverse it?"
KARATE CHOP.
"There is NO ONE who can deliver out of My hand."
KA-POW.
The terrible nominations slide off my back and leave me strong, clean and brave.
(This is the part where you say "Preach it!")
No one can take deliver from God's hand. No one.

I've been borrowing these terrible names from the medical community for a while now. But I don't need them anymore. I'm just Emily, child of God. Just like my babies.

Dan is home, sort of.

I miss my husband. He has had this glazed over look in his face all day. He was even a little edgy. Wanted to "hurry up and get out the door so we could finish our errands."

And then I remembered. Harry Potter was being released today.

It's a good thing that I'm not our friends Andrew and Cathi because they just gave birth to a baby boy last night. We're very excited for them. But if I were in Cathi's situation I'd be up a creek fighting to get Dan's attention over Harry Potter.

I don't read Harry Potter books because I'm not a big reader. However, while Dan was driving this morning with the freshly purchased Harry Potter book in the back seat, I did confiscate his copy and read the ending. hehe. He HATES when I do that.

Harry Potter

Twas the day after midnight
When Rowling released
Book number seven,
A veritable feast

With goblins and creatures
That woo and amaze
And adored Harry Potter
Who caught the world's gaze

My daughter is bedded
She lay without peep
For Dan wore her out
With the hopes she would sleep

And then my dear husband
Like so many others
Looked at me hopefully
As if I were his mother

"Okay," I permitted
For he hadn't tarried
In working this morning
"You can read Harry."

It's quiet in our house
And along with my mate
All of our friends want
To know Harry's fate

So hushabye cobwebs
All the tasks that we juggle
Will just have to wait
We readers, we muggles.

Cool/Uncool

Cool: Today my husband is coming home! Yipppeeee!!!

Uncool: I spent the morning making 12 pounds of sloppy joe at church this morning. I smell like onions.

Cool: I CAN take a shower before he comes home.

More Cool: Hooray for backup parenting!

Uncool: Harry Potter book is releasing this weekend. Dan will want to read it all weekend.

Cool: Move over, Harry. I'm the one with his wedding ring.

Snack Attack

*A bit of fiction I whipped up. Or maybe it isn't fiction. You decide.*

This is an all time low, friends. I am writing this blog from under my dining room table. She can't see me here. She heard the familiar crinkle of the 100-Calorie Snack Packs I was opening. Then I heard her stomp down the stairs, sniffing like a bloodhound and calling innocently, "Mommy! I want a snack, too!" But I'm as quiet as a mouse, eating just a nibble at a time in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to finish the snack before Morgan takes her "tax".

At just a year old she had memorized the Nestlé yellow- that familiar chocolate chip bag with the tantalizing zipper opening for easy access. "I want chocolate, too, " she would say, watching me sneak a few chips in a hidden corner of the kitchen. Rats. Caught. It's hard to say "What chocolate?" with my mouth full. I paid her in full lest she blackmail me.

Today she has had me on the go all day, hunting me down. My preschooler has a strange Pavlovian response whenever she sees me: she suddenly remembers that she wants a sippy and a snack. But I want a snack, too. I must be wise. Whatever I put on my plate, she will want, too. Must be conniving. Baby carrots or chips?

My hairdresser tipped me off today. Said that she took her nieces to the movies intending to buy them popcorn. She brought herself baby carrots for a healthy snack. Sniffing a veggie in a dark room seemed impossible, but they found her out. Took all her carrots. Left her with the popcorn. Which she ate.

It's feast or famine. For now, I lay in wait for the ambush. Remember me.

Park

Today Morgan and I went to the park. As it had thunderstormed heavily last night, we were unable to use some of the equipment, but with a little swoosh of the hand I was able to get some water off the slides.

On the playground there is a large discus which children can sit it, be twirled around in at great speed and, with any luck, lose their dinner. Because of its concave shape, the water from the rain last night naturally congregated to the middle. I watched with amusement as 4 elementary aged children tried to compensate for the water by clinging to the sides of the disc, avoiding the middle, as it flung around. The mother in me wanted to warn them, but there was entertainment to be had. Entertainment won the coin toss.

The children learned about centrifugal force. Within seconds of spinning themselves on the disc, the water made a mad dash up the backs and bodies of all the children on board. The girls screamed, the boys "arrrggghed" and I stood there with a devilish smirk on my face. Science class paid off.

Trinity

In the Christian faith, God is a Trinity: God the Father, Jesus the Son and the Holy Spirit. We have inadvertently been teaching Morgan the Trinity and it's been interesting to see her thought process. You'll recall, gentle reader, that we don't allow her to say the name "God" yet (someone taught her some other creative names of God and we thought better). So for now we let her say "Jesus" which might explain these two stories:

THE BIKERS
On the way to church, Morgan saw some bikers go by. "Look, Mommy! There's some bikers! Is Jesus with them?"

I replied, "Yes, Jesus is with them, Morgan."

She paused. "No, Mom. Jesus is with US. God is with THEM." She used God's name properly, so I didn't chastise her. She's thinking.

_________________________________

THUNDERSTORM
Last night we were driving to home during a thunderstorm. Lightning filled the sky. "Look, Morgan," I said, "isn't the lightning beautiful? God made it."

Realizing that I said "God", Morgan retorted, "No, Mommy. Jesus made the lightning. Not that 'other fella'."

Other fella?

Be Happy or I'll Scream

I rarely recommend books because, quite honestly, I'm often on the receiving end of book recommendations. I'm not an avid reader.

This past January after our tragic miscarriage, I told Dan to go to the library and check out all the funny books he could find. I didn't want any books on grieving, loss, fertility...I just wanted to laugh again. This was the gem he brought home: "Be Happy or I'll Scream" by Sheri Lynch. She is a terrific writer. Her vocabulary is enormous and the way she strings sentences along into a cohesive happy plot gives me hope that mothers do not have to check their brain at the door. I tend to like humor that is a little more cynical, so if you're not into that, you probably won't be too jazzed by her style.

Technically, I think the book is nonfiction, but it wouldn't surprise me if it's all true. Sheri tells her story of how she tries to be a supermom. Her husband is a stay at hom father. She is a radio personality. She comes from a very sad family history which she doesn't dwell on, but gives as background to her humorous account as to why she has become such a crazy mother.

I particularly liked the chapter when she arranged for a family outing: going through a maze at a local farm. Anyway, she meant for it to be a simple, nature filled afternoon and it ended up being too much for her young children and husband. It didn't help that she wore strappy Italian leather sandals for galavanting through the dirt. If memory serves, they got lost in the maze and in order to get clues to get out, they had to know some random history about the Civil War. Something like that. Hilarious.

If nothing else, this book showed me that I'm not the only clueless one when it comes to motherhood. It's a good read.

Gifts

For women, there are two schools of thought when it comes to receiving gifts on birthdays, anniversarys, etc. Some believe that they should gladly accept whatever their "prince charming" brings their way. Others subscribe to the notion that if you don't tell 'em what you want, you'll be sorry.

I fall in the second camp.

My sister married a man who came from a missionary family. They are a fantastic and fun loving crew. Most of their childhood memories did not come from worldly goods, however. It came from singing songs and games. My sister was quite shocked when she received for her first married Christmas something like a pair of socks. Meanwhile, she gave her husband the BEST Christmas ever with tons of games and clothes. It was she who warned me on the advent of MY first married Christmas that people come from different backgrounds; it might be good to talk about expectations.

Lest I sound too worldly, I want to add that for many years, Dan and I gave each other a heart felt card for Christmas or anniversarys. We were in the midst of graduate school and dependent on one income. Believe it or not, I still enjoy a really nice card, with or without gift. It means a great deal to me.

But a gift also has its place. It says "I know you". It says "I thought of you".

Next month is our 7th anniversary and my birthday. I'm not ashamed to say that I'm dropping hints like bowling balls. I'll say things like, "I have to go, honey. I have to WATCH Morgan. She's WATCHing a show now." Sometimes I'll even go so far as to say point blank, "I'd like a watch." We agreed early on in our relationship to be open with each other about these things. It sounds so selfish and, well, it is. I don't want to return things I don't want and neither does he.

So there you have it. You can call it selfishness, but I prefer to call it "gift predestination".

Rain, Rain, Come Again.

This morning it is thunderstorming outside. I'm downright giddy about it.

There's something about a July thunderstorm. I like to light candles, put on some quiet music and putz around the house, doing laundry and occasionally stopping to play with Morgan.

And the best thing about a rain storm is that the air is cooler. I blow the metaphorical dust off my favorite blue jeans and remember with delight how they cover a multitude of sins: the bruises on my legs from knocking into something, the veiny lines of "getting older". They're forgiving and comfortable. Great for a rainy day.

Blood Draw

This morning I had an interesting event happen: I nearly passed out.

I had to have blood drawn for our plethora of fertility tests. I had blood drawn on Saturday (only a couple vials) so I thought "No big deal. Probably 2-4 vials."

I stopped counting at 8. I think they took 10 vials of blood. The first vein "rolled" and didn't give much. The second one tapped out. By the third try I had had enough.

Oh wait, I forgot to mention the best part: I brought Morgan. Thinking it was a routine blood draw, it didn't occur to me that:
1. I would have a bat for a nurse. "More blood! More blood!"
2. I would have to comfort and entertain Morgan for more than a minute.
3. I would have to assure Morgan that "Mommy was okay" between vials of blood passing between us.

Of course I won't do that again. Near the end of the vials I started slumping in my chair, got very sweaty suddenly and very dizzy. I was trying not to throw up. She called in backup.

A more experienced nurse was brought into the room. Reading between the lines, I think she was chastising the other nurse in "nurse code". It was hilarious. She said things like, "Next time we take this much blood from a patient, we should automatically have them lay down to do it." She used a lot of "we should have..." sentences which, of course, means "YOU should have..." Translation: "Whoa, Nelly! NEVER do that again."

Having Morgan with me probably kept me from passing out. There's something about trying to ACT like you're okay for your child that makes you FEEL okay. That, and the looney nurse, made me get out of there fairly quickly.

Moral of the Story: Bat nurses = bad nurses.

Morgan Stories

Having a three year old in the house definitely adds to our "storytelling" ability. Long gone are the awkward silent dinners because of a lack of stories to tell. Morgan adds a new dimension to our family that rivals the storytelling of BOTH her grandfathers, who have a lot of stories in their own back pockets. She gives them new fodder.

GOOD MORNING MORGAN
This morning I greeted Morgan with the traditional "Good morning, Morgan" and she replied "I have a wedgie."

RUB A DUB TUB
A few nights ago I ran a bath for Morgan, got her situated in the tub and then ran to the kitchen to check on the dinner. I heard here singing and playing in the bath, so I knew she was okay. I went to check on her 20 minutes later and discovered that she had been bathing in the dark. "Morgan, why are you in the dark?" I asked. Her reply was priceless: "Well, you turned the light off, Mommy. Next time Morgan says 'Mommy, please turn the light back on' you should listen to Morgan."

We have a "stay seated in the tub" rule where Morgan can only stand up in the tub if parents are present. We don't want her to slip in the tub after all. So when I drew her bath and left, apparently I turned off the light on my way out. She knew she wasn't allowed to leave the bath tub, so she sat in the dark tub and played.

This is especially puzzling how she is OVERLY obedient with this particular scenario, but tries to find loopholes in other "rules" we have in our house.

SCRIPTING
Morgan is notorious for telling us what we're supposed to say. Earlier this week she asked for something, probably a cookie before dinner. I told her "No, not now" and she said, "Mommy, you're not supposed to say 'No'. You're supposed to say 'Alright, Morgan.' See?"

There is never a dull moment with Morgan around. Thanks for making my summer juicy, Miss Morgan.

Crushes

It's a little hard to write today's blog. Morgan is rattling in the background: "Mommy, let's see the news (on the computer). You think you can handle that? What do you want? A promotion?" She's memory barfing from SpongeBob Squarepants. It's hard to write with her baby babble, but it's sure funny.

So anyway, here's my post: I'd like you to meet my competition: Ashley Judd. Dan has a not-so-secret crush on the Juddster which involves him and a friend of his (Kevin Hoeksema) pretending to gasp for breath as they say her name. It's that bad. Note to Dan: Observe that I included a photo of Judd with her hot husband. Sorry, dude. :)

Dan's competition is Matthew McConaughey. I like to tease Dan by stuttering Matthew's name. "Matthew Mc-ha-ha-ha-hanahay" is roughly how I say it.

At the end of the day, we jest. Surely we're not the only ones with teensy weensy celebrity crushes?

More Morganisms

I gave Morgan a salty snack: a flavored oyster cracker. To see if she'd like it or not, I just gave her one for starters. Her response? "How do you expect Morgan to have just one?" I love how she talks in the third person. Laughing, I gave her a handful.

_______________________________________

Morgan and I were looking up into the sky at the clouds. "Look, Morgan," I said, "I see a bunny in the clouds! What do you see?"

She paused thoughtfully. "I see painting supplies."

Car Wash

This is totally a random post that just came to mind and put a smile on my face.

A few years ago, Dan and I went through a car wash which claimed to be "touchless". We paid our fee and pulled the car through the bay. The water began to spritz on our car and then large, rubbery arms flopped all over the car like a mutant octopus. The sudsy stems whacked our car gently as we waited for the car wash to finish.

Inside the car, Dan and I looked at each other with confusion. Dan broke the silence: "I thought this was supposed to be touchless. There is definite touching." We couldn't help but laugh; this couldn't possibly be "touchless".

To this day if we're irritated by any form of touching (like a cart brushing up against us in a grocery store) we'll look at each other and say, "There was definite 'touching'."

Scissors

Morgan set up an "office" next to my desk. There she is with the scissors again.

Ratatouille

Dan is out of town in Houston, so this evening as I was surfing on the web, I pulled up the trailer for "Ratatouille", the new Disney Pixar movie. Morgan was looking over my shoulder and expressed an interest in it. "Want to see it?" I asked her. She sure did. So we caught a 6:30 showing of it.

Boy was it a great movie. I think Morgan liked it. This was her first full feature film which she sat through in its entirety. We tried this once before with another movie last year and she freaked out. Fortunately we only went to the dollar theater for that venture; we rather expected some sort of disruption and thought it best not to pay full price until we knew she could handle it. So tonight was the big night... the night I determined that Morgan and Mommy can go out on "dates". Girl time. It was wonderful.

Morgan was thrilled from the moment she saw the building. Naturally I couldn't let her first movie-going experience be void of popcorn. I gladly forked over the dough for the overpriced snack and poured the greasy buttery-ish goo on top. We went hand-in-hand into the theater.

The movie is very good. Like a lot of Pixar films, it crosses age boundaries easily. There was a variety of generations present this evening, all laughing easily at the exciting plot and snooty humor.

As a foodie, I enjoyed the movie on another level. I was glad I ate dinner before I came. Terrific.

The movie ended and we walked back to our car holding hands. I felt my daughter's soft little fingers in mine and wondered what age she would absolutely refuse to hold them anymore. Four? Five? I banished the thought. Tonight was special. Mommy and Morgan time. I was acutely aware that we were "bonding" which made me tear up a little.

I should add that Dan was missed. As we left the theater, Morgan saw a family in front of us and started to cry a little, "I want Daddy to come home." I assured her he would come home tomorrow. But this night, Morgan, is ours.

GastroenterOLLLLLogist

So I went to see my gastroenterologist today. Say that once and you'll develop acid reflux. heheh

Anyway, I have an observation to make: if a nurse is particularly rude in a doc's office, it's because the doc is ESPECIALLY nice. Just an observation that I haven't found to be wrong yet. I mean 2 out of 2 times can't be wrong. And if the nurse if NICE, then you're toast b/c the doc is probably a bear.

Naturally I'm talking about the appointment I had this morning. The nurse gave took my vitals and asked the "summary" questions so that the doc could quickly scan the sheet in the 15 minutes that the corporate office allocated to him (INCLUDING bathroom breaks) and script out his remedy. Whew. (Good job, run-on sentence. Good job.) She was particularly curt with me, cutting me off somewhat and "toning down" my remedies. She convinced me that the migraines I got from a medication were NOT an allergic reaction. I fell under the spell of her dictatorial nursing style. I answered her as I would the Soup Nazi or "no doctor for me".

So then my doc came in. Very pleasant man. He proceeds to read the summary. He said "It says here that it hurts your tummy when you eat veggies." THAT'S HER SUMMARY? I've been having semi-asthmatic attacks from acid reflux for 3 months now and she thinks I have a problem with produce? I even mentioned to her that I started blacking out from lack of air and she tells the doc that my veg o' the day gives me an ouchy tummy? Grrrrr and more grrrrr. I knew she wasn't taking me seriously. Taking a deep breath I asked the nice doc if I could tell "my story". He was very kind, listened intently and treated me like a respectable human. He will definitely benefit from my business again.

But to the doc: Thank you, sir for showing me concern and respect. It's nice to have a medical professional like you.

Photographer

We have a budding photographer. Would you believe that Morgan took this photo with my Nikon camera? She's pretty good about waiting until she sees the right image and shooting. Not the best photo of me, but if you could have seen what I saw, you would be as proud as me: a very particular artist. :)

Love Fest

Sweet nothings Morgan told me this morning:

"Mom, I love you more than trash heaps."

"Mom, I love you more than toots."

"Mom, I love you more than tears."


*Side note: I think the "trash heaps" comes from watching Oscar the Grouch

Homemade Confetti

You've heard it before: kids tend to like the toys that cost the least. The amount of cost of the toy is directly proportional to how much they'll use it. If it costs $100, they'll play with it one hour. If it's a 5 cent yard sale find, it'll make the journey to college with them.

I bought Morgan a pair of $2 scissors. She loves them. Several times a day she'll just cut paper into little confetti pieces. The paper scraps have to be swept up every night, but who cares? She's very proud of herself and looking for anything to cut. We continue to indoctrinate with the mantra "Only cut paper. Only cut paper." But we do have to beware as bills come in paper form as well. :)

Meanwhile, we're planning on profiting from her paper cutting. Homemade confetti: 5 bucks a bag. Make checks payable to Morgan's College Fund.

Crate and Barrel Outlet

Something really cool happened today.

My husband and I were in need of some end tables. Our sectional couch could not entirely fit in our new living room, so we took the end off of it. As a result, the shortened couch fit a lot better but since there was no "arm" on one side, the pillows kept sliding off. I saw my sister Noel do this trick in one of her rooms: she had the same situation with a sectional, so she purchased a heavy duty end table to "anchor" the side. It worked. The pillows stopped shifting.

Operation heavy end table was in progress.

I had been looking on craigstlist.com for a while but unless I wanted a glass top table or a wiry framed one, I couldn't find an end table. My husband and I weren't interested in spending $400-600 a pop for new ones. We were more in a much smaller range of budget.

Before we left shopping, I asked God for success in our shopping trip. We don't have much time to shop together anymore; Saturdays are pretty much the only day. And the way our couch pillows kept shifting, we were going to have to put boulders on the end if we didn't find something soon.

So here's what I told God: " Lord, we need some end tables and we'd like to spend X amount of dollars. Please help us."

We went to the Crate and Barrel outlet and found just what we needed. There was an end table on the sale floor that we liked and another that looked pretty good. Dan wanted matching ones, but we would have to accept these similar looking ones. Additionally, they were a bit more than we wanted to spend, but we were willing to do it. One table was more expensive than the other by a lot.

Here's the cool part: when we went to pick up our tables in the warehouse, it turned out that they had TWO of the one we liked the best that was cheaper. They were having a 50% off sale which helped us get $30 lower than our already low price point. Yippee! Can you believe that? A Crate and Barrel set of end tables for super cheap? It's very hard to find two matching end tables at the Crate and Barrel outlet. They tend to be bought quickly.

So with a tired husband, an active three year old and a small budget we were able to get what we needed. I'm very grateful. God knew our situation and heard our prayer.

Questions

Today, Morgan said something that I ALWAYS hoped she would ask me:

"Mommy, if we eat poopies we'll get really sick, won't we?"

Baby Talk from Morgan

Today my friend Ann watched Morgan while Dan and I went to the fertility doc. We didn't tell Morgan where we were going except to say that we were going to see a doctor. She asked why and we just told her that it was a personal reason, but that we were okay.

Ann told me that while Morgan was there she prayed at lunch that "her mommy would get a baby in her tummy". Later, she explained to Ann that "My mommy doesn't have a baby in her tummy and that makes her sad. But I can be a baby and then I'm going back into my mommy's tummy to make her happy again."

This is so weird. I don't go around the house moping and talking about babies. She's a very sensitive little girl apparently. And this may explain why she's been acting like a baby lately. Thanks for the story, Ann!

Zebra Horse

Something went horribly wrong in the test kitchen, Jeeves.

Found on yahoo.com

Craigslist.com

My friend Stephanie introduced to me this new terrible addiction: Craigslist.com. Think "yard sale" on the web. For the most part, it's local pickup. It's similar to ebay only in that you can buy things on the web that others don't want anymore. But it's better than ebay in some aspects:
1. It's generally cheaper.
2. It isn't an auction site (good and bad... you have to pick up your item quickly or else someone else may get it).

So today I had a friend help me pick up a bulletin board which I wanted for my office. It's huge. The dimensions are roughly 48" x 72". I'm going to hang it up on my wall and call it my "wall of happiness". I'm planning on putting photos and images on it that remind me to be happy, grateful or, by jeeves, to stop getting wrapped around the axles of life.

And here's the uber cool part: the board was $10. A new one in the store costs about $100. Isn't if fun getting a deal of something you need? (Dan would say "want", but that's just semantics.)

And today, for a small cost I also bought a 27" TV and DVD/VHS player. It's going in our bedroom. Apparently I have a tendency to fall asleep during movies so this way we can be in bed while Dan finishes his show. How's THAT for a date night! :)

So try it out. It's fun and easy.

Book Addiction?

I'd like to show a few "naughty" photos I took in Maryland. The first is my parents reading room. They call it the "Quiet Room". The books here are relatively tame.

The next image is of a collage sampling my mother's books. These are just the cookbooks. Mom, I love you... and there is therapy for your condition. :) Aw, shucks. I shouldn't complain. She's a great cook! (As always, click on the image to see it larger.)

Water Memories

Today I sat in traffic next to a noisy monster truck. I lack the car speak to describe its appearance except to say that its tires were nearly the height of my car. And unless the driver owned a small crane, he would have to pole vault to the drivers seat. Generally speaking, the sight of such trucks does not appeal to me. But today was different.

When the engine in this truck revved for the green light, it made a low guttural noise. The sound transported me to my Dad's boat on the Chesapeake Bay where we would occasionally spend the summer. When my father would turn the boat key in the ignition, the same low guttural noise would gurgle in the water. There would be a brief smell of gasoline and some smoke as the water lapped gently on the sides of the boat before we took off.

My father's boat was nothing fancy. His only qualifications for a boat, to my recollection, involved holding 8 people and being able to tow a tube. His first boat was really his father's, but for all intents and purposes my father babied that thing like it was his own; it was considered his.

He bought his own boat years later. It was never bought new, only used. He knew boats were for leisure and didn't need to be super fancy. Plus he had 5 mouths to feed.

I remember with fondness when he would send me to the bow of the boat as he put it in low gear. We'd troll around the Chesapeake and scoop up crabs in our nets. Some would be softshell, some hardshell. We'd throw them in a bucket and hear them click around frantically in an effort to scramble out. One time I ignorantly thought I should "help" a baby crab which was in the clutches of another crab. The tiny creature promptly cut through my thumb and skittered back into the bay.

And the end of a day if we had enough crabs Dad would steam them for dinner. I never liked hearing the crabs dance around the metal pot until they succumbed to the steam. But boy were they fun to eat. We'd throw some newspaper out on the picnic table and dig in. It was a time of family bonding and learning about nature.

I really miss the smell of salt water and the sound of gently lapping waves. But sometimes on quiet, gentle windy nights the prairie preserve behind my house blows gently and reminds me that home is not too far.

Marriage

I made the mistake of reading a book which encouraged families to make traditions of their own. Realizing that I usually take the reins in this realm, I asked Dan if he'd like to make any traditions for 4th of July. Surprisingly, he took to the idea quickly.

We are now the proud new owners of fireworks.

He assures me that he grew up with these. I am trying to remain open-minded while taking precautions. I do recall being allow to play with some sparklers when I visited my grandparents in Pennsylvania as a child. I was scared of them which made the boys laugh. I hope Morgan exhibits similar behavior.

Then, in an effort to "interact" more in our marriage, I asked him to come up with some way that we could spend time together that did not involve the television. So he taught me poker last night. It was fun. I donned a doe-eyed expression throughout the evening to show my utter inexperience of the game. I think I'll use that as my poker face from now on. I nearly wiped all his chips out and then began betting much more riskily and less intelligently. In the end he won. Maybe I let him. :)

Home Sweet Home Survey

I have another survey question. I enjoyed reading people's responses so much to the last survey that I thought I'd throw another one out there. I know a lot of you are off on vacation this week, but maybe when you return you can post a thought.

My question is: What do you do to make your house feel like "home sweet home"? It could be about food, your pet, traditions, etc. Whatever you want.

My answer: Even though my house still is not very organized, I really enjoying lighting candles on a clean dinner table every night and playing music in the living room. It makes me feel like there is some peace in the house.