Cakewalk

And We're Back!

2012-01-31T22:01:00.000-06:00

It's been a l-o-n-g, drawn out process, but our home renovations are finally complete and things are almost back to normal around here. My computer desk is once again accessible, which means I'm back to blogging. I will write more about our adventures in reno-land soon and promise to post lots of pictures, too. Our contractor is coming next week to take pictures for the company website, so I'm working like crazy to get everything in order. I know it's just a local site, but I feel a bit like I'm getting ready for my own personal Home Tour! Stay tuned!

For Ryan

2011-12-22T20:41:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow is your birthday, and I want to celebrate you. I love you so very much and I'm incredibly proud to be your wife. You are such a loving husband, and you've grown into the most amazing father, too.

It is such a joy to watch you play with our boys, and I love to see their eyes sparkle with excitement when you come home at the end of the day. James breaks into a huge grin, and Rhys hurriedly trips over himself as he runs to greet you at the door. And that is how I feel, too, when I see you.

You are patient and kind, especially when I am feeling the stresses of motherhood, and I truly appreciate how much help and support you provide. You are a loving son to your parents, and you are setting an excellent example for our sons to follow.

Even in the midst of a torn-apart kitchen, multiple poopy diapers, and an endless list of things to do, you keep your cool and remind me that things will be okay.

I am so blessed to know you, and I wish you a wonderful day full of lots of laughter and plenty of beer.

Happy Birthday, my sweet husband!

My Birthday Boy

2011-12-15T19:43:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow is your third birthday, sweet James, and I am constantly amazed at how much you've grown. No longer that tiny baby we brought home on a cold winter day, you have become a big boy full of endless curiosity, loads of energy, and wisdom beyond your years.

You are such a joy to experience, little one, and though your dad and I may struggle at times with your desire for independence and your insistence that things go exactly your way all the time, we love you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, and on and on and on forever.

Happy Birthday, my sweet James. I wish you a wonderful day!

(Photo by Mary-Beth Archer)

Couple Crafting

2011-12-05T20:58:00.000-06:00

We're getting ready for Christmas and a pretty big home renovation project soon after, so Ryan and I are currently rearranging, packing things up, and fixing little details around the house.

Since James was old enough to crawl, we've had a wooden toy box in front of our never-used fireplace. It works great to hold toys and keep both boys out of the fireplace, but we're a little tired of seeing it there. Since we'll be getting new flooring, we're hoping to dress up the living room a bit, which means relocating the trusty toy box to a different area of the house.

So how, then, to disguise the fireplace in a less intrusive way?

Ryan actually suggested boarding it up completely, when I remembered running across this clever idea several years ago when first searching for a fireplace-disguise solution.

We adapted her instructions using a piece of wood cut to fit inside our fireplace, which we then covered with ivory felt that matches the tile around the hearth. The board is tethered to the inside of the fireplace, to prevent it from falling on the boys, and it will eventually be attached to the fireplace walls via strips of velcro. The board is extremely thin and light, so it won't hurt our little guys even if it should bump a head or two.

I cut out different shapes and patterns in colored felt, and gave the boys free reign. Rhys was delighted and proceeded to eat some small felt pieces, so I realize that I need to give them large pieces for now. James had a blast making different shapes and patterns, and then literally wiping the slate, or board, as the case may be, free with his hands. I might have gotten a bit uptight about this, and Ryan quickly reminded me that our son is not going to play with this new creation like a "sweet little girl." Point taken.

Overall, we're pretty pleased with this new toy, and I'm impressed that Ryan and I did it together, for less than $20.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

2011-11-26T19:37:00.000-06:00

I was folding some clothes in the bedroom tonight, listening to this song as I worked. I might have let slip a single, "Fever!" when I heard James ask Ryan, "Did Mama make a noise?"

So Thankful

2011-11-21T21:07:00.001-06:00

For the family farm,

tractor rides,

falling leaves,

country boys,

yummy s'mores,

wild turkeys,

big machines,

and footsteps to follow.

Time for a Change

2011-11-17T20:18:00.000-06:00

I don't take well to change, and I try to avoid it whenever I can. Just ask my poor husband about the time we switched cell phone companies a few weeks after Rhys' birth. But I know that change can be a breath of fresh air, and sometimes, it is desperately needed.

This year, for the very first time ever, our little family of four is going away for Thanksgiving, all by ourselves. We've never done something like this, especially with two small boys in tow, and despite the lists I'll check and recheck, the separate bags I have to pack and repack, and the mounds of diapers, pull-ups, and baby wipes we'll stow in the trunk of our car, I am so excited!

And before we leave next week, we're meeting with a real live contractor to make plans for new flooring and a kitchen renovation. That also scares the you-know-what out of me, but I'm excited to see the end result, whenever that may be, because it's time for a change. And this time, I am ready.

The Sweetest Sound

2011-11-15T18:48:00.000-06:00

Rhys has started calling James, "May," drawn out in two long syllables. It is so sweet to hear him call his brother, and sometimes, when Rhys is annoyed, he will even scream it.

My Sweet Boys

2011-11-12T19:54:00.000-06:00

Saturday morning at our house.

Stay Golden

2011-11-10T20:11:00.000-06:00

Raising two boys has opened my eyes to things I once ignored. That's why this is such a powerful reminder.

ICAN CBAC Week

2011-11-05T19:32:00.000-05:00

My friend, Melek, is the official blogger for ICAN's website, and she designated this past week as CBAC (Cesarean Birth after Cesarean) Week. I'm so thrilled that she chose to focus on this issue, because it's important for CBAC moms, like both Melek and me, to feel supported in our decisions, especially when our plans for a VBAC change.

You can read the week's worth of stories here.

Slipping Up

2011-11-05T16:53:00.004-05:00

I'm on a mission to redecorate our house, slowly but surely. Our plan is to install new flooring and redo our kitchen in the next year or so, and I've been working to update the other rooms a little each month, too.

When we bought our house six years ago, it was decorated for the ease and convenience of two childless, working people. Now that I'm a full-time, stay-at-home mom to two active little boys and Ryan works from home most of the time, we're getting bored with the way things look and are ready to change it up a bit, or a lot, to be honest.

As an educator by nature and training, it's my habit to become an expert on something as I learn about it. Remember my quest for a VBAC? Well, now that my baby bearing days are behind me, I'm having a blast soaking up as much information as I can about decorating, home design, and do-it-yourself techniques.

I really love the French country influence that is so popular now and I'd like to incorporate it into my home, just not on as grand a scale as places like Pottery Barn and Restoration Hardware advertise. In an effort to do this, I set about finding ways to creatively and inexpensively change the decor in my living room, which has a lot of dark pieces in it. I changed the curtains earlier this summer, which made a huge difference and let in a lot more light, something I crave in my home.

With two little boys, it doesn't make sense for us to purchase new furniture right now, and even though I dream of linen sofas with damask details and velvet pillows, that reality is a long way off. So how, then, could I transform my dark living room into something lighter?

Enter the magic of slipcovers. I spent months reading about and analyzing different brands, requesting swatch after swatch, ordering and returning several different covers, before finally settling on these by Sure Fit. The look isn't exactly what I dream about, but it's most definitely a change for the better in my book, and I was inspired by the lovely designs of this talented Houston decorator. If she can use a slipcover, I figure, then so can I. I actually spotted the cover on her couch and emailed her, and she was gracious enough to tell me that it was, indeed, the one I had planned to purchase.

When I originally started this hunt several months ago, my target price was $250, which seemed a reasonable amount to pay for the look of new furniture. In the end, my efforts totaled about $300, because of the look and style that work best with our pieces, but it's all washable and will last for several years, until we are ready and able to purchase new furniture.

I wanted to share this idea because, in this economy, we're all trying to save as much as we can, and slipcovers can be a really affordable way to update perfectly good, if boring, furniture without spending a fortune. Think of them as the gold spray paint of furniture.

Here are the Before and After shots of my living room, taken with my phone, since I am no photographer.

For my next project, I'm working on my formal living and dining room, which are filled with retro hand-me-down pieces.

True Colors

2011-10-30T19:25:00.000-05:00

I received an email from Dermablend today, and it must be the coolest ad I've seen in a very long time. Seriously, it gave me chills! I once tried their products to camouflage the effects of scleroderma on my face, but I found the makeup too heavy for my taste. It obviously works, though!

Happy Halloween!

Park Days

2011-10-30T19:12:00.001-05:00

Now that the weather is finally cooler, Ryan and I like to take the boys to San Gabriel Park in Georgetown, a few miles up the road from our house. The park runs alongside a river, and it's not unusual to encounter ducks, geese, and even horses, accompanied by riders, of course. There are different playgrounds scattered throughout the park, and James and Ryan run from place to place while I push Rhys in his stroller and try not to panic when James gets too close to the river's edge.

Usually, we see lots of children and families like ourselves. On our last visit, we saw a girl in a purple gown having her quinceanera pictures taken and a group of little boys dressed from head to toe in cowboy gear, riding horseback through the park with their parents. It's a change of scenery from our neighborhood, and the boys have a wonderful time.

Today, we met Hope. I first saw her as she jumped too quickly from a running van, and the elderly man driving it screamed at her to wait. She ran to the playground ahead of him, and he took his time getting out of his vehicle, walking around it several times before heading over to where she played. Hope was friendly and soon found a playmate in James, climbing the playscape and riding the tire swing alongside him. I noticed the dirty knees of her pants and her dry, cracked lips, and my heart broke for her a bit.

Hope played with our boys for a long time, laughing as Ryan spun her "too fast" on the tire swing and quietly asking James, "Who's your mom's boyfriend?" Her grandpa made a bit of small talk and easily left her with us to walk down by the river, before she ran off after him. He smoked a few cigarettes while she played, and I heard him call her a "silly girl" over and over again, once saying that he would tell her grandmother how silly she was.

Oh, thank God, there is a grandmother.

He told me she was the third oldest of his great-grandchildren, that she would be five in March, and you could hear the pride in his voice. We left shortly after that, and Hope seemed sad to see us go. Maybe we'll see her again on one of our park visits, and I'll pray that she is safe and warm tonight.

I don't know what her little life is like, and I know it's wrong to assume too much, but she has a grandfather who takes her to the park on a Sunday afternoon, and that has to count for something.

Longevity

2011-10-25T20:40:00.000-05:00

Congratulations to my wonderful husband, who celebrates ten years with IBM tomorrow. His company celebrated their 100th anniversary this year, and today, they announced that Ginni Rometty will become their first female CEO in January.

That's pretty cool in my book.

Pumpkin Time!

2011-10-23T21:06:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, we made our annual trip to the pumpkin patch and picked up a few beauties, or "balls," as Rhys likes to call them. James favors the really bumpy, gnarled type, and I found a gorgeous silver pumpkin that I'm pretty sure is the same species used by Cinderella's fairy godmother when she pulled that carriage out of thin air.

Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo!

Earthquake!

2011-10-20T17:55:00.000-05:00

It seems there was an honest-to-goodness earthquake (Yes, an earthquake!) near my dad's hometown this morning.

A Sweet Story

2011-10-19T19:38:00.000-05:00

I don't consider myself hopelessly romantic or even especially sentimental, but this story touched my heart today. The testament of this couple's love must be so comforting for their children.

And yes, it is reminiscent of The Notebook, at least the movie, because I haven't read the book.

Lucky Girl

2011-10-17T19:17:00.000-05:00

Look who brought me flowers tonight!

(That scratch on his face is from tripping over a baseball bat and falling on the patio, poor little guy.)

The Icing

2011-10-17T14:39:00.000-05:00

I love this dress. Actually, I love the photograph of the girl wearing the dress. I wish I had somewhere to wear it, not that it would fit me. It also comes in cerulean. So lovely!

The Flu Blues

2011-10-13T19:36:00.000-05:00

This isn't meant to be controversial, but my husband and I aren't big believers in the flu shot. I don't get one and neither does he, so now that James is in pre-school and around many children on a regular basis, we really thought long and hard about vaccinating our boys against the seasonal flu.

I totally understand how vaccines work, and I believe in them completely. I've also had the flu several times and lived to tell about it, and I've experienced the miraculous healing powers of Tamiflu. Seriously, one yucky day in bed and then you are good as new. I even had a doctor tell me one year that he never gets the flu shot, choosing instead to take Tamiflu at the first sign of symptoms. But that's easier said than done these days.

Anyway, when Rhys had his 15-month checkup this week, we discussed this issue with our doctor and decided to vaccinate both boys for the first time. According to him, Tamiflu isn't as effective for babies, and James was eligible for the nasal mist instead of the shot. That seemed easy enough, and it felt like the right thing to do.

Until both boys got sick with fever, chills, and lots of yucky diapers, all of which are possible side effects of the flu vaccines. Watching James lying on our cold tile floor after attempting to eat lunch, I realized that I didn't think this decision through carefully. I have that awful mother guilt in the pit of my stomach, and while I chose to vaccinate them to protect them, I feel so guilty for making them sick.

Parenthood, while a shared occupation among so many of us, is really a lonely road to walk. We all have to do what's right for our children and ourselves, and in this case, I honestly feel like I dropped the ball a little bit. Plus, I'm supposed to drag both boys back to the doctor in a month's time for their second dose of the vaccine. Just so they can get sick again.

I realize this is supposed to be for their own good, and to protect them from getting really sick; but let's face it, the seasonal flu is not the same as, say, Diptheria or Polio, and it will never, as I understand it, be eradicated. So, is all this pain and suffering, just to avoid another short illness, really worth it in the end?

I think we're going to think just as long and hard about this issue next year, and maybe make a different decision. Again, this is just my personal take on the matter and is not meant to stir up controversy.

Age of Innocence?

2011-10-03T20:57:00.000-05:00

As with most things these days, I'm late to discover this article about later in life motherhood, but it is truly fascinating. The pictures are lovely, too.

Simple Things

2011-09-26T20:22:00.000-05:00

While the calendar technically says it's Fall, it still feels like the middle of summer here in Austin. Despite this, I've really been in the mood to start some autumn decorating, and James and I have been busy with a few easy crafts. I really need instant gratification when it comes to crafting, since I don't have the patience or the time required to work on a long-term project, and these ideas can be done in one sitting.

The first, a Play Dough Tree, is courtesy of this month's High Five, James' favorite magazine. All you need is a small tree branch and some play dough, and you just anchor the branch in a small pot or onto a plate before decorating the tree with little buds of clay. The magazine suggested fall colors, but we only had neon, and those worked just as well, I think. James was so proud of his hard work, and best of all, he played with the play dough for an entire hour after the tree was complete.

I ran across our second craft, Toilet Paper Pumpkins, while I was researching another very important topic that I hope to write about soon. These are so cute and easy to make, and I love that nothing has to be glued down, so you can use everything again, including the toilet paper. We added things found on our walks, like acorns and leaves from the trees.

And the best part, by far, is that everything was already on hand, so these cost literally nothing to make. Hope you enjoy!

The French Revolution

2011-09-16T14:33:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, I received a copy of Restoration Hardware's fall catalog, or "Source Book," as they like to call it, in the mail. This thing is huge and rivals the September issue of Vogue in both size and weight.

The book is full of gorgeous items, many of which are French-inspired, a look I have fallen for recently, but one American-made piece caught my eye in particular.

For a mere $1,995, you can buy a reproduction of an early 20th-century factory lift, complete with an actual wheel that raises and lowers the mechanism. The design geniuses at Restoration Hardware have repurposed this lift as a coffee table, but in my house, and I'm guessing it's the same in most houses with young children, the piece would go by another more descriptive and appropriate name.

The Guillotine.

Seriously, can't you just see the blood spattering all over the perfectly placed Belgian linen sofa?

Mother Don't Worry

2011-09-06T20:47:00.002-05:00

My husband is a big fan of Iron and Wine's music, and it has basically become the background theme to our life with two boys. We listen to it in the car on any trip we take, and it has calmed our little one down quickly and easily since he was a newborn. If the boys are restless in the backseat, the peaceful tones of Sam Beam bring instant calm, like covering them with a warm blanket.

Beam himself is a father of five (and his wife is a midwife!) who lives near Austin, and I often imagine him singing these songs to his own children.

And so we listened to a favorite song, "Upward Over the Mountain," as we drove James to his first day of preschool this morning. We were all nervous and excited, and my husband and I both fought back tears as we watched our sweet, oldest son enter his classroom for the first time.

Mother remember the blink of an eye when I breathed through your body?

He went eagerly, stopping only to give us each a quick hug before wandering off with his teacher to find some blocks. And that was it. The first of many milestones as we watch our baby grow into a boy and, eventually, a man.

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten.

Little by little, he will walk away from us. That's the way it's supposed to work, and yet it is still so hard.

Sons are like birds, flying upward over the mountain.

A Poem for James, Who Is Afraid of Owls

2011-09-04T07:19:00.001-05:00

This poem is from today's Writer's Almanac, and perfect for my little boy.

A Barred Owl

The warping night air having brought the boom
Of an owl's voice into her darkened room,
We tell the wakened child that all she heard
Was an odd question from a forest bird,
Asking of us, if rightly listened to,
"Who cooks for you?" and then "Who cooks for you?"

Words, which can make our terrors bravely clear,
Can also thus domesticate a fear,
And send a small child back to sleep at night
Not listening for the sound of stealthy flight
Or dreaming of some small thing in a claw
Borne up to some dark branch and eaten raw.

--Richard Wilbur

Goodbye to Cactus Pryor

2011-08-30T20:49:00.000-05:00

Cactus Pryor, one of Austin's true originals, passed away today. The Stateman is currently running a wonderful tribute to him. I first encountered Cactus shortly after moving here, as I listened to a local radio station during my morning commute. His stories were always hilarious, and he ended every piece with the puzzling, "thermerstrockimortimer." Nobody is certain what that means, and I thought I read somewhere once that this cryptic message would be revealed upon Pryor's death, though I'm not positive about that.

I do know that Cactus Pryor's kindness and wit will be greatly missed.

Tooting My Own Horn

2011-08-23T12:40:00.000-05:00

My friend, M., is the official blogger for the ICAN site, and she recently asked me to do a guest post. I jumped at the chance and it's featured today.

I can't believe I get to say this, but come see me here!

Zombie Love

2011-08-20T18:29:00.001-05:00

Tonight, I stumbled upon these awesome engagement photos by Amanda Rynda and was so impressed by her humor and creativity. Eat your heart out!

Cheap Thrills

2011-08-18T20:59:00.001-05:00

When I was in college, my art history professor, who was not into fashion in any way, shape, or form, said she always bought the September issue of Vogue (you know, the really big, fat one with all the fall stuff), since it was a great way to get so much pop art and photography for just five dollars. I totally agree, and I bought my copy today! It will keep me busy for many days to come, since I can only sneak peeks at it when my little guys are busy playing or sleeping.

Small World

2011-08-17T20:54:00.000-05:00

When I was pregnant with James almost three years ago, I joined a small online forum for women expecting a baby in December of 2008. Since that time, our group has left its original site to form our own safe haven, and I've come to know several of the moms really well, if only online. We've supported each other through multiple births, deaths, and the everyday events that shape our lives, and I count some of these women as close friends, even though they live in places as far away as Scotland and Australia.

Well, one of my online friends is coming to visit her father in New Braunfels, just a stone's throw from Austin, and we are hoping to get together in person. I'm so excited to finally meet an online friend. She'll be the second mom I've connected with this way. So see, who needs Facebook?

Psst!

2011-08-11T17:16:00.001-05:00

I got a new Pottery Barn catalog in the mail today and noticed something interesting. Now, don't go posting this on Pinterest, but these cute glass bird canisters, or something very similar, can also be found here at a better price. I know because I've had my eye on them for a few months. Shh!

Poor Kate

2011-08-10T15:02:00.001-05:00

There's an interesting article about Kate Middleton on ABC News' site today. It seems she's taking a lot of heat for wearing the same pieces of clothing over and over again, and critics are also tired of her hair and eye makeup.

I've been beating the "no black eyeliner" drum for months, thank you very much, and I definitely agree that it makes her look hard. She's a beautiful woman, but not many girls can rock the Cleopatra look. Snooki can, because she has large eyes (and, well, she's Snooki), but Kate can't, and she needs to listen to those who only have her best interests at heart. Interestingly, Kate's mother and sister also line their eyes entirely, so I see a family fashion intervention in the works.

I do personally like that the Duchess recycles her outfits, because that's what real girls do, and she certainly seems like the genuine article. Plus, she's on Vanity Fair's Best Dressed List, and that's no small accomplishment.

And I seem to remember another famous Princess who had a hard time parting ways with her eyeliner, though, back then, it was blue, not black.

Let's give poor Kate time to learn the error of her ways as she adjusts to life as a member of the Royal family. I, for one, wouldn't want to be in her shoes, even if they are really cute and affordable.

Ready or Not

2011-08-09T19:49:00.001-05:00

I still can't believe it, but in less than one month, my sweet, oldest son will start pre-school. Sure, it's only two days a week, but this will be the beginning of an entirely new routine for our family and the first of many major milestones for James.

We've been talking about school since I enrolled him last spring, but I'm not sure James is totally convinced that he's actually going. We drive by the playground regularly so he can see it, and he is convinced that he will ride the school bus every morning. I've explained that I will drive him, since his school is in our neighborhood and there isn't a bus, and he's pretty disappointed about that. In fact, the last time we talked about it, I said something like, "Mommy will drive you to school," and he replied, "You are driving me nuts." Thanks a lot!

We actually have to go school shopping for supplies this year and there's also an orientation meeting to attend at 7 pm one evening, which is the absolute worst time of day for us, or to be honest, for Rhys. But, somehow, we'll manage, with or without a crying baby brother in tow.

My youngest sister is a pre-school teacher, and she headed back to work this week to prepare for her upcoming year. I spent several years in her shoes, and it absolutely amazes me to think that, a couple of blocks from my house, two teachers are preparing a classroom for my son, with a cubby with his name on it. How is that even possible, when he is still so new?

I know I'm overprotective, and I want to give James room to grow and test out this new experience, but I'm pretty sure there will be tears on September 6th, and they might not fall from my two-year-old's eyes.

The Forsyte Saga

2011-07-30T20:17:00.000-05:00

I recently watched PBS' version of The Forsyte Saga, and now I'm about a quarter deep into John Galsworthy's epic tale of a wealthy family in Victorian England. The book itself totals nearly 900 pages and comprises three novels, two short stories (or interludes) between the main pieces, an extensive family tree, and explanatory notes. It's not exactly light summer reading, but I'm thoroughly enjoying it and Galsworthy's writing is so much fun and timely. Despite being written almost 100 years ago, the author's observations of privileged society are still incredibly applicable today.

I also have to add that the book itself is incredibly beautiful. I'm a book lover, so I know never to judge a book by its cover, but my copy, an Oxford World's Classic, has on its front a detail from Invitation to the Waltz by Francesco Miralles Galaup. I find myself staring at the cover almost as much as between the pages, and the woman's dress, a lovely shade of pale pink, accented with a moon-shaped broach encrusted with jewels. As she looks over her shoulder, a man standing behind her signs her dance card, and both subjects are completely absorbed in the task at hand. It's easy to imagine these figures as the main characters in the novel, and it's such a stunning portrait for the cover of an equally stunning saga.

I also think the book looks lovely on my nightstand, which, if you're familiar with the Forsyte family, is both ironic and expected at the same time.

"Waylon and Big Bird and the Boys"

2011-07-26T19:45:00.001-05:00

So I love Amy Winehouse, but I also love country music. Especially classic country, like Johnny Cash, Dolly Parton, Kenny Rogers, Waylon Jennings, and George Strait (I guess he's old enough to be classic now). It reminds me of my childhood and those Saturday evenings when my dad would drive us to Dairy Queen in his blue truck, the windows down and music blaring all the way. Sure, we lived in the suburbs, but as we drove down the road with open fields on each side, it felt like country to me.

Well, the other day after James' nap, my husband put on Follow that Bird, the old Sesame Street movie, that was streaming on Netflix. James fell in love with Big Bird and his quest to return to Sesame Street after being sent to live with a foster family of Dodo birds.

At one point in his journey, Big Bird hitches a ride in a turkey truck, driven by none other than Waylon Jennings, and they sing this song. After hearing it once, James was hooked, and we listen to it all the time now. "Look Mama," he told me, "it's my song."

I love sharing things with my boys, and I hope this will be a happy memory for James, too.

Back to Black, Forever

2011-07-23T15:13:00.000-05:00

My heart breaks for the family and friends of Amy Winehouse. It's truly devastating to see someone so talented silenced forever because of her own destructive lifestyle. What a shame.

Worst Dressed List

2011-07-17T19:46:00.001-05:00

It seems that Austin, our fair city, has found itself smack-dab in the middle of GQ Magazine's list of the 40 worst-dressed cities in America. At number 18, we come in exactly one slot above the Jersey Shore, which isn't saying much at all. Sorry, Snooki!

I grew up south of here in San Antonio, where making a trip to the grocery store requires full makeup and perfectly styled hair. In fact, I used to wake up at 5 am each morning during high school, just so I had plenty of time to shower, scrunch my waist-length curly hair, do my makeup, and get dressed before the first bell at 7:08.

Back-to-school shopping involved a trip to the Clinique counter to stock up on makeup, as well as the purchase of several pairs of shoes to go with all of the new outfits we bought to start the year off right.

When I first moved to Austin and began teaching, I quickly realized that none of my fellow teachers wore pantyhose with their skirts and dresses. That was beyond weird to me, because it seemed almost vulgar to let your bare legs show, plus how did they keep their panty lines from showing? Where I'm from, it's not unusual for women to wear pantyhose with shorts. It took me that entire year to get used to the idea of bare legs, but I finally started wearing open-toed shoes and sandals as summer rolled around. The next year, I ditched the hose, and I have never looked back.

I also remember sitting in a teacher meeting and realizing that I had on more makeup than any other woman in the room, a fact that shocked me quite a bit. That, I can't give up, and I still wear full makeup and fix my hair each morning, even if I have no plans to leave the house.

While my husband was on vacation from work recently, we made a day-trip to Boerne, a quaint little town just north of San Antonio, known for its historic district with antique shops and boutiques. At the local Dairy Queen, the only restaurant my little guys can handle at the moment, I spied a middle-aged woman with the most beautiful long, blond hair. It wasn't platinum-blond, in that past-my-prime-but-desperately-trying-to-fake-it way, but a natural blond that was perfectly styled to go with her perfectly applied makeup.

I remember thinking that I don't see many women her age who wear their hair that way, since it obviously requires a lot of time and attention, and then I realized that I was no longer in Austin.

Ta Da!

2011-07-15T21:13:00.005-05:00

My living room is not the only place getting new curtains!

When my mom was visiting a couple of weeks ago, she talked me into wearing purple nail polish on my toes. Even though I'm a cosmetics junkie, I'm pretty tame when it comes to color, and I never stray far from basic reds and pinks. Purple is out there for me, but I tried it and it grew on me.

And guess what? Now, my toes are blue! Not bright blue, but a light, silvery color that actually looks nice with my skin tone. So I figured it was time to update my blog again, too.

There's that whole movement now inspired by the Eleanor Roosevelt quote, "Do one thing everyday that scares you," and I think purple toenails have to count for something, at least in my case.

West Elm Shout Out

2011-07-14T21:51:00.000-05:00

In my ongoing effort to re-feather my nest, I've been searching for some new curtains for my living room. I found a possible contender at West Elm but, alas, they are only available online, and we all remember what happened the last time I ordered something without seeing it in person.

I took the plunge and decided to order only one curtain panel, with the thought in mind that, if it didn't work, I could return it to my local store. I emailed the company before I ordered, just to double check their return policy, and they promptly informed me that I could definitely return online only items to a brick and mortar store.

So I ordered the single panel Sunday and it arrived today. It works well with my decor, but somehow, between Sunday and now, they have raised the price of the curtains. They weren't on sale to begin with, so this is just a price increase for no apparent reason.

At my husband's suggestion, and with more than a twinge of embarrassment, I called their customer service line tonight, explained the situation, and was promptly given the lower, original price to purchase the remaining three panels. As I thanked the representative, she told me I should always ask for the best deal and never be embarrassed about it.

Thank you, West Elm, for sparing my pride and for saving me some moula!

Too Private for Pinterest

2011-07-11T21:28:00.001-05:00

So I've been reading and hearing a lot about Pinterest, the hot new site that lets you "catalog the things you love," according to its homepage. In general, I like the concept of saving pictures and ideas for inspiration, and it's how I've been using the Bookmark function of my computer for years.

Now that my boys are a bit older and I'm not stuck up to my elbows in diapers and midnight feedings, I have a bit more time to explore things like decorating and, dare I say it, crafts. So I've considered joining the site, which requires either an invite from a friend or adding your email to their waiting list.

Still, I'm the only person I know who isn't on Facebook and I'm nervous about this new site, too. Even though I'm opinionated and not afraid to express my feelings on a public blog, for the amusement of my two or three readers, the fact is I'm extremely private in real life.

I destroyed my boys' blood samples, which you all know loud and clear; I close my blinds at dusk so the neighbors can't see into my house; and I still shut the door to the bathroom in front of my husband despite the fact that he has witnessed me give birth twice. I have a problem sharing things with strangers, too, and I'm of the "Question Everything" mentality.

I'm not on Facebook because, honestly, the idea creeps me out and there are exactly two people from my high school with whom I wish to stay in contact. One lives in New York City and we see each other once a year or so, and the other sleeps next to me at night. The very thought of people from my past rising to the surface after years of anonymity literally gives me chills, and if I want to run into an old classmate I will just walk into the H-E-B near my parents' house and wait a minute.

I hate to sound crass, but we live in a true culture of sharing, the very idea that Pinterest seeks to promote, and every neighborhood in my town is bordered by Target, Ross Dress for Less, and Pier 1. If you see something you like at a friend's house, you can stop on the way home and get one just like it. But where's the fun in that? What happened to being unique and finding your own style?

I'm all for sharing creativity with the world, and I do believe art and literature are the great equalizers, but it often feels like nothing is sacred any longer and, even though I live in the suburbs with two children and a two-car garage, I'd like to keep some things private. I'm probably over-analyzing this way too much, but that's just me.

I never went to any of my high school's football games, even though attendance was practically a graduation requirement; I almost lost a job because I refused to wear a college sports team's shirt during College Sports Week; and I was the only consultant in my unit, during my short stint as a Mary Kay saleslady, who never wore a suit. I don't have a problem with authority, I swear, but I'm also not quick to follow trends.

I think the idea behind Pinterest is really cool, and it will rid the world of piles and piles of pages ripped out from magazines. I'm just not sure I'm ready to jump on the bandwagon yet. Maybe if they allow private profiles, but probably not even then.

**Update: So, I received my invitation to join Pinterest, and you must login through your Facebook or Twitter account, neither of which I have. Problem solved, I guess.

Happy Birthday, Rhys

2011-07-07T11:14:00.001-05:00

My sweet Baby Boy,

We are so happy that you came into our lives in such a wonderful way, and we love you very much. You are such a joy to all of us, and Daddy, James, and I love you with all of our hearts. You complete our family perfectly, and we would not be the same without you.

Daddy and I love your silliness and your ability to laugh all the time, so much so that Daddy calls you his "Party Boy." You have a tender heart, and I know that you will be a very loving man. James loves you because you are his best friend and playmate, and he can't wait for you to run wild with him very soon.

I love the fact that you are still so young and need me so much, and since you are my last little one, I treasure these days of babyhood with you. Too soon, you will be walking away from me, as you should, and so I am enjoying this fleeting time of innocence with you.

I love your blond hair and blue eyes, such a striking contrast to the rest of our family. And the way you love to cuddle and get butterfly kisses, which you eagerly attempt to return with your little, wet tongue. I love your tummy, which has to be the cutest baby tummy in the history of the world, and the fact that you are such a great eater.

You changed our family in more ways than you may ever know, Rhys, and we are better and stronger because of you. I wish you a wonderful day and an amazing year filled with new discoveries.

I love you with all my heart, Rhys Racer.

love,
Your Momma

Let Them Eat Cake

2011-07-03T13:25:00.002-05:00

Almost one year ago, my sweet little Rhys was born in the most beautiful and healing way. While I waited for the spinal to be placed before my c-section, my labor nurse tried to steady me as I struggled through those last painful contractions. I will never forget her words that day.

As I leaned over the operating table into her arms, she held her hand to my mouth, offering up an invisible cupcake, and told me to blow out the candle because, "We are about to have a birthday and next year, there will be cake." Her words, in that moment, calmed me instantly, and I was able to relax and think about my baby's imminent birth.

And yesterday, surrounded by family and friends, we celebrated Rhys' first birthday with good food, presents, and cake. Just like she said we would.

(Photo by Aunt MB; icing by Aunt Mo)

Where I'm From

2011-06-26T18:21:00.000-05:00

The English teacher in me loves a good writing prompt, and I found this one here.

Where I'm From

I am from neighborhood streets sizzling in the sun, from Yardley Soap, and from the quiet of a sunset over an old farmhouse.

I am from the black and white house, third one on the right, filled with the laughter of three little girls and the smell of cinnamon toast in the morning.

I am from the roses, the violets, the pansies blooming in our backyard as we searched for fairies among the leaves at dusk.

I am from hayrides in that old blue pickup and stubborn-as-a-muleness, from Colleys and Kowaliks, from Nell and Deborah who said what they thought and loved without ceasing.

I am from not keeping my mouth shut and speaking the truth, shouting so all could here.

From the ladies in green hats peeking out between flowers and only putting three things on your plate at the church potluck.

I am from staunch, fire-in-the-belly believers who built their church under an old oak tree and were washed in the blood of Amazing Grace.

I'm from the River City and an old Polish town, from fajitas grilling as mariachis play and sausage frying in a pan in an airless kitchen.

From the fears of two brothers checking trotlines past dark, the long legs of the aunt I only met once, the "Wild Man" grandfather who jumped over fences and caught rabbits by their ears.

I am from quilt-covered beds, the yellow house on Vinecrest, and the smell of the wooden secretary when it is opened every few years, like the pages of a treasured book.

Say What You Mean

2011-06-22T18:37:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I saw a trailer with a handwritten sign that read, "Emackulate Lawn Care." When I told Ryan, he said, "That sounds medical, like 'he emackulated all over the floor.' I'm going to ask D. (our brother-in-law, the physical therapist) if that's an actual term."

I reminded him that it just sounds like ejaculate.

The Sweetest Day

2011-06-21T14:40:00.000-05:00

This morning, while your little brother slept, dear James, we played outside in the shade. You helped me wheel in the trash can, one of your favorite things in the entire world, and then I squirted some shaving cream into your little pool for you to play with. At first, you were tentative, so I told you it was okay to make a mess, which you considered for a bit before jumping in wholeheartedly.

My heart ached a bit as I watched you play, because I know that you will not always be so enraptured by the smallest and simplest of things. You will start school in a few months and be bound to a schedule, if only twice a week, and these quiet days of babyhood that you and I share will begin to fade. Others will know and love you, you'll have secrets I won't share, and experiences I won't witness.

I know that's the natural progression of things, and I can't hold you back when you are so hungry for knowledge. But just for today, and hopefully many more this summer, I'll enjoy the time I have you all to myself.

A Driving Force

2011-06-17T21:27:00.000-05:00

In Saudi Arabia today, a few courageous women took matters, or steering wheels, as the case may be, into their own hands and drove down the streets of Riyadh. There's nothing particularly interesting about women driving, aside from the fact that it is banned in Saudi Arabia. To do so openly and in full view of authorities could lead to arrest and other severe forms of punishment. Here's hoping that this small act of civil disobedience will help usher in a time of change for the women of Saudi Arabia.

When I read stories like this, I'm reminded of the Margaret Mead quote I often see on a forum I frequent:

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."

Paper Roses

2011-06-17T20:30:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I tried another simple craft from this great blog. These rolled paper flowers are easy to make and don't take long at all, so I was able to accomplish this after dinner while the boys played with Ryan. I just used some of my leftover thesis paper, similar to heavier stock resume paper, and some floral wire I've had lying around for years. They turned out pretty cute, I think.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

2011-06-06T20:55:00.002-05:00

We've been together since 2001. I willingly followed when you quit your job, where we first met, and moved on to pursue a loftier goal of self-employment. You encouraged me through the highs and lows of wedding planning, being a newlywed, and then two back-to-back pregnancies.

But lately, I've come to resent being stood up, month after month, and ignored. I just can't take it any longer, and since it's unnatural for a girl to cut her own hair, I'm breaking up with you, dear stylist. If you must know, I've already cheated on you with someone else, but she just isn't as talented as you, and that makes me so sad. I've also started dyeing my own hair, something I thought I would never do, and you didn't even notice.

So, I've booked an appointment for this Saturday at a salon near my house. It's a little trendier than I'm used to, but I'm giving it a try, and I'm hopeful that things will work out. I'll always miss you and I wish you the best. I hope we can still be friends.

Update: So the new place is awesome and I think I found a new stylist! She's 21, covered in tattoos, and knows how to layer curly hair! She said she's got my back, so I've already booked a cut and color for my birthday next month. It was fun being pampered in a real salon again.

"One if by Land, and Two if by Sea..."

2011-06-03T18:36:00.003-05:00

So, Sarah Palin visited Paul Revere's house and the Old North Church yesterday and sang his praises in her own unique way. According to Palin, Paul Revere was:

"He who warned, uh, the ... the British that they weren't gonna be taking away our arms, uh, by ringing those bells and, um, by making sure that as he's riding his horse through town to send those warning shots and bells that, uh, we were gonna be secure and we were gonna be free ... and we were gonna be armed."

Clearly, her grasp of American history is so intuitive that she will make an amazing president and put George W.'s malapropisms to shame.

picture: http://tinyurl.com/3d5vmme

With My Own Two Hands

2011-05-31T21:30:00.001-05:00

I recently ran across a really great blog with lots of craft tutorials, so tonight, I tried my hand at one that seemed fairly easy. Since James loves buttons and I am craving more feminine details throughout my house, I thought this would be perfect. So without further ado, check out my little bouquet of button roses.

I can't get the best shot with my phone's camera, but you get the idea, and you can see more pictures in the link above. I had a smaller gauge wire, so I twisted it a bit more to make it sturdy, but it works. And I like that it's not permanent, so I can use the buttons again. The vase belonged to my grandmother, Nonnie, and is one of my most cherished possessions. It's too tiny for more than a single bud, so it works perfectly for my little wire buttons.

And, oh my gosh, I just created a Craft label on my blog, since this is officially my third entry under that category. It must be the heat!

A Poem for My Sister

2011-05-29T20:39:00.002-05:00

The Sitting Time

Don't listen to the foolish unbelievers

who say forget.

Take up your armful of roses and

remember them

the flower and the fragrance.

When you go home to do your sitting

in the corner by the clock

and sip your rosethorn tea

It will warm your face and fingers

and burn the bottom of your belly.

But as her gone-ness piles in white,

crystal drifts,

It will be the blossom of her moment

the warmth on your belly,

the tiny fingers unfolding,

the new face you've always known,

That has changed you.

Take her moment, and hold it

As every mother does.

She will always be

your daughter

And when the sitting is done you'll find

bitter grief could never poison

the sweetness of her time.

--Joseph Digman

This Woman's Work*

2011-05-28T22:13:00.001-05:00

Lately, my days are spent playing referee to my two little boys who seem intent upon wrestling each other all day long. I'm convinced I need to invest in a black-and-white ref shirt, a pair of coaching shorts that leave nothing to the imagination (you know the kind I mean), and a really loud whistle. On days like that, I appreciate a blog post like this one.

And then something happens that brings you back to reality. This week, my sister lost her unborn baby. While it is not my story to tell, I will say that she has handled her grief with grace and beauty, and I admire her strength and courage immensely.

Motherhood is hard work*. It's the hardest job I've ever had, and I've worked retail, taught middle school, and written a master's thesis. I'm reminded of this fact every day, and I am rewarded with the love I see in the faces of my two precious boys.

I'm not one to put much stock in inspirational sayings, but recently, I opened a fortune cookie to find the phrase, "Treasure what you have." Of course, the old high school joke is that you are supposed to add "in bed" to the end of your fortune.

And this is what's in my bed.

* From She's Having a Baby, directed by John Hughes

"Opting-In" to Newborn Screening

2011-05-17T20:50:00.000-05:00

I've written pretty extensively in the past about the issues with Texas' newborn screening procedures, and it appears that a new bill allowing parents to "opt-in" versus "opting-out" is about to pass in the Texas legislature. This means that, once the standard newborn tests are performed, the samples will not be stored indefinitely unless the parents expressly grant permission. This is a huge victory for those of us concerned with protecting the privacy of our children.

Remember that these are the heel-prick tests put on a small card, performed at birth in the hospital (or at home by a midwife) and again at the two week pediatric appointment. Each test previously required its own "directive to destroy" form, which had to be mailed to the state lab for newborn screening if the parents desired the destruction of the cards.

I am absolutely on board with newborn screening to rule out disease, but I refuse to allow my child's DNA to sit in a drawer at Texas A&M or to be traded or sold for lab equipment, as happened in previous years.

Mrs. Munoz Knows Best

2011-05-14T21:29:00.001-05:00

I left my hometown of San Antonio almost ten years ago, but I like to follow its goings-on via the local paper and gossip from my mom.

This week, I read about a new health campaign started by the University Health System, a local public hospital system, to educate San Antonio residents on basic health issues. Instead of using a medical professional to relay information about the need for yearly mammograms beginning at age 40, diabetes management, and safe sex, the campaign's spokesperson is the lovable Mrs. Munoz, a grandmotherly figure familiar to everyone.

If you grew up in San Antonio, chances are you know a woman like this, who kindly provides information on a variety of topics, usually gleaned from second- or third-hand sources, like the priest at church or the nephew of her closest friend.

The idea came about when the campaign's creators realized that most people will take medical advice from their grandmother more willingly than from a doctor or nurse; and Mrs. Munoz dishes out her wisdom in short, humorous spurts, usually while standing at her kitchen sink, surrounded by ceramic chickens, a medallion of Jesus dangling from her neck.

Billboards with her image are popping up all over San Antonio, and her videos are on YouTube, as well. Check her out; she's hilarious!

Courageous Moms

2011-05-13T19:51:00.000-05:00

Since my baby is 10 months old now, my family is complete, and my heart is healed, I'm not focusing on birth and VBAC stories as much as I did in the past. But I did run across this post on my friend's blog this week, and it really touched me deeply. Mother's Day was last weekend, but this piece deserves to be read and shared. All mothers make sacrifices, and this reminds us of that fact.

There's also an example of cesarean art on the page, and if you've never run across that before, it's shocking and meaningful at the same time.

Google Dancer

2011-05-13T14:31:00.000-05:00

Blogger was down for maintenance yesterday, and it appears that my most recent post was lost. I was just expressing my love for Google's celebration of Martha Graham's birthday.

The Duvet Cover: A Metaphor for Motherhood

2011-05-06T20:05:00.002-05:00

I'm a work-with-what-you've-got kind of girl and don't have much time or money to redecorate right now, but, in a house full of boys, I am becoming increasingly aware of my desire to insert some feminine details amongst all the cars, trucks, and beer equipment taking over my living room and kitchen.

So, for Mother's Day, I decided to treat myself to a lovely, feminine duvet cover from a certain store that shall remain nameless, at least until you click on the link above. I was hoping to replace the light blue cover we've had since before James was born, the one that saw me through two pregnancies, morning sickness, baby spit-up, leaking breast milk, hormonal night sweats, and the occasional poopy diaper.

I'll admit to being enchanted with the price, but the soft floral pattern looked so lovely in the catalog and I thought it would go quite nicely in my light, quiet bedroom. I had visions of relaxing in a room full of white, reading British novels in bed while my little boys sleep soundly on the other side of the house. And yes, the pattern's name is also the same as mine, but that was merely a sweet coincidence.

Of course, the cover and shams are only available in the catalog and online, so one cannot view them in-store before purchasing. Thus, I was completely unprepared when the cover that did arrive looked nothing like the one pictured. Yes, it's the same pattern (I was sure to check), but the light background is actually quite yellow and the flowers are much, much darker. In fact, the overall effect is much more tropical than I ever intended, sort of like the furniture from the set of The Golden Girls, which was set in Florida, after all.

The only possible explanation I can find for this phenomenon is the strange fact that, when photographed, the duvet cover is exactly as pictured in the catalog. I know, because I took a picture, and the results on my camera's screen look like the cover of my dreams. It's just in real life that the fabric is different, which is frustrating and intriguing at the same time. How can something so lovely and peaceful on paper and in my mind appear so different in real life?

And yet, isn't that the metaphor for real life? Things aren't always as they seem, or as you imagine they'll be. It doesn't mean that they aren't lovely or perfect in their own way, and you have to work with what you've got. I'm pretty sure there's a lesson here, maybe in a sort of Forrest Gump kind of way, but that's how I feel about motherhood, too.

It's a daily attitude that you've got to maintain, especially if you want to keep your sanity at times; but overall, it's really wonderful and rewarding. Who knew I'd be the mom to two precious little boys one day? I certainly didn't. And who knew I'd be transformed by my pregnancies and births? Again, not me.

I didn't begin this post expecting to wax poetic about my adventures in motherhood a little over two years in, but that's where I find myself. My visions of what motherhood entailed before I had children are so different than the reality of my life right now, kind of like that duvet cover on my bed.

The one pictured in the catalog only exists in my head, like the idea of the perfect mother I carried with me during my first pregnancy. But the cover on my bed is just as lovely and functional, and it will keep me warm for many years to come.

My Big Mouth

2011-05-02T20:18:00.000-05:00

At the risk of sounding un-American, I'm keeping it shut. I will say that I enjoyed the news so much more when it was full of halcyon images of flowers and princesses, rather than talking heads celebrating a dead terrorist. And stuff like this, which is supposed to unite us.

For all the good it really did.

Hate to Miss It!

2011-04-27T17:12:00.001-05:00

So the Royal Wedding is Friday, and as much as I would love to wake up at 3 am and watch the nuptials on television (like I did for Fergie's wedding and Diana's funeral), I need enough sleep to get me through my regular day of chasing after two active little boys. I also have a dentist appointment that morning, but I'm hoping the staff will be kind enough to let me watch the wedding coverage while I get my fillings.**

On a side note, I just read a nasty comment by journalist Tina Brown, who said that Kate Middleton's "prime function now is to breed." Ouch! I personally can't imagine facing one of the biggest days of my life with the whole world watching, but clearly, Kate is up for it, and I wish her all the best.

And, I ran across a picture of this poster recently, which made me smile.

**Update: Who am I kidding? I'll be up at 5 am, in time for the actual ceremony.

Cesarean Awareness Month

2011-04-13T14:40:00.000-05:00

I can't let April pass without mentioning Cesarean Awareness Month once again. My family is complete now, and I am fully at peace with the birth of my sons, which is a wonderful, wonderful feeling. I've been honest about my struggles in the past, and I know that my experiences have shaped me into the woman and mother I am today. A bit like the lady in this poem. Oh, and April is also National Poetry Month, so this ties in nicely, don't you think?

Truth in Advertising

If we'd moved her,
she'd still have 'em,

the ad for Acme
Moving says, with a photo

of Venus de Milo.
But who, intact,

would Venus be?
Some standard-issue

ingénue. Give me
a woman who's lived

a little, who's wrapped
her arms around the ages

and come up lacking: that's
the stone that can move me.

--Andrea Cohen

I Feel Like This Sometimes

2011-04-09T10:55:00.000-05:00

This week James climbed out of his crib, hurt his elbow, went to Urgent Care and had x-rays (all is well). This week Rhys got to my potted plant before me, and it shattered in a muddy mess on the kitchen floor, before I had even finished my breakfast. This week I went to the dentist and found out I have an actual cavity that will require a filling, which will require another trip to the dentist, which will require finding a baby-sitter, which will require more money. This week I discovered that the test I've been avoiding for too long is very expensive, but not expensive enough to meet my deductible.

Today, I got this poem in my inbox, and it sums up my week exactly. I'm constantly amazed at the power of poetry to capture things perfectly every time.

After Reading There Might Be an Infinite Number of Dimensions

I'm thinking today of how we hold it together,
arrive on time with the bottle of Zinfandel, a six-pack

of Scuttlebutt beer, how we cover our wrinkles
with Visible Lift, shove the mashed winter squash

into the baby's mouth, how we hold it all together
despite clogged rain gutters, cracked

transmissions, a new explanation for gravity's
half-hearted hold. I'm wondering how we do it,

comb the tangles from our hair, trim the unwieldy
camellia, speak to packed crowds about weight loss

or fractals. I'm wondering how we don't
fall to our knees, knowing a hardened pea,

lodged in the throat, can kill, knowing
liquids are banned on all commercial flights.

Leaves fall. The baby sucks her middle fingers.
Meanwhile, the refrigerator acquires

an unexplainable leak. Meanwhile, we call
the plumber, open wide for the dental hygienist,

check each month, with tentative circlings,
our aging breasts. Somehow, each morning,

the coffee gets made. Somehow, each evening,
the crossing guard lifts fluorescent orange flag,

and a child and her father cross the glistening street.

--Martha Silano

Good Hair?

2011-03-31T21:14:00.001-05:00

I just got an email from Ulta, advertising a $20 haircut and style. As they describe it, that's a savings of "up to $35." But before you run right out and take advantage of their sale, please be warned that you run the risk of looking like this poor girl.

A Girl Can Dream

2011-03-31T16:40:00.000-05:00

If money were no object and my house wasn't filled with testosterone, it would look like this. There's not a single masculine thing in sight. Enjoy!

Rodeo Queens

2011-03-27T20:25:00.000-05:00

There's a fascinating article in today's Austin American-Statesman about rodeo queens. And I can't say one snarky thing about these girls, because, even though I was born in Texas and spent time on my grandparents' farm as a child, I can't do any of the things they are required to do, all while looking like a million bucks.

A Song for My Son

2011-03-25T21:05:00.000-05:00

Since James was born, I've considered "Sweet Baby James" by James Taylor to be his theme song, and I spent countless hours rocking him to sleep as a baby while singing the chorus:

Goodnight you moonlight ladies
Rockabye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose
Won't you let me go down in my dreams
And rockabye sweet baby James

The song just fits, not only because he shares a name with my dad, a real cowboy, but also because it's a lullaby about winter, and there are so many associations that I make with those bittersweet days around his birth. I cannot hear or sing the song without tearing up a bit, and it will always be my special song for my first, sweet boy.

Today, James and I were talking about when he was a baby, and we looked at a photo album of his baby pictures. I also showed him a book of Rhys' pictures, and I told him that he would always be my first baby, even when he is all grown up. I held him in my arms, and starting singing "Sweet Baby James" as tears welled up in my eyes.

To my great surprise, James also started to cry, and large tears soon fell from his brown eyes. I stopped singing and comforted him, but it shook me up quite a bit.

Was he crying because he saw tears in my eyes? Did looking at pictures of Rhys' birth make him think he's not my baby any more? Did I somehow rob him of his babyhood by having another child so soon? My heart was heavy with mother guilt.

A little while later, we moved to the bathroom to change Rhys, and I started humming the song again, mostly absentmindedly, but also, if I'm honest, to see how James would react.

Again, there were tears, so I picked him up and sat on the bed with him for a long time. I asked him if the song made him sad, and he said it did, so we sang some happy songs for a while as Rhys played at our feet.

At lunch, I again asked about the song, and James told me that it made him sad when I sang it. I told him that it was his special song and that we could sing it together before bed, and he told me that it was a lullaby. He then asked me to sing it to him while I cleaned up after lunch, and he listened happily without tears. I also made sure to spend some extra quality time with him while Rhys napped, just in case he was feeling a bit left out.

I'll never really know what triggered his tears when he heard that song today, and I'm pretty sure James doesn't know why he felt sad, either. But it was just another reminder that he is growing up and away from me, and maybe he felt that a little bit, too.

Tonight, I sang it again as I rocked him before bed, and he listened quietly to the words. It will always be our special song and I hope he'll always let me sing it for him.

Rockabye, Sweet Baby James.

Beer Credit

2011-03-25T20:33:00.004-05:00

So my husband has recently become a homebrewer, which means he spends lots of time reading about beer, talking about beer, and making beer in our garage. He's spent a small fortune on all sorts of tubes and buckets, and currently there's a 55-pound bag of barley in our laundry room. Not to mention the keg that is also fermenting in the closet of our guest bathroom.

I'm not a beer drinker, and I know even less about making it. I do know that it's a long process, and his "brew day" Saturdays require extra work from me, because he is unable to watch our boys while he's slaving over a hot cauldron for five hours. I know it sounds bad, but it beats the 12-hour marathon of smoking a brisket, which he used to do quite frequently.

And then there are his nights out with our brother-in-law, a fellow homebrewer, in which they drink beer, discuss beer, and exchange some of the tubes, buckets, and bags of barley I mentioned earlier.

But I am not complaining, because with each purchase my husband makes, combined with his hours spent brewing, I earn Beer Credit, and get to spend a little money of my own on fun things, like this bracelet that I just ordered from Etsy.

You'll notice the lovely butterfly charm, which would go quite nicely with this little cosmetic bag, don't you think?

I may be a brew widow, but at least I'll look cute as I grieve.

All Things Pink

2011-03-22T11:41:00.000-05:00

I really do love all things pink, and today, one of my favorite blogs features pink things to drool over. I really should stop reading it, because it makes me covet things I can't afford and really don't need, but it's so much fun. Enjoy!

That Woman

2011-03-20T14:22:00.000-05:00

With the recent popularity of The King's Speech, it seems that Wallace Simpson is in the news again. I've always been a bit intrigued by the American woman who single-handedly disrupted the line of succession to the British throne, and two new books and a movie directed by Madonna attempt to explore her life more intently than the way she's been depicted for so long.

As Anne Sebba, one of Simpson's biographers asks, "Why and how did a middle-aged woman, not conventionally beautiful, beyond childbearing years and with two living husbands win over a man so forcefully that he gave up not just a throne but an empire to live with her?"

I'm curious to find out. Here's a recent article about Simpson and her newfound influence in popular culture.

To a Young Son

2011-03-19T14:26:00.002-05:00

Here's another sweet poem from The Writer's Almanac today.

To a Young Son

Today I passed your room
and you were slowly quietly
combing your hair.
It was a pleasant, calm moment.
I felt the silence of the room
and could almost hear you growing.
You combed without a mirror,
your eyes distant and pale,
your head slowly nodding
like the head of a stroked animal.

Xerxes the King sent out a spy
who returned to camp, astonished to say
that the Spartans were all stripped to the waist
their bodies gleaming in the Aegean sun
and they were all carefully combing their hair.
The king was afraid then.
The Spartans were preparing to die.

I turn slowly from your doorway
and return to the linen closet where I
will fold this memory in my heart
among everything that is clean and fresh and white.

--June Robertson Beisch

I See the Moon

2011-03-18T22:31:00.000-05:00

This weekend, the moon will appear larger and brighter than it has in the last 20 years. James is currently fascinated with the moon, and "I See the Moon" has been one of his favorite songs since he was tiny, so we'll definitely be watching.

You can read more about this cool phenomenon here.

A Thing of Beauty

2011-03-18T20:33:00.000-05:00

I ran across this little gem on another blog today. Sure it's a $65 cosmetic bag, but it's so pretty to look at.

More Toddler Talk

2011-03-14T14:56:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, we had whole wheat "awfuls" for breakfast with butter and syrup. Despite the name he gave them, James loved them!

Maternal Mortality in the United States

2011-03-11T20:34:00.000-06:00

I ran across this article on another blog today, and it's extremely insightful and well-written. I also learned that several pieces of legislation to improve maternity care in the U.S. have recently been introduced to Congress. That's definitely a step in the right direction.

The Rat Race

2011-03-09T21:02:00.000-06:00

I've been trying since January to find a preschool for James to attend next fall, and I didn't think it would be that difficult, considering we don't live in Austin proper, but in a little bedroom community just north of it. Little did I know how much work it would be, and the Methodist church I'd set my hopes on just didn't pan out.

Luckily, and rather ironically if you know the religious history of my childhood, the local Baptist church has an opening for next year. I visited yesterday and fell in love with the director and the school, and I'm so excited for James to attend next year.

Yes, I said Baptist church, and before you say anything, let me remind you that my husband and I attended high school with the cream of San Antonio's crop (drug dealers, gang members, and at least two murderers that I knew personally), so I think it's fine for James to rub elbows with a few of Pflugerville's bottom-dwellers, er, Republicans.

Might as well start him early. And at least we're not in Williamson County.

Toddler Talk

2011-03-07T20:01:00.000-06:00

Me: (After hearing James pass gas for the third time in as many minutes) Did you just toot?

James: (shyly) Yes.

Me: It must have been all those fish sticks you ate for dinner.

James: Not fish sticks, toot sticks.

The Many Faces of Scleroderma

2011-02-25T20:21:00.001-06:00

I ran across this story while reading another blog, and I was so impressed by it. Scleroderma isn't much discussed in the media, and it is an often misunderstood disease. This piece clearly shows how every person living with scleroderma is affected differently, and you get to hear it from the individuals themselves.

Just for reference, I have the same type of scleroderma as the second subject, Marie Coyle, who is a huge advocate for the Scleroderma Foundation.

Note to Self

2011-02-24T19:43:00.000-06:00

You know your son is watching too much Kipper the Dog when he starts saying, "lollipop," with a British accent.

A Love Poem

2011-02-22T20:49:00.000-06:00

Have I mentioned how much I love Garrison Keillor? Here's another poem by him.

A Love Poem

A summer night, and you, and paradise,

So lovely and so full of grace,

Above your head, the universe has hung its lights,

And I reach out my hand to touch your face.

I believe in impulse, in all that is green,

Believe in the foolish vision that comes true,

Believe that all that is essential is unseen,

And for this lifetime I believe in you.

All of the lovers and the love they made:

Nothing that was between them was a mistake.

All that is done for love's sake,

Is not wasted and will never fade.

O love that shines from every star,

Love reflected in the silver moon:

It is not here, but it's not far.

Not yet, but it will be here soon.

--Garrison Keillor

The Big, Bad Wolf

2011-02-22T20:28:00.001-06:00

James is scared of the hallway by his bedroom, which doesn't have any windows of its own and can get really dark, even during the day. He calls it the "pretty scary hallway" and doesn't like to walk down it alone. I don't want him to feel afraid, so I've decorated it with toddler-friendly decor, we leave the windows to the bedrooms open during the day, and I praise him for being brave when he does venture into it by himself.

He's also fascinated by and fearful of owls right now, largely because his grandfather has an artificial one in the garden to scare away birds. "Harold" has glowing eyes and makes a loud noise, and he can be pretty disconcerting to a little guy. We used a gift card left over from Christmas to buy a stuffed owl online, and James had fun picking it out on his own. Hopefully, "Pink Owl" will help him see how harmless and helpful owls really are, especially since they are so popular right now.

Going through these innocent fears with my son has got me thinking about my own childhood monsters, which were, in no particular order, The Big, Bad Wolf and Moammar Gadhafi. And now that Libya is in the midst of political unrest, I realize that they are really one in the same.

My fear of wolves, which exists even now, undoubtedly comes from the fact that those frightening beasts featured heavily as the antagonists in the literature of my childhood and, for whatever reason, I really took them to heart. Not to mention that my mom had a music box when I was little that played "Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf." I still get chills whenever I hear that song, and I refused to bring the music box home when she recently dug it out for my boys.

And then there's the fact that I was a precocious second grader who watched the news and read the newspaper in 1986, right around the time that the U.S. decided to bomb Libya. I remember lying in bed after President Reagan addressed the nation, and listening to planes flying over our house. I prayed and prayed that they were not sent from Libya to bomb us in retaliation, and I'm pretty sure I stayed awake all night. After that, I remember feeling sick to my stomach whenever I saw Gadhafi on the news or heard his name mentioned anywhere, but I don't think I ever properly vocalized my fears to my parents.

Now that he's back in the news and I'm an adult with children of my own, I don't feel that feeling of sheer panic any longer. It is interesting to watch this revolt unfold from the perspective of a rational adult, rather than a scared little girl with no understanding of the world's politics.

I realize that, no matter how much I try to shield them, my boys will see and hear things that will frighten them as they grow. I'll do my best to be there for them.

**Random side note: Did you know that Gadhafi supposedly has a group of 40 female virgins called the Amazonian Guard that act as his own, personal army of bodyguards? How does one get that job? I don't really want to know.

One Year Later

2011-02-18T21:01:00.000-06:00

A year ago today, as fires burned across Austin, we found out we were expecting a healthy little boy to round out our family. We fought incredibly hard to have you, little Rhys, in the best way possible, and I'm so proud to be a part of your life's journey. You are the icing on the cake and I love you very much, sweet boy.

For Carolyn

2011-02-14T20:37:00.000-06:00

I didn't know you very well, but you were always so funny and cheerful to be around. You worked in reception at my rheumatologist's office, and between you and Jan, the other receptionist, it was a real hoot and a holler to check in for an appointment. As I've said before, you were the real-life version of Sister Myotis, and I'm pretty sure you weren't from Austin originally.

You kept huge color photos of your grandchildren on your desk, so it looked more like a display for missing children than a tribute to them, but that's how much you loved them. I once overheard you explain to a patient that your daughters married a set of brothers, so all of your grandchildren were "double-related" and looked exactly alike.

When I was pregnant with James, you made me turn in a circle so you could "see my butt," and you correctly guessed that I was having a boy. You loved his eyes, and I would turn his stroller toward your desk so you could talk to him for a bit. At Christmas, you told me to take him to see Santa, and that the funniest pictures were always the ones in which the baby cried. You knew I was having another boy and you offered your sympathies.

I used to see you smoking near the Women's Center as I went to my prenatal appointments, and you always greeted me with, "Hi, honey," in your salty voice. You filled out the customer satisfaction surveys yourself so you wouldn't have to ask the patients to do it. You wore press-on nails and hot-rolled your hair, like a woman from a small Texas town, and you laughed like crazy at your partner in crime sitting next to you.

You died in a car accident on July 1st, and I just found out today. It was during one of those freak thunderstorms that filled the skies last summer in the days before my second son was born, and it happened instantaneously, the nurse told me. You had everything in order and you said you just wanted to go when it was your time, so you did, and you made it easy on everyone. Well, as easy as leaving could be, I guess.

The nurse said you called her "Little Bit" because of her height, and she has to make the coffee now in the mornings because you aren't there to do it. My doctor told me you once spilled something on your shirt, looked at him, and said, "With a mouth as big as mine, you'd think I could get it all inside." And Jan said she misses you every day.

You were the first and last person we saw when we entered the office, so even if we were scared, or in pain, or feeling down, you cheered us up and made us laugh. And we are all better for having known you.

I know I am.

Deep Thoughts

2011-02-09T19:23:00.000-06:00

My husband and I always look forward to the newest copy of Robert Redford's Sundance Catalog. Sure, the clothing is pretty and the jewelry is absolutely delicious, but it's the short piece at the front of the catalog, written by the great Redford himself, that gets us every time. I'm always so inspired by his writing that I've used it in my English composition class, even if it was to point out the need for some serious editing and revision.

Here's his gem of wisdom from the current catalog:

There is so much noise. And it's not white noise.
It's manic and multi tonal--multi layered. Sometimes my ears ring.
My jaw aches. My shoulders hunch. My eyes wince.
Where is the quiet, the calm, the space?

So what can the Catalog offer you at this time? Quiet.
Because there's no noise in just looking at pages. And color, because the world around us seems so dark and grey.

As for the product? Well, as always, that's up to you.
Happy year to come.

Ah, Robert Redford. Actor, director, champion of independent film, and deep, deep thinker. He puts Jack Handy to shame.

The Craft: Part II

2011-02-07T21:03:00.001-06:00

I openly admit that I am not crafty, and I don't really enjoy making things with my hands. But I did recently run across a cute craft project that looked incredibly easy and inexpensive, so I ventured out to Hobby Lobby last weekend and gathered the supplies. I'm proud to say that I found everything for around $10, including a glue gun, which I can use again. Hey, a girl can dream, can't she? (The fact that I now own such a device humiliates me just a little.)

Without further ado, here is my creation. Yes, it's kitschy, but it was fun, and I guess that's the point.

I must admit that I had so much fun making those little flowers that I completely covered the bottom of the wreath with them after I took this picture. And my mom loved the idea so much that she went out and bought the supplies to make more wreaths when my sisters and I visit her this weekend. We can all sit around the table wrapping yarn around plastic for hours while our children play unsupervised at our feet and our husbands shoot the breeze outside. How very Jane Austen.

And that's a good thing.

Another Sign of the Times

2011-02-07T20:43:00.001-06:00

I heard this story on the radio today, and I have to admit to being a bit shocked. I grew up in the dark ages before rampant internet and cell phone use, and I stopped teaching public school before every student had a cell phone, too. So I had no idea how common this stuff really is.

I'm trying to raise my boys to be gentlemen, so if they ever do something as stupid as this and I have to take a class as punishment, rest assured I will never let them forget it.

I've already warned James, heartbreaker that he is, that I'm not raising my grandchildren while he works his way through community college.

A Sign of the Times

2011-02-06T20:36:00.000-06:00

Tina Cassidy has a piece in New York Magazine today in which she examines the growing trend of texting during labor and the issues that go along with our culture's need for immediate and constant communication. She argues that, because birth has become so controlled and cold within the hospital setting, parents are doing everything possible to stay connected with supportive family and friends, most of whom are outside the delivery room.

I'll admit that I am uncomfortable with labor updates from friends and family, especially the cervical dilation checks. That just seems really private to me, and when I was in labor, I didn't want my husband's friends (or my dad) knowing how far my cervix had opened. As if they even cared.

I do know several women who have tweeted their way through home births after cesarean (HBAC), and it was interesting to read their experiences as I cheered them along from the privacy of my own home.

And I'm forever grateful for the birth videos of both my children, which our hospital allowed my husband to film, since without them, I would have no actual memories of their very first moments.

I guess, as Cassidy points out, it's just one of those things that happens as times change and we seek to maintain the personal connections that society used to value more.

"Boys Enter the House"

2011-02-06T19:29:00.002-06:00

While my boys were outside in the nice weather tonight and I prepared dinner, I listened to Selected Shorts, a favorite, but rare, pastime of mine. The final story was one I'd heard or read before somewhere, but it resonated differently with me tonight, since I now have two boys "with blond and brown locks." Here's the best copy I could find.

"Boys Enter the House" by Ricky Moody

Total Gleek

2011-02-05T13:44:00.000-06:00

My latest Sephora email is advertising a new line of OPI nail polish inspired by my favorite show, Glee. OPI always has cute names for its polish, and this collection is no exception. You can choose from Diva-in-Training, Slushied (a bright blue), Hell to the No, Mash Up, Who Let the Dorks Out?, Miss Bossy Pants, and Gleek Out. They even have nail stickers with tiny music notes and gold stars, a la Rachel Berry.

I'm not big on trendy nail colors, but I might just have to get these! And Glee is back after the Super Bowl this week!

The Land of Nod

2011-02-04T20:16:00.000-06:00

I love The Land of Nod, Crate & Barrel's children's store! I ordered a bunch of things from them at Christmas, all of which were big hits. And now that Valentine's Day is around the corner, I just placed a tiny order for my little guys.

This morning, I received an email from them tempting me to buy the things in my shopping cart with the promise of free shipping. I knew this was a mistake, since I had just placed the order the day before and had been charged for shipping, so I emailed them back. A little while later, I heard from them again, and they agreed to deduct the shipping charges from my order! Every penny counts, so I really appreciate the generosity, especially since my total wasn't much to begin with.

I'll definitely shop with The Land of Nod in the future.

Snow Day!

2011-02-04T14:07:00.001-06:00

Last night, I lay next to my sick, sleeping, little one and listened to the beautiful sound of snow falling on the bushes outside my window. This is what we woke up to this morning, and James could not wait to play outside.

Strangely enough, with this morning's snow came the sun, for the first time in days. I think today is supposed to be the warmest day we've had all week.

The King's Speech and So Firth

2011-02-03T20:24:00.000-06:00

I'm so busy with my two little guys that I don't get out to the movies much, or at all really, but I am excited to see The King's Speech with Colin Firth eventually. It's supposed to be amazing and Firth is nominated for an Oscar for his performance of George VI of England.

Now, I don't subscribe to the belief that Firth is particularly attractive (sorry, ladies!) and I've never understood the preoccupation with Jane Austen's Mr. Darcy, or Firth's portrayal of him. Darcy was an egocentric jerk, if you ask me, and his only real attraction was his money and his property. But that's a story for another day.

I do, however, think that Colin Firth is an incredible actor and truly gifted, and I recently watched A Single Man, the directorial debut of fashion designer Tom Ford (who is really handsome and was born in Austin), starring Firth as a closeted gay professor mourning the tragic death of his partner. It was beautifully written and directed and, in true Ford manner, every aspect of the piece was styled to perfection. Firth was nominated for that role last year, as well. Maybe this year he'll finally win.

Anyway, though I haven't seen this year's movie about King George VI's valiant efforts to conquer his shortcomings while leading England through World War II, I did finally watch the Masterpiece Theatre version from 2002, called Bertie & Elizabeth. This version focuses upon the loving marriage of the king and his wife, England's beloved Queen Mum, and their willingness to accept the throne after his older brother famously abdicated to marry Wallis Simpson, a divorced American woman.

Bertie, as King George was known, struggled with an embarrassing stutter for most of his life, and through the support of his wife and the help of a speech therapist, he was able to overcome it. I'm guessing that's the premise of Firth's movie, too, and from the previews I've seen, some of the scenes are incredibly similar to the Masterpiece version.

The story is so romantic and unique that audiences can't help but fall in love with the characters, and the fact that it's based on actual events in the lives of the parents of the current Queen of England makes it all the more appealing. I can't wait to watch and I'll be cheering for Colin Firth at the Oscars.

Lighten Up!

2011-02-01T14:54:00.001-06:00

I ran across this absolutely ridiculous post at Ohdeedoh, the children's section of Apartment Therapy. Talk about sounding holier than thou and judging other moms. Can you hear my eyes rolling in my head?

I'm certain I was this judgmental once, but then I had a child, and then I had another child. I know now what survival means, and hopefully, this girl will learn it eventually.

Once she gets her panties out of a wad, that is.

And yes, I left a snide comment.

Duped by Downton Abbey!

2011-01-31T19:54:00.001-06:00

I spent each Sunday night in January glued to Masterpiece Theatre's miniseries, Downton Abbey, and I tuned in last night for the conclusion. Little did I know that it was all a cruel joke perpetuated by the conniving folks at PBS, who strung me along for four long weeks, only to throw everything up in the air at the last minute with the revelation that a "second season is currently in production."

What the heck? Nothing was resolved and, according to Wikipedia, I have to wait over a year to find out what happened to the Crawley family, since filming doesn't even start until March and the show won't air in England until the fall of 2011. That means we won't get it until 2012. By then, I'll have forgotten all about it and I'll need a recap, a la Lost, to remind me of the premise.

If this is a ploy for donations from public television, you can count me out. As my mom said last night, after we ranted over the phone, "They're not getting one red cent from me and I'm going back to CBS!"

Stay tuned.

Praying for Egypt

2011-01-30T09:43:00.000-06:00

My sister has traveled to Egypt several times in recent years, and she's witnessed the poverty and persecution of that nation. She sent me this video today, of an Egyptian man demonstrating yesterday in London. His emotions are so raw and his hope so exhilarating, that you can't help but be moved.

Please pray for Egypt and its people.

Boys Will Be Boys

2011-01-25T13:20:00.000-06:00

James' friend came to play yesterday, and they had a blast as always. His friend is fun and smart, but he's also loud and rowdy, and I'm pretty sure he was raised in a barn, or at least, on a farm.

His friend brings his dog, who barks too much and jumps on the furniture. He slams the door and tracks in mud, and yesterday, he broke James' plastic shovel, perfect for dirt digging, because he hit a ball too hard with it.

And then there was the frisbee that got stuck in the tree, so James' friend threw a soccer ball up to get it. The frisbee came down, but the ball did not, and it's still up in our tree.

This friend hides cookies and sneaks them to James, all day long, when I am not looking. And once, he caught a snake and skinned it in our backyard!

I know I should say something, but I really don't mind. This friend is James' Papa, my dad, and we both love him "so much," as James always says.

On Governors and Good Hair: Part II

2011-01-23T15:19:00.001-06:00

There's an hilarious article by John Kelso in today's Statesman, and yes, it's sexist and mean-spirited, but it's also true. Kelso complains that First Lady Anita Perry needs to smile more, and he goes on to ponder the possible causes of her apparent unhappiness, even as her husband was inaugurated, again, for the third time, this week.

Of course, as I've speculated before, we all know that the source of her sadness can be traced back to the fact that her husband's hair looks better than hers. My mother always said never marry a man who is prettier than you are (which, of course, is why poor Jennifer Aniston never had a prayer with Brad Pitt), and though Anita in not unattractive, her frizzy blond helmet cannot hold a candle to the luxurious mane that defines the very essence of the leader of our fair state.

Of course, there was the "Rachel" cut, which Aniston now says she hated. But I'm guessing you don't see many middle-aged housewives asking for the "Anita" these days.

Wait a Minute, Buster!

2011-01-20T21:20:00.000-06:00

Lately, I am constantly amazed at the phrases spilling forth from my oldest son's mouth. He's had a big vocabulary for a while, but recently, something really clicked and he began forming whole thoughts and complete sentences. It's so much fun to have a conversation with him, and I love listening to his commentary as he runs around the house. He often greets his younger brother with a happy, "Hi Rhys! How are you doing?"

The other day, we got out in the cold for a bit and drove around an older part of our little town that I absolutely love. We stopped by the local water tower, one of those old metal tanks that dots the Texas landscape, and he oohed and ahhed for a bit. Once we were home and James had finished his snack, he stacked his sippy cup on top of his snack cup and exclaimed, "Look! Water Tower!"

Then, yesterday, I gave him a little too much freedom and left my bedroom for a minute while he colored in his coloring book. When I returned to change Rhys' diaper, James pronounced, "Look! Name on it!"

Distracted, it took me a minute to grasp the severity of his statement, before I asked, "Name on WHAT? Show me!"

That's when he pointed to the duvet cover on my bed, which was colored in orange and yellow crayon. But no permanent harm was done, since the duvet needed to be washed and the crayons are exactly that, washable.

And, in other news, James seems to be imitating one of my favorite characters from "Arrested Development," the perpetually juvenile youngest brother, Buster Bluth.

Last night with dinner, James had some diluted fruit juice, the kind that contains an entire serving of vegetables, and though we put him to bed at his usual time, he was still wide awake two hours later, laughing and rolling around in his crib.

I'm just waiting for some woman named Lucille to show up at my door.

On Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

2011-01-17T14:06:00.000-06:00

Patty Griffin always gets it right.

"Up To The Mountain (MLK Song)"

I went up to the mountain
Because you asked me to
Up over the clouds
To where the sky was blue
I could see all around me
Everywhere
I could see all around me
Everywhere

Sometimes I feel like
I've never been nothing but tired
And I'll be walking
Till the day I expire
Sometimes I lay down
No more can I do
But then I go on again
Because you ask me to

Some days I look down
Afraid I will fall
And though the sun shines
I see nothing at all
Then I hear your sweet voice, oh
Oh, come and then go, come and then go
Telling me softly
You love me so

The peaceful valley
Just over the mountain
The peaceful valley
Few come to know
I may never get there
Ever in this lifetime
But sooner or later
It's there I will go
Sooner or later
It's there I will go

Glee's Golden Globes

2011-01-16T22:12:00.000-06:00

I didn't watch tonight's Golden Globes because I'm deep into the juicy saga of PBS' Downton Abbey, but big congrats to my favorite show, Glee, for taking home three Golden Globes. The show won Best Series in a Musical or Comedy, Jane Lynch won Best Supporting Actress, and Chris Colfer won Best Supporting Actor. His portrayal of Kurt breaks my heart week after week.

Make a Wish

2011-01-08T20:10:00.001-06:00

The other day, I helped my little boy blow on a dandelion, not realizing that my sister was watching with her camera. What a sweet picture.