insert clever "leaping" title here

I don't, technically, have a post today (like that's ever stopped me before). I just didn't want to let this opportunity slip away, since it will be four more years until I can write a post on February 29.

(Now I'm all distracted, thinking about Desmond and his freaky time traveling from Lost last night. I loved the whole "constant" concept. Wasn't that so sweet when he got a hold of Penny, finally? )

I can't remember where I was four years ago on this date, but I wasn't blogging. I didn't start until January 2005. My first post was a snotty piece about one of my pet peeves -- improper grammar. I am embarrassed by it, as I am by many things in my past.

But since I brought it up, let me just encourage you to mark March 4 on your daytimers. National Grammar Day! How exciting is that?! My little grammar-lovin' heart is going pitter-pat.

Then flip ahead just a bit and put a red star on March 8, which my loaf of bread package says is Aunt's Day. I've never heard of Aunt's Day, but I'm certainly willing to join the celebration.

So go have fun, kiddies. Leap! March forth! Eat bread!

I'll take arguing for 500, please, Alex

DOUBLE JEOPARDY - Being tried twice for the same offense; prohibited by the 5th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. '[T]he Double Jeopardy Clause protects against three distinct abuses: [1] a second prosecution for the same offense after acquittal; [2] a second prosecution for the same offense after conviction; and [3] multiple punishments for the same offense.' U.S. v. Halper, 490 U.S. 435, 440 (1989).

When Sadie was a small puppy, our vet, a wonderfully wise woman, advised us to early and regularly perform the "alpha roll" with our little cocker spaniel, to teach her who was boss. I looked it up just now on google to see if it was alpha roll (because we rolled her over on her back) or alpha role (because we were demonstrating to her that we would be in the role of the alpha dog) and apparently it is no longer an approved dog training technique. Rats. But it seemed to work swimmingly for us.

I also put my babies to sleep on their tummies.

I've attributed Sadie's sweet submissive spirit today to our diligent training. And I've told everyone who will listen that that is the be-all and end-all to insure compliancy and proper respect in your canine companions.

If only it were so easy with kids. There is something in each of my children, some rebellious particle in their DNA, some defiant chromosome that compels them to argue with EVERY SINGLE THING I SAY. I can't imagine where they get it.

As a child I was the most back-talky, sassy, mouthy daughter ever. I don't know how much of that was due to me being an only child until I was 10. I'm pretty sure I was an intolerable, obnoxious, smarty-pants. I think I'm better now, but I have not learned to hold my tongue very well to this day. It has brought Jim no end of joyous, tender matrimonial moments.

So in the hair-pulling, jaw-clenching instances when I feel like screaming at my kids, "STOP ARGUING WITH ME AND JUST SUBMIT!" I hear this little snigger in the corner of my brain, "ha ha! You've got that coming, you know....this is payback for all the times you sassed your mom."

Or maybe I've got it coming because I didn't train them right when they were puppies, er, babies. I missed some crucial phase where expressing contrary opinions is weeded out. Either way, I know it's somehow my fault that my children talk back to me.

What I can't bear is that my mom has started sassing me, too.

I know that as she ages and her dementia increases that I will be doing more and more for her. Like her bills, her meals, her driving, and her laundry. I know her needs are going to be more demanding as the days go by. I am happy to embrace this season of caregiving. Honestly I am. I can overlook her confusion, her memory loss, and her endless repetition.

What I can't handle is that she is now arguing with me -- she won't submit and just do what I say, without giving me a verbal hassle.

I have to confess that I have not been the most patient, compassionate daughter this week. I have spoken sharply. I have lost my cool.

And I have had guilt. The voice, sensing my weakness, has started its refrain..."ha ha! You've got it coming for all the times you sassed her. Payback's a b-" But NO! That's not fair! I've already been punished for that crime. I've had four teenagers, and one still to come.

All my boys are bigger than me now, and I think Susannah is a lost cause. But my mom's only 4' 11", so I think I'm gonna have to alpha roll her.

Just don't call the ASPCA.

size matters

Dear Tide,

I have been a faithful devotee for the last 30 years. You have seen me through all the laundry that a family of seven has generated. I have been fiercely loyal, never wavering in my commitment, even when Dynamo is buy one, get 2 free. Why are you messing with me now, at a time in my life when I am so reluctant to embrace change? When I need to know I can feel secure with the status quo in my laundry room, at least. When my feeble, wrinkled hands need to reach for that familiar blue cap and fill it right up.


What is this "2X ultra" stuff? I don't trust it. I want my big bottle. I am skeptical and unhappy to have to pay the same amount for a bottle half as big. Who can believe that half as much detergent is going to be as fully effective?

There are some things in their original form that are just right. They don't need to be improved. Lays potato chips, for one. Coke, for another. Were you snoozing during the whole "New Coke" fiasco? You should have been concentrating.....wait, never mind that. You should have been paying attention. No one asked me if I wanted a new formula.

Can you imagine trying to foist this line of marketing on the milk drinkers in my house? Here -- have HALF a glass of new 2X ultra milk. It's all the nutrition and every bit as satisfying. You're hungry for a steak? Try our new concentrated 2X ultra steak product. It's half the size, with all the flavor. Yum.

I'm imagining where this trend might lead.... Thirty years from now we'll be buying Tide in bottles the side of Visine. One drop gets your whole load dazzlingly clean!

Of course by then I'll probably be washing my clothes in Downy, so it won't matter.

you know you're in Michigan when...

... the sun comes out over the weekend and the temperature climbs to 36 and it's feels downright tropical. You go out in just a sweatshirt and are completely comfortable. The cashiers at the grocery store mention how nice the weather is, and the radio hosts talk about getting out and enjoying the weekend.

....the severe weather alerts that pop up at the bottom of the computer screen don't even warrant a second look. yeah, yeah, so what else is new?

...you just hope that the predictions of 2 - 5 inches of accumulated snow overnight add up to enough for a snow day so you can sleep in.

...the workmen show up after missing a couple days and say they had to wait until the temperature got above 12 degrees.

... all the little sleeveless Easter dresses with their pretty floral prints seem ludicrously out of season. Maybe they could be worn with a turtleneck and leggings underneath?

...not even crocuses would dare stick their heads up yet.

...your mom complains that she couldn't sleep Saturday night with all the drunks out yelling and driving their trucks all around -- ON THE LAKE -- and it doesn't strike you as odd.

...you can't remember the last time you saw your bare driveway.

...your daughter in law's sister in law is coming to visit her from California and your posts strike fear in her heart.

Don't worry K, we'll try to have a nice thaw for you. It will be just like spring break. You can go out on the lake and catch some rays, Michigan style. :)

addition edition

The workmen were out there banging around this afternoon



and I heard a terrific crash in the kitchen. How did this purple glass vase



get shaken out of and fall from this cabinet high above my stove, all the way down to the floor




hitting and denting my tea kettle on the way,



and not break into a thousand hundred pieces? First we had the case of the vanishing scarf, then the inexplicable lady bug appearance, and now inquiring minds want to know the answer to this mystery.


There have been three casualties of the addition that are especially hard for me to bear. One was the loss of my kitchen window pie shelf, which was so handy for storing pots of soup and Christmas cookies in the winter. The second was the thermometer that let me know whether the temperature was below 40 degrees, so that it would be safe to put my pot of soup out there. And the third is my awesome exhaust vent. This thing is like a commercial-grade, industrial-powered super sucking fan that just whooshes everything out. Jim had to re-locate it and it's just not quite the same.



At least my laundry chute isn't in jeopardy yet.

recipe for a perfect lunch

Toast two pieces of whole wheat bread
Spread EACH piece with peanut butter (thanks to my son-in-law for this tip) while the toast is still warm
Drizzle honey on each piece
Stick together
Cut in half (must be diagonally)
Place on plate with a handful of Lays potato chips from a freshly opened bag
Serve with a tall glass of light chocolate Silk
Eat in front of computer screen.

Bon apetit!

Murphy's law at church

Today was the day my mom made her choir debut. She's been practicing with the choir since the beginning of January and finally felt ready to take the stage. It was such a big deal for her that she invited my brother and his two kids to come see her. My nephew's almost 13, and my niece is 15. They don't usually attend church, but made the effort for this special day.

Susannah wanted to stay in the service, too, instead of going to Sunday School, and Dan and his girlfriend thought they'd miss the high school class to support Grandma.

Wouldn't you know that the sermon today was on sex? Sexuality from God's perspective, as it is supposed to be a picture of our intimacy with Him. Nothing inappropriate or graphic, of course, but definitely pushing the boundaries.

Squirm? No, I didn't squirm at all.

(Why oh why couldn't it have been something safe like David and Goliath?)

O Harland, ye done me wrong

I know that as soon as I tell y'all about our Saturday night you'll be calling and writing and lining up to party with us. Because we're that kind of crazy fun.

We love Outback. Jim's dad loves to give us Outback gift cards, so it works out swell. Usually. We had wanted to go out to eat last night to celebrate Susannah's return from camp and Danny's football visit to his college.

We had to reschedule, though, because Dan's girlfriend needed his input on which prom dress she should get. She had picked out four but couldn't decide between them. Buying a prom dress these days is big stuff. Girls from our school have been known to travel to Chicago, and spend more on their dresses than I did my whole wedding. The shop where she had selected her dresses will not sell the same dress to two girls from the same school. So she knew she needed to act fast. I can't believe the pressure.

I have to say that of all my boys, Dan would be the most likely to go along with this assignment without balking or hyperventilating. Something went right in his genes or his training and he is actually a pretty good clothes shopper. We decided to wait until tonight to eat out, and that way we could celebrate the Doing Of The Saturday Chores, as well.

We interrupt this post to bring you an important report on The Dress.
They made a decision and she brought the dress by here and oh my word is it ever gorgeous. You know the dress that Glenda the good witch of the north is wearing in the Wizard of Oz when she comes floating down in that bubble? How it stands out around her in billowy layers of shimmery sparkles? Well that's what her dress looks like. In mint green.

Isn't she beautiful? If you could see her in this dress, you'd know that it was a completely legitimate reason to postpone dinner out. The words Fairy Princess spring to mind. And it makes me wish I could go back to my high school prom and wear something like this, instead of my Gunny Sax peasant dress that had a big bow in the back and ecru ruffles on the puffy sleeves.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled post, already in progress.

We thought we'd leave early enough to beat the Saturday crowds at Outback, and incorrectly guessed that if we were there before 6:00 we'd be in pretty good shape.

We just needed a quick stop at DB's to admire Baby JR on our way. His mom said we could go ahead and hold him because it was time for him to wake up, anyway. He's so cute and dear. Even when I played "patty feet" with him he did not want to wake up. But it was okay, because he was making all kinds of funny faces in his sleep. I'm pretty sure I'm not anywhere near that entertaining to watch while I'm sleeping. (This has been just a small rabbit trail on the road to the main story line.)

When we got to Outback at 5:50 there was an HOUR wait. The girl with the clipboard said that even if we'd been there at 5:00 we would have had to wait that long. As much as we love Outback, we were all too hungry to wait until almost 7:00. Jim left me there with the beeper while he drove up and down the main street, but every other eating establishment seemed to have hungry people spilling out into the parking lot as well. So we decided to forget the whole dining out experience and stop at KFC on the way home, because the "you were in a band?" commercials lately have been making me crave their mashed potatoes.

But the whole time in the car we had to try to ascertain that no one was going to be too upset about that plan. Because some of us were thinking we should try the Chinese buffet, and some of us were thinking we should try the sub sandwich place and some of us were thinking maybe Qdoba and some of us were kicking our brother's seat and some of us were grouching at our sister and some of us were embarrassed because Dan's girlfriend was with us and certainly this would never happen in her family.....

When you're feeding six ravenous people --people who are already a bit grumpy about spending the last hour salivating in anticipation of Outback steaks, only to have to settle for fried chicken -- and they all have different ideas about what kind of chicken they will even consent to eat, and you know you're going to need extra mashed potatoes, it can add up to a pretty big order. I felt confident that we were covered, simply because I'd ordered a little of everything, gave the girl my Visa card, took our two bags, and we were on our way.

We didn't realize until 25 minutes later once we were unpacking it all in our dining room at home, that we were missing the 12 pieces of chicken strips. The last thing we felt like doing was driving all the way back to the store, so I just called them up, trusting that they could credit my card. If it had been an order of french fries I wouldn't have bothered, but it wasn't a tiny amount of money. And there was a principle at stake. Plus one or two picky chicken eaters. Not to mention a husband who said that it would cost $6 in gas to drive there and back again.

But the sweet thing on the phone said there wasn't a thing she could do for me unless I came into the store tonight and brought my credit card with me. Jim thought maybe he could talk sense to a manager, but she in turn referred us to the 1-800 corporate number, where the helpful customer service agent said they'd have to submit the request or some such rigamarole, and we should have someone contact us by Tuesday to see IF we would be entitled to any money back.

Not "Oh, here, let us send you a coupon for a free bucket to compensate you for your inconvenience." Not "Oh, definitely let us credit your account and we'll go ahead and take off the cost of the 12 biscuits, as well." Not "We're terribly sorry that we're not set up to do credit card refunds, but the next time you stop into the store, we'll be happy to offer you 12 pieces of chicken strips and a medium popcorn chicken at no charge."

We'd been so hungry, but it was frankly hard to eat, what with all the smoke pouring out of Jim's ears and the tension so thick you could spread it on the biscuits. Clearly the days of "keep the customer satisfied" have passed away, along with the Colonel himself.


I think next Saturday night we'll stay home and eat peanut butter. There will be plenty -- just get your name on the phone ahead seating list and you can have some, too!

get me Bill Nye on the phone

Explain this, if you can -- we have had simply frigid temperatures this whole month, with abundant snowfalls. I haven't seen the grass in ages. The lake is frozen solid (the above photo is actually the view down my driveway.)

So how in the name of all that's logical was there a ladybug on my bathroom windowsill this afternoon? What in the world?

We used to suffer hideous ladybug infestations, so I wasn't at all charmed -- just perplexed and miffed. It's been a good two years since our last outbreak.

I know what you're thinking. Ladybugs are cute and sweet, right? They're on greeting cards and wallpaper and baby clothes.
But don't buy into the deceptive P.R. hype. Take it from me. If you've ever lived through a ladybug plague, you know that they're really evil. They bite! Yes they do. They stink. They reproduce like crazy.

So I did what any right-thinking woman would do in defense of her home. I squished him in a wad of toilet paper, then flushed him away.

I'd just like to know how he got there to begin with, in the dead of winter like that. Winter is supposed to be the season we don't have to deal with flies, mosquitoes, ants, wasps, earwigs, and ladybugs. Had he been incubating for the past several years or what?

Please submit all theories to our research department STAT.

of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most

There are many things about myself that I would like to change. One of my most disturbing , well, disturbances is my obsession and preoccupation with lost things.

I HATE to lose things. When something gets lost a panic rises up in my esophagus and my stomach clenches up in nauseous knots and my breathing gets shallow and my eyebrows squinch together and my scalp constricts and I break out in boils. And I simply
can. not. move. past. the lost thing and its mysterious whereabouts.

I then need everyone in my family to join the search. I call Corie. I interrupt Jim's work. I view all my children through the suspicious lens of accusation. I harbor ill will toward my dog. A deep resentful loathing begins to percolate toward all mankind because I'm sure that someone somewhere knows where my thing is. Even if they aren't guilty of theft, they're surely guilty of irresponsibility, or of (worse!) ambivilence.

All these symptoms manifest themselves even if the lost item is the lid to the milk jug, or my grocery list. But they intensify in direct correlation to the perceived preciousness of the lostee.

So.

I can't find the pashmina scarf that I was given as a gift the morning we left Korea. It was beautiful and special and irreplaceable.

I've spent the better part of the day straining my brain, trying hard to remember the last place I wore it, calling the hospital and Panera, interrogating my kids, scouring the house.

I'm just sick.

And you know what? The little sanctimonious comments that my conscience keeps chirping in my ear are not exactly helping. I know it's just a thing. I know I am not supposed to hold tightly to the things of this world. I know.

But I would sure be happy if I could just find it.

feels like a Tuesday

I can't get over how quiet the house is without Suse. You would think that just having the smallest girl absent wouldn't make such a big difference, but believe me, it does. I didn't realize how I'd miss the background buzz of Zach, Cody, Hannah Montana, Drake, Josh, and SpongeBob. And how peaceful it could be without the perpetual sibling static that permeates my days.

We had seven deer walk across our front yard just a bit ago! We've come to expect an occasional deer visitor, but this was a whole herd. I love where we live. Especially because we've had quite a bit of satisfactory snowfall this winter. All around me I hear people saying they're ready for spring, but not me. If it were up to me, we'd continue to have total snowiness right up until April 1, when it could begin to melt. But not a moment before.

Jim was at a college Bible study tonight, and Dan was at his girlfriend's house, so that left just Garrison, me, and American Idol. Thank heavens for VCRs (yes, we are still living in the dark ages of no TiVo) because when DB and his wife called and asked for someone to come hold the baby so they could catch some much-needed snoozing, I was out the door.



Do you see the way my shoulders are curled forward and around him? I believe this is what's known as Baby-Holding Shoulder Roll Posture Syndrome, and I've got it. It comes from years of wrapping your whole body around a small tiny person while holding them up under your chin. It's as natural to me as the involuntary swaying-rocking motion that starts up as soon as I get a child in my arms. As far as I can tell, there's no cure.

While I bounced and rocked and cuddled, Garrison worked on his assignment for English Lit -- write a journal entry for Princess Nausicaa about her first meeting with Odysseus. Poor buddy -- what self-respecting 14 year old kid enjoys studying Greek mythology in the first place? I'm thinking the last thing he's going to want to do is put himself in the place of a teenage princess, and creatively write about her feelings as she might record them in her journal.

Enjoy these baby days while you can, little James.

My take on Idol, after I'd watched the recording (I really prefer watching it that way, if you want to know the truth. I can scan right through the commercials and all the blah blah blah), was that they should just cancel the rest of the season right here and now and award the title to David Archuleta. I'd be tempted to gobble him up, he's just so sweet and precious. But that would be a crying shame, if I couldn't listen to him SING. My word.

My next favorite is Michael Johns, but I kinda wish he'd go for it on the high notes. Maybe he's all just raw appeal without the vocal range.

Speaking of TV, I'll leave you with this, then I'm done. I'm so bummed about Friday Night Lights. I don't know how they can think about canceling it when there are so many unresolved story lines. It's downright cruel and unusual to make us care about these people and then just phhhht, that's it??

I bet the executives were English Lit teachers in their former lives.

the one in which I'm left girl-less

It seems like this is the way it always happens. From full to empty in one swell foop.

This morning Corie and her two girls left for home, and Susannah left for a week at 5th grade camp. I've spent the morning wandering around in my empty house, mournfully picking up Polly Pocket shoes, stowing the pack-and-play, putting away baby toys, and wondering what I'm going to do with myself now that the only other female here is Sadie.

Who will watch Friends with me? Who will watch American Idol? Who will help make cookies?

Who will hide in my cupboard with the canned goods?




Who will drop crumbs on the floor for the doggie?





Maybe once I recover I'll catch up on my journal, and see if I can remember where I left off in "World Without End"...

The good news is that my sons are all here. And the men in my family couldn't be more delighted at the prospect of another generation of Denver Bronco fans.

all because two people fell in love

I was thinking today about how full my household is. Actually that's not entirely accurate, because that implies a sort of quiet contemplative pondering. "I was socked in the nose with the inescapable reality of how full my household is" is more like it. It's an extension of the fullness of my family, and my life, and the events swirling around and through and in us. It could make a girl dizzy. In fact, reading this post could make a girl dizzy, as it veers wildly and un-connectedly from one thought to the next.

I can't imagine what an empty nest would feel like. I had ALL my little birdies in my nest today...and their little birdies, too! It was JR's first trip to Mimi and Pop's house. We also had an extra mother-in-law and eight or thirteen workmen outside, with all their big backhoe bobcat pneumatic drill hammer shovel thingies. Sand trucks and lumber trucks and bears -- oh my! Just kidding about the bears.
I think.

It felt like a zoo at times today. I wish that I could just yell "hold it!" to everything else except helping baby JR and his momma get in sync with each other. You remember how it was that first week with a new baby? Just the overwhelming hormones and emotions and questions and physical exhaustion and lack of sleep? Doesn't it seem like a dirty trick for car batteries to die and cameras to break and laptops to start making funny noises and luggage to get lost? Doesn't it seem like there should be a moratorium on things going wrong? Just a grace period of sorts?

Right in the middle of it all my mother called because her washing machine was overflowing. When my amazing fix-it-hubby went to help her with it, he discovered that she had six bottles of Downy in her laundry room, but no detergent. So who knows how long she's been washing her clothes with just Downy... This addition, it is not happening any too soon.

Garrison forgot his lunch, and didn't stay after school to lift weights so he needed to be picked up. Danny stayed to lift, because he's still not sure what next year holds for him regarding football and college, so he's trying to be prepared for his upcoming visit to meet the coaches and I don't even know what else. I just know it seems like a lot is hinging on it. No.... no stress there at all.

Just like there wasn't any stress when Danny called me to ask if someone else had picked Susannah up after school today (they hadn't) because he was there at her school to get her and she wasn't there. I know she's the fifth kid, but I still hate to think she wouldn't be where she's supposed to be! She did turn up, but it was a brief scary moment.

It's a funny thing about my family -- we eat. We're just kind of odd like that. So even though I'd rather be reading to Lily or bouncing Tessa or watching JR run through his repertoire of facial expressions, meals still need to be made. Laundry still needs to be done (extra laundry needs to be done!). Groceries need to be bought. And then more groceries. Every day. Because as soon as we get home from the grocery store, we're out of milk. Then somehow Valentine's Day has crept up on me again, like most holidays do in recent years, which necessitated an eleventh-hour run to Target for Corie and me, where I was compelled to spend many drooly minutes in the Choxie chocolate aisle, counting and re-counting how many people I was buying Valentine treats for. Oh, and by the way, Susannah needs to bring brownies to school. But that's okay because she gave me plenty of advance notice. Like eleven minutes.

I think about my life with Jim, and how it started out just the two of us, and now here we are at the center of this hurricane that our family has become. I told JR today, "This chaos is your family, darlin'. Welcome and get used to it."

You know, I wouldn't have it any other way.

sweet baby james

I know. Isn't he sweet?

Here's the frustration I'm experiencing -- I am so eager to post pictures and write blogs and write journals and call people and send e-mails, but I am finding it real hard to get to the computer or the phone, because I'm all wrapped up in JR himself.


I am in full-to-the-top baby land. My waking moments are spent doing laundry and getting groceries and making meals and rocking babies -- both JR and Tessa. I even snuck in some bedtime book snuggling with Lily tonight.

Here he is learning the macarena. He's very advanced. It's in the genes -- he gets it from his Pop.



It's the cousins! SO FUN! How can little Tessa look so huge? Lily was very sweet and gentle with him. She knows all about how to treat a baby. It's been heavenly having Lily and Tessa here this week, too, to welcome little JR. What could be better? Grandbabies galore. How can I be expected to write posts?

Corie has been a huge help. Everyone, actually, is going above and beyond to get it all done. She has made dinner here at my house two times, and between the two of us the laundry doesn't have a chance to stack up.



Here JR is, getting some Pop bonding time. I think Jim is pretty enamored with this little guy. So amazing that our son has a son. He and his wife are such good parents already.



Is there any more enchanting feeling in the world than that downy little head tucked under your chin? Are there any sounds sweeter than those little snuffling smacking noises? Any smells more delicious than essence of baby? I think not. My heart could burst from Mimi love!

JR and his little family are just getting settled in. They came home from the hospital yesterday -- in the middle of a ferocious blustery blizzard and a temperature of 3 degrees! We had no power here for most of the day yesterday, which was no fun at all. I'm not sure how long Corie, Lily and Tessa will stay here at our house, but I'm in no hurry to send them home. Jason was able to drive up for the evening tonight, and JR's other grandparents are arriving soon from California to visit.

We had another snow day today -- no school for the big kids. They'd be happier about it if I didn't make them do chores. Dust bunnies have no respect for new babies, however, and it's a drudge, but toilets don't clean themselves.

In the midst of all this excitement, the work on the addition is proceeding.


Life. Never a dull moment.

HB is James Riley

I am so excited to announce that I have a grandson! A sweet baby boy was born last night at 8:50...weighing 7 lb 13 oz and measuring 20 1/2 inches.

Our daughter-in-law had a beautiful natural birth -- about 12 hours in the hospital. She was incredible. He's precious and wonderful and I am just overwhelmed with gratitude and amazement and joy. I am so proud of my son for being an excellent coach. Corie was there with us, too, and she should definitely be a labor assistant; she's terrific.

I was thinking, driving home from the hospital around 1:30 in the morning this morning, how everyone pitched in and contributed -- Susannah, Lily and Tessa just patiently hung out in the waiting room ALL DAY. Danny got out of school and came to be there with them. Every time I'd come out to check on them, he'd be holding Tessa. Uncle Garrison put Lily in bed last night, after Corie's friend Carrie had come to pick her up and take her home.

Pop was the only one not participating; he left yesterday morning for an ROTC retreat.

I will be posting pictures soon, so check back!

great baby wait of 08

Here's how we've been passing the time around here lately:


Watching our daughter-in-law's belly.....

Any signs of hatching yet?

............arm wrestling a little....


Lily's the reigning champ. We've also had another snow day, so we did some hair braiding

.......and some sledding

And then Corie whupped up on our daughter-in-law and me playing Friends Scene-It. She would probably beat Jennifer Aniston.

So the days are as full. As is my heart -- having everyone here. DB's wife's belly is full, and the dishwasher is, too. It's all good.

the muse has left the building

I got nothing. Seriously. And yet the urge to blog compels me keyboard-ward.

Don't you think February is mostly just sorta dull? I mean once you get past the pulse-quickening, goose bump-inducing, breath-holding excitement that is Groundhog Day.

Of course the Big Deal around here is HB's imminent arrival. I was telling my daugher-in-law that back when I was expecting my babies I always had that "waiting for company" feeling in the last week or so of my pregnancies. The house is cleaned, the refrigerator is stocked, the sheets have been changed......and the waiting begins. And you never know for sure when the company is going to come, but you know you're excited. And you don't feel like you can really plan anything else, in case the company arrives. So you sit tight, expectantly. Literally expectantly, in her case.

You try to do normal things but there's a sense of "it could be any time" about everything. Should I go to the grocery store? Should I plan to go to Bible study? The cell phone is charged and at hand. Every call that comes in, you wonder, could this be it?

Aunties from Indiana and California are making plans to come to Michigan. Which means that Lily and Tessa will be here, too! That is sure to bring some sunshine to this dreary gray weather!

I need to find a Friday Night Lights buddy. Someone who wants to chew over the plot developments with me. Jim and I have been watching it together, but once the show is over, he's done with it. He closes up that box and puts it back on the shelf. Meanwhile I carry the drama with me until the next week, wringing my hands over poor Matt, and wondering how Tyra and Landry are going to make it work, and not feeling entirely happy about Gracie being in day care, and wondering if someone should tell Tammy that maybe this wasn't the best time to take on a coaching job.....

And no, I haven't done anything yet on Danny's senior scrapbook. Thanks so much for pointing that out.

snow day -- the sequel

OK. I withdraw all my snarky cynicism about the weather forecasters. The "Storm Team" had been forecasting all manner of dire weather conditions for last night and today. Winter Weather Advisory. Heavy Snow Warning. Severe Weather Alert. Yeah, yeah, yeah.....I've heard it all before.

Out my window I saw nothing falling from the sky. It usually happens that the snow falls all around us, but misses our township.

But this morning there are probably 5 new inches of snow out there -- enough to cancel school again. It would have been another golden opportunity to sleep in, except for the four phone calls I received in the span of an hour.

I always thought that old people liked to get up early. It would seem I haven't outgrown that teenage urge to sleep until 10:00 or later.

So now I'm mildly grumpy. It doesn't help that I have a dentist appointment today. Bluh.

But it's February! (Pinch punch first of the month and no returns.) Baby month -- unless HB decides to come 19 days late. For our daughter-in-law's sake, I hope that's not the case.