tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37680301859713780212024-03-13T23:28:52.464-07:00Picky Fingersbenjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.comBlogger127125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-40728939414847474042009-02-15T07:51:00.000-08:002009-02-15T08:14:26.907-08:00SpaceI overheard this conversation the other day while Hubby was on the phone with a client, and the kids were playing ninja in the living room while watching a movie:<br /><br />"Hello? Hello? Yes, yes this is he. Sorry it's a little... I'm sorry? Oh, you're looking to buy a phone? No, I don't sell phones... OH! Yes, I sell homes! Sorry! Do you know what you're qualified for?... Oh, well one point two five million is quite nice, unfortunately our area is a little limited--oh I'm sorry! Yes, there's plenty for one hundred twenty five thousand-- what was that? I didn't hear that last part?? Wow! You have forty five thousand to put down! Fantas--I'm sorry? Oh, uh yes, we can close in forty-five days! Sorry, it's just a little loud--what? Yes sir, two boys. Um, 5 and 3... yes I do want your business. Let me just step away from all the noise..."<br /><br />...and with a glare in my direction, into the garage Hubby went. After a few minutes I peeked out to see him bent over the hood of the car, scribbling on the back of a paper bag. We later discussed that Hubby needed some kind of office. Unfortunately when you live in a sardine can-sized house, space is limited. Once he found some grocery receipts mixed in with his client's lunch receipts, and another time there were so many coloring pictures scattered across the computer table we had to break out an ax to find the mouse! This was a disaster!<br /><br />We needed a quick-fix solution, so we decided to put the boys together in Jake's room, and we'd turn Ben's room into an office/play room. The boys thought it was a fabulous idea, and last night Ben happily trooped into Jake's room to sleep!<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SZg6UPykLAI/AAAAAAAAAb0/vV8teUn8ssI/s1600-h/IMG_4311.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303052680739171330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SZg6UPykLAI/AAAAAAAAAb0/vV8teUn8ssI/s320/IMG_4311.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here they are getting ready for bed (the calm before the storm):<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SZg6T1gnbXI/AAAAAAAAAbs/tncQQvdvUlM/s1600-h/IMG_4314.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303052673684565362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SZg6T1gnbXI/AAAAAAAAAbs/tncQQvdvUlM/s320/IMG_4314.jpg" border="0" /></a> It's surprising how much space is in Jake's room! With two twin beds, a dresser, and a bookshelf, there's still plenty of room to play and walk around! Eventually I think we'd like to get bunk beds, or at least matching twin bed frames, but for now it provides a temporary solution to our overwhelming problem.</div><div> </div><div>However, last night was a disaster getting everyone to sleep. Daddy had to stand in the doorway, and even then only Ben fell asleep at a "reasonable" nine o'clock! Then Jake couldn't stand the extra "breathing" and ended up falling asleep in my bed at nine thirty! This is going to be a looong weekend.</div><div> </div><div>Of course I told Hubby that with the boys sharing a room I'd need to make it "cute" and get matching quilts and coordinating wall decor. He just sadly nodded. It was a cost he'd apparently calculated beforehand, but new it was a sacrafice he'd just have to make. Little does he know that I've been wanting to re-do the bathroom, too! Hey, when opportunity knocks, you open the door wide and offer cookies!</div>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-71150981244410844122009-02-12T15:30:00.000-08:002009-02-12T15:40:09.133-08:00Snug As A BugWhen Jake outgrows his clothes I store the non-stained, non-pilled, only rolled in the mud twice, items in plastic bins under his bed for later in life when Ben can wear them. Yesterday (in a bit of a laundry emergency) I ransacked those bins and found a bunch of clothes perfect for Ben's current size! Yay! Then I replaced the empty bin under the bed and went on with my day...<br /><br />So imagine my surprise when I walked into Jake's bedroom this afternoon to find this:<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SZSxbt3FIBI/AAAAAAAAAbU/7my9STR9aaw/s1600-h/IMG_4297.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302057751047118866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SZSxbt3FIBI/AAAAAAAAAbU/7my9STR9aaw/s320/IMG_4297.JPG" border="0" /></a> I said, "Ben! What are you doing there?" And he looked at me like I had two heads and answered, "I'm resting next to Jacob's bed." So I turned to Jake and--while trying to supress my giggles--I asked him if he had anything to do with this. Jake nodded and said, "Yeah, we found it under my bed so I pulled it out and got his blanket and pillow so he could rest."<br /><br />I just thought it was too funny. Then of course Ben turned into a big ham!<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SZSxbFlc-cI/AAAAAAAAAbM/EiCAOxyc6cg/s1600-h/IMG_4299_2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302057740235766210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 284px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SZSxbFlc-cI/AAAAAAAAAbM/EiCAOxyc6cg/s320/IMG_4299_2.jpg" border="0" /></a> Here he's clearly enjoying the attention!<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SZSxayj5wvI/AAAAAAAAAbE/lxvh9W6xOck/s1600-h/IMG_4295.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302057735128990450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 221px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SZSxayj5wvI/AAAAAAAAAbE/lxvh9W6xOck/s320/IMG_4295.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-86089541237431679112009-01-03T15:18:00.000-08:002009-01-03T15:50:45.315-08:00Jeans<span style="color:#000099;">Today Hubby had a brilliant idea of going out to eat for lunch. We decided to head to Red Robin (a family favorite) located at our mall. I got dressed in some jeans and a sweater, and we all piled into the car. My jeans felt a little tight, but I had just laundered them and assured myself that they would stretch. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Half-way through lunch I realized the only thing stretching was my stomach, spilling over the top of my belt loops. I casually suggested we stroll around for a bit afterward to walk-off our food. However, even as we walked my jeans still felt too tight. Here and there I would discretely check out my rear end in the store windows to make sure my pants weren't giving me a wedgie (I certainly felt some "creeping fabric" back there). </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">On the way home I mentioned to Hubby that I needed to lose some weight this year. I was met with an approving nod and a comment: "I think I've slimmed down quite a bit recently." I told him that I was happy for him and that I too would like to "slim down". He quickly agreed (a little too quickly, if you ask me) and continued on with a lecture reprimanding me for eating sweets and treats, and explaining that I needed to cut back on certain "unnecessary foods". </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I gave him a piece of my mind and told him that I didn't ask for his critique or criticisms, nor did I appreciate his attitude toward my recent weight discovery. I pointed my finger in his face and dared him to say one more word! He just raised his eyebrows at me, apologized for getting in the way, and slunk down behind the steering wheel. I know that I've gained weight, and I'm positive over the past year he's noticed it too, but he doesn't need to point out the obvious, or agree with me about it! A simple "you always look great, babe" would have been nice. Sheesh, is that too much to ask for?</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">As soon as I got home I ran for my closet and ripped my stretchable sweatpants off their hanger. I hurriedly stripped and pulled them on. I had never felt more relief from my elastic pants than at that moment. I folded the jeans on my bed and vowed to lose enough weight that I would no longer need to blame the dryer for the tightness of my britches.</span>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-83601990406869514242008-12-20T07:51:00.000-08:002008-12-20T08:12:40.435-08:00raindropsYesterday Ben and I had to stop by Target for something (after Costco, Target is our 3rd home) and there were no parking spots available up close so we had to park near the back and walk. I decided to carry him because of the long journey, and as we were walking it started to sprinkle random drops. <br /><br />Ben was holding his hand out palm side up, and staring up at the sky (while he was sitting like that his weight was torture on my back). Then Ben made a couple of comments about the rain, and then I began telling him about what we needed to buy in the store, all the while I'm thinking that he's listening to me... as he continues to gaze upward. So in the middle of my comment about 409 versus Fantastik! cleaner, out of his mouth comes:<br /><br />"I wonder if it's coming from the clouds? I think the rain drops are from the clouds in the sky."<br /><br />Just like that. Perfect English, perfect words, perfect revelation. And as his little face was getting gently pelted with water, he just kept staring up at the sky. I was speechless. I stopped walking, looked up at the clouds, and then down at him. And with special regard to not ruin the moment I hastily blurted out:<br /><br />"YES! Yes you brilliant child! The rain does fall from the clouds! You are so observant! What a little genius! I'm so proud of you!" and so on and so on I ranted. Consider the moment officially ruined.<br /><br />Then he looked at me like I was an idiot, and possibly...yes, I believe there was even some embarrassment in his expression. We reached the Target walkway and even though the moment was over, I smugly smiled and as I walked by perfect strangers and I held up Ben a little higher. I nodded down at other snot-smeared children's faces and thought of all the wondrous days ahead in my Ben's life. I wonder if he'll keep in touch at Harvard?benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-73031299225046203842008-12-19T15:05:00.001-08:002008-12-19T15:21:54.663-08:00Underoo'sLately my almost-3-year-old has been showing some interest in using the potty. The past few months he'd tinkle on the toilet before taking a bath, or during bedtime in an attempt at stalling he'd suddenly need to use the restroom. Then a couple of weeks ago he started telling me before he wet his diaper, and so we started the dreaded... potty training adventure. <br /><br />At first he hated underwear. Couldn't stand the things. Apparently he much preferred the heavy, pee-soaked paper feeling of a diaper over soft cotton. So we brought out some pull-ups and they were an instant hit. The first week he did very well on the potty! He went all the time with very few incidents. Then one day I tried a pair of brother's underwear on him and before I had reached the garbage to toss the previous pull-up, he had soaked through his pants--right on to my couch. Back to pull ups.<br /><br />This week has gone much better. That's an understatement: it's been fantastic! Not only is he wearing underwear (which he picked out at the store himself) but he's been keeping them dry... and poop free! I still put a pull-up on at bedtime and during nap, but he's been waking up dry too! EVERY TIME! It's been 4 days now and no accidents at all, including during nap and overnight. I'm flabbergasted! <br /><br />When we brought home the underwear the other day he immediately pulled some on and ran into my room to look in the mirror. Not wanting to miss a moment I grabbed my camera and followed. This is how he "checked them out" in my mirror:<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SUwo95XlYqI/AAAAAAAAAas/M92freYwdIk/s1600-h/IMG_3738.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281641506835620514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 235px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SUwo95XlYqI/AAAAAAAAAas/M92freYwdIk/s320/IMG_3738.jpg" border="0" /></a> So then I said, "Show them to Mommy!" so he swiveled his rear-end toward me.<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SUwo9lRftjI/AAAAAAAAAak/5FKG2ERZ_R4/s1600-h/IMG_3739.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281641501441373746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 297px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SUwo9lRftjI/AAAAAAAAAak/5FKG2ERZ_R4/s320/IMG_3739.jpg" border="0" /></a> Here he is looking a bit more proper, and dare I say it, more grown up. <br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SUwo9i2RycI/AAAAAAAAAac/5W1CezwK3jM/s1600-h/IMG_3740.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281641500790344130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SUwo9i2RycI/AAAAAAAAAac/5W1CezwK3jM/s320/IMG_3740.JPG" border="0" /></a>I'm so proud of him for doing well and I hope it continues without too much drama. It's cost me his college tuition in M&M's as bribery, and he HAS to go in every public restroom we come to, but on a positive note maybe I'll finally be able to save for my retirement since I'll no longer be investing in diapers!</div></div>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-15916890274617386412008-12-07T07:20:00.000-08:002008-12-07T07:43:29.688-08:00Indoor SoccerJake started Indoor Soccer this weekend and it was awesome! I was not familiar with this type of game before yesterday, so it was nothing like I imagined it to be. Picture an indoor hockey rink, if you will, with rounded wall corners, and goals blended into the walls. Unlike outdoor soccer, Indoor Soccer has a referee who actually blows the whistle and calls the fouls! Coaches aren't allowed on the field, which means the kids are left to fend for themselves!<br /><br />That being said... Talk about your competition! Keep in mind the age range is 5-6 year olds... There were kids elbowing other kids, pushing others against the walls, tripping, slamming down... then there was my son who was dancing around on the defense line. Other parents were calling from sidelines things like, "Keep running! Follow the ball!" or "Watch the pushing!" or "Good block! Way to stop the ball!" Then there was me, yelling, "Stop twirling!"...one more than one occasion. *eye roll*<br /><br />On the sidelines, us parents were practically voiceless after the game ended. We were cheering, yelling, encouraging and laughing our way through all 44 minutes. I turned to the person sitting next to me (who happens to be the Senior Pastor at my church--his grandson is on Jake's team) and said, "I don't think my heart can take this much longer! All the excitement is going to put me in an early grave!" Then he laughed and told me I better buck up because I have two boys, and this is only the beginning!benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-776113978832465962008-11-23T17:33:00.001-08:002008-11-23T18:09:15.351-08:00Ice Cream CatastropheIn an attempt to start a new tradition once or twice a month called "Family Day", Hubby and I took our boys to Fenton's Ice Creamery restaurant. They serve large, gourmet-style, bowls of ice cream and other treats and desserts.<br /><br />We were sat in a booth, Hubby and I on the aisle with one boy each tucked next to the wall. When the waitress came over I ordered two children's ice cream sundaes, and two adult root beer floats. Then, as an afterthought, asked her if she could please bring 4 glasses of water. Is it just me or does ice cream make everyone thirsty? Hubby assured me later that it was just me...<br /><br />The water glasses arrived promptly, and shortly after our waitress brought some straws and four silverware settings wrapped inside paper napkins, and set them on the outer edge of the table. My youngest son instantly reached for his straw, followed by my 5 year-old... who bumped his water glass over in the process. Floods of water and ice cascaded over the table, eventually ending up in my seat and soaking the side of my leg.<br /><br />I hurriedly whipped my Dooney bag up off the seat and scrunched my body closer to my son. "Move Mama!" he exclaimed. The napkins around the silverware bundles were soaked, my seat was soaked, and every time I moved away from the watery mess it seemed to follow me down the bench. A female employee with two small towels came over to assist us, but the look on her face clearly read, "All this from one small cup of water?" I silently nodded my head. Exactly my thoughts, lady.<br /><br />It took her almost 5 minutes to clean the drippy mess up, and then we settled back into our seats. New, dry, silverware and straws were brought to our table and we continued to wait for our ice cream. Hubby lectured our son about his clumsiness around the table. I had no sooner said, "It was just an accident, dear... accidents happen to everyone", when Hubby bumped his own water glass over and I received my second bath of the day.<br /><br />Up in the air went my Dooney, and down the bench I scurried, cuddling next to my child for the second time in 6 minutes. Hubby was beyond bewildered, I was beyond hysterical, and the table and napkins and silverware were soaked--again--with water. "Why do we even need water!" Hubby was yelling, scooping up the cups into his arms. "We're done with them! All of the cups are gone! This is ridiculous!" He was unsuccessfully trying to hold back his laughter. I on the other hand couldn't help myself and was crying mascara tears down my cheeks.<br /><br />Hubby excused himself to get some help and when he approached the same woman again, she looked more shocked than I think was appropriate for the situation and then looked over at us like, "You can't possibly be that inept!" Once again I nodded another apologetic bob while I tried to put some of the ice into a pile.<br /><br />When that mess was cleaned up and our third helping of silverware was brought over, our ice cream was finally ready. What a way to pass the time by! Our waitress brought the boys sundaes followed quickly with our floats. The size of our floats would have made the Statue of Liberty jealous. I looked with large eyes across the table at Hubby, who very sternly said, "Hold the side of your glass with one hand! We are NOT spilling these!"<br /><br />I lifted up my Dooney and tried to pass it over the table so it could carefully rest on the dry bench. In doing so, I dipped the bottom corner of it into my son's whipped cream atop his sundae. "Mom!" he yelled. "Babe! Watch it!" Hubby grimaced. I began laughing again. Certainly we were not cut out for restaurants.<br /><br />I made the comment about how I needed to blog this and got a glare in response from Hubby.<br /><br />Luckily we made it through the remainder of our meal (leaving behind a very gracious tip), without another incident... until we reached our car and Hubby noticed he had chocolate syrup on his sleeve.benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-36384003381403559852008-11-14T16:39:00.000-08:002008-11-14T17:17:51.985-08:00Grey's AnatomyIf you love Grey's Anatomy like I do then you've followed it through all 5 seasons, and have your tivo set to religiously record it every Thursday night. <br /><br />I enjoy the show for the most part. There's been some off-the-wall scenarios (Denny's stolen heart), and some really bad story lines (like the Izzy-George-Calleigh love triangle... puh-leaze), and some great characters in general<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SR4bPM-qpAI/AAAAAAAAAaU/18R4bVYdGEQ/s1600-h/jdmorgan.jpg"></a> (oh how I miss Addison). <br /><br />What I can't stand is when a good show turns bad. I hate when the characters go stale, or when their story is so repetitive you can guess what's going to happen before it happens. And I hate when the writers just can't let things go. <br /><br />The Alex and "Ava"/Rebecca story was neat. It followed a true relationship built from the beginning and made this really great history, and then voila, she appears last season all looney and mentally unstable. A good thing ruined...<br /><br />The Derek/Meredith storylines have been all over the map and I swear, if the writers break them up again I'm boycotting the show all-together.<br /><br />Then there's Izzy and Denny. Poor helpless Denny. He and Izzy were fantastic together, then she went and got him killed, and the poor guy's life ended before we really got to know him. We were all sad and upset with the writers, but it made for great t.v. and we eventually moved on. Then low-and-behold I watched last week's episode and who should appear but our beloved Denny! And I thought to myself, "Oh how nice! They gave him a little cameo!" But then again on last night's episode our deceased friend reappeared talking and touching and kissing Izzy! I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn't going insane along with the blond girl on the screen, but yep, there they were!<br /><br />So I'm completely irritated and oddly intrigued by this. What's the storyline going to be? Is Izzy completely insane? Does she have some brain tumor or neurological disorder that's preventing her from seeing things clearly? Has she completely lost her grasp on reality? I'm curious as to what others think about this peculiar tale...benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-17126568128574793332008-11-04T19:01:00.001-08:002008-11-04T19:39:31.087-08:00Dresser Demolition<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000099;">I was unhappily enjoying my afternoon, disgruntled and irritated that a sewing project I had been working on was turning out poorly (it would have looked better if I had put my five-year-old in charge), when from the deepest dungeons of my house came a very loud thud, followed by a crying child. I muttered something inappropriate </span><span style="color:#000099;">under my breath and heaved myself up from my chair. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I was sauntering toward the bedroom where all the noise had originated from, when Jake (the five-year-old) said in a calm, although slightly panicked voice, "Mom? You better come faster..." I picked up my heels and ran! When I rounded the corner to Jake's room this is what I saw:</span><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SRENo4ewJLI/AAAAAAAAAaM/jG4U2X09Wgk/s1600-h/IMG_3576.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265004435380118706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SRENo4ewJLI/AAAAAAAAAaM/jG4U2X09Wgk/s320/IMG_3576.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#000099;">The entire dresser had fallen face-first down to the carpet, spilling its entire contents out from underneath, and throwing its lamp and darth vader room monitor forward. Ben, my two-year-old, was laying underneath the lamp cord, about 10 inches from the top of the dresser--and he was crying!</span><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SRENo-bhSoI/AAAAAAAAAaE/lUNoFo8cm5k/s1600-h/IMG_3578.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265004436977175170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SRENo-bhSoI/AAAAAAAAAaE/lUNoFo8cm5k/s320/IMG_3578.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#000099;">"Oh My Gosh!!! What happened?!?! Are you okay? Did it hit you? Where are you hurt? WHAT HAPPENED IN HERE?!?!" You can imagine the images rapidly shuffling through my mind at that moment. Jake, who had been standing on his bed, answered, "All I did was open my sock drawer and the whole thing fell over!" After noticing that my horrified expression had not even slightly diminished from my face he quickly continued, "It didn't hit him Mom, it didn't hit Ben. Just the lamp. The lamp hit Ben!" I looked at Ben who was nodding along angerly and realized he had stopped crying.</span><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SRENom8TdBI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/-5ZSILpbzdY/s1600-h/IMG_3579.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265004430672229394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SRENom8TdBI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/-5ZSILpbzdY/s320/IMG_3579.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#000099;">I believed Jake for several reasons: 1) I'm constantly finding him standing on his bed, reaching into the top of his sock drawer for clean under garments; 2) His eyes were as large as dinner plates, and he looked about as white as a ghost from the neck up; and 3) Ben was vividly explaining that Jake opened the drawer and then the dresser "chased him down". </span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;">I walked around the dresser carefully examining it, and found the sneaky culprit in the back: a leg of this oh-so-cheaply-made-out-of-fake-wood dresser had snapped completely off. I was happy that no one was hurt, but annoyed that this had happened. If there's not one thing to buy for these boys, there's another! I just got them all settled with enough clothes and jackets and shoes for the winter, and now I need to buy a new dresser. Good grief! </span><span style="color:#000000;"></div></span><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SRENoV_TnYI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/o29lXhWrTeE/s1600-h/IMG_3581.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265004426121420162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SRENoV_TnYI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/o29lXhWrTeE/s320/IMG_3581.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-40569618275734002862008-10-30T17:31:00.000-07:002008-10-30T17:51:34.127-07:00Tree ArtPart of Jake's homework last week was to take a walk and collect a leaf to bring to class. Of course this turned into an art project at the pleas of both my children. So off we trotted down our street, happily enjoying the day and looking for leaves. <br /><br />Jake, my finicky child, was very careful about which leaf would be "the one". He didn't want one that was bent, or too small, or an oddball color. He was searching for his version of perfection. <br /><br />After we'd been walking for ten minutes we had only passed by two houses. Jake had already been searching and hunting and had turned over, stepped on, passed by without a second glance, dozens of perfectly fine leaves. I wanted to yell "It's a leaf! Who gives a flying can of tuna!"... but I resigned to say: "Every leaf is a little bit different honey... just pick one that's halfway decent and you'll be good." *mentally rolled eyes*<br /><br />Finally after another excruciating ten minutes of leaf searching he finally found exactly what he was looking for. The Heavens shined down on it, as it glowed from the gutter. It was a simple leaf, yellow in color, soft in texture, and had no marks or torn edges of any kind. Just as he held it up to show me, a gust of wind blew whisking the leaf out of his gentle fingers, and sending it into the street. My breath caught in my throat when it was almost swallowed up by the passing-by of an SUV.<br /><br />"Quick! Into the bag!" I shouted. I was not about to endure another half an hour of this. Once it was safely and securely in the bag we continued our walk (with me secretly veering the children toward home). <br /><br />While Jake had been concentrating on finding the Beauty Queen of all leaves, Ben had filled his baggie with darn near 80 leaves. Some were bent, some were torn, some were dirty, some were infested with bugs... and he was happy as could be about it. So then Jake whined that he only had one and apparently life wasn't very fair to him, and his baggie should be equally filled. He filled his bag quickly--at my insistence--and then off we trekked for home. <br /><br />We made "trees" out of brown construction paper (which the kids crumpled up to resemble the "trunk"), and then they glued their leaves on the top. They loved this project and were so impressed with it! As soon as they were dry, up on the fridge they went!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SQpSY2RjYqI/AAAAAAAAAY0/ZIAYhH4IWhg/s1600-h/IMG_3487.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263109701375320738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SQpSY2RjYqI/AAAAAAAAAY0/ZIAYhH4IWhg/s320/IMG_3487.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SQpSY4-Hs0I/AAAAAAAAAYs/4dlMWHBUEYA/s1600-h/IMG_3486.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263109702099120962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SQpSY4-Hs0I/AAAAAAAAAYs/4dlMWHBUEYA/s320/IMG_3486.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SQpSYbMvLnI/AAAAAAAAAYk/fGd1ta2EL8Q/s1600-h/IMG_3484.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263109694107364978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SQpSYbMvLnI/AAAAAAAAAYk/fGd1ta2EL8Q/s320/IMG_3484.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SQpSX54gO4I/AAAAAAAAAYc/kQDquqiRUf4/s1600-h/IMG_3483.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263109685164129154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SQpSX54gO4I/AAAAAAAAAYc/kQDquqiRUf4/s320/IMG_3483.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-28175432906882840372008-10-21T19:24:00.000-07:002008-10-21T19:36:24.518-07:00Why?<span style="color:#663333;">We've reached that dreadful stage where every other word out of Ben's mouth is "Why?" He'll be 3 in January and he's smart, and capable, and totally curious about the world around him. I can't say that I blame him; there's a lot of interesting things to look at and experience... but if he asks me "Why?" one more time I think I might blow my top!</span><br /><span style="color:#663333;"></span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">When Jake was that age he didn't ask too many "Why?" questions. He did a little, but we'd answer him pretty thoroughly and he would contently withdraw any further questions. Ben... not so much. </span><br /><span style="color:#663333;"></span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">We saw a fire truck come sailing down the road tonight, lights flashing, siren wailing, horn honking, and I made the mistake of saying, "Look Ben! A fire truck!" That led him to ask where it was going. A fair question, so I promptly answered that it was probably going to help someone who was injured. This led to "Why Mom?" </span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">"Because that's what firemen do." </span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">"Why?" </span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">"They help those who are hurt. They go to their house." </span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">"Why? Why Mom?" </span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">"Because that's their job." </span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">"Why? ...Why? ...Why Mom? ...Mom? ...MOM!" </span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">"What!!!" </span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">"Why, Mom? For 'da fire? On da house?" </span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">"Yes. Look! McDonald's!"</span><br /><span style="color:#663333;"></span><br /><span style="color:#663333;">This is a sad, but typical situation that happens pretty regularily. He asks why objects are certain colors, why the dogs have hair, why I brush my teeth, why the food stays at the table, why, why, and more why! Sometimes I answer, "Because I said so!" or "Just because!" But he has no clue what "because" means, so it's in one ear and out the other. I'm hoping it's a phase that will end soon!</span>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-8910903784315356722008-10-17T20:02:00.000-07:002008-10-17T20:29:18.865-07:00Lab, Part 2You'll want to read "Lab, Part 1" first to catch up...<br /><br />Hubby was carrying Ben and we gingerly stepped into the vampire's lair--oh, sorry, Kaiser's laboratory. A lovely woman at the end of the table asked if the blood work was for the "baby". We responded "yes" and she asked us to come sit down in front of her. <br /><br />I was completely dreading this. I thought, "Ben's going to take one look at that needle, freak out, I'll cry the big ugly cry... this will not go well for either of us." But instead I said, "he's never done this before, just so you know!" I kind of giggled a nervous laugh to show that I was a breezy, go-with-the-flow kind of Mom, but I didn't think I was fooling anyone. <br /><br />This Lab tech bubbled over-the-top with kindness and friendliness. She talked to Ben a long time, explaining how things worked and what she was doing as she was doing them. She used real words like, "blood" and "tourniquet" and "needle", but she said them all with this soothing, gentle tone and Ben was completely mesmerized. Then she said, "Okay, I'm going to poke your arm here with this little needle and it'll pinch for a minute." Hubby was holding Ben's other arm down tight to his side, while I was busy removing all the blood from my own hands by clenching my fingers together tightly. <br /><br />Another tech came over to help "hold down" the arm that was being worked on. Good grief, it was probably more dreadful for me to watch then for Ben to feel. There were some Halloween decorations on the walls and I was trying to distract Ben by pointing them out but he was transfixed by what was happening in front of him. The tech's were telling him things like, "Wow! Look at your muscles!" and "Let's test how big and strong your muscles are!" and "Let's see how healthy your muscles are!" which of course Ben just ate up! He was nodding confidently and answering, "Yeah!" and "They big!" and stuff. He was such a doll to watch! Every now and then he'd say, "Ow." But nothing more. Then she pulled off the last tube, removed the needle quickly and put a cotton ball on his arm.<br /><br />"Okay! That's it big guy! You were awesome! I can't believe how good you were!" she was saying. I realized I had been holding my breath the entire time and was now nervously trying to inhale some air. I laughed out loud and patted Ben on his back. I was so extremely proud of how well he acted. I couldn't believe how calm and sweet he was about the whole thing! The Nurses and Lab tech's were just eating him up! Complimenting him and us. Then when we left the laboratory and exited through the waiting room three different people commented on how well he had behaved! Ben deserved a big treat after that, so we picked up his brother from school and went straight for ice cream!benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-78741022160327841992008-10-17T19:34:00.000-07:002008-10-17T20:02:24.248-07:00Lab, Part 1Hubby and I took Ben to Kaiser the other day to get some Lab work done. He needed several tubes of blood taken from his arm, and we also needed to pick up a "stool sample" kit (oh, the joys of parenthood). When we arrived at the Lab department, Hubby sat in a seat with Ben in the waiting area while I walked up to the counter to register. <br /><br />I handed the woman behind the desk Ben's card and said, "My son needs to get some blood work done... his doctor already sent the orders through." She clicked something on the keyboard and then looked at me with a straight face and said, "He'll need his ID." <br /><br />I kind of chuckled to myself, and while restraining the urge to laugh I responded, "Well he doesn't have one!" She looked at me, raised her eyebrows, glanced over at Hubby and Ben, and then looked back at me and continued: "Well, he'll need an ID to get his labs done." <br /><br />Is she serious? I looked at her carefully but her expression was totally deadpan. It threw me off for a moment and I thought, Wow! Am I totally out of it? Is this the new thing parents are doing now? Getting ID cards for their babies? I cautiously said, "He doesn't have an ID..." but she didn't remove her stare from my face so I quickly explained, "He's only two!" ...and then I laughed because this conversation seemed completely ridiculous to me! <br /><br />She looked quizzically over at Hubby and Ben again, and then glanced at her computer and said, "Well it says here he's 32, so he should have one! He'll need one to be admitted." Good grief! I mean, granted I've been a little tired all week due to a nasty cold, but do I really look old enough to have birthed a 32-year-old? Sheesh, I'm not even 30 myself! That'll be the last time I skimp out in the makeup department--sick or not!<br /><br />It was then that she corrected herself and said, "Oh. I get it, 32 <em>months</em>. He's only two-and-a-half." Still deadpan... Was she for real? She then handed me a bag with a cup and gave me some instructions on removing the stool from his diaper. She told me to line the diaper with a plastic bag first, and then take my sample from there. Apparently this woman does not have children of her own, nor does she know of any kid under the age of thirty. Try explaining to a two-year-old that we need to line his butt with plastic to catch his poop. Yeah right! He'd hold it in for days if I did that! I mentally rolled my eyes and nodded along.<br /><br />She gestured toward a door, "Okay you can go on in." After another mental eye roll I signaled to Hubby that it was time to face the music.benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-84992547146399305232008-10-10T07:48:00.000-07:002008-10-10T08:13:09.773-07:00Yesterday afternoon time got away from me a little and before I knew it my kids were whining for dinner. I glanced at the clock and realized it was already 5:00 and I didn't have anything ready. I knew my kids would declare they were starving at 5:01 so I had to move fast! I was opening the cupboards looking for something to prepare (you know me, not one to plan ahead) and pulled out some pasta. This started a whole array of questions:<br /><br />"What is that Mommy?"<br />"It's the spaghetti before it's cooked. This is how I buy it."<br />"Why is it long? Does it bend? Do we eat that? How does it cook?"<br />To eliminate the number of questions barreling at me I held the bag out to my eldest.<br />"Oh, cool! Can I have a stick?"<br />"Me too! Me too!"<br /><br />Of course the "sticks" were cracked and broken in no time at all and they were begging for more. I reached into the back of my cupboard where I had some old pasta, circa 1996. I handed each kid a pot, some scoopers, and a bowl and then poured the "retired" pasta into their containers. Jackpot! This kept them entertained throughout the entire making-of-dinner process.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SO9r_Rg-kXI/AAAAAAAAASI/wgjHyWDtJyc/s1600-h/IMG_3361.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255538024942309746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SO9r_Rg-kXI/AAAAAAAAASI/wgjHyWDtJyc/s320/IMG_3361.JPG" border="0" /></a> Ben was talking non-stop, explaining that he was making meatballs and macaroni and cheese. <br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SO9r_pyPKsI/AAAAAAAAASQ/HRi6z7kSGWs/s1600-h/IMG_3363.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255538031457151682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SO9r_pyPKsI/AAAAAAAAASQ/HRi6z7kSGWs/s320/IMG_3363.JPG" border="0" /></a> Jake was working so diligently, and he was concentrating so hard that he had a very stern expression on his face. I actually stood there with the camera for a couple of minutes waiting for him to smile or something, and then said, "Jake are you enjoying this?" And he assured me he was. So then I said, "Prove it!" and this was his expression:<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SO9r_9m96AI/AAAAAAAAASY/aENmrqTNoWk/s1600-h/IMG_3368.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255538036778592258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SO9r_9m96AI/AAAAAAAAASY/aENmrqTNoWk/s320/IMG_3368.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here he made a smoothie! Yum! Bean and pasta smoothie! That'll get the intestines flowing!<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SO9r__7T4dI/AAAAAAAAASg/3qvMDKucF_g/s1600-h/IMG_3375.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255538037400789458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SO9r__7T4dI/AAAAAAAAASg/3qvMDKucF_g/s320/IMG_3375.JPG" border="0" /></a> I had made it very clear at the start of this project that I did not want to see any beans or pasta on the ground. In this picture I asked Ben, "What are you guys doing?" and he said, "Oh, Day-tub spilled so he keening up!" Then he was pointing out the couple of beans on the floor to him saying, "Over here, Daytub... over dat way!" It was funny!<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SO9r_xsdxjI/AAAAAAAAASo/VvbAozefdf8/s1600-h/IMG_3372.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255538033580426802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SO9r_xsdxjI/AAAAAAAAASo/VvbAozefdf8/s320/IMG_3372.JPG" border="0" /></a> So yes, let me point out how much I hate my kitchen. The floor is this marbled-gray tile with brown grout, and my counter (as much counter space as I have) is all white tile with brown grout. So pretty. I can't believe how tiny my kitchen looks in these pictures...<br /><div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SO9rr-F24RI/AAAAAAAAASA/hN-GM1slkN0/s1600-h/IMG_3363.JPG"></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-22436703522476291042008-10-04T14:28:00.000-07:002008-10-04T14:50:09.225-07:00Tech talk terrorI was working in a Microsoft Word document typing something up and was trying to make it a little more "creatively pretty". The original font styles that Word offered were all boring to me, so I turned to my sister--the creative genius--for help. She tells me to go to <a href="http://www.dafont.com/">www.dafont.com</a> for some new font styles. I think, "Wow! How neat!" <br /><br />Sure enough this website offers tons and tons of new fonts and you're able to download them for free to your computer! Sounded good to me! I found a couple I liked, clicked the "download" button, and waited. Nothing appeared in my Word font box. Hmm... Now I'm not a very techy person, so back to my sister I went. I explained my computer problem and that I couldn't figure out how to download the new font. She said, "I did it pretty easily..." go figure. This from the person who always made straights A's in school. Then she told me to click on the download box. More heavy sighs from me. Did I mention that I'm not very computer-techy?<br /><br />I went back and tried again. I managed to save the new font to my computer. Great! Progress! I opened it and sure enough, there was the new font style, but no obvious way for me to type with it. Mental head scratching... I wrote a new email to my sister, and this was her reply:<br /><br />"You need to unzip it and install it. What unzip program are you using? Winzip? Then are you using Vista or XP? With Vista you right click and then click "install". With XP you need to copy and paste the file into C: Windows/fonts/".<br /><br />I swear I read that passage fourteen times. I was just kind of blankly staring at my screen. Was this English? Did I bump a button that automatically changed her speech to a foreign language? What's an XP... or a Vista? How do you, or what do you, "unzip"? I know files can be opened, but some have zippers?? I thought the next thing she's going to tell me is that something needs to be "unbuttoned" or "put on a hanger" or "laid out to dry". I was beyond lost...<br /><br />I randomly started pushing buttons and copying and pasting the darn font file to every windows folder I found. Finally, after sweating pretty profusely, I found the Windows Font folder. It was hiding between other files like "dell", "media", and "WinSxS". Who knew what they were for, as long as I found the correct folder I was happy. I dabbed my underarms and continued working. I finally managed to copy and paste and get the new font in the correct place!<br /><br />I was thrilled! Mentally I was exhausted, physically I was a headachy-sweaty mess, but emotionally I was excited to have learned a new, cool techy move! Thanks to my lovely Sis for all her help, but I think next time I'll look up "Downloading New Fonts For Dummies" and see if it's written in English...benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-41926196493963856532008-10-03T17:25:00.000-07:002008-10-03T17:47:47.546-07:00Pre-heat, Re-heatIt's not a shock to those who know me that I'm not the world's next Rachel Ray. I can heat a can of soup to perfection, boil water like it's going out of style, and make a mean plate of nachos. However, I burn food without meaning to, and I under cook and overcook just about everything. I hate to meal plan, and we often have repetitive dinners week after week. Seriously, how much spaghetti can one girl cook? Or eat!<br /><br />Recently I discovered it's not cooking the food that I despise, but cooking in the evening. I'm dog tired by the end of the day and the last thing I feel like doing is cooking a big meal... especially when my kids start whining that they're hungry a little after four. And it never fails that when I'm elbow deep in chicken carcass my children decide that that's the moment they'll fall and get hurt/pull out all the paints/spill milk on the table/color on the couch... Not to mention their incessant whining and complaining that they're starving and can't possibly survive waiting thirty more minutes to eat. I have no patience for whining. And I have even less at dinnertime.<br /><br />So lately my solution has been to cook my meals at lunchtime, or in the early afternoon, and store it until dinner! Now when dinner time arrives I pull out my Gladware, un-pop the top, and shove it in the microwave. A high level of radiation does the trick and voila! Dinner is served! Of course there are the times (usually when Hubby is home) when I'll cook a fresh meal in the evening, but at least I've found my silver lining for all those other days.benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-31615343199382857482008-10-01T08:48:00.001-07:002008-10-01T08:53:56.023-07:00Sprinkle Art ...AgainRemember this <a href="http://mybenjiboo.blogspot.com/2008/08/sprinkle-art.html">blog</a>? Well, Ben was at it again! He's been begging me and begging me to do another sprinkle picture so I conceded and below is the end result:<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SOOcCQweOvI/AAAAAAAAARY/-tZlSmD1Bp8/s1600-h/IMG_3248.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252213153116076786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SOOcCQweOvI/AAAAAAAAARY/-tZlSmD1Bp8/s320/IMG_3248.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />I think there's something fun in the fact that he gets to throw food around on a piece of paper, in hopes that it lands in glue blobs here-and-there! The last "cake" he made was up on our fridge for weeks before he finally let me take it down. I tried to draw cupcakes instead, or a double-layered cake... but no, it has to be this specific style of cake (if you can call it a "style") or it's not good enough! LOLbenjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-91638803683317931932008-09-30T18:50:00.000-07:002008-09-30T19:00:18.911-07:00Privacy<span style="color:#3333ff;">Lately my five-year-old is obsessed with his personal privacy. All of the sudden he needs to have the bathroom door closed when he's using the restroom. Or he needs to change his clothes somewhere private, like in his room with the door shut... and then inside the closet *rolls eyes*. It doesn't faze him that I still help wash his body in the bath tub or shower, or that I shampoo his hair... or that I help him to dry off after the bath... </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">I think it's interesting that he's developing a new emotion in regards to his privacy. We've never made a big deal about his body parts, or ours, but all on his own he no longer feels completely secure with himself to just "show himself". I'm not sure why but this just fascinates me. Without expecting it my child has aged into this other person... no longer baby-like, but someone much older! I bet soon he'll want to start wearing his pants below his knees, and he'll want to pierce something... God help us all!</span>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-5327772590605196582008-09-24T07:13:00.000-07:002008-09-24T07:24:41.972-07:00FacebookThe other day (okay, a couple of months ago) my sister tells me: "You've got to create a facebook page! It's so fun!" So I'm thinking, oh, maybe it's a beauty website about makeup or facials... Nope, it's another "blog", "myspace", "broadcast your life all over the internet" kind of a thing... It took awhile, but now my children have to be bleeding for me to pry myself away. You can view my page <a href="http://www.new.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1346041542&ref=mf">here</a>!<br /><br />Recently I'm hooked on it. I just uploaded a motherload of pictures today (half of which I credited to my <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.angelachandlerphotography.com">professional photographer</a>). So instead of "leaving comments" you "write on walls" (my two year old would go nuts at the sound of that). You can look up people and send them an email asking to "be friends" with you. How fun?! I've had cousins whom I haven't spoken with in decades (no exaggeration) email me.<br /><br />This is the last thing I need, another reason to be on the computer. Between this blog, my <a href="http://home.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user">MySpace</a> page (which I'm horrible at checking or updating), my <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/19114028@N04/">flickr</a> site (again, not very good at keeping it current... the last pictures I uploaded are from the 80's I think), my online stay-at-home-Mom's playgroup (yes, we meet in person, we just chat online), ebay, and of course my celebrity gossip links... it's a wonder my house stays clean, my kids are fed, and the bills are paid on time.benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-64082742897056115992008-09-22T13:18:00.000-07:002008-09-22T13:32:45.196-07:00Puppies!<span style="color:#000066;">My Hubby and I <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.tallulahslabs.com">breed Labs </a>professionally and this past weekend our yellow female, Chloe, gave birth to 4 puppies! Three black and only one yellow! They are the cutest things! I know what you're thinking, "You must be crazy to voluntarily invite other creatures that eat and poop into your home"... but we love it!</span><br /><span style="color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000066;">Here's Jake enjoying the yellow pup, whom he named Green Bay Packer. *rolls eyes*</span><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SNf-0JrCxII/AAAAAAAAARQ/V5WMpy7h8qs/s1600-h/IMG_3146.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248944062626710658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SNf-0JrCxII/AAAAAAAAARQ/V5WMpy7h8qs/s320/IMG_3146.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#000066;">Now here's me and Green Bay Packer... they'll open their eyes around 10 days...</span><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SNf9qKXaf4I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/z44_Rqtmvt8/s1600-h/IMG_3142.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248942791502495618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SNf9qKXaf4I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/z44_Rqtmvt8/s320/IMG_3142.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#000066;">Ben loves all the puppies and thinks it's so great when they're in the warmer! He loves to sit by them and tell them, "Shh... okay?!" when they squeal.</span><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SNf9qUe2XII/AAAAAAAAARA/iydXpvw1kyk/s1600-h/IMG_3134.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248942794218036354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SNf9qUe2XII/AAAAAAAAARA/iydXpvw1kyk/s320/IMG_3134.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#000066;">This is how he's "soft" with them...</span><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SNf9qia4YAI/AAAAAAAAARI/JeRtEOemugQ/s1600-h/IMG_3135.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248942797959487490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SNf9qia4YAI/AAAAAAAAARI/JeRtEOemugQ/s320/IMG_3135.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#000066;">Having a litter with only 4 pups is extremely odd, usually for Labs the litters are much larger. For some reason God only gave us a handful, and we feel blessed regardless. We might have to raise the prices to $6000 each to make up the difference, but we'll burn that bridge when we get there!</span><br /><br /><div></div></div>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-8950299613918667552008-09-16T14:46:00.001-07:002008-09-16T15:08:51.560-07:00KindergartenI had the pleasure of working in my son's Kindergarten class today! Last week he came home from school and announced, "There was a Mom in the class today. When are you going to come?" So today I came!<br /><br />When I walked in, the class was just returning from playing outside. The teacher asked if I'd like to be in charge of the art project so I said "Yes!" Little did I know that it involved lots of glitter and glue, not to mention 20 students. Well... you can imagine! This week the class was working on the letter "d" so the children were gluing glitter on a sheet with a large "d". The project was simple but oh so messy! Glitter was everywhere! And everyone had glitter on their clothes and hands, in their hair, and on their faces. It was crazy fun!<br /><br />I enjoyed watching Jake interact with the other students in the class. I got to see where he fit in academically and socially. He seemed to be a pretty popular kid and had tons of friends following him around wanting to play with him. I was happy to see him sitting patiently on his bottom during "rug time", and raising his hand to respond to the class discussion. (we need order like this at home!)<br /><br />I didn't envy the teacher at all! Twenty kids all pining for her attention and acceptance... I'll remember this around the Christmas season! Thank you to all the teachers out there who constantly pour love into their students!benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-85654607936970755662008-09-15T14:08:00.000-07:002008-09-15T14:18:58.710-07:00Frozen Food<span style="color:#000000;">A friend of mine and her family are moving to Hawaii this week (why can't we all be that lucky), and she mentioned that she had a bunch of frozen items she would like to dispose of, so I said, "send 'em over here!" I was expecting a couple of brown paper bags with some frozen pizzas, maybe some microwaveable dinners, etc...</span><br /><br />I couldn't have been more wrong! She brought a huge tub overflowing with food, and another large bag also filled to the brim! There were frozen french bread pizzas, microwaveable dinners, french toast sticks, push-up pop's and ice cream sandwiches, tubs of ice cream, toaster strudels, frozen fruit, and soda! Not to forget there were tons and tons of Schwan's frozen items like stuffed pasta shells, cheddar cheese biscuits, salmon, shrimp, cookie dough, and more!<br /><br />I offered to pay her for the food several times and she just waved my hand away and dismissed my offers with a guffaw of laughter. This is the kind of wonderful person she is. Including the Schwan's, there was definately over $150 worth of frozen product! Good thing we have a fridge and freezer in the garage along with our indoor one! I couldn't believe my luck! All I need for the next couple of weeks are fresh fruit and veggies, and maybe some fresh meat, and we're set!benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-35462858658341704062008-09-12T19:23:00.000-07:002008-09-12T19:51:14.484-07:00Angels<span style="color:#006600;">Something was drastically altered with my children today! Sometime this afternoon (probably while I was sorting that never-ending pile of laundry) something mysterious happened... The usual sounds of the whining, bickering, mischievous little devils I call my "sons" had disappeared, and in its place were pleasant, polite, obedient noises coming from content boys with clean clothes and happy faces. I thought, "Very funny Lord, now what did you do with my children?"</span><br /><span style="color:#006600;"></span><br /><span style="color:#006600;">I was hearing more "please" and "thank you" manners than I have ever heard come out of their little mouths before. And the "please" wasn't followed by ..."remove your hand from my throat". The boys were generally enjoying each others company! I know, it sounds strange, but trust me I saw it! </span><br /><span style="color:#006600;"></span><br /><span style="color:#006600;">Jake was patiently teaching Ben how to play XBox (just what we need, another video game fanatic in the family), but it didn't stop there! Jake was also encouraging him on, and congratulating and cheering for Ben! I was floored. I lifted up Ben's shirt (half expecting to find some sort of alien goo oozing underneath) but all I found was a pink pudgy tummy with chocolate pudding remnants on it.</span><br /><span style="color:#006600;"></span><br /><span style="color:#006600;">The boys ate all their dinner without complaining (courtesy of McDonald's, but still) ...and the good behavior continued through bath time. There was NO water spilled over the edge of the tub, no soap in a helpless victim's eye, and my shower curtain remained dry and in tact on the rod. </span><span style="color:#006600;">Pajamas were put on without protest, books were read quietly, and both boys trooped off to bed on time without complaint.</span><br /><span style="color:#006600;"></span><br /><span style="color:#006600;">I honestly could not believe my day. I was actually able to sit through an entire episode of Days Of Our Lives--uninterrupted! Did you know Sami has twins now? Phillip has gone over to the dark side, and when did Brady become a drug addict? All important info that I had been missing out on! </span><br /><span style="color:#006600;"></span><br /><span style="color:#006600;">Not that I'm complaining--but would it be too much to ask for the kids to behave like this when I'm sick with the flu, or on a day when my PMS is off the hook, or I have a killer headache?</span>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-11688578901938731002008-09-07T15:36:00.000-07:002008-09-07T15:52:14.565-07:00Church<span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="color:#330033;">Today was one of those days in Church where I desperately wanted to be "in the moment" but couldn't help myself... there were distractions everywhere! There was a Jr. High aged boy sitting to my left, doodling on the weekly pamphlet (we've all done that), and occasionally he'd whisper to his Mom, or he'd cross, and then un-cross his legs... and cross, and un-cross them again.</span></span><br /><span style="color:#330033;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330033;">To my right was a woman, maybe late 40's, and to her right was (probably) her son, who was maybe in his twenties. The two of them were talking and whispering throughout the ENTIRE service! And not quietly! Most of their conversations were about the Bible passages we were discussing (in the book of Titus), but seriously! I felt like telling them to "zip it, lock it, and put it in your pocket"!</span><br /><span style="color:#330033;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330033;">And in the middle of service I really needed to use the restroom, but sat stewing in my seat for several minutes debating a good time to quietly slip out. I hate leaving in the middle of Church! I feel like every person is staring at me as I leave, and it always sounds like the doors are slamming behind you, further announcing your departure. "Don't mind Jen, she couldn't bother to use the facilities before leaving the house!" I had this vision that if I stood up to exit the Pastor would stop his service and make an announcement: "We'll wait until you come back." Then, to make matters worse, you have to re-enter the Church auditorium where a multitude of people turn to watch you return to your seat. It's just torture! But when nature calls, it doesn't wait for a polite moment, it's usually during a meeting, or a movie, or something like that.</span><br /><span style="color:#330033;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330033;">God knows my heart, and he knows my efforts... right??</span>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768030185971378021.post-52638816710347979002008-09-04T17:28:00.000-07:002008-09-04T17:41:44.177-07:00kids camera<span style="color:#000099;">When I turned on the camera today, these are some photos that I found (the boys are hiding under the art easel outside):</span><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SMB9nsKxagI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/TXhGAuhZB74/s1600-h/IMG_2983.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242328087083969026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SMB9nsKxagI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/TXhGAuhZB74/s320/IMG_2983.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#000099;">I think this one is hilarious because it shows that they started to get silly:</span><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SMB9nvAiUyI/AAAAAAAAAQY/yZ5n1-cV6VU/s1600-h/IMG_2982.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242328087846343458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SMB9nvAiUyI/AAAAAAAAAQY/yZ5n1-cV6VU/s320/IMG_2982.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#000099;">...a</span><span style="color:#000099;">nd here's one of Charlie:</span><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SMB9n5QoRJI/AAAAAAAAAQg/4tlhnTOv0dE/s1600-h/IMG_2961.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242328090598196370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SMB9n5QoRJI/AAAAAAAAAQg/4tlhnTOv0dE/s320/IMG_2961.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#000099;">...this is actually a Hot Wheels-sized car that was zoomed in on:</span><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SMB9n6_Uc7I/AAAAAAAAAQo/icT40RYFgPg/s1600-h/IMG_2971.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242328091062465458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SMB9n6_Uc7I/AAAAAAAAAQo/icT40RYFgPg/s320/IMG_2971.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#000099;">...and Charlie's feet:</span><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SMB9oOCdqBI/AAAAAAAAAQw/kpZpzZgGurE/s1600-h/IMG_2970.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242328096175925266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GdO6z06q_zU/SMB9oOCdqBI/AAAAAAAAAQw/kpZpzZgGurE/s320/IMG_2970.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#000099;">I had no idea they had grabbed my camera and snapped away to their hearts content! (Sheesh, what kind of parent am I that I don't have a clue to my children's whereabouts and activities!)</span><br /><div></div>benjiboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00961160434875677835noreply@blogger.com2