Halloween Hijinks

Before we had kids . . . let's face it . . . Halloween wasn't much more than an excuse to go out and do a little partying. Lots of Sex Kitten and Hugh Heffner costumes are now hung in our closets, reminding us of our younger days.

Now, Halloween is so much more . . . it's adorable, fun, all about candy, and -- at least at our house -- a nearly week long activity.


In anticipation of all the Halloween coming to the Dahlby's house over the next few days, I give you some Halloween Hijinks I've caught around town over the last week or two.


Hijink # 1 -- Obama vs. McCain

Hilarious costume seen in a recent local parade. I tried to get a shot of McCain really giving it to Obama :)

Hijink# 2 -- Lawn Ornaments

People all over the place go all out to decorate their homes this time of year. It starts with Halloween, grows as the autumn leaves change, and climaxes with holiday-in-lights. It's a fantastic time of year for lawn ornamenture (is that a word?).

In case you can't tell what these Halloween lawn skeletons are up to . . . they are tailgating. Right there on the lawn . . . TV and all. Awesome! I passed this house last year, and the same skeletons were playing a piano. I'm guessing that each year they are up to new antics . . . which makes for awesome lawn decor. I bet the neighbors are on pins and needles as the calendar changes from September to October, anticipating the skeletons each year . . . I know that I would be, if they were my neighbors.

Too, too clever, I tell you.

Hijink # 3 -- Signage

And just in case you can't make out what it says . . .

Corny, of course. But it made you smile, didn't it?

If I catch any more hijinks this week, I'll be sure to post. BOO! to you and yours this week . . . enjoy all the fun that Halloween can bring.

New Digs

Been thinking about a change for a while . . . then I created that crazy picture as a header, loved it, and decided the old polka dots needed to go.

Out with the old, in with the new.

Enjoy.

Favorite Photo Friday, Week 8

Claudia, Marietta GA, October 25, 2008

I think it's funny how much our lives have changed . . . not just in big, monumental ways, but in little ways. Five years ago, our weekends were spent at wedding showers or at actual weddings. At least once a month, we attended one or the other. Then, for a while, it was a plethera of baby showers. Babies galore among us and our friends . . . Meg being one of the first, then Kate being one of the most recent.

Now-a-days, there is still the occassional wedding. And baby showers are certainly not yet a thing of the past. But one event seems to dominate our weekends as of late . . . birthday parties.

Above is from a party we had the pleasure of enjoying this weekend. The darling Claudia turned two, and we all celebrated in style with a UGA themed party and a oh-so-fun bouncey-house. (Actually, this weekend we were 'double booked' with parties . . . but we couldn't make it to both . . . after all, there is only so much cake our two-year-old can handle in one day.)

Presents were opened, just like at the other types of affairs we once enjoyed. Cake was had . . . there was even some fun champagne to liven up the party. So there wasn't talk of an upcoming wedding or a pending due date . . . there was still a lot of fun and laughter enjoyed by everyone. We celebrated Claudia, which is totally worth the celebration.

,

Like Johnson & Johnson says, "Having a baby changes everything."

(And YES, I realize I'm posting favorite photo on Saturday . . . I was sick Thursday and Friday, so I got a little behind. Feeling a little better today.)

A Peanut

As if I don't have enough on my mind . . .

Kate weighed in at a whopping 11 lbs, 11 oz at her 4 month appointment on Tuesday. With furrowed brown and wrinkled nose, Dr. Ho said, "Wow, she's the size of a two month old."

I've been calling Kate 'peanut' for ages now because -- as I've mentioned -- the girl is tiny. But, the same size as a baby 1/2 her age? Really? She doesn't seem that small. Sure, she still fits snugly on my thighs (you know, when lying down with my knees bent) . . . and the car seat still seems about 2 sizes too big for her little body . . . but I didn't think she was as small as the doctor's say she is. And I certainly didn't think anything was wrong with her because of her petite frame.

The nurse at the pediatrician's office couldn't have been nicer. We went through the 4 month developmental milestones, and Kate passed all with flying colors.

Great head control? check

Follows objects with her eyes? check

Reaches and grabs? check

Puts pressure on her feet when in standing position? check

Rolls over? check

Babbles and coos? check

There are no delays, nothing to indicate any problem at all. She said, "Well, you're little . . . but little is often MIGHTY!" That made me feel good. Dr. Ho, however, wasn't as convincing. Her questioning and comments left me worrying about my little emaciated Kate. (Okay, so she's hardly emaciated . . . but she is so little!)

Does she eat enough? you might ask. Dr. Ho certainly did. The answer: Yes. Honestly, she does. Kate eats anywhere from 5 to 6 times a day . . . mostly because (praise God) she's sleeping through the night these days, and that's all the feeding we can cram into her in a 12 hour day. I can feel the difference in my body when she eats, so I know she's getting a lot of milk. Her 'under-weightness' is not really a reason to start supplementing with formula or additional bottles of breast milk. She eats what she wants, when she wants . . . and that's about all we can do. Dr. Ho agreed that formula wasn't the answer.

Instead, Dr. Ho hinted around about adding cereal to Kate's daily routine as an attempt to get more calories into her. *Sigh* I'm not ready for that, and I don't think Kate is, either. She's been taking Tylenol the past 2 days (to help her recover from the 4 month shots), and it's all I can do to get her to move the liquid from her cheek to the back of her throat. Developmentally, she's not ready to eat from a spoon yet. And she certainly can't sit up, which would help in the whole eating process. I waited until about 5 1/2 months with Meg, and I think I'll do the same for Kate . . . "AMA", I guess you could say.

I was shown Kate's growth chart, which is a crazy downward curve. She's gained only 1 pound and grown only 1 inch since her 2 month appointment in August. And Dr. Ho was only moderately convincing about the fact that this could all fix itself as she continues to grow.

"She's the picture of health," Dr. Ho said as she shrugged and listened to Kate's heart and abdomen. "Babies do come in all shapes and sizes . . . so let's just see how she's doing at her 6 month in December." She wasn't telling me what I wanted to hear -- that Kate is totally fine, just a peanut.

I asked what the chances are that something could actually be wrong . . . given the fact that Kate is totally on track for development, eats and sleeps great, and could not have a better temperment. What else could be wrong with Kate? Dr. Ho did insist that the chances of some underlying problem are very rare. And again, she said, "We'll she how she's doing at 6 months."

Now I feel like I need to pump all the calories I can into Kate each day. It's like a race to see how much bigger I can help her get in two month's time.

Oh -- is that a little whimper? Want the boob, Kate?

When is the last time you ate?

How long have we been sitting here nursing?

UGH. I drive myself crazy.

I know, I know. She's fine. She's just small, and there is nothing wrong with that. I know.

But still . . .

You take your kid in for a well-baby visit and expect to leave with a crying infant and too many band aids on his/her legs . . . you don't expect to leave with a tiny baby and a head full of wonder about what might be keeping her so small.

Sing Along Songs

Music is kinda my 'thing' . . . it's a huge part of my life, and it always has been.

Jim jokes that I can beat anyone you know at "Name that Tune." He's right. I have this uncanny knack for knowing the name and artist for many, many pop and country songs. I have won 2 separate contests . . . once at a time-share resort in Mexico, I won a 'name tha tune' contest and we got a free appetizer. On a cruise, I came in 2nd to a DJ -- who I considered to be drastically over-qualified for the competition. Really, I got a trophy for that cruise-ship contest, so I consider it a win.


Not only do I recognize the song, but if it was released between about 1985 and now, I can often tell you the year it was originally playing on the radio. I associate so many of my memories and so much of my life with music . . . I just think back to when I remember hearing it, and I can ususally pin the year without hesitation.

For example . . . and I swear, I did NOT look any of these up, so there is the potential that I'm off by a year or a season . . .

• Madonna, "Like a Prayer" -- 1988, 5th grade when we lived in New Hampshire(incidentally, I can do this with just about every song on her 'Immaculate Collection' CD -- it's like my entire childhood on disk)


• Blind Melon, "No Rain" -- spring 1994, right after I got my driver's liscense


• Alanis Morisette, "You Outta Know" -- late 1995, early 1996, right as I was about to graduate high school


• The Cardigans, "Love Me, Love Me" -- fall 1996, my freshman year at UGA


• Justin Timberlake, "Bringin' Sexy Back" -- summer of 2006, right after Meg was born


• Amy Winehouse, "Back to Black" -- spring of 2008, when I was pregnant with Kate

Those were the first few that jumped into my head. I could literally go on and on.



So I know the song and the date . . . and many times, most of the words, too. My love of lyrics literally fills more of my brain than I care to admit. I hear a song once, and it sticks . . . it's just how my memory works. My cousin, 10 years my junior, once told her school-age friends when we were all driving around town one summer day, "My cousin, she knows the words to every song on the radio." She must have been about 8 yrs old, making me about 18 . . . and I still have that ability to sing along to this day.

And sing along I do -- oh, do I ever. In the car, I am like a freakin' American Idol applicant or something. I sing along to everything. Sometimes I turn on certain CDs and sing the same song over and over . . . if it's the kind that suits my voice and I think sounds great.

Jim says I have a nice voice. He actually seems to like to hear me sing, so I oblige him most of the time when we are in the car together.

The heartbreaker: Meg has started putting the brakes on my car rides full of sing along songs. From the backseat, I hear, "No Mommy Sing!" from my two year old. My heart dropped the first time she did it. She doesn't want me to sing?! I thought. My dreams of mommy-daughter sing alongs are on hold for now . . . the kid hardly lets me get a note out these days before she requests that I knock it off. "Please don't sing, Mommy," is what I've taught her to say. If she's going to shoot me down, at least she could be polite about it.

As I sit here and type, Kate is in my lap, "AAAhhhhh-ing" away and making all kinds of baby noises. I think she's trying to sing.

Maybe she gets it from her mom.

Tag, I'm It

I've been 'blog tagged' . . . which means I'm to tell you 5 radom things about myself.

Here goes . . .

1. I'm really cheap. Can't pay for anything unless I think it's reasonably priced.

2. I hate raw onions and blue cheese with a flaming passion.

3. I love, love, love to sing.

4. I always wish I had been a cheerleader in high school.

5. Laundry is my favorite household chore.

And now I tag: Becky (Mommy is Me), Erica, and Paula.

Chicagoing

You are probably wondering why I disappeared mid week . . . well, I'm back. We just returned from a wonderful weekend away in The Windy City.


Man, I love Chicago. And I'm not just saying that because we managed to enjoy this trip without somebody stealing $250 from us (remember our NYC trip this spring?). I really do love that town. I love the layout, the lake, the shopping, the parks. It's just such a fun place to visit. This is our 4th trip, Jim and I. We love going up there any chance we get.

Jim, Kate, and I boarded a plane on Friday morning to head up and attend the wedding of Jim's high school buddy. It was just a quick trip -- out Friday, back Sunday. The wedding was our event of focus . . . and we were very excited to see everyone that would be joining us for the weekend.

Because we had decided that we didn't want to visit the inside of every restroom in Chi-town, we left Meg here with my parents. I love her -- you know I do -- but 2 kids in a big city for just 2 days wasn't really worth it. Please don't think the kid missed out . . . she watching a coma-inducing amount of television with my dad, I'm sure . . . and kicked back enough apple juice and sugary snacks to rot out every tooth in her mouth. Meg loves her grandparents, and she didn't mind skipping the wedding.

There were two more on the trip with us . . . Jim's parents, Stan and Paulette. They came along as our babysitters so that we could go to the rehearsal dinner post-party and the wedding/reception without Kate. As you know, I'm a breastfeeding mom . . . and at only 4 months, Kate and I are not yet ready for a weekend apart. A few hours is very manageable (thanks to Medela), but an entire weekend would be very, very tough. We brought along the grandparents so that I could still continue to feed Kate without the ridiculous amount of pumping that would be required if she had been left behind. Here is a BIG shout out to Nana and Papa Dahlby -- THANK YOU. You came along this weekend for ME . . . not really for Jim. No matter what, he would have gone to the wedding . . . but if you had not come along, I would have had to stay home. Thanks for giving up your weekend to help me and our family!

In between the Friday night party and the Saturday evening wedding, we crammed in a little sight seeing . . . some time on Michigan Avenue, a trip to the top of the Hancock, and a morning in Millennium park. We ate stuffed Giordano's pizza and visited the Chicago Disney Store for a souvenir for Meg. The weekend flew by. It was awesome.

Some of the highlights from the weekend --

Visiting The Signature Room on top of the John Hancock building.

Jim forgetting his jacket. That guy -- he does that all the time. He once went to ALASKA with no coat. Being that it was only in the low 60s most of the trip, it was a little chilly at night to go around jacket-less . . . so he bought a new little coat while we were out shopping. (I should try that "Oh, look what I forgot!" trick sometime.)

All the shopping on Michigan Avenue . . . and State Street. I actually had more luck finding great things on State Street this time around.

Not being on a set schedule, except for the 3pm wedding on Saturday (which we were nearly late for because we goofed around all morning). Kate is still totally portable, so we schlepped her around Chicago and she napped in the stroller. I breastfed all over the place . . . at the top of the John Hancock, in a cab, and at Millenium Park, to name a few spots. I think I need a shirt that reads, "I Breastfeed in Public" so that people won't stare so much :)

Yummy stuffed pizza lunch. All the food, in general. I loved eating and not worrying about points for a weekend. Even the wedding dinner was awesome!

Having some time with Kate all to myself.

Saturday morning in Millenium Park, just wandering around.

The post-rehearsal dinner party at a midtown bar. When we walked in, the group screamed, "Dahlby!" and were all so excited to see Jim. It was a lot of fun . . . just to be out in a BAR again, like the 'old' days before kids!

The wedding itself, which was fantastic. I must admit that I was a little worried because these were all Jim's friends from home . . . mostly people I'd never met or spent much time with. Everyone was fantastic . . . very nice and very welcoming of new folks. It was so very much fun.

Being able to drink. Yes, call me an alcoholic, if you must. But I was glad to have a chance to let loose and drink a little. I've said it before -- I feel like I've been pregnant for the last 2 years. This weekend was the first chance (really, the first occassion) in quite some time that Jim and I have had to live it up together, so we took full advantage. I brought some milk for Kate and my pump -- and I did pump-and-dump after the wedding -- so all was covered on that end. I liked that I could drink more than one glass of wine without feeling guilty.

It was great. Now that I'm back home, doing laundry and tending to the girls, I keep thinking back to how much fun we had this weekend. I think Jim and I both needed it . . . and we are grateful to those who made it possible (the Bloom/Salb families for the invitation and the grandparents for the babysitting).

Now back to regular life . . . but first, a few more pictures of the fun in Chicago.

Pink Toes

Have I ever mentioned how happy I am to have two adorable little girls?

Oh? I have, you say? We'll, let me just say it again: I feel so, so lucky to have had two girls. Two pretty, pretty princesses. Two wearers of pink, buyers of bows, and lovers of anything femenine.

On Monday night, I needed a pedicure. It had been too long . . . and Jim was home . . . so I needed to take advantage and sneek out for a little bit and have my toes taken care of. Once, there was a day when this escape was a ritual of mine. I even remember asking a friend once, "You mean, you paint your OWN toes?" . . . I was such a pedicure princess. Now, ha! I'm lucky if I go once a month . . . very, VERY lucky.

But back to Monday . . .

I had decided that Meg was big enough to tag along and enjoy the lovliness of a pedicure with her mommy. It would be a 'big girl' adventure, something Meg and Mommy would do without little sister. Jim thought I was crazy, but I thought it would be a fun treat.

During dinner that evening -- pre pedicure -- I let Meg know what to expect when getting your toes painted.

"You have to sit very, very still. You can't move around when they are painting your toe nails," I told my oldest daughter.

"Yeah," she replied.

"And when they are done you have to stay still for a while so that the paint can dry," I warned.

"O-tay," said Meg.

As best I could, I let her know what to expect. Then we put on our flip-flops and headed to the nail salon. (Meg's flip flops are a hoot. She can't walk in them -- so we never actually leave the house in them -- but going to the salon in flip flops is a must. So, she shuffled along side me, oh-so-proud to be wearing shoes that were "a match!" with mine.)

She seemed a little overwhelmed when we arrived. The Vietnamese women were speaking their native language, and I could tell that Meg had NO idea what was coming out of their mouths. But she picked her color and let one of the women carry her to a chair and roll up her pants to start painting those teeny, tiny toes of hers. (BTW -- I just had them painted, no actual pedicure for Meg. I could get a staff infection from one of those places, and I'd have myself to blame. But nobody is putting any tool near my kid with the potential that she could get sick from it!)

To say that Meg heeded my warnings about sitting still and being a good girl is a drastic understatement. The kid was so scared to move, it was comical. Once her PINK! color was selected and she was settled in her chair, she didn't move a muscle. When someone asked her a quiestion -- she moved only her eyes to see who was talking to her. I'm not exaggerating at all. I laughed so hard with the woman sitting next to me -- and we were across the room -- that Meg must have wondered what the commotion was about.

After her toes were PINK! and she was happy, the Vietnamese woman carried her over and sat her in a chair right next to mine. I had come prepared with the treat of all treats . . . a lolly pop. I handed it to Meg, and she was beside herself. Oh -- I'm no dummy -- that lolly was as much for me as it was for her. I knew if I gave her one, she'd sit quietly and eat it for at least 10 minutes . . . which was exactly what she did.

She was so patient while my toes were painted, then we patiently waited together for just a few minutes to let them dry. One quick picture of our toes all dolled up, and we were on our way back home. It was only about a 40 minute experience, but it's 40 minutes I'll never forget.

As I loaded her into the car, Meg said, "Mommy take Meg to the paint store!"

I laughed. "Maybe we should call this place the nail store, Monkey." I said. Paint store, nail store . . . who cares. The point was that Mommy and done something with Meg -- and only Meg -- and she seemed to enjoy it every bit as much as I did.

If you see Meg in the next week or so, please be sure to ask her about her Pink Toes. I think I might have to bust her white sandals out of their winter retirement for a few days so she can show them off to the world.

A Roof Over Our Heads, Part II

The new roof is up, and it looks awesome.


I'll admit . . . when I returned home to see the new roof last week, it wasn't quite the "Wow!" I was hoping for. But, then again, it's a new roof. It's not a new house . . . or a major structural change . . . heck, it's not even as big as a new paint job. I think I was so excited about the newness that I let my expectations get out of whack.


Anyway, like I said: looks awesome. See for yourself . . .

Our house, August 2007 -- right after we moved in.

Our house now -- Oct 13, 2008

Now that I look at it, we've changed more than just the roof.



The landscaping has had quite a face lift since the Dahlbys arrived. New landscaping went in within weeks of our move in . . . there were some issues with drainage that had to be taken care of, and the landscaping on the left side of the the house had to be sacrificed for the cause. Jim and I both hated that big ole' tree that took up nearly the entire front of the house, so it had to go, too. In general, Jim's just trimmed and maintained the bushes/trees in a way that actually looks like someone lives here.



I love all the new landscaping, personally. It's less overbearing and let's the house shine.



Oh, and we put the screens back on the front of the house. That's another change I noticed. Some neighbors have removed all of their screens because it's more 'aesthetically pleasing' . . . but I don't care. I like to have my windows open this time of year. No screens means no open windows, and who lives like that?



Now that the roof is pristine and perfect and our landscaping is up to par, we'll be getting all of the trim repainted. We are 3 sides brick, but the trim still needs some attention . . . I doubt it's seen a brush since it was slapped on the house back in 1999. I say all of this like we are painting soon . . . we really don't have plans to do that until sometime after the first of the year. It's very needed . . . but from the street, you can't seem to tell to terribly much. So, we'll hang on to the 10 year old paint job a little bit longer and stash away our cash for the holidays (instead of for paint).



I guess that's it. We have a new roof over our heads. Like I said, not quite as dramatic as I made it up to be, but necessary, none-the-less.



Hey -- and if you look closely in the 'now' picture, you'll see the pumpkins we brought home from Burts. :)

Burt's Farm

And so we journeyed to Burt's Farm.

We arrived at about 3:0opm, and the place was packed. Totally packed. People everywhere grabbing pumpkins of all shapes and sizes.

But the crowd did not deter my Jim. The guy was SO excited as we parked and unloaded the girls. He was adorable . . . thrilled at the idea of taking home at least one giant pumpkin.

"I want to spend at least $100 on these pumpkins," said Jim.

"What?!" and a big laugh was my response. I was so happy to see Jim so excited about our family adventure. He couldn't grab his wheelbarrow fast enough. His eyes were all sparkly, he was down right giddy. I haven't seen him that happy since we were trying so dang hard to get pregnant with Kate :)

I mentioned before that we headed to Burt's Farm without first having lunch . . . and, while both girls did snooze soundly in the back of the car for most of the ride, they eventually both woke up and expected to eat before we arrived. So, Kate was fed . . . but poor Meg had to settle for some concessions on the farm. Her lunch included nachos with cheese and some pumpkin bread. And, might I add, there were no complaints on her end. (Amidst all this fun, I still couldn't help thinking what a bad mom I was for not feeding my kid a decent lunch!)

Both kids (and parents) fed, it was finally picture time.

A crowd literally gathered around while we took Kate's pictures. People laughed and pointed at the girls as they attempted to sit together for a few quick pics. It was a scene, I tell you.

I took 446 pictures yesterday, between the trip to Pettit Creek and Burt's Farm.

And, between taking so many pictures, we did manage to pick out one luxuriously large pumpkin. The thing is freakin' huge . . . Jim had to have help to get it in to the car. We also left with about 6 other pumpkins of various size and color. Meg kept putting them in the wheelbarrow, and Jim kept encouraging her to pick out more. It was delightful to watch them work together, no doubt. And with our pumpkins packed, we loaded up the girls and headed for home. Meg was elated to hold her own, "yittle punkin" on her lap the whole ride home.

Jim asked, "Is that what you wanted?" as we drove away.

I sighed. "Yes," I said, and I snuggled into my seat and began to look at the pictures in my camera.

The Epilogue . . .

After departing, we went south (toward home) and ate dinner at Dreamland BBQ in Alpharetta. The funny part . . . we saw three families we had run into at the pumpkin patch. Not people we actually know, just other families with kids with whom we'd had some small talk. Funny. I guess that a whole gaggle of pumpkins makes everyone crave barbecue. :)

The only negative, as I look back at our glorious afternoon in north Georgia . . . the time of day we visited. If I had been planning better, we would never EVER have gone there mid afternoon.

Reasons:

(a) the light is awful. simply, purely, terribly awful. If you ever wanted to know why I like to shoot so early in the morning, these pictures will tell you the tale. Mid day, full sun . . . ugh. I've done the best I can with many of these images, but some won't ever be 'great' because of the blasting sun or overwhelming shade. Oh well. You live, you learn (or, in this case, I knew better . . . but I took what I could get).

(b) it was very crowded. Not only does that make for precarious pumpkin picking, but it also makes it hard to get a decent picture without 50 random strangers in your background. We left around 4:00-4:30pm, and the crowd was much more manageable at that time of day. Burt's is open until 6pm. We'll hit there a bit later in the day next year.

Also, I'll be sure to let our girls eat and sleep properly before we try it again. Poor darlings. I got soooo many sour-puss faces from Meg when trying to take pictures. Not her fault, though. She had a great time in spite of her hunger, but a little elevation in the blood sugar might have worked wonders for her smile.

Pumpkin Sunday

(Note: I haven't forgotten about 'A Roof Over Our Heads, Part II' -- I just haven't had a chance to get a new picture. It's done, it's great, and we are happy with the new roof. I'll get a picture up this week for sure.)

This morning, both girls slept in . . . right on until about 8 am. And it's a good thing they did. We had an action packed day planned for our family, so much rest was needed to tackle all the fun.

Actually, we only had about 1/2 of an action packed day planned. The rest just happened. And those make for the best adventures, don't they?

I had heard about Pettit Creek Farms when at the North GA State Fair a few weeks ago . . . a fun animal-filled 'educational center' about 30 minutes north of our house. I had discovered that they were hosting a Fall Festival this weekend . . . their pumpkin patch was to be awesome, craft and knick-knack vendors, a petting zoo, kid-friendly activities . . . it sounded great. Even a hayride for all ages! All just a 1/2 hour away! $3.00 per person --who could beat it? We were psyched, so we packed up and headed out to arrive as they opened at 11am. (Got to beat the crowd, of course!)

If you can't tell from my sarcastic and cynical description . . . it wasn't all we hoped it to be. Don't get me wrong -- we did have fun. They had a petting zoo with goats . . . but poor Meg has fed so many goats recently, they really don't 'do it' for her these days. They had a big ole' turtle and a zebra . . . both of which were a bit more exciting to my toddler than the plethora of goats and horses.

Kids activities? A few bouncy houses. Crafts? A couple of tables full of (sorry in advance to those who worked so hard to make it) junk. The pumpkins? Oh, how pitiful. The hayride? Well, Meg did feed a camel . . . but the rest of the $4.00 per person 5 minute loop left a lot to be desired (and a whole lot of hay in my shoes).

We left after about 2 hours . . . 25 minutes of which I had spent feeding Kate and 20 minutes of which we had spent attempting to take a family picture. Jim and I were both disappointed. But, Meg had a great time, so that was all that really mattered. (Kate enjoyed the stroller and a nap, so no complaints from her, either.)

"What did you think?" Jim asked as we drove away.
"Not what I had in mind . . . but OK," I said.
"Well, what did you want?" my loving husband inquired, not knowing what he was really asking.
"A BIG pumpkin patch . . . the pumpkins were supposed to be the highlight. At least for me, they were." I replied. "I've heard of this place called Burt's something-or-other . . . I don't know where it is . . ."

Jim loves me. He knew what I wanted. I wanted a pumpkin patch for picture taking. I wanted to let Meg run through a sea of orange and enjoy one of fall's loveliest features. I wanted to adorne Kate with a pumpkin hat and carry her through the patches. I didn't want a petting zoo and some bouncy houses . . . pumpkins, and nothing by pumpkins, were what I craved.

Jim quickly looked up Burt’s Farm on his cell phone Internet. I hate that stupid, complicated thing most of the time -- but today it was quite useful. We found the information about the farm, and it was exactly what I had wished for when I thought of a pumpkin patch. And it was exactly an hour from where we were.

It was 1:30pm. Meg and Kate were asleep in the back of the car. Nobody had had lunch, but everyone had just snacked around noon.

"I'm game if you are," Jim said.

And so we went . . . one hour further from our house . . . with our two kids . . . to the dreamland of pumpkin patches.

To Be Continued . . .

Sucker!

Kate is a sucker.

It started when they wheeled her into our hospital room after a short stint in the newborn nursery. They brought in my precious new baby with an orange paci bobbing up and down in her mouth.

"Oh? A paci?" I said to the nurse.

"She's going to town . . . I think she likes it," the nurse replied as she smiled sweetly at me.

It's OK. I thought. She's a newborn, a paci is certainly no big deal.

Then we came home, and it continued. I'd find Jim sticking the paci in her mouth any time she squealed, and it worked like nothing else to calm her down. He started carrying them around in his pocket, ready on demand with the lovely orange pacis. I, on the other hand, couldn't get used to the idea. I remember playing in the basement with the girls one of the first mornings I was home alone with them . . . and having to run back upstairs for a paci once I realized (after a few minutes of crying) what Kate really wanted.

So, she likes the pacifier. I thought. As long as we don't get hooked on it for sleeping.

We started having to take pacifiers along with us . . . in the diaper bag, in the car seat, one 'emergency paci' that stayed in the car. We had to order more of the hospital-grade pacis that she loved . . . naturally, the ones that Kate was hooked on couldn't be bought in the store, so we ordered on-line. For our little sucker Kate, the paci became a staple very, VERY quickly. One month into life, I would say she was hooked.

But For 12 + weeks, I held out on that sleeping thing. No paci in the crib. We'd let her suck away while drifting off, but Jim and I religiously took it out of her mouth before putting her down to sleep. I was vigilant about removing the paci. No baby of mine was going to become dependant on it for sleep . . . I wasn't going to be a mom that had to get up in the middle of the night to stick the paci back in my baby's mouth.

Okay, so this is going to stick around a while. I thought. But not when she becomes a toddler. Surely we can take it away after her first birthday. That, I can live with.

What's my problem? you might ask. Why am I so weird about the paci? Well, Meg never took one. Not from day one. We tried . . . oh, did we try. I even remember friends asking, "Won't she take a paci?" when she would cry in public. NO. Not Meg. No paci for her.

And I soon realized how easy it was . . . no need to carry them around, no need to worry about taking it away in the toddler years. I realized it was a treat NOT to have a baby that needed a paci . . . so when my second baby came along, I envisioned it would be just as easy. I tried and tried to keep my little Katy-did from falling in love with that little soothing devil. But to no avail.

And now she's found her fingers.

It's karma. It's revenge (on God's part). It is my worst nightmare. Many of you do not know that I was once a thumb sucker . . . um, until I was 12 years old. I sucked my left thumb from birth until the summer break between 6th and 7th grade. It's embarrassing to admit, but it's the truth.

Having a kid who sucks a finger would only be fitting for me. It's God's "Gotcha!" He's giving me a taste of what I imagine my parents went through with me.

Since the discovery of her hands and the development of her ability to get them successfully into her mouth, the paci is somewhat a thing of the past for Kate. She has locked in on the middle and ring fingers of her left hand, and she won't let go. I can watch her . . . her little hand will float around in front of her face until the fingers land ever so gracefully between her lips . . . then into her mouth they go.

Can't take her fingers away when she becomes a toddler. She could suck those things right into her teenage years. I envision my 16 year old Kate, learning to drive with her right hand on the wheel and her left hand in her mouth. (Yes, I'm exaggerating. But it could happen.)

The good parts? Okay, there are some. I can let her lay down on her own and count on those fingers to find her mouth as her eyes to start rolling back into sleep . . . without being rocked or coddled. You don't have to pack her fingers . . . they go with us everywhere. And, let's face it . . . it's cute to see her sucking away on her little hand.

Oh well. As I toss my hands in the air, I think . . . What can I do? She's a baby. If it comforts her, so be it.

I just wish I hadn't been such a Nazi about the paci. Who's the real sucker now?

Favorite Photo Friday, Week 6

Kate and Me, Marietta GA, Oct 10, 2008

And this completes my image makeover.

I didn't really set out to change my whole 'look' when I cut my hair, but for some reason, I feel like I have. New hair, new glasses, new baby. Oh, and in this picture, a new necklace, too.

I must be embracing my 30s . . . I find that I'm buying clothes (and things in general) that are a little different these days. I'm saying, "I'm too old for this!" at stores like American Eagle and even The Gap. I'm not turning into a crochety old woman . . . I'm just changing my style to reflect what I hope I am. A somewhat stylish, cute, stay at home mother-of-two.

A Roof Over Our Heads, Part I

We're getting a new roof. A shiny, beautiful new roof . . . 'estate gray' and architecheral (sp?) shingles. I cannot WAIT to see the finished product!

And one of the best parts? It's 'free' . . . well, covered by insurance, anyway. I blogged about a terrible, horrible storm that we experienced in early March of this year . . . and it turns out that we had significant hail damage as a result of that storm. Jim investigated . . . and turns out we can get a new, 30 year, lovely roof at almost no cost to us. Hooray for insurance. (And here's to hoping they don't do something like DROP us because we actually made a claim!)

The process of getting the new roof, however, is a bit of a pain. We prepared earlier in the week by moving everything away from the house to avoid damage from flying shingles. We agonized over the color shingle we wanted. The girls and I had to flee to Newnan to escape the 2 days worth of pounding and pandemonium that a new roof causes.

Still, I can't wait to see how it turns out. I'll be sure to post before and after once it's all done (tomorrow, hopefully).

Of course, it hasn't rained in WEEKS around here -- literally, weeks -- and it rained yesterday and today. Go figure. It's kinda hard to put on a new roof in the rain. But the roofers say that they are on schedule, meaning that tomorrow night we'll snuggle into bed with a brand new roof over our heads.

Part II to follow . . .

Voting Day

I voted today. I think you know who I voted for, so that isn't really worth discussing at this point. What is worth discussing is how this election is shaping up to be as 'monumental' as the media has hyped it to be.

This was the line at the Cobb County Elections Office at 9:45 this morning . . . ONE MONTH before the official election day and one month into the 'early voting' period that our county allows:

I waited in line for over one hour. I'm not kidding.

I was totally amazed at that . . . that there were SO many people at the election office to cast their ballots and ensure their vote was counted. You don't have to have any particular reason to vote early -- our county allows it for anyone who wants to take advantage of it. THAT many people want to vote early . . . maybe they are busy on 11/4, or maybe they are a mom like me. It doesn't matter. ALL of those people wanted to be sure they got to vote for who they'd like to run our country.

The last time I early-voted, I walked right in, voted, and left. Today . . . not so much. I stood in line with two very nice grandparents that helped me entertain Kate during the longer-than-anticipated wait.

Once in the elections office, I used the computer voting machines, and this is the first time I can recall using them. I've voted in every presidental election since I was 18 (this being my 4th) . . . but I can't remember ever having to use the computers before. I now have a better appreciation for why so many elderly and computer illiterate people complain about them. They aren't exactly difficult, but you do have to concentrate and make sure you are telling the computer exactly how you want to vote. If I didn't use computers regularly, I can see where confusion could come in. And, it's a little freaky when you push the "CAST BALLOT" button . . . that seals your votes and cannot be 'undone' if any mistakes were made.

No mistakes for me. I double and triple checked my ballot. There were no "O apostrophes" on the bill, so I pushed CAST BALLOT and left with a grin.

All in all, it was a good experience. It was a beautiful morning to stand in line, so I can't compain about that. Kate slept for 50 of the 60 minutes I was there, so that made it a lot easier on me (Meg was at preschool). I am glad that I 'prevoted' -- it's done, I voted, and now I can sit back and listen to the news about the record number of voters turning on four weeks from today.

Take Heed, My Friends: if you can vote early, do it!

An Apology

Dear Nana Dahlby & Papa,

I sincerely hope you enjoyed your visit with us this past week at least as much as we enjoyed having you. We are so grateful that you drove the 16+ hours to come and help us take care of kids, shop, make dinners, decorate the house . . . and all of the various and sundry thing we crammed into your 5 days with us. We always enjoy having you here.

And, I think I owe you one big, fat apology.

I'm really a bit embarrased at how I acted while you were visiting. I know that I was not the easiest person to get along with . . . and I moped around at least 1/2 of Friday and most of Saturday for reasons that I was too grouchy to explain. I am very sorry that I wasted your visit . . . that I chose to act like a brat instead of cherish the time you were with us.

I really can't defend myself. The only thing I can ask for is that you try and forgive me, maybe try and understand a little bit of what I'm going through right now.

The transisition from one to two children has been harder on me that I could have ever imagined. The change is overwhelming . . . and I'm shocked by it. It is hard for me to even admit that it's so difficult. Millions of families have children two years apart . . . what is wrong with me that I am struggling day in and day out?

I think it's the change around our house. Just the sheer magnitute of change. I am finding that I don't handle change very well. Life around here has changed so much that I can hardly remember what used to be "normal." I'm having to make more and more scarifices in my own life to do what is needed for our family. I'm having to rethink the way the house runs . . . the activites we do . . . the basic functions of our days. I think you caught me at a bad time . . . at a time when we've had a lot of change and I'm not able to handle much more.

My inability to manage change only mulitplies when we have people staying with us for several days. I have to change my routine . . . and so do the girls. I have to change the way I parent the kids (whether you want me to or not -- I can't help it). I have to change the things I do, the things we do. Everything changes when you are here, and I'm sure you'd agree. And, after about 2 or 3 days, it gets to be a lot to deal with. I think by Friday, I was spent . . . I'd lost it. I was wishing for my 'normal' to come back again (whatever that is, exactly).

What truly pushed me over the edge this week was the fact that my husband -- your son -- was relatively absent from your entire visit. Jim is the one that I can bark orders at when things get to be too much . . . he is the one who knows how things should go around here, so he can jump in and help when he notices that help is needed. He grounds me; he is my rock. Without him, I felt a little overwhelmed. You have to admit . . . Jim has been gone so, SO much in the last 3 weeks . . . and then he was gone quite a bit with work (and the football game) while you were here in town. Without him, it's all me when you are visiting. Thank creates even more work for me . . . more things for me to do, on top of all that is involved in our normal routine. And -- come on -- even YOU get tired of looking at me, I'm certain.

Add to that a baby that was up all night, a toddler pooping in her pants and feverish from the arrival of her two-year molars, and two photo sessions for HD Portraits . . . and I was simply unable to manage it all and maintain a smile. After about 2 days, I was no longer capable of being a good host . . . and I was mad at my husband for his lack of support . . . so it all manifested itself in bratty behavior and grouchiness on my part.

I'm not saying that you 'overstayed your welcome' or your visit was too long. I'm not saying for a second that we don't love having you. I would never say that . . . and I would never, ever think it. We love your visits, and we want to you come as often and for as long as you can. The girls adore their Nana and Papa, and we adore your help and your kindness to our family when you are here. Please don't misunderstand me -- you are very wanted around here.

I'm just apologizing the best way that I know how for the way I acted . . . the way I handled the change in our house while you were here. I didn't do a good job. I make no excuses . . . except that it may have been a little easier if I'd had more help from Jim . . . and I think he realizes, too, the he didn't make it easy on me last week. We have learned from this, and we'll change what we do next time around.

Next time, I assure you that I will try to do better. I'm very sorry. I hope you can forgive me. I hope we can move on and enjoy our time together when we see you again in two weeks.

Change sucks. I'm not good at it. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let it ruin part of your visit (and I hope it didn't ruin the whole thing).

Thank you again for everything you did while you were here . . . and everything you do for us all the time. No matter what has changed around here, you guys have continued to provide for us in any way you can, and we value that love and support more than you'll ever understand.

Enjoy the drive back to Kansas . . . and we love you.

With many apologies and even more gratitude,

Heather

Punkin' Head

Just for a laugh . . .

{Happy October Everyone}

She Rocked It

You want my opinion?

I think Sarah Palin did great tonight. I do. I don't care what anyone says . . . you can watch CNN (clearly pulling for Obama) or FOX News (so far right, it's crazy) . . . they all have their opinions.

But I think she did very well.

I was psyched for the debate all week. And YES, I watched the Katie Couric (edited) interviews. They scared me, I'll admit. Sarah didn't have great answers to all the questions. Not her shining moment, by far. I was a little nervous to see how she'd perform tonight.

Tonight, she did as good of a job at actually answering the questions as I possibly could have hoped for. (They all stray from the questions at times in an effort to make their own points, let's face it.) She was straight forward. She was honest. I like her 'cadence' -- her 'accent' --her way of speaking . . . which many are criticizing. To me, it's not artificial or over polished. She came across as very smart, very prepared . . . despite the fact that she said, "You 'betcha" and "God Bless . . ." She true to who she is. I like it!

My favorite part was when she metioned, "How long have I been at this? 5 weeks?" How true that is. Of course, Obama people will take that to mean that she's not ready. I took it to mean, "Hey, 5 weeks ago I was governing Alaska -- don't expect me to know every Supreme Court deicison ever made or how to handle heckelers in a crowd!" You tell 'em, Sarah.

She rocked it.

Way to go, Super Sarah.