It Happened....

Just like I predicted last week...

The only thing that is remotely like Fall here in Houston are the decorations!!

Pesky Critters

We have lots of trees. In fact, when we moved in there were 57 trees in the backyard alone. We built our pool and had to cut down 20 trees, leaving 37 -- which is still a LOT!

I have always enjoyed the squirrels that call our yard "home". They are fun to watch as they chase each other around the yard and across the trees and build their nests and collect their nuts.

After Hurricane Rita and Hurricane Ike, we even nursed baby squirrels that had fallen out of the trees.

After a long week and not needing to be anywhere until 3:00 today, I was looking forward to sleeping in. At 7:45, I was awakened by a thunderous sound! It had to have been a HERD of squirrels running on the roof right above my bedroom.

Running, running, running, BANG....silence!

Colby comes running into my room. "Mom, there is a dead squirrel on the glass table on the patio. He is laying like this." He proceeded to get in the fetal position.

Oh man! Poor squirrel was playing chase on the roof and must have slipped!

It seems I have animal issues whenever Chris is gone. So, in the few short seconds it took for me to process the fact that a dead squirrel was on my table, I decided that my poor neighbor would be getting a call to come and get it off of there!!

Colby decided to go take another look ... and the squirrel was gone! Hallelujah!! He was resurrected and I didn't have to call Brad!!!

After a while of lying there, I decided that I should do something productive. It was a beautiful morning so I went to pull weeds out of the flower beds. Our front yard has a big oak tree in the front flower bed with a big squirrel nest in it. As I was bending over pulling weeds, nuts started raining down on my head.

"What the heck?"

I look up and there is a squirrel throwing nuts down at me!

I gave up. This day was going to the squirrels!!

Parenting Child # Two

As the firstborn, I always thought that I got the raw end of the deal. I had to wait for a certain age to wear makeup, get my ears pierced or shave my legs. I still say my little sister got to shave before she should have!!

I am finding that I truly am harder on my firstborn. (Connor reads this blog so I am risking a lot by admitting this!)

Connor is a social butterfly and likes to talk. Every October from kindergarten until about sixth grade, I would get a call from his teacher telling me he is talking too much and is disturbing the class. He would no doubt be disciplined--usually grounded from something that he thought he might die from a lack of! But then he straightened up and I wouldn't get a call until the next October!

Colby has always been my shy, quiet one...until this year! We are about seven weeks into school and he has brought home several notes from teachers saying he is sweet but is talking too much and being disruptive. He has even had to sit out of a few recesses as a result.

Have I grounded him? No. I just can't believe he is not going to start behaving properly.

After having to sit out of recess AGAIN this week, I proceeded to ask him the following morning before school if he was going to have to sit out of recess that day. He looked up at me and with the most sincere look said, "Well, not yet mom."

Guess I need to find out what he thinks he might die from a lack of!!

Family

I love being organized. This includes all the pictures that we take in a year. Each boy has an album for each year of their lives (of which I am a year behind on). After each vacation, I also make an album.

Last night, I stayed up way past my bedtime going through pictures from this year and began the first step toward checking off "Albums" on my To Do List!

It's not often that we get a full four-person family picture. So I thought I'd share a few of my favorites that we were able to capture and scatter in a few other ones of my silly family!

Trying to get a picture of the family in front of the Washington Monument!
Having fun in D.C.

And, if we ever become a singing group, we can use one of these for our album cover! :)

Muah!

Salutations

Saying "goodbye" is a hard thing to do.

Unfortunately, I have to say "goodbye" a lot.

The only good thing I can think of when saying "goodbye" is that "hello" will be the next thing I get to say.

A Silly Story

The bathroom situation in Canton leaves a lot to be desired. In fact, one of the bigger ones that didn't have lines actually has shower curtains as doors and the stalls are so short you can see your "neighbors" as you "do your thing"!! I tried my hardest to keep the shower curtain closed and keep my balance, etc. I am a quite modest person. However, I decided to throw caution to the wind and let it all hang out -- literally!

When I got home, this story was forwarded to me and I thought--"How appropriate!"

Then, yesterday, at the baseball field, this story came back to mind as the restrooms fit some aspects of it as well.

All this to say, it is HARD being a woman. And, I am so thankful I had boys. I would HATE to have to deal with this with a little girl!

When you have to visit a public toilet you usually find a line of women, so

you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for

feet under the cubicle doors.

Every cubicle is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman
leaving the cubicle. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't
matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!

The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mum, no
doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook, if
there was one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mum
would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!) down with your
pants and assume ' The Stance.

In this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd
love to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to lay
toilet paper on it, you hold 'The Stance.'

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover
to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.
In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Dear, if you had
tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!'
Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one
that's still in your bag (the bag around your neck, that now you have to
hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have
to do, so you crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller
than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work.

The door hits your bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your
chest and you and your bag topple backward against the tank of the toilet.

'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious,
tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, while losing your footing
altogether and sliding down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of
course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare
bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the
uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was
any, even if you had taken time to try.

You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because
you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because,
frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused
that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the
inside of the bowl and spraying a fine mist of water that covers your bum
and runs down your legs and into your shoes.

The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and you grab onto
the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet
toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a sweet wrapper you
found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the taps with the automatic sensors, so
you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line
of women still waiting

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very
end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe.
(Where was that when you NEEDED it?)

You yank the paper from your shoe, plonk it in the woman's hand and tell her
warmly, 'Here, you just might need this.

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left
the men's toilet. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long and why is your
bag hanging around your neck?

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with any public toilets It
finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also
answers that other commonly asked question about why women go to the toilets
in pairs. It's so the other girl can hold the door, hang onto your bag and
hand you Kleenex under the door.

Blessed

I got back from Canton late last night.

My boys met me in the garage as soon as they heard me pulling in. They were smiling and waving and happy to see me.

They helped me unload my treasures. They watched and listened as I unwrapped and told about what I bought. They were genuinely interested -- event though nothing was for them!

I spent two fun-filled days with my closest "women folk"! My mom, sister, nieces and girlfriend. I rarely do Girl's Nights Out because I love being at home with my boys. But, once a year, I do this Canton trip and have a blast! We eat, laugh, and shop. We are silly. It is a nice change from normal.

But, when I come home to two sons who want to know about everything I did and who want to tell me about their days while I was gone and to a husband who is so sweet and loving and happy that I went and had a fun weekend and I retell the funny stories and fun times I had with my girls...I realize I Am Blessed!