Smart Dog, Good Dog

So we met our new puppy today to make sure she was a "fit" with our family, and is she ever! Please look at how this puppy responded (and realize these were taken in rapid succession)--First, she has to give hubby dear a little kiss:

Then a follow up wink to the camera (I've got him right where I want him!)

Then a snuggle in, just for good measure . . . .

She got the seal of approval from brother:

And sister, too, of course . . .

We can't wait to officially bring her home in two weeks--we love you, Izzy Belle!

I have been coloring!

"Mommy, I have been coloring!" . . .you think??

And I'm so happy and I know how cute I am because you're taking my pictures!

Look--I didn't miss even one finger!

Or my toes!

Thank you, Jesus, for washable markers AND the fact that I keep only washable markers in my home . . . oh, what a Sharpie could have done . . .it gives me chills

Emerson Quote

Thank you, Ralph Waldo Emerson: "To laugh often and love much; to win the respect of intellingent persons and the affection of children; to earn the approbation of honest citizens and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to give of one's self; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived - this is to have succeeded."
LOVE THIS!

ewwwww

Yuk! Just got a fun little email from reunion.com that I receive every few months--"someone is searching for you! To see who, click here!" Then you click on the link (if you're me and you really, really want to know who from your past is seeking you out) and voila--for just $59.99, you can see who! But today, for the first time, I was given a "clue" about who was searching for me--and. . . .oh. . . joy! A 46 year old man in Amsterdam and a 45 year old man in Nebraska! Rock on! Old, foreign (Nebraska's like a foreign country, right???) men are checking out my chili. And I'm scared. Very, very scared. First of all, because I don't know any 45 to 46 year old men. Secondly, because I don't know anyone in Amsterdam or Nebraska. Thirdly, because I've never created a profile. Too creepy.

On a lighter note, I learned that I once again deserve the title of "Mother of the Year" today. You see, my little girl woke up yesterday with a rash on her arm. It looks like this:

So, when she woke up with the rash, I asked her 1) Does it hurt? No. 2) Does it itch? No. 3) Do you still want to go to school? Yes. SOOOO, she went. After all, she was fever free, had been eating like a horse, sleeping great, sweet mood--all appeared to be fine. She went to school and had a great day. I woke up this morning--that pesky rash was still there. I took her to exercise (I do spin class--have I mentioned that?) with me and left her in the nursery, as always, with other children. Before I left spin, three people had stopped me and asked what was on her arm. It was THEN that I decided maybe we should visit doc. Of course, the official diagnoses from my fellow exercises included: poison ivy; hand, foot, and mouth disease (i don't want to go there--it's nasty--we'll leave it at that); an allergic reaction to deet; an allergic reaction to some new food that I hadn't fed her. We went to visit doc and our precious nurse said, "Oh, that's strep." HUH??? WHAT???? HOW??? No fever? No sore throat? No decreased appetite? No vomiting? No diarrhea? No grumpines? How do you figure? Easy. She has the rash. And guess what--after a throat culture (which I was certain was only done to take more money from us), we learned that she has strep. Woo hoo, Momma! Way to expose her to every little creature in the world! Now we'll just wait for our brother to get it . . . .I. . . can't. . . wait!

No mo lazy days

Whew! What a whirlwind! T-ball has started, spring is in full gear, sister girl is getting ready for her first dance "recital," we are visiting our baby puppy for the first time this weekend, and I am running like a crazy woman getting through the days!

Our son just LOOKS like he would be a phenomenal t-ball player.

And he is. But there's a problem. He can't STAND it! After his team won their first game (he played pitcher) 28-13, his coach was so thrilled that he started talking about the tournament at the end of the season and how certain he was that his little Cubs would be going . . . all. . . the . . .way. So little man, who I would have imagined would have been out of his mind with excitement gets in the car and asks: "Mom, please say I don't have to play in the tournament. You said I had to play through the season, but that doesn't include a tournament, does it?" Well, baby, yes it does--you are committed to this team til the end. However, we have now lost two and won two, so our success in the tournament is looking a little less promising than it did opening night.

Sister is in the throes of trashing. Today, she created a "sleepover" in our great room while I took a shower. We moved both babies upstairs in January so that all of their toys, animals, gear, etc. would be upstairs and they could live like total heathens and slobs and it just really wouldn't matter because it was upstairs--away from our living areas that everyone SEES when they visit. However, she is determined to bring the goods downstairs and any time I get distracted (like, I don't know--cooking dinner, bringing in groceries, folding laundry, making beds, showering), she goes into full move-in mode into all rooms downstairs. It's amazing what this little woman can accomplish in little to no time.

Little man got into his first fight at school AND he DIDN'T get in trouble! Bad parents! He did just what we told him to--got shoved, asked friend to stop, got shoved, told friend to stop again, got shoved and BOOM! Punch to the face! Roll down to the ground and get after it! I am very much a peace-loving person, but seriously, I don't want my child to be bullied. And I don't think this little friend will ever mess with him again. My little man's teacher said when she walked up on the fight all she could see was "A see of green (his shirt color)" and she let it go on a little longer--she felt that his friend needed a little whoopin. So, for the rest of the year, I think we can rest assured that nobody's going to be picking on our little guy. So hard to not punish, but he did just what we told him to, so how do you punish that??

Gotta run--need to iron our team shirts before tonight's game--oh, the joys of motherhood . . .