Grumpy

Let me preface this post with a brief statement: I love postal workers. I love the US Postal System. I seriously appreciate that I can count on you rain, shine, sleet, hail, etc. to deliver my mail!

That being said: What's up with grumpy mail carriers? 

Thanks to a dear snow-plowing city worker I ended up with a rather large snowdrift smack-dab in front of my mailbox the other day. So, thinking I'd be a kind and helpful citizen, I spent an hour and a half chipping away ice and snow to clear a lovely path for my beloved mail carrier. 

Exhibit A:

I was therefore somewhat dismayed when I reached into my mailbox today to find a note from said mail carrier threatening to discontinue service until I cleared away all snow from in front of my mailbox. (Yes, yes...before some of you get all up in arms...I do, in fact, understand that federal law blah blah blah states that a mail carrier needs to be able to reach the mailbox without leaving his/her vehicle. I know.) But I'm feeling a little unappreciated. A little put-off by a generic form used to communicate that my best wasn't good enough.

Luckily my husband is not as emotional about forms of any kind. He went straight to work after getting home tonight (in the dark) and made a mail-carrier-accessible-path right through that mound of snow. 

Thank heavens for him...I might have actually waited until my service was discontinued.  

Howdy Y'all

I've said it before...my little Ellie is destined to be immortalized as a "class clown" in at least one of her future yearbooks. She is such a ham! She seems to thrive on others' laughter. 

For example, the middle of dinner is apparently the perfect time to try out a pair of Billy Bob teeth. It's so hard to scold her for getting out of her chair when she is so busy making us laugh.  

"I Hate Tape"

We all have events that occur daily without fail. In my case, I enjoy a repeat performance each day of the same thing: Ellie walking (sometimes dancing) on top of my countertops. And each day I can be heard saying the same thing: "Ellie, please get off the counter."

Tonight I decided to mix it up a little. I said, "Ellie, please get off the counter before you fall down and crack your head open." And I was pleased with the result. She got down and sat down on her stool. I continued making dinner.Then I heard a sniff. I glanced at my 3 year-old and noticed that she was silently, yet seriously, weeping. I asked her what was wrong and the theatrics began!

She bawls, "I don't want to crack my head open! Then they would have to fix it with tape and I don't want tape in my hair cause it's really sticky and would mess up my curly hair and my head would be cracked! I HATE TAPE!" This speech was followed by some not-so-silent wailing. 

After calming the hysterics and curtailing the waterworks I was able to distract her. I didn't exactly mean to mortally frighten the child...but maybe it worked. We shall see tomorrow.

Therapy

I truly believe that blogging is therapeutic. Or, at the very least, an emotional form of preventative medicine. My mindset has been altered by the mere existence of a potential audience for even some of the more mundane aspects of being a stay-at-home-mom. Here's an example of what I mean.

A couple months ago Ian convinced the girls that the skin of an apple is practically bursting with an array of vitamins, nutrients and other mouth-watering goodness. As a result they no longer seem able to properly consume the fruit. Apparently they now feel it absolutely necessary to focus all attention on the superiority of the "red parts" and ignore all the "boring" insides.

  

Normally, finding a perfectly good apple in such a mutilated condition would have provoked an onslaught of lectures (think about the starving children our parents all acquainted us with back in the day). But there will be no lectures today. Instead I find myself grabbing for the camera in an attempt to document a humorous moment in my otherwise boring day. 

How awesome is that? I'm relaxed. I'm chill. I'm as laid back as I'm going to get! Thank you, blogging world.

Nine Months!

Our nine-month photo had to be of Curtis in his favorite place...the bathtub. Apparently he's part fish. As soon as he hears the water running he makes a break for the bathroom with a huge smile on his face and squeals with delight. It is definitely one of my favorite times of the day. His laughter is infectious and I am guaranteed happiness for as long as I can keep him from dunking his face under water. Joy.

Our little boy has become not so little. He is climbing stairs (and falling down them, too). He is tearing around the house and is into every drawer, purse, shelf, etc. that he can reach. He has already broken a waffle iron, choked on some paper he pulled out of the printer, and is a magnet for little objects left on the floor by his big sisters. Already I feel like he's living up to the reputation of boys worldwide...but I love it. He is still the center of our family life, keeping us laughing and keeping us guessing. Happy nine months, Curtis!