tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5593458946673198252024-03-18T20:10:28.378-07:00Grace For GayleWhere I lock the bedroom door, grab a good book and self medicate with chocolate.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.comBlogger454125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-37789550576173362532011-08-12T18:27:00.000-07:002011-08-12T18:39:29.896-07:00Just a Little Freak OutI'm up to my eyeballs in school planning and the older they get the more bittersweet it is. It's almost like, if I put it off maybe they'll quit growing up?
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<br />I think that's perfectly logical.
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<br />This year I have a sophomore, freshman, 5th grader and 2nd grader. One I'm helping build resumes and pass certification exams for his career path (computers) and another I'm still working on phonics with. And me, I just want to scream "STOP!" Stop letting the time pass! Stop getting older! Stop becoming adults!
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<br />And I'm all teary and poetic and nostalgic about the cute things they say and the daydreams they share and the snuggles they still give me. And I think, "WHAT THE HECK AM I GOING TO DO WHEN THEY MOVE OUT?" I mean, who's going to laugh at my stupid jokes or watch chick flicks on my bed with me when we are on our periods or hug my neck?
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<br />And there I go again...crying.
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<br />It could also be PMS...or menopause....Oh MY GOSH!
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<br />So husband, if you're reading this, you better start practicing your neck hugs and chick flick watching. Practice your belly laugh and every once in a while pretend you don't know how to spell a word so I can tell you. Maybe you could leave a few wrappers shoved in between the couch cushions and leave your towel on the floor after you take a shower. It just might make me feel better.
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<br />OR...piss me off.
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<br />But it's worth a try.
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<br />Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-43496879535999297152011-08-09T09:45:00.000-07:002011-08-09T10:01:19.667-07:00Bengay: The Perfume of the 40's<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzkqwTcli3gP8B0y4aNCVloLpvoER5lFUMXTInv_0hjdruAjIJrnIfkqEDv3EHpM2Ry0qPksQM9cjSkE3iV-Jzl0egf43TNsjlR3cV7xNbJTS2VID9NYEz62AqcSQWrFyG6Pmx0iaUBAi/s1600/bengay.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzkqwTcli3gP8B0y4aNCVloLpvoER5lFUMXTInv_0hjdruAjIJrnIfkqEDv3EHpM2Ry0qPksQM9cjSkE3iV-Jzl0egf43TNsjlR3cV7xNbJTS2VID9NYEz62AqcSQWrFyG6Pmx0iaUBAi/s320/bengay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638902009359627026" border="0" /></a>
<br />I've been on this exercise kick lately because frankly I've gotten a little too soft and mushy for my liking. And the fact that my 40<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> birthday is mere months away (oh my gosh that freaks me out just to see it in writing) provides plenty of motivation. But working out is gross. I mean the smells, the boob sweat-stains on my shirt....it's totally disgusting. And I have to block out the fact that things are jiggling that shouldn't be. I'm not talking about boobs and bingo wings I'm talking bellies and backs. I'm seriously considering working out in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">spanx</span> because the jiggling is bad for my ego. And it's not like I have unrealistic expectations. I'm not trying to fit into a bikini or look like Jennifer <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Aniston</span>. I just want to work with what I've been given and firm it up. I guess I just don't want to look 40. I'd be happy looking 39 for at least another few years.
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<br />See....completely realistic, right?
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<br />Now I'm off to rub <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Bengay</span> all over my sore muscles. Bath and Body Works is SO over-rated.
<br />Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-21016121490329527822011-08-01T06:42:00.000-07:002011-08-01T07:32:55.258-07:00Sister Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKu0SLGXZSd4-fsSpDoT3s8IGWqnddPjd6eARp32WUU5NQmW4877IkalVbsGtj_5mWToSfbO3ONU6fe9hdfySstjUj2rIXhQcMt3ie26hOVP5BsB_6bxZe4GwAC4_629VFraIc93XQClp5/s1600/allegra+close+up.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKu0SLGXZSd4-fsSpDoT3s8IGWqnddPjd6eARp32WUU5NQmW4877IkalVbsGtj_5mWToSfbO3ONU6fe9hdfySstjUj2rIXhQcMt3ie26hOVP5BsB_6bxZe4GwAC4_629VFraIc93XQClp5/s320/allegra+close+up.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635895401862683762" border="0" /></a><br />Being the only girl in the house has sometimes been a challenge for my daughter but at nearly 15 she's weathered it fairly well. I've loved the bond we've shared, since we are both so outnumbered with varying degrees of testosterone. It's been fun to share our love of pedicures and bargain shopping when we are the only two that truly appreciate it. And when PMS hits, we cuddle up together with a good chick flick and soothe ourselves with goodies. The boys know it's best to give us a little more space than usual.<br /><br />But you know what? A sister never outgrows her need of brotherly affection. I overheard this conversation today and it just warmed my heart.<br /><br />"Psst. Gabe. Come here," Allegra says and then she whispers something in his ear.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>"What did you tell him?" I asked.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>With a big grin she says, "I told him he was my favorite brother because he's the one that still gives me kisses."Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-66651582182717308812011-07-31T09:00:00.001-07:002011-07-31T09:23:16.990-07:00PapaWe've been watching a lot of reality TV on instant netflix lately. Things like American Pickers, Clean House, and Take Home Chef. Our latest is Nanny 911. Overall my kids are appalled at the naughty stuff those little TV terrors do to their parents and then we all cry at the end when everything is made right. But with Gabriel, the baby in the family...the kid I was a little lazier with...there are a few points that I can see resonate with him just a bit. <br /><br />Gabriel barely sleeps in his bedroom now that he has his own room. He'll sleep in the hallway OUTSIDE his bedroom or he'll wind up on the love seat in my bedroom. It was cute for a while but now...not so much. And it drives me crazy but I'm OLD and TIRED now and too LAZY to push it. Hey, I can admit it. So after a few episodes last night....my resolve was strong....I decided I was going to insist that he sleep in his own bed that night.<br /><br />And he did. No whining or complaining. He turned on some worship music, read a few books and was out like a light. Totally anti-climactic. <br /><br />This morning I praised him up one side and down the other for what a good job he had done. He proudly grinned, showing his two big over sized grown-up teeth that I haven't quite got used to yet and said, "And you didn't have to all Nanny 911!"<br /><br />"I don't need to call Nanny 911, I just call Jesus. He knows us better anyway."<br /><br />And then that adorable little kid said something that took me so many years for me to truly understand myself.<br /><br />"Yeah," he says, "He's my papa."<br /><br />Just like that. I love that he gets it so easily.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-18400391174848916092011-07-27T09:29:00.000-07:002011-07-27T10:53:53.966-07:00Random ThoughtsThought #1 - There are a few perks to having generally ignored this blog for a few years. I've lost most of my readers which means I can probably say just about anything I want without any backlash. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Oooh</span> the freedom!<br /><br />Thought #2 - Two of my four children slowly trickled down to my bedroom last night to bunk out on my couch and my floor. At first I was a little miffed at this invasion into my little personal oasis but I'm in this new stage of parenting. As my oldest approaches his sophomore year in high school I'm starting to realize that these kids that I've spent years praying for, sweating over, crying about, and generally giving a giant portion of my heart too, are going to be leaving my home way sooner than I'm ready for. I'm thinking of having regular slumber parties now.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-44863419387262516142011-07-22T10:41:00.000-07:002011-07-22T10:49:50.445-07:00Kryptonite?We've wondered lately if we have another lactose intolerant person in the house so we've been testing out different foods to see what we can come up with. After a long night of bellyaches and a very uncomfortable kid I'd say it's pretty much confirmed. <br /><br />Poor Malachi.<br /><br />This morning after he slept in to make up for his long night, he came upstairs to find me. <br /><br />Sad and a little dejected at the fact that he was going to be joining his father on the no ice-cream, no cheese, no milk-after-your-brownie diet he said to me, "Well Mom, I guess my weakness is dairy."<br /><br />To which I replied, "Well, every superhero has a weakness, sweetie."<br /><br />The ear to ear smile and giant wordless hug from him assured me that I'd said the right thing.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-90452843519417693012011-07-19T11:54:00.001-07:002011-07-19T12:01:05.188-07:00Don't Ever Let This Kid in the KitchenWe are just a little bit addicted to reality TV. Not the trashy stuff but things like American Pickers and Take Home Chef. When my little boys were gone for a week for the annual summer grandma-cation, all the teens and I did was watch HOURS of reality TV. I'm not even exaggerating. HOURS! Like don't shower for a few days, stay in your jammies, and eat every meal on the couch. <br /><br />Not my finest moment.<br /><br />So when little boys came back last night (Yahoo, I really missed them!) we were slowly detaching ourselves from the hunky Curtis Stone (Oh, shut up...he's adorable) and had just a few more episodes so we could wrap up our reality marathon. Curtis was getting ready to make homemade hot dogs when Gabe, all cuddly on my lap and still smelling of campfire even after I had just scrubbed him says,<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"I know how to make hot dogs. All you need is Hotness and Dogs." </span><br /><br />I'm so happy he's home but he's not allowed in the kitchen.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-1409182341172354782010-12-08T15:21:00.000-08:002010-12-08T15:24:51.630-08:00Signs of MaturityYou know, I think I've matured a lot. Because in the old days I would have posted a picture about yesterday's post. This time you just got words. <br /><br />I'm not saying I didn't TAKE a picture. I'm just saying I didn't post it. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span>Or maybe it was because I was having camera issues.<br /><br />Either way <span style="font-style: italic;"></span>that's what we call growth around here. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-54078499788447807582010-12-07T20:07:00.001-08:002010-12-07T20:09:16.926-08:00Oh Ye Of Few WordsThe highlight of my day? You'll regret asking.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The dog ate a blue crayon. Several hours later it came out green.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">The kids were thrilled.</span><br /><br />There's no build up.<br /><br />No dramatic conclusion.<br /><br />I think that story speaks for itself.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-44757776033211615652010-12-06T11:05:00.000-08:002010-12-06T11:17:00.850-08:00Well That's One For The BooksAbout 5 in the morning Gabe came stumbling down the stairs into my bedroom. He looked like he was still asleep as he held up his finger (the middle one) and cried, "My finger is bleeding." I stumbled out of bed wrapped a bandaid around it and tucked him in between Chris and I, hoping I was still sleepy enough to grab a few more hours of shut eye. <br /><br />The next morning, when I woke up enough to think clearly, I asked him how he hurt his finger....WHILE HE WAS ASLEEP. <br /><br />He said, "Something was wrapped around my finger squeezing it tight so I bit it off and it made my finger bleed."<br /><br />Come to find out his arm had fallen asleep in the middle of the night and it FELT like something was wrapped around his finger so the poor kid chomped down on his numb little hand so hard that it broke the skin. <br /><br />Is that weird or what?Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-89535110781005269822010-12-05T18:46:00.001-08:002010-12-05T19:37:23.406-08:00The Honest TruthYou know, I'd <span style="font-style: italic;">like</span> you to think that a typical morning in my house consists of me rising before everyone else, peacefully preparing for the day, showered and dressed before the house rose, hot breakfast waiting for sleepy heads to arrive. And, eh....sometimes that's how it goes. But most the time I wake up to this in my face....<br /><br />A dog laying on my husbands chest licking me...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyddgdN6Ea0ml3-fviJzk3GrbWYQnyS51ao2H9qSnXnjBVg13H8lwODV-jHsl4qFXD0Sq2aBuCLvnoPwrkwTzCbqp3IgHbf9_G-zNYvS2nghU-Nofz-48zHPX95iQriZQnMrPrR0bW6u9e/s1600/IMG_1277.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyddgdN6Ea0ml3-fviJzk3GrbWYQnyS51ao2H9qSnXnjBVg13H8lwODV-jHsl4qFXD0Sq2aBuCLvnoPwrkwTzCbqp3IgHbf9_G-zNYvS2nghU-Nofz-48zHPX95iQriZQnMrPrR0bW6u9e/s320/IMG_1277.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547402155204150386" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Gabriel laying on top of me with a big smile...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkqxhyphenhyphenUThxcBu0HaKTnP1F9kmZWZi6HZs0cyxHlaSoKNJgJR6BiFGQ8OFvngKiivfLgi70CPe3SXaHLMojB_aJ84kZ0V8S5bWKuKrrmPOoxEVxqLINCF_vTvHOtVZWbwAbdM7A0-uMq-p-/s1600/IMG_1278.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkqxhyphenhyphenUThxcBu0HaKTnP1F9kmZWZi6HZs0cyxHlaSoKNJgJR6BiFGQ8OFvngKiivfLgi70CPe3SXaHLMojB_aJ84kZ0V8S5bWKuKrrmPOoxEVxqLINCF_vTvHOtVZWbwAbdM7A0-uMq-p-/s320/IMG_1278.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547403105000682674" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The next one arrives in the background....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigG-WWJ2jkQ4HeYgiFYYM4BOPSa6tOvjJrTazcUSprnVC_VYJFfe1G46MppEMf_E1NFcGnDCXwsgTKXYCzii8LwPjw2q4Ebkj6Kz7eWRKFQaXNhxev6xilUQf2RDwj8mnUO6caWRvHGWG3/s1600/IMG_1280.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigG-WWJ2jkQ4HeYgiFYYM4BOPSa6tOvjJrTazcUSprnVC_VYJFfe1G46MppEMf_E1NFcGnDCXwsgTKXYCzii8LwPjw2q4Ebkj6Kz7eWRKFQaXNhxev6xilUQf2RDwj8mnUO6caWRvHGWG3/s320/IMG_1280.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547405064965807842" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Then they are <span style="font-weight: bold;">ALL UP IN MY FACE...</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtyx8aVzWzSx5xjyEzknubUfvDV_6tdtXznBZt7Xwx0dINtSHAYFz0s5vSpvg23HXuMsJx4XIHkw_6uNtFWn8-gYyAga68orBO0OgKFn72bfnQzgsSiMyEb2_EPhpfnyZTLfHP7n9Y_sq/s1600/IMG_1281.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtyx8aVzWzSx5xjyEzknubUfvDV_6tdtXznBZt7Xwx0dINtSHAYFz0s5vSpvg23HXuMsJx4XIHkw_6uNtFWn8-gYyAga68orBO0OgKFn72bfnQzgsSiMyEb2_EPhpfnyZTLfHP7n9Y_sq/s320/IMG_1281.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547407171257120002" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And it's time for me to get up.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjaVD1Zw4M2oHy89nbNO4HAhr5KtBnjtNcBXBHrwILIMqImIGlGDNINz-of_4DOfjJjZfqP5gFmNSZ6Szdozpq7KVbLLmg01waB0FRJTJsvxCsSwcFf73HTt8Cru73nHJOjbiPDUDmSVYU/s1600/IMG_1283.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjaVD1Zw4M2oHy89nbNO4HAhr5KtBnjtNcBXBHrwILIMqImIGlGDNINz-of_4DOfjJjZfqP5gFmNSZ6Szdozpq7KVbLLmg01waB0FRJTJsvxCsSwcFf73HTt8Cru73nHJOjbiPDUDmSVYU/s320/IMG_1283.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547407183951363794" border="0" /></a>Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-68557742873731967122010-12-03T16:04:00.000-08:002010-12-03T16:28:04.602-08:00Proper Placement of BoogersI had just woke up and stumbled upstairs. The immense amount of energy it took me to do this directed me right to the big over sized chair in my living room so I could rest again. I grabbed the nearest dog, Lady our new little cairn terrier, and began to stroke her fir. I petted her and spoke sweetly to her but suddenly her smooth fur was interrupted by a crusty lump. Now, she's pretty low to the ground so it's not unusual for her to pick something up as she's dragging herself around outside and carry it around in her coat for a few hours. I felt it my duty to get it off. The funny thing is that when I pulled it out of her fur and looked at it, it looked familiar. I'd seen it somewhere before. Upon closer inspection I realized just where I'd seen it and numerous others like it. Dangling from one of my boys fingers...and now it was dangling from mine. Yes, one of my boys had recently dug it out of his nose and wiped it on the nearest thing....which happened to be Lady. Poor doggy. <br /><br />So my morning started with a lesson in hygiene....and self control. I did all I could not to holler this at the top of my lungs while I looked for a kleenex to take care of my own finger. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"When you find a booger dangling from your finger...please dispose of it properly."</span><br /><br />I didn't even want to start with the "<span style="font-weight: bold;">don't even PICK your nose</span>" part. <br /><br />Baby steps.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-81719549889420653062010-04-05T23:17:00.000-07:002010-04-05T23:27:52.783-07:00Just In Case The House Sinks...Gabe begged me to take him to the dollar store today to spend his Easter money. After at least an hour of filling the cart and putting it away as he changed his mind, filling and putting away, wash...rinse...repeat....he finally settled on a blow up inner tube for the pool.....which we don't have....plus it's rainy and like 46 degrees outside.<br /><br />But whatever.<br /><br />He spent all day blowing it up and letting the air out. Again with the wash...rinse...repeat.<br /><br />Until finally he fell asleep...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdWho41X7ioVN_Bh2FwHHmjPFzH_h_OjMnA-mR2WJELN82zLUDAIBuzB61bQWk14bCCReujt3DSLQtHo4Q8FIbczGcxacCK8bM7ig5ThyphenhyphenDFwalZCX45YfzL7UF1ti5Yc4tTb0xy0UtQj0/s1600/IMG_9552.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdWho41X7ioVN_Bh2FwHHmjPFzH_h_OjMnA-mR2WJELN82zLUDAIBuzB61bQWk14bCCReujt3DSLQtHo4Q8FIbczGcxacCK8bM7ig5ThyphenhyphenDFwalZCX45YfzL7UF1ti5Yc4tTb0xy0UtQj0/s320/IMG_9552.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456907137660780258" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">With it wrapped around his body. </span><br /><br />Yes, he is INSIDE the inner tube.<br /><br />Well, if the house goes down in the night, Gabriel will be saved.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-32226802062890269092010-04-02T07:28:00.000-07:002010-04-02T07:31:11.515-07:00Boy DramaLet me assure you that drama is not just for the girls. When six year old Gabe found green beans on his plate at dinner tonight he looked up at me and said with much long suffereing, "Mommmmm, can you please remove these green beans from my LIFE?"Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-32633266959140338472010-03-29T22:11:00.000-07:002010-03-29T22:35:28.190-07:00How many times have I opened the "new post" page and then left? A lot. This past year has been downright weird. No really. I'm talking all kinds of fetal-position, thumb-sucking, soothe-yourself-with-Ben-and Jerry's weird. But I kind of feel like I'm coming up for air. (Oh please, oh please don't make me eat those words, God.) And I know life isn't supposed to be a bed of roses or a bowl full of cherries but right now I'd settle for a life full of dog farts that don't singe my eyelashes. That would seriously be a step in the right direction. <br /><br />I don't think that's asking for too much do you?<br /><br />But anyway. As I said, the air thing.....I feel like I'm coming up and getting some fresh gulps. Things are clicking back into place. My sense of humor is rusty but I'm starting to have a chance at the end of my day to look back and see the funny parts.<br /><br />Like today when Gabriel (who's 6) pointed out that my shirt was too tight and showed my "bumps". That's code for back-fat if you weren't sure. See....funny stuff. <br /><br />Or yesterday when everyone was in their bedrooms with radios blaring and couldn't hear me hollering for help when I realized there was no clean towel after my shower. And then, just as I decided to make a break out of the bathroom, down the stairs, past the front door and into my basement bedroom, the Fed Ex guy walked by my front window. <br /><br />Poor guy. <br /><br />So yeah, life is finding it's normal again. Unfortunately it's my own expense.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-58071655142251872622009-12-04T14:48:00.001-08:002009-12-04T14:53:19.728-08:00Wisdom Rains DownWe learned a valuable lesson in the grace for gayle house today.<br /><br />Gabriel, who is six, learned never to pee outside while standing on roller blades unless you're a REALLY good roller blader. <br /><br />In the words of his 9 year old big brother, "It was great mom, pee flew everywhere."Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-58092209158869650082009-11-04T22:02:00.000-08:002009-11-04T22:07:51.646-08:00I Miss You TooI miss blogging over here. This was where I took the things that are my daily life and spun them to be something I could laugh at. And if I made you laugh too, then that made me feel even better. But blah...blah...blah. There are a million and one reasons why I haven't been back to this little cozy space that I call mine.<br /><br />I won't bore you with the details.<br /><br />But I long to have the time to find those joyful moments and mold them into something to share.<br /><br />I'm hoping I find it soon.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-26754746172676575742009-09-06T18:58:00.000-07:002009-09-06T19:02:23.772-07:00BoysI was sitting in church today listening intently to the sermon. My six year old son was sitting on the seat beside me and I happened to glance his way. Instead of looking forward at the sermon, he was staring up at me, studying me in what I though to be rapturous love for his mommy. My chest felt full and warmth spread out through my body as I thought about just how much I love this little boy.<br /><br />And my sweet son looked up and said to me, "Mommy, do <em><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">I </span></strong></em>have two chins too?"<br /><br />little stinker.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-31273805334337529072009-08-24T18:57:00.001-07:002009-08-24T19:00:24.624-07:00Ewww!Sitting in the library in the quietest spot I could find. No kids. Finally found an internet connection to use while mine is being worked on. Suddenly the smell of a poop assaults my nostrils. I look up to see a man standing 5 feet away, arms crossed, acting like nothing happened. We both know it wasn't me.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-29504728749577260852009-07-27T17:05:00.000-07:002009-07-27T17:17:49.809-07:00Urgh! Heat Makes Me Cranky.It's 108 degrees and I'm grumpy and sweaty and my clothes are drenched. A trip down town around masses of other people was just a little too ripe for me today. It seems some people prefer a deodorant-less existence in my neck of the woods, which isn't such a big deal unless we're having THE HEAT WAVE TO END ALL HEAT WAVES! HELLO!<br /><br />Pee-yoow!<br /><br />So I pulled out the slip and slide and I'm just laying in the middle of it while the kids are screaming at me to get out of the way. Selfish children.<br /><br />And for some reason all of my kids have decided it's a cuddle day today and have been following me around TOUCHING me all day. TOUCHING. ME. Again with the heat, guys.<br /><br />I think we're having ice cubes for dinner.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-25257609874489155462009-07-26T08:19:00.001-07:002009-07-26T08:28:42.713-07:00I Think I'm Digging The Teen YearsI exited the bathroom with a scowl on my face and bumped into Allegra in the hallway. <br /><br />Allegra: What's wrong, Mom?<br /><br />Me: I just started my stinkin' period.<br /><br />A few years ago she would have ran away screaming "OH GROSS MOM!" but today she said, " Awwwww," and stepped towards me with arms open for a big hug of understanding.<br /><br />I like her a lot.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-57405264167348589212009-07-23T10:31:00.000-07:002009-07-23T10:55:59.466-07:00How Cool Is That?This blogging thing is kind of amazing when you think about it. Who knew that when I started this blog, back at HSB over 4 years ago, that it would become such a neat way to meet people. People I would never get to meet because they live so far from me or our paths would just never cross otherwise. And it's been fun to read every one's stories and keep up with people. It's widened my horizons, challenged me, made me learn new things, and see how other people live.<br /><br />And then a few years ago I decided to take it a step further and fly across country with my super friend <a href="http://thelearningneverstops.blogspot.com/">Emily</a> to actually meet some of these online friends in person. <a href="http://www.stillhisgirl.blogspot.com/">Cindy</a> is just about the sweetest person I've ever met. She's so gentle and thoughtful and has the most gorgeous red hair. And <a href="http://thesakeofthecall.blogspot.com/">Angel</a> is wise and funny and moving in her posts. Such neat people. <br /><br /><a href="http://joshua24-15.blogspot.com/">Sarah </a>makes me laugh and makes me think deeper. She's honest and not afraid to hang stuff out there for all to see. I like that. And today she'll become a real life friend too. So this little old blogging thing is way more than just having your corner in cyberspace or having a place to put your thoughts. It's a way to touch other peoples lives and actually make new dear friends.<br /><br />Pretty darn cool if you ask me.Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-50367434860617301612009-07-22T10:02:00.000-07:002009-07-22T10:17:32.507-07:00Tuckers First Bath<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdIQ0JGbA0IIU2Sq3umqVCnRvqLRsp0UPhw_lPQ2ROxIslSwEUVnUTiR3RyDr-7RgZ6WbKgaFE0A-hYnmgWnQ62mQ3vaXzxXOxZukmfPr-U7hU3QLPFHxTsB2FRVw3IZjnPKlBNcBJMpoU/s1600-h/IMG_7454.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361334637390758898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdIQ0JGbA0IIU2Sq3umqVCnRvqLRsp0UPhw_lPQ2ROxIslSwEUVnUTiR3RyDr-7RgZ6WbKgaFE0A-hYnmgWnQ62mQ3vaXzxXOxZukmfPr-U7hU3QLPFHxTsB2FRVw3IZjnPKlBNcBJMpoU/s320/IMG_7454.JPG" border="0" /></a>Tucker had his first bath the other day which quickly turned into a sit-com. It seems he didn't like the freezing water that came out of my hose. picky dog. The only way we could get him to stand still was for me to straddle him and hold him steady with my legs while I scrubbed at lightening speed. One child snapped pictures and videos, one child held a leash and spoke comforting words, one child held the hose at ready, and the other child had the easiest job of all....laughing his head off.<br /><br /><div></div><div>There's always one in every family.</div><div></div><br /><div>But poor Tucker faced the greatest indignity of all. He had to not only be squirted with icy cold water and scrubbed in his most private parts with abrasive hands, but he endured all this in close proximity to my giant butt. </div><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361334646567484194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54NBy9qtp1qxWyf4h53kV3yJ-6nQe-xWshXKYtlPMdZEhRBihaNY5f9HujbQaB8zDsgWKqS7LIq4u_IkrHqtROBVq-wrQVv2Ugroxt9kUuXjYIKOlx4nqkHqf4XDLPEzFeO2JrhzcgXEL/s320/IMG_7464.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>Look at the expression on that face. It says it all. </div></div>Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-40664333343927010782009-07-18T05:14:00.000-07:002009-07-18T05:52:18.446-07:00I'm So Gratefull For This Dog Because Now I Have More Blog Fodder!Tucker has fit into our family nicely except for just a few things.... <div><div><br /><div></div><div>He seems to suffer from a severe case of motion sickness as witnessed by the "rain of slobber during every car ride" as well as the "vomit everything in my stomach all over the car" stuff. But to look at the positive side...I now know that the missing pepperoni scandal from yesterday is solved. Someone has been slipping them to Tucker.</div><div></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioy04fCbm2iErgD9ex1ysmn3q0PSs_mfKklfi2tZavlJcz-SWW9ZI3YKBsWmnTs8r2Cz9wAsp1Gpap7Sk9fJMzMUxzCCmUfiZUBAj4o0htwBkTwm4n4W2BRKPVzbvpKvLWVv30Vd2mgG3-/s1600-h/IMG_7266.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359780246780609506" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioy04fCbm2iErgD9ex1ysmn3q0PSs_mfKklfi2tZavlJcz-SWW9ZI3YKBsWmnTs8r2Cz9wAsp1Gpap7Sk9fJMzMUxzCCmUfiZUBAj4o0htwBkTwm4n4W2BRKPVzbvpKvLWVv30Vd2mgG3-/s320/IMG_7266.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Gabriel (my five year old) entered into the dog thing with a fear of dogs. We knew he'd get over it and every once in a while the braveness outweighs the fear and he'll pet Tucker. Unfortunately Gabe still spends most of his time hopping from couch to table to kitchen counter to stairs just to travel from the family room to his bedroom. He even tries to eat his meals perched on top of the kitchen table rather than in his chair. Now if he could only grow some spiderweb to shoot out of his wrist so he can just swing from the ceiling to travel through the house than I think everything should work out just fine. </div><br /><br /><div></div><div>And to prove that the dog is one of us I thought I'd share a picture that I took of Tucker and interpret it for you. Because I now speak dog.</div><div></div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359781310879122994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCx0BhkW5ZLvBGShIEhhODx9q17pikMweJw_ErWFWuqmcXLwMLxyOfGBR5Izd14qj49aAxk9O2kliAACPOhoh_YKNDauPt0YPzsAru7iV3TBEyrJcziHBsVG5FAFghsd48fCSEQtg7C4i/s400/IMG_7376.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><em>"You're going to blog this, aren't you."</em></div><div><em></em></div><br /><div>I have to admit that I feel even more bonded to this dog knowing that he takes a bad picture every once in a while too. </div></div></div>Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-559345894667319825.post-81378172181468949342009-07-08T18:59:00.001-07:002009-07-08T19:16:49.028-07:00Introducing TuckerThe new-pet saga finally has a happy ending. Meet Tucker. <div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356277325998110034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW4uRhRBKYey6Jwxee4Z2dOyo2BX-VvBpUzF7yore_erii_M-_z7OncMtlT1goLT3gRzk03653awC6PrwsIOH5NlYahlCtrxfhMUZuCaV1yZynrouSjKbt0T0gB7IZs8DzywbeMyUz-4qo/s320/IMG_7249.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356277341404876738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Gxv1NMsFyCEnlQiFc9PrSIRtMEoEaMXIu9qYI7W0rEzOtA97AspcIOxmey96CNrwCrw5yZGIScCKTmcOKFYVC-jBTzw5ps5QIUpi1j_DU3K02JQx7NYmbzmYE4-UDGFLND9JGQ86nY8N/s320/IMG_7263.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><div>I compromised on only one thing. He's a male instead of a female. But considering we paraded half the female dogs in the pound in front of him to check his hump-factor, (yeah, it was a little like a canine booty call) I'm happy to say he passed the test and came home with us. He's also submissive, obedient, smart, house trained, mellow and cuddly. AND he sleeps through being petted, hugged, and all the screaming, shouting and running that goes on in this house. </div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356277331954730386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMiK7O7sduOll6VlTyp9K3Ap_ERGN9Zd9roJsNV8PhlI9eIfEHh4J_pgG4NgMqgydgxIArxAZ1CnKk8tboWz-r7RkqWp_4TrL4mG96i8R3vHYq7pdp_7WwH26Ux9um_R4m3Sdyka_VM1KL/s320/IMG_7258.JPG" border="0" /> <div>Oh...and this is his happy boy.</div></div></div>Gaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02763405062458388462noreply@blogger.com14