We're Totally Official

I don't know why I didn't read the letter from Holt any more closely than I did until now, but... I just realized that our homestudy went to Korea earlier than I thought it did! I'm getting more excited about a new baby every day. I'm more focused on the issue than usual this week because 1) I was invited to join an adoption group that I'd not been aware of before and 2) my digi friend Melissa is in Korea RIGHT NOW picking up her baby girl.

I just asked the moderator on the Holt board to add us to the official running list of those waiting for a referral. I was surprised to see that we're not even last on the list. Now, of course, this list is by no means official, but it's a good representative sampling and keeps me calm about approximately where we might be in the wait.

Where might that be? Well, the list is long and the process is even longer. So, I don't have hopes of a referral any time before October. That would be about 10 months, which seems to be about average. That would probably mean the new baby is here, at HOME, in January or February of next year. That's earlier than I'd originally thought, but obviously we'll do whatever it takes when the time comes. I'd rather not put him/her in daycare before the fall of next year, but we might not have a choice. Maybe we'll see about finding a temporary option until Rob is finished with school once my leave is over.

I think all this waiting is really what's prompted me to scrap so many of Sam's early pictures. It's so fun to finally journal the stories and gaze at his baby pictures. Rob and I have both talked in the last few days at feeling some sadness when we see his baby pictures, knowing we missed so many months of his early life, but I try to remember that none of us would be who we are if things had gone differently. All of those experiences add up to who we are as people and as a family, and we have to trust that it all happens as God intends it to.

Someone remind me of that, PLEASE, when the wait for #2 really starts to get to me!

Catching Up

After scrapping over 200 pages in the past 15 months or so, I FINALLY got a few prints made! It really is much more gratifying to create scrapbook pages when you actually have them in a scrapbook. So, I'm vowing to myself to do that more often. Because they're really expensive to print, I'm rushing to get a few special photos scrapped that I want printed for my 12x12 album while there's still a sale. It's actually been great fun to scrap just for the purpose of capturing stories that I don't want to be lost. I do a lot of scrapping to try to learn to do it better, but it's nice to just sit back and worry about nothing but the words.

Sam's back at school, recovered from most of the icky bug he had, but the transition back hasn't been an easy one. We're told that literally half his class has been sick, which is apparently making the kids more than a little testy. We got yet another incident report today for bad behavior. Sam's teacher seems to think he's easily influenced and "fights back" when someone starts something with him, but that's no excuse, really.

We're focusing each night on reviewing how he behaved in school and getting rewards for good behavior. Unfortunately, we've also had to resort for punishment for naughty behavior. Tonight, Grave Digger sleeps alone. Sadly, nothing says "you're in trouble" to Sam more than a night without his favorite monster truck.

All of this is an education for a Mommy and Daddy who were total Goody-Two-Shoes growing up. We seriously rarely got in trouble, so behavior reports on a daily basis are really foreign to us. Stubbornness, as my mother will tell you, I am intimately familiar with. How to teach a preschooler, though, the fine line between standing your ground and being outright obnoxious?!

Sick Day

We had our first official sick day in over a year and a half today. Sam caught every bug that floated within a mile of him the first year he was home, but he came out of the experience with an immune system of steel. Apparently, however, that steel can be penetrated by Mommy germs. He rallied a bit over the weekend, but stayed home yesterday (which we wanted anyway since we were off for the holiday.)

I had him all ready to go to school today, but as he ate his strawberries for breakfast all he did was cough, so I canceled most of my calls for the day and kept him home and took him to the doctor.

He cracked me up at Dr. Weidner's office. I told him that we were going to visit the doctor so that he could make him feel better. He took that to heart. The second the doctor opened the exam room door, Sam flopped down on his back on the table and said, "I'm laying down so you can make me all better!" The doctor actually giggled at that.

Turns out he has a sinus infection of his very own. I was under the impression you had to be a bit older to get bona fide sinus infections, but apparently Dr. Mom doesn't know what she's talking about. We picked up a bottle of antibiotics, which had me panicked for fear of trying to administer the first dose alone.

Sam has matured since his last round of meds, though. He opened wide, swallowed the medicine and didn't seem to mind it one bit. It's SO MUCH EASIER to take care of a sick kid when he actually cooperates!

So Very Romantic

So, after all my talk about what a fabulous Valentine's Day dinner I had planned for my beloved, I spent the day (and the several following) injesting more pharmaceuticals than anything else. Nothing says romance like a nebulizer treatment, let me tell you!

Poor Rob. I've promised him a do-over soon. I wonder how long it will take me to figure out another fancy meal like that. Culinary skills aren't exactly among my most noted attributes.

I'm feeling better than I was a few days ago, but this has not been one of my more productive weekends. Other than going to get my medicine on Saturday, I haven't been able to leave the house. Thank goodness today is a holiday! I needed the extra day to get better. I am itching to get out, so took a shower early today so that we could go on a walk. Rob listened to me hack and wheeze my way through the acts of getting dressed and drying my hair and ordained that I was not allowed out again.

Sam managed to catch the same bug (who gave it to who is a mystery) but he fought it better than I did. He did spike a fever that scared us a bit on Friday, but a few doses of Motrin and a night in bed with Mommy made him quite a bit better. He's home with us today for the holiday and keeps coming over to check to see if I'm better. He's a good little nurse!

I have been at least slightly productive in my malaise. See my fancy new blog banner? I finally figured out how to do something prettier than the Minima template header I've been sporting for two years now!

Postive Peer Pressure

Not only did our young friend Ethan appreciate a pic of Sam on my blog this morning, it inspired him to practice his potty skills. I got a very happy report from Kim. Considering Sam's been in some fairly serious trouble for acting up at school lately, it's nice to hear him setting a good example for once!

His behavior, thankfully, is improving steadily since we resorted to stickers on the calendar and a bribe at the end of each week for positive reports from his teacher. My scrappy little muffin was pushing and punching as early as Monday, but "behaved like an angel" today. That's a relief! It was also a relief to hear that although she's not going to name names, the teacher is convinced Sam is not the real agressor. He sure is a follower, though. She says he sees other kids getting a little too pushy and has no qualms about jumping right in. Is it too early to have a discussion about being a leader instead of a follower?

Sam and I had a nice little outing tonight to get ready for our big Valentine's Day extravaganza tomorrow. I, known around these parts as a pretty mediocre (and that's being kind to myself) cook, am planning to prepare a very schmancy meal I have been learning all about on The Pioneer Woman Cooks. We'll see how it works out. For $81 at Wegman's tonight, let's hope it's at least edible!

When we left the store, Sam announced that he no longer wants to food shop with Daddy.

"Daddy goes to buy food at the boring store. I like your store, Mommy. It has a cool train and gummy worms."

"But don't worry. I still love Daddy... I just don't think I want to go shopping with him next time. Just you."

I fear this means I will be the appointed grocery shopper for a while... and I really really do NOT enjoy the grocery store! Ah, what we'll do for the young'uns.

Mission Accomplished

It would appear that we are no longer a family that needs to buy Pull-Ups. The mission is complete. All systems are a go... and in the right vessels.

This is very very big news in our house.

We cheered. We celebrated. We admired. We ran right off to Target to get the "Crash-Smash" book that had become the newest object of desire once the process was finalized.

In news that matters to the rest of the world, my "candidate of choice" is doing quite nicely in the primaries tonight. I am enjoying it. Is there a limit to how much punditry one family can take? I'm sure there is. We just don't seem to know where that line is just yet. We're still likethis with CNN.

The pic of Sam is not there to overdo the potty point, but rather there to make my little buddy Ethan happy. It turns out that my two-year-old friend likes to read my blog with Mommy and is sick and tired of the pics of Hillary or inanimate objects that have been featured. You can't blame him. He can't read, so he's understandably all about the pictures. There you go, Ethan. Enjoy!

Naps no more??

I knew this day would come, and I kind of had a feeling that it would arrive without warning. I think I might have been right. Sam has suddenly become very difficult to convince to take a nap. He'll go through the pre-nap motions in his room, but sleep? Not so much.

The kid went from napping for three to four hours to deciding naps are not cool. At all. For any length of time. Now, Daddy and I have been forcing the issue a bit because we're not completely convinced he will not terrorize us without a bit of mid-day sleep, but all Sam does is mumble in his room, play with cars and call out to us every now and again. He has drifted off eventually the last two days, but the peace only lasts about an hour. I know that still seems like a nap to most people, but is more like an accidental slip into unconsciousness for our child.

We'll see how it goes, but I think that next weekend we'll see how he does without a nap. Maybe we'll actually see the outside world between the hours of noon and 4 p.m. and get him to sleep past 5:45 a.m. A mom can dream.

The lovely photo you see above is result of my Valentine craftiness. I'm rather pleased with how they turned out. I'll try not to look when a bunch of preschoolers just tear into them as if they were purchased at *gasp* Target or something.

A final note, so as not to let it go without update. I should have placed a bet of some sort against myself. Hillary Clinton called... count them... TWENTY TWO times during Super Duper Tuesday. I feel like calling the NJ campaign headquarters and telling them that they lost my vote for precisely that reason. But I won't. That would be a lie since they never had my vote. As my coworkers are ever-so-amused by, I am not shy about saying I have a "candidate of choice." And, ahem, he swept the primaries yesterday.

She Just Doesn't Quit

A quick update: It's now 9:49 a.m. and I have received 3 Hillary calls this morning. The grand total is now 12. It's still early. I sort of think I should run some sort of pool. I'm personally guessing that she'll make a total of 20 calls before the polls close tonight. Doesn't she know I voted at 6:35 a.m. today?!

UPDATE: It's 3:54 p.m. and I'm up to 16 calls.

I Am Public Voter #1

I'm not sure, but I think perhaps Hillary Clinton has been reading my blog and is terribly concerned that at least one female voter in New Jersey might go for Obama tomorrow.

I'm not paranoid. I actually have a sort of proof... It's now about 5:30 p.m. and I have gotten EIGHT phone calls from Hillary's campaign today alone, urging me to go to the polls tomorrow and vote for A Better America by way of a new President Clinton.

What else could that number of phone calls possibly mean? I mean, really. I don't know that anyone has ever called me that many times in one day. Not my husband, not my mom, not my sister, not my friends. In fact, all of those people combined don't ring my phone eight times in a single 24-hour period.

What I wonder is this: Do they really think that repeated phone calls is not going to annoy people, but instead make them sit up and realize the error of their ways and change their vote? Are there people who have made up their minds but say to themselves, "Gosh. That Hillary sure is persistent. I think I'll vote for her."

Maybe Hillary thinks that I have more political sway in an important electoral state than I really do. All I know is this... If I get one more phone call, it's quite possible that I'll toss my phone out the window.

Sam is all ready to go vote with me tomorrow. He's still firmly for Obama. He was tempted to vote for me, but he did recall me saying I wasn't running. I guess Obama is second best, but what can you expect? Obama doesn't buy him monster trucks and read extra books at night.

Don't forget to vote!

There's Just No Delicate Way...

...to discuss this particular milestone: my son has learned to "go" standing up. I don't think it requires further discussion.

HOWEVER, I did think, as he proudly displayed this new skill to me, of my commitment to blog regularly so that I'd know what was going on in our lives at the time our next child enters the world.

It occurred to me, unlikely as it is that he/she will be born today, that it would be very funny to say, "Hmmm... what happened that day? Let me see... Let's check the ol' blog. Oh. There it is. Sam peed standing up."

Happy Birthday!

Nothing else of import has occurred, mainly because Rob is coaching Mock Trial around the clock and I have been stuck in the house, succumbing to the vile effects of Augmentin. If you get a sinus infection soon, seriously consider that the cure is worse than the disease. At least that's what I'm saying right now.

Nighty Night

I really love our nighttime routine. I swear, this 30 min. is the best part of the day. No matter what kind of mood any of us is in, or how tired Sam is, when we have him bathed and we're all in our jammies for the night, it's like we're in our own little world where all Beckers are happy.

Sappy? Yes. But I like it like that.

Here's how it goes:

We have a bath (which, should be noted, is not always one of the Pollyanna parts of the routine.)

After bath, we wrap Sam up in either his puppy or lion towel. Whichever towel he's in, he plays the role of that animal and pretends to roar or bark. It's very cute and comes with it's very own dialogue that can last a full five minutes or so.

Next, we get dressed for bed, and it always manages to be exciting for Sam to see which PJs I'll pull out. No matter that we've worn the same ones night after night, though, Sam still doesn't think it's his job to learn how to put them on himself.

Then comes my favorite part: books. Sam tells Daddy that Mommy is the best reader and Rob goes off to check Drudge Report or football scores (I'm assuming, but it's not hard to guess. I know the man.) Lately, we've been reading Corduroy -- my all-time fave kids book -- and a book Aunt Noel and Uncle David gave Sam for Christmas -- The Human Race. Sam knows most of the many books we read by heart and I randomly stop in the middle of a sentence and he finishes. He does tire of this soon and ends up saying "You read it yourself, Mommy. I'll listen." He goes and grabs his snack and drink during the second book and settles up next to me while I read.

We always say we're only reading two books, but he knows Mommy always reads an extra (or three.) If Daddy comes back in early, Sams uses a stage whisper to deny that we're reading more than two books "No extra books here, Daddy!" It's funny. Maybe you have to be there.

When I'm done reading, Sam runs and hides beneath his covers and I yell to Daddy that "I've lost him again."

Rob comes in, finds him when he gives up searching only to lay down on top of Sam and then they review Sam's "special day."

Most nights, they are whispering to each other, so I can only hear murmuring over the baby monitor. It's very cute. At the end, Rob says good night, and Sam asks us to "leave the hall light on, please. You can turn it off when you go to bed later. Ok, guys?"

I'm sure a version of this routine happens in every single house that has kids, but I still never tire of feeling Sam snuggle up for the last time of the day or hearing him whisper to Daddy that " you guys are my best friends."

It's starting to sink in that another baby will be joining us, and I have been imagining what it will be like to hear Sam and his little sister or brother whispering to each other before bed. I can't wait.

Email Gone Awry

Having just received the Barack-Obama-is-an-antipatriot email for the umpteenth time in a month, I am following suit with my friend Jeff and providing a handy link to a list of facts that refute some of the crazier things I've read about Obama lately. Just consider one little blogger's contribution to truth on the Internet (she says like she has first-hand knowledge, but still... this is a real issue for me.)

I'm not one to tell people how to vote. I am unabashedly politically-minded, and I'm wearing an Obama '08 shirt as I type this, but I'm actually more offended by *the* email because of how irrational it seems to me. It's just crazy for people to believe what they read in an email chain as opposed to doing actual research about someone who's a strong contender to run the country some day.

There's probably someone far more eloquent than me to extol Obama's virtues, but for now, check out this link for more background about Barack (I say that like we're close personal friends!) His real website also has a comprehensive list of his stance on certain issues.

I can't believe I'm ranting about this, but I'm amazed at how many people I know who are convinced that the email's contentions that Obama is a Muslim who refuses to say the Pledge of Allegiance are accurate. Isn't Social Security about to run out? Don't we have millions of people living in poverty in our country who can't get even basic health care when they need it? Aren't thousands of American families losing loved ones in a war right now? I just wish we'd focus on actual issues, not gossip clearly intended to make one person look bad for reasons that seem based in bigotry to me.

Wow. I haven't been that fired up in a while.

This message was NOT paid for or supported by Obama for President. :-)

A Pint-Sized Independent

You may start to notice a pattern. Rob and I discuss politics a LOT. Seriously, it probably makes up at least 50% of our daily conversation. The other half is a mix of Sam logistics, what's for dinner, Relay For Life and American Idol. In no particular order.

So... the conversation was continuing as we were getting dinner ready last night. Rob and I were talking about Hillary's shenanigans in Florida (no bias there, sorry) when Sam asked if we were "talking about the president AGAIN?!"

Uh, yes. Sorry.

In order not to leave him out, we asked him if all of the news of the past few days had changed his mind about who should be president. He's apparently DONE with all of the antics, because his reply was that he "didn't really want anyone to win."

Well, then, are you a Republican or a Democrat?

"I'm really nothing."

Ok. Here's a test for you: Do you like elephants or donkeys better?

"Definitely elephants. I love elephants. Ella is an elephant."

So, you must be a Republican.

"NO I'M NOT!"

Clearly we are agitating our young son with all of this talk, so we dropped the subject and moved on to chicken nuggets vs. a cheese sandwich for his dinner.

My mom arrived a bit later and I relayed the conversation to her. She tried telling him that he could be a registered independent like Nonni.

Is it wrong that I'm teaching a 3 1/2 year old that registering as an independent is like throwing away your vote since you can't pick your candidates?! I am sure there must be medication for this.

A more age-appropriate moment came when Sam had had enough and retired to his bedroom to play with trains while the grown-ups cooked and continued the boring political talk. He screamed at the top of his lungs that we HAD to rush upstairs to see what he'd done. My little engineer had actually built a track for his trains all by himself for the first time. Rob and I were both suitably (and for real!!) impressed with what he'd done. The irony was not lost on me that if, perhaps, Mommy and Daddy found more constructive things to do with their time that maybe we'd get around to re-doing the bedrooms as we've planned or, say, renovating the kitchen that so desperately needs it.

XX or XY

The whole notion of gender selection in adoption is curious to me. I totally understand where some people are coming from in wanting to choose whether or not they adopt a boy or girl. Many families who adopt have been through tremendous loss and much of the experience has been out of their control... If there's a way to control one small part and you truly dream of having either a son or daughter, why not follow that dream if you can?

For us, that's just not the case. Rob, in particular, feels very strongly about letting God decide who our child is. The way we look at it, we wouldn't select gender if we were pregnant, so we won't this way, either.

I read a post on the Holt board, however, that led to an interesting conversation. If the story posted is true, the social worker in Korea who makes the final decision about matches will "save" a family that already has a boy -- especially if that boy is Korean -- for a girl. I've been told that it has something to do with the notion of balance, an important aspect of Korean culture.

I read this information matter of factly and just said to Rob that I think we have better than 50/50 odds of having a daughter this next time. He was troubled by the notion that it's a social worker, not God, making the decision. We ended the discussion by saying that either way, it's not us, so we just have to trust that the child that is meant to be ours will be matched with us. I reminded him that God helps that social worker make her decisions. He agreed and we switched to a lighter subject -- girl names -- a topic I could discuss for hours on end.

I was in Atlanta yesterday for a meeting, and even though I was down and back in one day, I didn't get to see Sam. I just hate days like that. I did sneak in to his room before I went to bed and gave him a quick kiss and re-tucked him in. We'll make up for the time this weekend when Rob has his Mock Trial competition. Sam and I will get another Saturday to do something ourselves. We miss Daddy, but I love those days, too!

I (think) I'm over it

The dog thing. I think I'm done begging.

Why, you ask?

Because Franklin has barked nonstop all weekend. I have no idea what's gotten into him, but it's really, really, really annoying.

When he wouldn't stop barking at absolutely nothing (that humans can see, at least) at 7:42 this morning, I just looked at Rob and said that if he wants me to stop begging for that puppy, all he needs to do is tape Frankie barking and just hit "play" when I ask again.

Since it's almost two hours later and I've lost track of how often we've gone outside to try to chase him in or shut him up, I don't even think I need the tape anymore. I think the response is now imprinted on my brain. No, we DON'T need another dog. No laughing at me...

I should get us ready. I started cooking (again, no laughing, please) at 7 a.m. for my former coworkers that are coming down with their kids for lunch in a couple of hours. Sam's still in his Mater PJs and should probably be scrubbed and fluffed before they arrive.

We are so old

It's 9 p.m. on a Saturday night. We spent the day running errands and taking care of various family members before hitting a Gymboree party at 4:30 p.m

Now we're all settled in, watching the South Carolina primary returns in our PJs. We joke often about how old we must seem to some people. My sister is out with a friend for dinner, then hanging with some other Philly friends at a bar or two. She and I frequently giggle at the fact that she rolls in at an hour that I might be getting up early, not just going to bed.

My Obama shirt finally arrived today and Rob, who already had his, wore it today.My friend Ted believes that what he wears could possibly impact how well the Cowboys play during football season. Do you suppose the same is true for campaign gear? Is it plausible that I am somehow helping Barack the Vote (couldn't resist that one)? We ordered our shirts the day he won Iowa. We got them and wore them when he wins South Carolina. We just wore regular clothes for New Hampshire and Nevada. I don't know... that's a pattern if you ask me.

Live Out the String

A word of warning, this is shaping up in my head to be a real "journaling" post more than a concert review, so you were warned if it gets all mushy and gooey.

I went to the Keswick last night to see Marc Cohn in concert again. Rob and I have seen him a couple of times before, but I took my mom with me last night. She really enjoyed the show as did I, but Mr. Cohn's new album is affecting me in a way that music rarely does.

I love quality music as well as the next girl, but every so often a song comes along that really touches something inside you. I don't think it's ever happened to me in quite the way it has with Marc Cohn's new single "Live Out the String."

I'm a devoted fan, so I knew all about his totally unfortunate run-in with a carjacker in downtown Denver on August 7, 2005. He was shot in the head, but managed to walk away unscathed with the exception of what he describes as a pretty bad case of PTSD. While home recovering, he watched the events in New Orleans unfold and was inspired to write his new album.

Back to the song... Live Out the String talks very directly about what it feels like to have a second chance when you've faced death. I don't talk about the emotional effects of my near-death experience in 2002 very easily. I'm quick to say how happy I was to have survived and can articulate how our struggles with subsequent pregnancy losses affected us and led us to what's become an amazing way to build a family. But, the (not to sound too melodramatic) psychological scars that I didn't become aware of for a while after the "incident" are still there. I've been told to write out the experience, both good and bad. For some reason, I've never been able to make myself do it.

In a weird way, I feel like if I were a better writer and had one lick of musical ability, I would have said just exactly what Marc Cohn says in his song. I read interviews with him where he talks about the stages you go through after such an experience. I was stuck, like he was, in the euphoria of having lived for quite some time. After that starts to wane, though, you wonder if you're supposed to be doing something specific with the life you've been left to live.

I know I'm doing a lot of what I'm "supposed" to be doing. I trust that God wasn't finished with me yet. I still struggle, however, with wondering if I'm doing enough. It's a bit freaky to know that you should have died, to have been told you pretty much did, but then be released with nothing but a pelvic scar and the notion that life has changed forever. Granted, when I was released from the hospital, I wasn't in the life-has-changed-forever stage. I was in the what-the-heck-is-with-people stage. I could NOT figure out why everyone was treating me like I was so fragile. I'd nearly died and didn't. I'm not fragile. I'm strong and darn happy to know my time isn't up yet.

I could probably ramble on about this forever. I suppose that's why people tell me to write it. Maybe I'm getting closer to being able to do it, but I'll most likely do it the old-fashioned way and dig out a pen and paper so that I can tuck the memories away to be read only if and when I need to.

I think the final thing the song made me realize is how grateful I am to have been surrounded by people who let me take things as they came and understood that I'd deal in my own way. It feels weird to tear up about all of the memories based on the song of some guy who has no idea who the heck I am, but I suppose that's what good music does.

I tried again

I'm so sorry little Tucker. Your would-be daddy is not budging. He and I are on totally different pages about the need for another dog. To him, it's not even worthy of a conversation. To me, it's at least worth some begging cleverly disguised as very mature, rational-sounding, convincing points of fact.

The points of fact?

We used to have three dogs. What's two now? Two would be easy.

Tucker wouldn't shed. I'm just sure he wouldn't. Whiskey doesn't; so I'm positive no other dog of similar breeding would either. (I'm so using someone else's dog to do my dirty work. Sorry about that Whisk. There's a treat in it for you soon, I promise.)

We really don't go on vacation very often. Why worry about a few measly days when we could have weeks, months, years, of sweet puppy kisses?

I'm the one at home most days. I'll be the one to let Tucker out, take him to the vet, make sure he gets along with Frankie.

You see? All very rational statements.

I know... I know... It's not what you say, it's the tone you use (as so evidenced by Tom Selleck in Three Men and a Baby. Remember that movie?!) To be totally transparent here, I should admit that perhaps my *discussions* about the acquisition of a new canine are not without a slight lilt to my voice.

All of this is to stay I'm still a loser in the dog argument arena. Somehow, we're supposedly in an equal marriage, yet all Rob has to say is NO, and it is so.

Does that mean I secretly know he's right, or that I'm just not fighting hard enough?!

I knew it!

I knew I'd forget to come back and blog every day. I'll keep trying. I know I'll want to know what was going on when we find out who our new baby is.

Yesterday was a typical work/school day, but Sam's behavior, alas, was NOT typical. He apparently was quite the unruly child for Ms. Krystyna at school. Now, you have to know that Ms. Krystyna is practically a saint. She has more patience than 10 average people rolled into one. For her to report to Daddy that Sam was pretty much obnoxious and out of control all day long means he was REALLY misbehaving. We had a nice chat when he came home and he behaved like a perfect angel all night.

Incidentally, I asked him *why* he was naughty at school. He replied that "it was just because I really wanted to stay home with Mommy in the morning but I went in to school early with Daddy."

I was trying to finish up a huge project, and since Sam was up, Rob took him in so that I could get some writing done before my phone started ringing for the day. I did get everything on the project done by lunchtime, but I'm not sure it was worth the payoff. I'm also not sure if that's *really* Sam's reason or if he's getting that good at playing us!

I took him in this morning, and he immediately sat down nicely on the rug in his classroom. No one else was there, so I asked what he was doing. He responded that he was practicing being good. That's more like it!

The only other thing to report is what's NOT going to be happening in our house. I got an email from someone who's helping to find a home for a VERY VERY CUTE golden doodle dog. Seriously. He's the cutest little thing and would be a perfect playmate for Franklin and our cousin-dog Whiskey -- also a remarkably adorable golden doodle puppy. Meeting Whiskey is what made me JUST KNOW that this dog must come live with us.

I really did try to convince Rob of our *need* for a companion for Frankie, who I really do think is lonely without Ellie.

Here's how the conversation went.

Me: Seriously. Rob. This dog is soooooo cute. Look at him.
Rob: No.
Me: Just look. And don't you think Frankie is lonely??
Rob: No.
Me: Really? He seems lonely to me. And think how cute and sweet Whiskey is.
Rob: No.
Me: Come on! I promise I'll take care of him (said in a whining tone as if I'm 10 years old and begging for my first pet)
Rob: No.
Me: Well... You think about it.
Rob: No.
Me: Please?
Rob: No.

You get the idea. We did wind up having an annoyingly rational conversation about how Rob thinks Franklin has adjusted as well as to be expected and that there's a new baby coming and that it's easier with one if we want to go on vacation...blah...blah...blah.

So, yeah. Just one dog here.

Days like today

It's days like today that prove why I DON'T blog every day, but I couldn't exactly flake out before I ever got started with my pledge, could I?!

Today was just a regular Tuesday. Not a bad day (save for a really yucky, lingering headache) but not particularly noteworthy either.

Sam did come home with his cute-but-becoming-slightly-grating request (seeing as it's an EVERY DAY THING now): Mommy, Where are my Skittles? Did you get me Skittles today?

The kid apparently thinks I spend my day procuring candy treats for him to enjoy the second he steps in the door. Kinda like June Cleaver, but Skittles instead of a glass of scotch or whatever it was that Ward liked to partake of after work.

I tried a little reverse psychology on Sam at dinner and it totally backfired. As anyone who's ever met Sam knows, the kid struggles a bit in the eating department. I've been more matter of fact about the situation of late and told him that he had a choice: either sit and eat dinner, or go up for a bath and bed. It was only 6:06 p.m. when I made this declaration.

Sam didn't eat, so I went to go up the stairs.

What does he do? Not flop on the floor screaming as I expected, but he follows me squealing with glee: I LOVE baths, Mommy. Can I have bubbles tonight?!

I did hold to the no snacks thing, but seeing as it was the night for Rob's hair cut, I did have to let him come back downstairs. Actually, I myself could have enforced a 6:45ish bedtime, but Rob did not agree. Fight with Daddy? Fight with Sam? Well... Daddy stays up later, so better if he's not mad at me. Like that logic?

The layout you see above is a RAKlift for a scrapper named NevadaJen whose sweet little girl suffered a massive brain bleed just before Christmas and has been struggling to recover since. She was released to rehab today (woooohooo!) but Lauren Reid's creative team has been following their story and wanted to do a round of scraplifts to hopefully let Jen know that we're thinking of her family.