Lucky Lady

I have been wanting a small vacuum for some time now. When we came across the Swift Stick at the store and it was on sale for $20.00 I couldn't refuse. I knew it would work perfectly on my hardwood floors.
We brought it home, the hubby put it together and we tried it out. It was awesome! It picks up everything. So much better than the crummy old broom I had been using. It will be great for all of those dust bunnies hiding out in my bedroom. I was very happy.

The hubby was laughing at my giddiness over a vacuum and joked, "I am so glad you like your early birthday present, honey!"

Joey picked up on that right away and says, "Oh mumma, aren't you so lucky that daddy got you a vacuum for your birthday? He is just so good to you! Can you believe how lucky you are? I can't believe daddy was so nice to get you a VACUUM for your BIRTHDAY!"

Todd was trying so hard not to laugh that he had tears streaming down his face.
I, on the other hand, had to clear up the misunderstanding.

"Honey, daddy was kidding. This isn't my birthday present. Daddy is smarter than that. And just so you know you should never get a woman a cleaning device for her birthday unless she specifically asks for one." I clarified.

"Why not?" Joey said.

"Well, because it implies that the woman is the one who should be doing all the cleaning in the house, and really it is everyone's job to keep the house clean. Right?" I answered him.

"Yeah. So, can I use it then?" the smart little fart asked.

"When you get a little bigger, okay?" I said.

"Okay!" he said, clearly excited at the prospect of cleaning with the vacuum all by himself. If only his enthusiasm for cleaning would last through his teen years. Ha! I know better than to hope.

And, now that I think about it, perhaps I should have told him that exercise equipment and cooking gadgets are also prohibited gifts for women unless requested. The boy has so much to learn about women. Luckily, we have time. Lots, and lots of time.

Spring, Is That You?

Shall I dare to dream?

7 to 10 predicted-

Not one snowflake fell

****

Hooray and Yippee

Maybe Spring really is here

Crossing my fingers

****

The signs are all here

Melting snow piles and blue skies

A morning dove, too

****

Can't wait to go out

The boys dressed in spring jackets

No mittens or scarves

****

Happiness awaits

With promise of warm weather

I'll share it with you.

WW- The First Robin Of The Year

A sign of spring?

Another 7-10 inches of snow is predicted for tomorrow.

Ugh

I was hoping this weekend would be filled with newly thawed grass for Easter egg hunts. Presents, cake, friends, and fun for Tommy's birthday. The quiet beauty of the Easter morning mass. And maybe even some relaxing family time. Instead it was a weekend of spring snow storms, puke buckets, snot-filled kleenex, feverish foreheads, and cancelled birthday parties.
~sigh~
Now, on this sunny Monday morning, I am left as an over-tired, crabby mess with little to no patience for my poor bored and recuperating boys. The fact that I saw a beautiful robin in the tree in our front yard on Thursday mocks my silly superstitious mind. Alas, spring is still not here despite what the calender says.
So there. I have no cheer to spread, or tales of happy children prancing about finding beautifully colored eggs on a soft, green lawn. Only foggy memories of sleepless nights on the futon catching my birthday boy's digested pizza, and a strong desire to delete this post before it is even published.
I do apologize.

Happy Easter

I am the resurrection, and the life. (John 11:25)

Birthday Boy

Little Goldenbear,

So full of sweetness and love.

Today you are three!

******

My dear, sweetest golden bear, Tommy. Today is your 3rd birthday, and I am so excited for you. Excited that you get to have a day that is all about you. A day for everyone to lavish you with the attention and praise you deserve. To celebrate your entrance into this world as the blessed, glorious gift that it was and is. But I am also excited for you because I think your 3rd year will bring many special gifts to you. Soon you will start preschool and you will begin to see you are a wonderful, amazing boy all on your own. You will begin to discover all the things I already know and love about you. You will make friends that are all your own. You will discover talents that are all your own.

Perhaps you will find out what a humorous little man you are. How you can make people laugh with little effort. Maybe you will discover what an athletic boy you are. Quick and agile and very competitive. Or you might even see what a tender heart you are. How quick you are to comfort someone and offer encouraging words and your fabulous hugs. You’ll see how kind you are by how quickly you will make friends. You will discover what a wonderful person you are, and I can’t wait to watch.

You are a precious gift to me, Thomas. You walk into the room and light up every corner. You smile at me and no matter what kind of mood I am in I can’t help but smile back. You fit perfectly on my lap and wrap your little fingers around my hand. You lean your face toward me, blue eyes shining, and you melt me with your smile and fill me with love. I lock that image of us in my heart as one of my most precious. You are goodness personified. You are the realization of a dream I never even knew I had. You are my compassionate buddy. My snuggler. My nature and animal lover. My energetic, rough and tumbler sports fan. My dramatic and emotional boy. You are the child after my own heart.

I love you, Thomas. I am so proud of the boy you are. Always remember that no matter how big you get you will always be my Goldenbear, my baby.

Happy Birthday, Thomas!

Shape Up, Woman!

It has been almost three months since I last ran. I decided it was not wise to run on icy sidewalks/roads when I slipped on the ice and almost broke my butt at the end of December. I kept telling myself that I would run as soon as the weather warmed up a bit, and the ice melted. So I waited for the temps to rise. And I waited. And then I waited some more. Needless to say it didn't happen. The sidewalks and roads remained ice covered for longer than I'd like to recall. And while I waited in vain the K-Lo bootie got bigger. And bigger. And Bigger. Something had to be done.

To be honest the weather should not have been an excuse. I have a fabulous treadmill just waiting to be used in the basement. The problem? Motivation, of course. The treadmill is in a yucky, dark part of the basement surrounded by storage boxes and facing a wall. It is just not the same as running outside in fresh air with beautiful Lake Michigan as my backdrop. Basically, when I run on the treadmill I am staring at this for 30-40 minutes:
This view does nothing to help me pass the time as I struggle, wheeze, and drag myself to a healthier me. Add this to the fact that I have to squeeze my runs (and shower) into a 1 hour window of time when all of the boys are napping, and you can see why I just happened to miss out on this fun for the past three months.
Now that the weather has been warming up a smidgen I have gotten the push I need to get back on the horse, so to speak. Yesterday I decided enough was enough and I took the first step to getting back in shape. It was not easy. I looked like this after the 25 minute run:

That is me trying to suck some air out of the little fan on the treadmill. Sure the fan was clouded with all the dust from the construction project 2 months ago, but I didn't care. At this point, air is air, and I needed some.

Even though the whole run was a struggle I was proud of myself for doing it. The first step is always the hardest. And it may take a little time, but it will get easier. So I'm telling myself.

Of course, getting out of bed this morning may have been the worst part. My body aches as though I have never exercised a day in my life. I had to roll off of my bed in order to get out. Walking down the stairs holding Ben took enormous amounts of concentration. Even my neck muscles are sore. Who knew you used your neck to run? Hmphf. As sore as I am it feels good. A good kind of sore, if there is a good kind of sore, because I took the first step to getting back to me. And, I've missed me.