Baptism Time Change

Just in case you wanted to come, we have changed the time for Amy's baptism from 10 am on December 29th to 4 pm. My parents are coming from Canada and if the roads are bad, we want to give them plenty of time to get here.

Salted Noodles

If you have read Chris' blog, you might wonder why I would take a bunch of pictures of Kristen's salted noodles. One, the lighting was bad and I had to keep trying to get it right and two, she put a LOT of salt on those twelve noodles. It was picture-worthy and now it is blog-worthy.

Merry Christmas

I love Christmas! I love the planning, the wrapping, the giving, the friends, the parties, and the excitement of my children as they anticipate what Santa might bring to them. Amy makes sure that Santa is fed as well as his reindeer and hopes to either catch a glimpse of them or at least hear the jingle of the bells. She swears she heard the bells last year, so maybe this year she got to see him.

I remember Christmas Eve as an exciting though sleepless time when I was younger. I'm quite surprised that my children sleep as well as they do. I got up around 3:30 to check on the girls, and it also happened to be that our newspaper was delivered then as well. As I walked in to Amy and Misha's room, Amy was peaking out the window, "It was only a truck." Bummer. "Go back to sleep." I whispered as Misha slept on. The joy of being a child.....

The fun begins in about 15 minutes. Merry Christmas everyone.

Can I Say Shut Up To Her?

So I took Amy and Misha to the dentist yesterday. Misha's teeth are now spit spot clean for another 6 months. Amy's too, but sadly, she'll be making another visit back to the dentist. The hygienist took x-rays of Amy's teeth and then began to clean them. She noticed a dark spot on Amy's tooth and in the x-ray. AND THEN, proceeded to go off about Amy having a cavity. The first words out of Amy's mouth were, "Will I have to have a shot?" Laura, the hygienist, said, "Well probably, but it will make it so that it won't hurt." All Amy heard was, " Well probably, blah blah blah." She will worry about that stupid shot now for the next month!

So I say to Laura before she goes any further, "It would be better not to talk about shots with Amy." And what does she do? Keeps on talking and talking and talking. Shut up already!!!!!!!because when I say worry, I mean, she will literally worry herself sick. We were saved by the doctor coming in at that point, and he is a little more sensitive to kid's fears and downplays any talk about shots. Besides she's had cavities filled before and would rather have that pain than the shot, and he knows that. I am going to see if I can get the girls in to a different hygienist for their next visit. Blimey (and I don't know why that word just popped in to my head, but writing this made me mad all over again!)

Can you spell cold? F-R-I-G-I-D

Chris has planned for the day when he would get to take his daughters skiing, and yesterday, it finally arrived. The temperature in our car as we were leaving recorded a whopping outdoor temperature of -8*. Balmy. I don't enjoy the cold. Shoot, I'm cold in my own home. So the thought of standing in freezing temperatures all day long wasn't floating my boat in the least. But my girls were thrilled to be going. They had new thermal underwear and warm socks and were even excited to get up before 6 am.

I had originally planned on taking Kristen, but with the temps as cold as they were, I felt impressed to leave her with a friend. Thank you so much to Christine for watching Kristen ALLLLLL day long. I'm sure it was a long day for her.

Once we arrived at Copper Mountain we were quickly packed into a parking lot along with the hundreds of other vehicles. Then we began putting on layer after layer after layer (and another layer for me) of clothes.

We finally met up with our group and began to work with the girls, teaching them the finer points of skiing, getting on the "carpet", and falling over. Since I wasn't skiing but just along to "help", I was able to walk beside the girls and hang on to them as they manuevered their way down the hill. The run was pretty packed and not a very effective area for teaching. So instead, we headed to the top of the "green" (equating to easy) ski area. I was able to ride up in just my boots and without a ski pass to help. I thought my cheeks were going to freeze as we rode up the lift. Brrrrrr.

Chris and the girls were a couple of seats behind me and I was able to get a picture of them coming off the ski lift. That was my last picture of the day. It was too cold to keep taking my hands out of my gloves to snap a pic.

We slowly made our way down the hill. Cindy Molloy gave the girls some instruction and they improved immensely after that. I think it was actually easier for me to help them without skis on. For sure I would have had as much trouble as they did. Amy must have gotten motion sick on the chair lift, combined with a lack of food in her system and the cold, and she had a mighty headache all the way down the mountain.

Chris calls it their $35 run since that was the last of the day. They were cold and hungry and were pleased to hang out with me in the lodge for an hour and a half while Chris went to ski (the real reason I was a "helper" for the day in my humble opinion).

Will I do it again? Would you? I won't say no because guilt is a mighty fine persuader, but it won't be my idea.

Bad Birthday Cake

I had wonderful intentions yesterday for Amy's birthday. Chris surprised Amy at school and showed up to have lunch with her. I purchased his lunch ticket for a Fazoli's lunch earlier in the morning as I dropped off Amy's birthday snacks. I asked him to find out cake and dinner details as I had neglected to ask her myself on the way to school. (I was concentrating on driving in all the snow!) Amy wanted a chocolate cake with pink frosting along with waffles and bacon for her birthday dinner. I could do that. So I made the cake earlier in the day and noticed instructions for "embellishing" the cake in a way that involved poking holes in the cake and adding pudding mix. Everything was on schedule, no problem. I looked at the directions for the pudding mix. It was your standard recipe with a little twist--peppermint extract. The recipe called for 1/2 tsp. I thought, "That really seems like a lot." I added lots less than half of the called-for amount, but whoa, when I tasted it, peppermint overload. Sadly this was after I had poured it over the cake. Aaaaagh! It was definitely not edible, but your breath smelled fairly fresh after just one lick.

4:30 and my efforts to have things running smoothly were significantly derailed. I began again, this time with cupcakes because they baked in much less time. Of course, now that the girls were home from school, I had their "help" which mostly meant debating over who got to lick the bowl. I told Misha that she could be my helper and could frost the cupcakes when they were ready.

Typical Misha style, she frosted a few and then she was done. So Amy got to frost them herself while I was busy making waffles. The original intent for a birthday cake was so much nicer, but this is what she got. But I realized that cakes or cupcakes or whatever are pointless at my house. Misha didn't want one, Kristen only licked the frosting off, and Amy ate one later. So maybe next time we'll do frosted cookies or ice cream or just something else besides cake. Suggestions welcome.

Happy Birthday Amy!

She's finally 8! Did I mention she likes to dress up--her sister too! What a wonderful experience having Amy in our home. When I dreamt about my angel baby, I hoped for a brown-eyed, curly, brown-haired girl. She was perfect. Happy Birthday sweetheart.

Ten years ago...

I found this picture the other day. It is of Chris and I a couple of months after we were married ten years ago. Merry Christmas!

The cute things they say

Kristen is girly girl to the core. Amazing how they're born that way--Amy too. That gene skipped Misha when it comes to her favorite interests. She loves to look cute and pretty but when it comes to her toys and activities she's a tomboy through and through.

This morning Kristen was engrossed in Polly Pockets and dressing and undressing them. The clothes were a little challenging to pull off and on, so every so often she came to find me and requested, "Mom, help me?" Her Polly Pocket was now perfectly attired and she walked away expressing the cutest little, "Woohoo" as she goes. (Those are Amy's Polly Pockets, but I might have hit on the perfect motivational tool for the whole potty training gig.)



The other night, Kristen picked up two of my coasters and stuck them on her head, "I Mitty". That translates to "I'm Mickey (Mouse)". I wonder sometimes where they come up with these things. Like the word "boo boo". We never say that to our kids, and yet she has started saying it. I think it comes from Nursery at church. The picture is kind of fuzzy because I couldn't get her to hold still long enough for me to get a good picture. You get the idea though.



I always know when my girls are growing because they go to bed complaining of pains in their legs. The pains usually last for a couple of nights and then their pants are no longer long enough. The other night as Misha was groaning in bed, I said to her, "Would you stop growing! Now I'm going to have to buy you new pants." She innocently replied, "Just for one leg, Mom."

Misha is notorious for being slow at our house. Slow to eat, slow to get dressed, slow to do homework. In my attempts to motivate her, she was working on her spelling words yesterday and finished rather speedily. She then said to me, "That was quick huh? I should do that every day instead of laying around whining!" I looked at her as though she had sprouted horns, surprised beyond belief. "Well, yes, you should."

And Amy. We went to visit our friends Jamie and Jeremy last night. Amy LOVES Jamie and her style. As we were driving home last night, I asked a very loaded question, "Who do you want to be like when you grow up?" Granted, it wasn't a fair question to ask, because I know Amy's answer. Misha said, "You, Mom." Amy took a couple of seconds because she's getting smarter and knows that her answer is going to matter. "Both of you." Good answer. Thanks Jamie and Jeremy. My girls had a great time.

Potty Training

Any good suggestions on potty training a cute but highly determined toddler? Apparently I missed my "window of opportunity" earlier this year--toilet training was trumped by appendicitis. I was at the grocery story last week asking about sizes of Pull-ups. The lady who came to help me innocently asked, "How old is your daughter?" I replied that she was around 2 1/2. "And you're just starting now?" "Amazing isn't it?" I say to myself. She doesn't know my life, and apparently she's pretty proud of hers. I let her brag and pat herself on the back for having an 18-month old who is already being potty trained. It seems as though she is happy going on forever, and I quickly realize the need to extricate myself from the conversation. Whew. So really, any suggestions would be helpful.

By the way, who is that young man holding my daughter? Chris shaved and he looks ten years younger.

Uh Oh, We're Busted!

Yesterday Chris "invited" Amy to help him in the yard to do some Winter cleanup. (Misha was at a friend's house, so she missed out.) Amy was lucky enough to help remove the pads from the patio chairs and the trampoline. When she first went outside, she left the back door open. As I was closing it, I could hear her mumbling, "I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this." It teaches them character right? I was busy inside the house decorating the Christmas tree. That's another story in itself. It goes kind of like this. "Mom, can we decorate the Christmas tree? Please? Please?" I finally pull everything out and the girls are content after they pull all of the boxes out of storage and open them. Then they're done.

But, back to Amy and Chris outside. I could no longer see or hear them in the back yard, so I walk out through the garage and to my shock I find this:!!!!!!



Chris' first words were, "Uh oh, we're busted." They're all smiles and not feeling the least bit remorseful up there hanging Christmas lights. My mother worry instincts jump into overdrive. Chris explains that she needs to experience the same kind of childhood that he had. What!! You lived in a one story house for Pete's sake! So thanks, Larry Ball (Chris' Stepdad) for giving me a heart attack. I came back out once to get a picture and again to ask if he could tie her on to the roof or something. The roof is sticky he says, "She's not going anywhere." Great now I feel better. I returned to decorating, seriously listening for some hefty "thump, thump, thumps" overhead.