Internet-to-IRL conversion

When my sister came to town earlier this year, I was finally able to introduce her to Melanie and Shelly, with whom I've been friends for over eight years.

It was HUGE for me when they finally met! So much fun to see people who only knew each other through Twitter and my stories to get to converse and laugh in person.

So THIS trip, I wanted to introduce Sarah Ellen to another friend, Jamie. The extra-fun part of this is that Melanie has only been around Jamie a couple of times, and Shelly had never met her. But of course they got along famously!

We met for supper after work on Monday night in downtown Birmingham (Five, for you locals). We shared a delicious meal, but it was the fellowship that really put the evening over the top.

 Melanie, Sarah Ellen, Shelly

I've been fighting an eye infection for a couple of weeks, so I was wearing my glasses. They drive me bonkers, but not as bonkers as wiping away tears twice a minute, 18 hours a day.

After my sister took that picture, I asked, "Did the flash glare off of my glasses?" To which she answered, "No," and it didn't. The question I SHOULD have asked, but didn't, was, "Did the flash make it look like I have Transitions Lenses?" Because I don't. And yet, smoky.

Despite my obsession over my Not-Transitions-Lenses, I managed to enjoy myself immensely. Our waiter, Daryl, was kind enough to take a group picture for us, which was completely dominated by some strange waitress WE DON'T KNOW, who decided to Broadway it in the background.

In closing, I love the Internet. Love. It.

Follow us on Twitter: Melanie, Shelly, Jamie, me (my sister's account is private, which is a crying shame)

Honest Toddler is his homie

It's a sad, sad day

When you're a grown-up 4-year-old

 And your mommy won't let you cross the street while you're playing hide-and-seek.

This kind of parental treason calls for pouting.

Some really serious,

dig-your-heels-in,

poke-your-lip-out pouting.

You can't give up,

and you can't give in.

You've gotta stand your ground.

Because otherwise, it's painfully clear,

SOME mommies will just WALK ALL OVER YOU.

One!

My Sweet Amelia Gray,

It is completely unfathomable to me that you turn 1 today! They say time flies, but never in my life has it passed as quickly as it has this last year.

We could never have anticipated how much you were going to change our lives when you entered the world. I say with complete confidence that there simply can't be another baby on the face of the Earth who is loved as much as you are!

My wise, wise friend and mother-of-seven Grace Wolnski said something so profound to me as I was describing the way your brothers dote on you ... she said, "Most mothers don't get the privilege of seeing their sons love and protect someone that way until they grow up and have children of their own. But you are receiving the wonderful blessing of watching your boys love her so completely, so perfectly, in these moments."

And she is so right. No matter where they are, or where you are, you are their number-one concern. If they're away from you for an hour, they run back in and come straight to find you.

They hug you, kiss you, dry your tears, feed you, give you your bottle, encourage you to try new foods, carry you around the house, and generally smother you with attention 24/7. And you EAT IT UP.

I hope they haven't ruined you for life.

You have a light in your eyes that's contagious ... everyone around you lights up when you smile. You have -- and this is the universal opinion among all who know you -- the best personality of any baby in the world! Every single day, your school diary sheet has the boxes for "cheerful" and "content" checked. You simply rarely, RARELY have an "off" day.

I love your chubby hands, your dimpled cheeks, your cornflower-blue eyes. I love the feeling of your face burrowing into my neck when you're sleepy, the way your fists grab my pants leg when you're trying to pull up to your knees. I love the sweet smell of your baby breath as you fall asleep on my chest ... so rare now that I have to look back at months-old pictures to remind myself that it used to happen all the time.

You are the daughter I didn't even know I needed ... but I did. I do. And I always will. I think you're magnificent in every way, and we are so blessed to call you "ours."

Love,
Mommy

A baby and a nose

If you haven't had a precious baby girl suck on your nose lately ...

I highly recommend it.

Happy.

My sister and parents are here, so I took last night off from writing a post. The good news is, Sarah Ellen agreed to guest post again after her visit! I know you're already looking forward to it.

Lest you fear that my kids are on their best behavior for the grandparents, I will share with you that last night over supper, Nick regaled them with the story of how he vomited before The Color Run and had to hold his poop in for five hours because he didn't want to use a Port-o-Potty, and Nathaniel followed that up with the tale of how another 4th-grader vomited in the lunchroom yesterday, nearly causing Nathaniel to lose his own lunch.

It was just precious.

The lake. Yes, again.

You'd think that after 20 years of going to the lake with Lisa and Honor

It might get boring.

But it doesn't. We keep adding children.

And boats. (Well, not us. We're not adding boats. But they are.)

There's always been a child who's trying something for the first time. Sometimes it's a Cheeto.

Sometimes it's jumping off a cliff.

And then getting your nerve up to go even higher.

Or diving.

Or flipping.

And sometimes it's doing things you've done hundreds of times before.

But as long as you're doing it with friends, it never gets old.

I'd love to see us making these same two trips every summer in another 20 years.

Uncomfortable truths, vol. 37

1. It's a foregone conclusion that every time I go for a jog, I will somehow accidentally rip my earbuds unceremoniously out of my ears, and it will feel like my ear drums came out with them. It's usually one of my Top Five Worst Moments of the Week.

2. I never stop and fill up my gas tank until the needle is below empty. I know that I can get 300 miles per tank around town and 400 on the highway, so I don't even really use the needle as an indicator ... I just look at my trip odometer. But when I happen to see that the needle is hovering below half a tank, I get irritated. REALLY irritated. I just hate taking the time to stop and get gas.

3. Recently in the middle of the night I got up and went to the bathroom without turning any lights on. When I went to wipe, there was no TP on the roll. Not a square. So I had to use the cardboard roll itself to blot enough off so that I could safely dash to the linen closet 30 feet away to get a new roll. This was by no means the first time I've ever done that. DON’T EVEN TRY TO TELL ME YOU’VE NEVER WIPED WITH THE CARDBOARD.

4. I'm petrified to drive while wearing flip-flops. I'm scared they're somehow going to hook around the accelerator and I'll cause an accident ... so I just never wear them in the car at all.

5. This has actually kept me up at night: How confident are we REALLY that "Jesus" is pronounced "Jee-zus" and not "Hay-soos"? I don't want to be part of the problem; I like being part of the solution.

In which I got trapped at the gas pump

One day a couple of weeks ago, I pulled into a gas station near my office to fill up.

 

Once I’d gotten out of my car and set the pump up, an enthusiastic young man approached me at the front of my van, waved a bottle of cleaning solution around me and asked me if I like washing my car.

 

Me: “Actually, a service comes to my office, so I don’t have to wash it myself.”

 

Him: “Well, that’s great. But what if you could wash it yourself and get even better results?”

 

Me: “I don’t WANT to wash it. That’s why I pay someone else to do it.”  [polite smile]

 

Him: “Lemme just show you what this can do. Only $24 for the whole bottle.”

 

Me: “I don’t have much time; I’m just getting gas and then I need to pick up my kids from school.”

 

Him:  [sprays one of my wheels with the solution]  “See? Your wheels are all grimy from your brake dust. But one spray of this, and they’re shiny like you just left the showroom floor.”

 

Me: “Well, they ARE shiny. But again, I don’t need it. I pay someone to wash my car when it really needs a bath.”

 

Him: “Tell you what. I bet you pay more than $24 to have him wash your car. I’ll sell you this bottle for $12. JUST $12!”

 

Me: “Well, that frustrates me, because you just tried to sell it to me for twice that.”

 

And Internet, I KID YOU NOT. Right then, a woman walks over from the next pump, smiling, and hands me an Avon sales booklet with her card stapled to it. She told me to call her with my makeup needs. I looked around, thinking I might be on Candid Camera. OMG. WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?

 

Him: “It doesn’t just do your wheels. Look.”  [Takes two fingers, wipes black grease off of my wheel and smears it on my windshield.]  “I just give it a quick spray, wipe it off, and it’s good as new! And it has some wax in it, so it’ll even repel bugs and dirt … you’ll hardly have anything stick to your windshield anymore!”

 

Me: “Seriously, I don’t need this. Thanks for the demonstration, but I really need to go.”  [still politely smiling]

 

[I unhooked the gas pump from my van, closed up shop and grabbed my receipt from the pump, opening my door.]

 

Him: “OKAY! OKAY! I’ll give you the unprecedented offer of FOUR DOLLARS. FOUR DOLLARS FOR THIS BOTTLE RIGHT HERE!”

 

Me:  [firmly but nicely]  “No. Thank. You.”

 

And I waved as I drove off.

 

But do you know what I noticed as I pulled into the parking deck at work the next day? His fingerprints. On my windshield. From where he wiped that nasty tire muck on it. 

 

And I’ve wiped it several times with my wiper fluid, and it even rained yesterday and my wipers went over those spots about a hundred times. No dice. The nasty, unsolicited fingerprints are still there.

 

I hope gas station owners are listening when I say: That station is the closest one to my office, as well as the ONLY one on my route before I get to the interstate. And I will never, EVER purchase gas there again.

Seven days

Monday: I packed up my cubicle.

Tuesday: I transitioned all my projects to co-workers and said my sad goodbyes.

Wednesday: I moved to a different building (same company) and started a new job. Within two hours, Nathaniel's school nurse called to tell me he had contracted lice from a classmate. Grayson picked him up and came home to bomb our house and all of our belongings.

Thursday: I adjusted more fully to my new job while scratching my scalp until it almost bled.

Friday: The itching expanded to every single solitary part of my body. It worsened on my scalp. This was all due to the power of suggestion, not actual lice. But that made it no less traumatic.

Saturday: We awoke at school-day time so we could get to the lake bright and early. I accidentally left my camera at home. Just as well, since it's harder to take pictures when you're busy scratching all your body parts.*

Sunday: We went downtown to Trucks at the Tracks at Railroad Park. It's a good thing I had my scratching to distract me from the EPIC WHINING that ensued all day long as well as the fact that I'd forgotten my camera AGAIN. And then I took all four kids to Toys 'R' Us to get more Beyblades.

And these things, Internet, are the reason that there is no more of a blog post than this today. Apologies.

* I feel it's important to note that I still have not seen Nathaniel scratch his head one time. NOT ONE TIME.

'Owloween' is coming ...

We're just a little over a month away from Halloween.

And coincidentally, this week Sweet Sugarbelle posted some owl cookies over on her blog.

Coincidental, because one of my little peeps around here is going to be the cutest owl you've ever seen for Halloween.

Can you guess which peep I'm talking about?

Here's a hint (costume by Old Navy).

Rest assured ... my little owl is going to be ADORABLE.