Etsy treasury.

Calm and Cool, Collected

Check it out--curated by me. :)

More scrap.

Made all of these pages last weekend at the mother-in-law's while Mog helped Grandma make apple pie. (Can you see the tiny wooden rolling pin he's using?!)

A good time was had by all. Well, except Daddy, who was busy putting a new roof on Grandma and Grandpa's house. We were all productive! :)

[insert photo]


I added journaling to this one later, but forgot to re-photograph. I drew it in by hand around the outside border of the page. Kind of gives it a bit of needed pop. Since I was stealing Mom's pictures to scrap, I gave this one to her.

Stole this one of Libby, though. It wanted to live in my album.



Another for Mom's album:

[insert photo]

At some point I'll probably journal on it, but didn't have the words just then.

This one photographed weird; the background paper is cream, not blue like it looks here.


Gotta go now--diaper to change! Mog did sit on the toilet this morning, though, so...progress?

Because I'm all about the time suck.

Q: Why didn't I get all those papers graded this weekend?
A: I was terribly busy making Poladroids. I'm sure they'll understand.

p.s. Yes, that's my tongue. And my cleavage. No body doubles here. We do all our own stunts.

Cars?

I was just sitting here watching some home movies from earlier this year--particularly the one we took of Eliot opening his gifts on his 2nd birthday. That one saddens me in so many ways--because my baby boy has grown SO quickly. The changes in him, in his speech and in his body, particularly, are drastic, and it's only been six short months! I also know, watching that video from my relatively safe vantage point here in the future, that in two weeks Eliot and I will have moved into an apartment, that there will be a lot of heartbreak in store for both of us, and a lot of mending to be done.

But most of all when I watch that video I am sad that I didn't get him any cars for his birthday. I wrapped a couple of his gifts in Disney Cars wrapping paper because he was just starting to be interested in Cars the movie (though his real love was trains, and especially Thomas). So though the wrapping paper was Cars, the gifts in them were not, and in the video he sits there unwrapping gift after gift and pouting, "Cars? Cars?" always holding out hope that the next package will have cars in it. Alas, it does not. And I sit here watching, thinking, maybe...oh wait...maybe... Even though I know darn well that he gets alphabet flashcards, a travel Thomas the Tank Engine playset, Play-doh, two new coloring books, and a fresh pack of crayons.

Sorry, little dude. Guess next time I'll know better.

I want my facebook!

Yeah, that title was supposed to be reminiscent of the old "I want my MTV!" chants of the late 80's, early 90's. Doesn't work so well in type. My email friend and I often bemoan the difficulty of conveying sarcasm online. We've decided to invent a sarcasm font, a letter design that will alert readers instantly to the presence of snark. Alas, we are both much too lazy to engineer such an undertaking, and after all, part of the beauty of sarcasm is its very sneakiness, correct?

But. This is all beside the point.

The point right now is that I have been unable to log onto Facebook for almost a week now, and I'm having withdrawals. My "friends" say they can't see my page either. Facebook says it's "experiencing a few bugs" and will have them worked out as soon as possible. Somewhere, there is a room full of socially inept coders and debuggers working diligently to restore my ability to spy on old high school classmates and current co-workers alike. This is comforting. [insert sarcasm font]

From the misty haze of Vicodin comes a mostly coherent blog post.

Last week my back started hurting, just on the lower right side, and I assumed I had pulled a muscle. I didn't remember having pulled a muscle, but that's what it felt like. And it didn't go away, and it didn't go away, and then I started feeling achy all over and having the chills. By Saturday evening, I was curled up in the fetal position in bed, sure that I was dying, and Eliot was yelling, "I NEED juice!" and I was moaning.

He came into the bedroom and said, "Wake up, Mommy!"

I groaned, "Mommy is sick."

He replied, "You're not sick; you're Mommy!"

Yeah, I wish it worked that way. Somehow, my mother-in-law swooped in to take care of the small boy, and as soon as I heard her hit the door, I succumbed to a pain-induced coma. Or I might have just fallen asleep. Whatever.

Sometime in the night, I woke shivering and begging Eli to layer more quilts on top of me.

Then, at 5:00 a.m., no longer able to sleep, I finally admitted I needed to go to the emergency room. I was sure I had swine flu. Oink.

Two hours later, after peeing in a cup and settling back on a hospital cot watching reruns of Law & Order, I found out I had a kidney infection.

The good people of the E.R. pumped me full of intravenous antibiotics and painkillers and sent me home. We were all relieved that I didn't have anything contagious.

Grandma stayed to take care of Eliot (Eli was working 12 hour shifts this weekend), and I was free to sleep and wake to take more Vicodin, play with Mog, sleep...

We built a state-of-the-art parking garage for Mog's cars.



Unfortunately, a monster fish came and ate part of the garage, and some of the cars got lost in the block forest trying to escape.





But luckily, the fort lick was able to move blocks, clearing a path to freedom for Lightning Keen.

What, you've never heard of a fort lick before? Sure you have! It has prongs and it lifts pallets. It looks like this:



It's so much fun to watch Eliot's imagination grow. He has begun playing differently, making up storylines to his games, having his cars talk to one another.

I couldn't help but be cheered by him, even yesterday in the midst of a Vicodin haze, battling a wicked painful



We talked about the blocks, what colors they were, what letters they had on them, what words we know that begin with each letter.

And just maybe, that little boy will grow up to be a real



just like his mommy.

"No," he says, "When I grow up, I'm gonna be a farmer."