.::still blinking::.

Saw this on a friends blog. The names of these individuals have been changed to protect this innocent. 🙂

:: help making jam ::

:: traffic jams ::

:: full pockets ::

:: our days together ::

I made freezer jam today, I am so proud. My mother in law makes it and I always inhale it when I am up at her house. I thought I would make my own to breath in. It is strawberry/blackberry. The blackberries shot little purple spots all over the kitchen.

The jam is so pretty in their little bottles I waited all afternoon for the sun to come in my front windows so that I could take pretty pictures of it glowing like jewels.

I emailed this to my friend in Texas the other day:

The Hair!
I am watching the news and they are talking about that FLDS compound in Texas. They asked them why they did their hair that way and they basically said the higher you can get the bump the more righteous you are.

The taller the hair, the closer to God.

jj and I both looked at each other and started laughing.

But seriously, that is a sad situation.

She replied:
Girrrrl I just saw a clip of a Larry King Live report on the FLDS folks. And yes, I will say they be sportin’ some MAJOR HOLY HAIR!!!!!

And the wheezing continues now accompanied with a lovely and embarrassing cough. I think a doctors visit is in order, especially now that Gentry has picked up the cough.

I called a friend yesterday who’s children had RSV over the winter. She informed me her baby had RSV while her two sons and walking pneumonia, a bad cough that will not go away. That sounds familiar. So after a week of hacking, hanging out with about to deliver mothers, babies and neighbors all of whom I am sure I have infected I have slightly quarantined myself and applied the guilt of being an infectious bad person.

I hope this is something doctors can cure, cause I hate shelling out the cash to be told it is nothing and to drink lots of water.

Wheezy |(h)weezee| is an asthmatic squeeze penguin with a red bow tie, whom Woody rescued from a yard sale. Or Makayla. Mommie of one. Spouse to a hot skinny one. Has a hard time scaling stairs without becoming winded.

The best part of today is that there is hope that tomorrow will be better.

And nap time was pretty good too.

Last night all of us got very little sleep. JJ came to bed at 2. Gentry woke up crying at 3, so he came and slept/snored with us. JJ put him back in bed at 4. He woke up crying again at 5 and spent the rest of the night curled up with me. We eventually woke up at 9 when JJ left and opened our loud scary monster garage door.

You can really tell the lack of sleep on Gentry. He is messy and lies and cannot hear me talking directly to him. I think today will be a good day for a nap. Cross your fingers.

I woke up purring this morning.

Spring colds are pretty much the best. I am going to crawl into the tub and try to ignore the day. I will try to resurface tomorrow.

All members of my household have been potty trained for quite some time now. I would say months. Which really is an accomplishment, being I really didn’t want to put any time or effort into it and stress myself out. Which would result in my son hating me, running away, shooting up heroine, and writing tell all books about his ordeal in my house. Who’s to say that won’t happen anyway.

Back to the potty training. When you are male, there are two ways to use the rest room. Options. Choices. I taught him to sit and go for all purposes. But he eventually realized that dad stands up and he wants to too. So when he announces he needs to go potty, he also adds insightfully, “I will sit.” Or, “I will stand, like dad.” And that is where the dread sets in.

Now, I try to help him. I have put chips in the toilet to aim at. I really don’t understand how this is not working. How can things be pointed down and be shooting up three feet in the air. Or hitting the back wall of the bathroom. Or only peeing in the left side corner, while aiming at the toilet. Basically coating all objects around and behind the toilet.

Also, there are about seventeen false stops. “I am done.” Back away from the toilet. Resume peeing on floor. Stop. Shoot at the base of the toilet once more. Stop. Turn around. Hit mom in the leg. Stop. Turn around to get some on the wall by the towels or the door. Or…

You get the idea. I am really glad to be potty trained, however, this standing and peeing. It has to go.