The First Thanksgiving

I'm pretty sure most people can guess the things for which Chuck and I are grateful this year.

Topping the list is our healthy baby. It amazes me that I can still think about how much I love him and start to cry. I wonder how old he gets before this goes away. (A corollary to this is health insurance. Even though I complained a lot about my Kaiser doctors, fact is, Rhett cost us $5.)

Next on the list is our home. We love our house and it is perfect for us. I feel so happy to not regret this decision.

Then probably come the recession-proof, government jobs that we both have that enable us to own the home.

And for me? I'm grateful for the freezer. It might be my favorite thing in the house.

Bruno? Having TWO eyes.

Chuck? He's also grateful for Bruno's two eyes.

Everett? He's grateful for his girlfriend, the TV.
Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving.

P.S. About the top picture: you might wonder what is all over Rhett's sweater: blood. He was playing with an empty soda can and must have cut his tongue. We were on a walk with him in the carrier and didn't even notice. It was pretty sad. Way to make memories, baby.

P.P.S. That's my friend Camie in that first picture.  We sure like her.

Things That Make You Go Hmmm...

Here are some thing I've been pondering this week:

1) If you are a guy, do you know how to turban-wrap your hair after a shower?

2) Do you call these "nilla wafers" or "vanilla wafers"?
3) Is this a "truck" or a "semi"? (Werner is my favorite company, by the way. I think their colors are beautiful, in a marketing way, of course.)
4) On average, how many squares of toilet paper would you say you use to go number one?

5) If 1% milk is milk with 1% milkfat, what % milkfat is whole milk?

Answers to come...

Hey Chuck, Is Your Tongue Always Like That?

(e)Rin Tin Tin

Unless you took French, you probably don't know Tin Tin. But see if you can figure out why his picture is posted here next to mine...

Honestly, what is happening with my faux bangs? I never asked for these; they just appeared. And they're curled backwards almost exactly like my seventh grade Utah bangs. This can't be good.

Made for Monday

Draft snake. It really works!
Camie--Does the fabric look familiar? Other pieces will soon become a door stop.

Fish for a "Go Fish" game for my nephew's birthday. They have magnets in their noses and can be picked up with a magnetized fishing pole. (As seen here: http://memoirsofamommy.com/?p=31.)

Whose Fault?

Given this is C and E, I figured I could go ahead and post for a change. I do read the blog and the comments, but today a conversation at work has inspired me to go ahead and see what people outside of my high school math department think.

First off, a little bit of background is needed. I was sitting in the math office during lunch and 3 other teachers were discussing the pastors at their relative churches. One of them was talking about how their pastor's daughter was pregnant and how she was so impressed with the pastors wife when she stood up in front of the congregation and took 100% responsibility for her daughter's situation and that she felt as though she was too busy caring for everyone else and forgot her own. The teacher then added, "it is still in part [the pastors] fault too." When I heard this, I had to chime in. I asked, "why isn't it the children's fault?" This led to a fairly heated conversation about if a pastor's child isn't perfect is it okay for a congregation to lose respect for the pastor...etc.

As a parent, I know that e and I will do all in my power to do the best to teach Rhett and help him to make good decisions. If he makes poor choices, we will do our best to support him and help him to overcome mistakes and grow from them. If he makes mistakes would it be okay for people to judge me? Better yet, if I were a bishop would it be more okay then? If the prophet's children make mistakes would we judge him for that? Should our positions within the church change how we are looked at when our children make mistakes? According to those here at work, our opinions should change. I could see passing judgement on a leader for their own mistakes and shortcomings, but should the actions of children lead to judgement on the parents?

Laughing Rhettilda

Ever since swim class where Rhett was taught the Hokey Pokey, he can't stop laughing about it.

Maryland Doesn't 100% Suck

So I know I complain about Maryland, but honestly, autumn here is awesome. We're just passing the peak colors for leaves in our neighborhood and people are starting to get their leaves raked to the curb for the big county leaf vacuum to come. (Yes, there really is a big vacuum, Virginia.)









As much as I wish this last picture was staged, I have to admit that it wasn't. I was crouching to get a super sweet pic and gravity just got the best of me. I didn't think that was supposed to happen until I was at least 65.

How Much is Time With Chuck Worth?

Chuck is currently working on obtaining his administrator's certificate. When he finishes at the end of this school year, he'll be certified to be a vice-principal. In addition to the course work he's taking through the university, he has to take some classes through his school district. At the end of the first of these school district classes, there was a panel of recently-hired administrators, and a Q & A session was held. The thing that Chuck took away from this was that he (and I) should expect him to work 12-hour days, 12 months a year if/when he is an administrator.

Right now, Chuck leaves the house around 6:30 a.m. and comes home around 3:30 p.m. (nine-hour days). If I could have my way, I'd have him home eight minutes after the end of seventh period, but he has to do something he calls "prep." (Sounds made up to me but whatever.) The fact that I am home alone with Rhett until 3:30 is hard enough. But 6:30? Could I do it? Do I want to do it? And what about the effect on Rhett? We start his nighttime routine at 6:30. Chuck would walk through the door minutes before Rhett was put down for the night. They'd see each other only on weekends.

Becoming an administrator would bring to pass only one thing: more money. This difference in pay would give me the option to stay home completely if I ever desired. Or if I continued to work, it would give us bigger inputs for retirement, Rhett's college, home improvements, etc. I know having money doesn't bring happiness; but I strongly believe that not having enough money does bring unhappiness. The money becomes a big factor.

On the other hand, Chuck coming home at 6:30 would leave us almost no time to spend together as a family. He'd get home from work, Chuck would eat dinner (no way I can wait until 6:30), and Rhett would go to bed. That's it. Sure we'd have Saturdays, but is that enough? When I think about what I want for my child, I want him to know his Dad. I want them to spend time together, play in the back yard together, walk the dog together. And as a non-administrator, he has summers off. Sure he gets a job for six weeks, but it leaves us three weeks to do whatever we want. (Of course, we'd have no money to do anything...)

But how do you make this decision? Even now, I feel like our finances are very tight. The extra money would be wonderful. But at what cost?

Made for Monday

Upper-left: The quilt top for a Christmas table runner. I need time to garner enough courage to try the crazy binding.

Upper-right: Rhett's trick-or-treat bag. It should last another year or two.

Lower-left and lower-right: Halloween dresses for my niece and Ziggy-my-almost-niece, made from the same pattern as this dress.

P.S. Happy voting tomorrow!

Baby's First Halloween

And I'm sure he'll remember it. We reversed trick-or-treated this year. We visited family and brought them treats (these to be specific). Although, he did get a new Elmo doll and a book at one stop. Now there's a treat I can support. Maybe next year I'll dress him as Mr. Mullet. That's an interesting costume that no one would understand.

Credit When Credit's Due

I've never been a "I-lost-my-keys-and-then-prayed-and-then-poof!-there-they-were" type of girl. I believe that Heavenly Father can and does intervene at times...for you, not necessarily for me. Not that I'm bitter; I'm not. Instead, I believe that Heavenly Father gave me a brain and that I am expected to use it. And I do. It's that simple. However, in the past 24 hours I've had an experience I cannot chalk up to my genius alone.

Here's the long, long story reduced to only semi-long: In yesterday's mail Chuck and I find that our mortgage holder has found that our escrow account is running a deficit. (And this coming the day that I'm already feeling incredibly financially tapped; it was not a good day.) In order to fix this, we must either pay $2,000 immediately or spread that $2,000 over the next year, by an increase in our mortgage of nearly $200 per month. This increase would not be an easy thing for us, in fact it would be nearly devastating. After the tears evaporated (or were licked, I forget which), I spent a lot of time on the phone with those I deem on par with HR workers: idiots, in other words. In addition to the stress of the mortgage escrow account problems I find that I have not received a property tax credit that I was due months ago. But the good news: I might be on a list somewhere to receive said credit. Oh the joy.

When Chuck, Rhett, and I say our family prayers that night, we pray that things will work out. I silently plead for the blessings of tithe paying to come upon us as, well, we're faithful tithe payers.

Here's where the story gets good (and ends): In all of my research and hours and hours of being on the phone today, I am able to put together all of the pieces of this sordid tale. I find that not only is my escrow account not in shortage, but the mortgage company prepaid my taxes through the end of the year (hence the shortage). And that tax credit? Being mailed to me. Today. From owing $2,000 to receiving nearly $600--that's a $2,600 swing people.

The moral for me: Yes, Heavenly Father can and does intercede, even for me. I still have to work for it, however. That doesn't mean that I'm any less grateful however. But don't you worry; I haven't gone all crazy religious on you. I don't expect steaks on my doorstep, well, not yet anyway. (See the fourth story.)

Well That's One Way to Handle It

So remember when we were having that problem with the dog doing his bid-ness in our yard? Yeah, so apparently one way to handle that is for the dog to get heartworm disease, the owners do nothing, and then the dog dies. Huh. Who knew?

But we did find another option, you know, in case the whole heartworm thing doesn't pan out next time. On a walk one day, someone had written in chalk on their sidewalk these words: "Please keep your dogs off of our yard or pick up after them. Thanks!" I love it. If we ever have this problem again, that will be my chosen solution. And if we ever have this problem again AND we live in Utah, well, we'll use Linda's solution.

I Can't Not Post this Picture

This little boy turns seven months old today. The time is finally starting to go by quickly, as compared the sloooooooooow days of the newly-born. He's getting better at crawling, although he still uses the skill only sparingly. He loves all of his vegetables, but hates apple juice. He's still sleeping like a champ. And he can go from being prone to sitting up on his own. It's all very exciting.
(And yes, I look forward to the time when I can just count his age in years. Not a fan of this "six-and-three-fourths-month" thing.)

Made for Monday

I'm going to start posting my re-creations on Mondays. Here's the latest: a funny hat for a baby, or a pug.