Even Without a Horse Cake, the Evening was a Raging Success

I was looking over these birthday party photos, and I thought, "Hmm, some people may construe this evening as being rather, well, boring. Or at least simple." And that's okay. You know, I'm just at that point in my life where I just want to be with my family and some close friends for the important celebrations. Last night, my birthday party, was a great example. I couldn't think of anything better than trooping over to my folks' house, meeting up with them, my sister and her husband, and four good friends and enjoying chili dogs and homemade macaroni and cheese. Really, it was perfect.

Dad, Raechel, Ryan, Allan, Megan,

Mom, Joey, Candice (with Charlotte), and me.

Steve is taking the photo.

The boys are throwing macaroni around

somewhere behind me.

Yay 26!

Apparently everyone thought it was

pretty grand that I got the candles out

on the first blow.

I love my birthday loot!

As I mentioned before, Stephen worked hard behind the scenes (he would say cryptic things like, "The birthday gnomes are busy.") and by the time the celebration was through I had the first three books in the Twilight series and another book on Orthodoxy from Stephen, plus a nice fistful of cash. What with the gourmet, comfort food cuisine and vampire love sagas, what more could a girl want?

It was so much fun. I might have to do it again next year.

It Was a Very Merry UnBirthday

I had a lovely birthday, thank you! I appreciate all of the kind birthday messages via blog, Twitter, FB, etc. (Am I too wired? I do love the interweb.) I had a great time with my family and friends last night, but unfortunately find myself unable to post any pictures. Yep, you guessed it, we left our camera cord at my folks' house. 

This continues to be a running theme.

I'll get it this morning and then upload photos so that you can live vicariously through our chili dog/homemade mac and cheese/spicy coleslaw/chocolate chip bar experience. It was truly a wonder, a sight to behold. My mom is awesome.

And so is my husband, for the record. He orchestrated a seamless giving of gifts that left me happily holding the first three books in the Twilight series--in hardcover! I was thoroughly impressed. My favorite card was from my sister the goddess, Candice; it featured celebratory nuns, and the inside message read, "Hellelujah! It's your birthday!" And my favorite personal message was from Janie, my sister-in-law; it read, "I hope all of your very most dramatic vampire birthday wishes come true."

Wow!

I also received some cold hard cash, which I am taking with me this morning to an indoor community garage sale. I hope to score some good junk. We'll see. I'll let you know.

Birth Day!

Charlotte and her mama would like to wish one another

 a Happy Birthday!

Charlotte, Happy 5 Month Birthday.

Mama, Happy 26th Birthday.

(And now Mama will stalk off to gorge herself on cake and let the unwashed dishes languish in the sink.)

A Lull

There's a lull in my morning at the moment. All three kids are napping (wait, I might hear Jack talking in his crib), and Raechel is trying to come down with something, so she has joined the napping club, too. I'm eating toast and surfing the web, and I thought I'd share a few pictures with you that Rae and I took yesterday.

Here is Raechel with Oliver. Aren't they both beautiful?

Here all three boys check out the record player together. Jack felt like it was necessary to hide behind the curtains for awhile, so you can only see Baylor behind him if you look very, very closely. And just for the record, the three of them got along swimmingly. Oliver very helpfully introduced Jack and Baylor to both their dog and their sister, and Baylor wasn't so bad about sharing his toys. There were a few tears, but I suppose that's to be expected in this sort of situation. All in all, we had a fun morning together before Oliver left to be with his Granddad and Groovy. (Who, I understand, are just giddy at the prospect of having him to themselves this weekend. As any grandparent would be.)

Just for the sake of record keeping, our favorite Oliver quote happened yesterday morning as we were all gathered around the table enjoying breakfast. Raechel was holding Charlotte, and Oliver pointed to her (the baby) and asked, "What's this guy called?"

Ha! We've gotten lots of laughs out of that one.

After the hiding-behind-the-curtains stunt was done, Rae and I thought it might be nice to get at least one picture of all three kids together. We only thought of this right before my boys' nap, so things quickly fell apart.

I tried to restore order by sitting with the kids, which didn't help one bit. Here I am giving my best sympathetic face.

Really, I just look scary. Jack is justified in crying.

So sorry, no good pictures of all three kids. It just wasn't in the fates. And today we're just relaxing, although Stephen might just burst from his excitement about Dairy Queen opening up today. Our Dairy Queens (I believe there are three in town) close down for a couple of months in the winter because they aren't full braziers--they're just the walk-up, only ice cream kinds. Evidently January 29th is the magic, Dairy Queen opening day, and we are celebrating by getting blizzards and the like for dessert tonight.

And my husband just emailed me to tell me he was excited about this.

I believe the entire body of the email went something like this: "Ice cream ice cream ice cream!!!"

We like to find joy in the small things.

Checking In

I want to let you know that I may be in and out the rest of this week and through the weekend. The reason is that my college roommate Raechel and her husband, Ryan, are here to visit! Yes, these two friends came all the way up from the Nashville area to the frozen tundra of Chicagoland to spend some time. Oliver came with them, too, but only for a short while. He stayed long enough to play with the boys and get familiar with their toys before leaving to meet up with his grandparents so he can get some nice, quality time with them. We'll miss Oliver the rest of the week, but at least we have his parents. They're pretty fun, too.

The other good news of our week is that we'll also be hosting our friends Allan and Megan who are visiting from Ohio. Allan and Stephen roomed together when we three were studying at Oxford (as in England) and every so often we are able to be with these dear friends. They will be in on Friday and stay through the weekend. This trip has been in the works for awhile, so we are so glad they could make the time for us.

The other OTHER good news is that my birthday is Friday, meaning that all these friends will be here for my party! And by "party" I mean the dinner that my mom is so graciously putting together for all of us (friends, family, etc.) to enjoy. In true family custom, the birthday girl got to pick her meal, and I chose my time-honored birthday staple: chili dogs and homemade macaroni and cheese. I had originally asked for a Dairy Queen ice cream cake with the design of a horse on top, but that won't feed everyone, so we're having to break from that tradition this year. (I got the horse cakes for several years running when I was a horse-crazy elementary student.) I am so excited!

It's worth mentioning that in the, oh, ten minutes it has taken me to write this, Jack has climbed into all the kitchen chairs, Baylor has carted a bag of tortilla chips out of the kitchen, Jack has fallen in the potty chair, Baylor has thrown two screaming tantrums, and both have strewn paper clips all over the sun room floor. And I have a dirty diaper to change. Is it any wonder I am tired all of the time??

Things the Boys Have Done Today

I should note that these are things they are not supposed to do.

• Both climbed onto the kitchen chairs and confiscated my grocery list and pen.

• Jack kyped a box of Wheat Thins and divided the contents between himself and his brother while his mother was otherwise engaged with laundry.

• Baylor got into the contents of the middle desk drawer, ie, paper clips, safety pins, and other small, loose, highly swallowable items.

• Both boys discovered the joys of fiddling with the stove knobs.

• Jack sneaked pieces of cheese to the dog during lunch.

• Baylor tried to grab a lit candle. (I thought it was out of his reach.)

• Both sifted through the contents of one of the record album sleeves, including the album itself.

• Jack dumped a mug of coffee all over the floor.

• Jack also operated the computer mouse and opened up the dashboard.

• Baylor stood up in his high chair (which is connected to the table, and therefore, by nature, is a little unstable) and jumped up and down in it.

• Baylor tried to flush a book down the toilet.

• Jack stuck stickers to the side of the desk.

• Both boys threw sodden, folded-up diapers around like balls. (I have to admit, I didn't really put a stop to this. Actually, I joined in. It was really funny.)

• Jack operated the iPod and changed the music to his custom dance mix.

• Both pulled paper out of the printer and spread it all over the floor.

• Jack pulled a full gallon of milk off of the table and onto the floor. Luckily it stayed capped.

Updates will follow as events warrant throughout the rest of the day.

It's My Kind of Town

Yesterday my sweet husband whisked me away from my housewifely responsibilities and took me to Chicago for an early birthday trip. Hurrah! We had a wonderful time. For as close as it is (an hour away), we rarely make it up there, so this was a fantastic treat. We hopped on the train and went to the Art Institute (For free! Evidently Illinois faculty get free admission, and the man doling out the tickets had a nice moment and gave me a free one, too.), something that we hadn't done in a couple years. All the old favorites were there in their same places, except this one, which is on loan somewhere in Iowa for a little while. I like going to the Art Institute because it feels like home in so many ways. Everything is familiar and safe, but I also see something new, something I can fall in love with and call "mine," every time I go.

Afterward we walked a few blocks (FREEZING. Only word I have to describe Chi-town in late January) to Oysy, where we enjoyed some fantastic sushi, something you cannot find in Kankakee. Here are some pictures I took of Steve and his sushi, because the presentation was so aesthetically pleasing:

Sorry the lighting and coloring are so bad. I felt like a weird foodie taking pictures of our meal, so I didn't take extreme care to make sure they were going to turn out well. And believe it or not, those are the only two pictures I took the whole trip. Steve checked his backpack with the camera in it at the museum, thinking it was illegal to take pictures of art, and it was too stinkin' COLD to photograph outside.

Really, it was so cold that my forehead was dangerously numb after just a couple blocks of walking. When we finished up the sushi, we got some coffee and a cookie at a local cafe and called it a night, since there is really very little you can do downtown if you're not willing to hoof it a lot in frigid temperatures. So we caught the 6:32 PM Metra home, knitted (on my part) and read (on Steve's) all the way home, and felt like grown-ups the whole time. When we called my parents, who had watched the kids, to let them know we were coming home, they cheerfully informed us that all three children had been on their best behavior and that little Charlotte had even happily taken a bottle. All in all, a great day.

And for the record, the man sitting a couple seats away from me on the train ride home, who wore a business suit and was innocently watching a movie on his portable DVD player, was also discreetly pouring cans of Budweiser into a plastic 7-11 cup. We cast sidelong glances at him the whole ride home, and he had four empty cans by the time he got off! He seemed very stable and in command of his faculties, so we're hoping he caught a bus home.

Hopefully!

Homemade Baby Wipes

My mom knows that Stephen and I are wanna-be hippies. We compost, use cloth napkins, make a lot of our own food (cereal and the like) so as to cut down on waste, and recycle with a fervor that borders on the religious. Stephen has a vegetable garden in the works for the spring, and as soon as the boys are out of diapers I'm switching Charlotte to cloth. It's important to us. So when my mom saw a short article in the Tribune about homemade baby wipes, she thought of me.

Actually, the timing couldn't be more perfect for such a recipe. I keep meaning to wean ourselves off of paper towels, but then at the store the other day my Sales Radar went into overdrive and I made it home with a 12-pack of paper towels. Really, I don't know what came over me. As soon as I put them in the car I gave myself a mental smack in the forehead--duh! So I have tons of paper towels, and we're going to use them up making baby wipes. When those are done, I'm buying flannel, cutting it into strips, and making reusable wipes. It's just important to us. Believe me, if you had three kids in disposable diapers, you'd start to feel guilty, too. I hate to imagine what our garbage men think of us.

Without further ado, here's the recipe. It's taken from the book 365 Ways to Live Cheap (yeah, I know, should be "cheaply," at least in my opinion) by Trent Hamm.

Directions

Mix 2 tablespoons of baby soap, 2 tablespoons olive oil, and 2 cups of water. Cut a roll of paper towels in half the long way and put them in a baby wipes box. Either pour the solution on top of the towels and swish it around, or fill a spray bottle with the solution and spray it on the towels for each use.

And that's it! The solution, as strange as it sounds, is actually great and works really well. I thought Charlotte's bottom would be all oily, something to slide around on my frying pan, but you hardly notice the olive oil. My only complaint with the directions is the "cut a roll of paper towels in half" part. They just don't fit in a typical wipes box. I ended up cutting each sheet into four and only using half the amount of solution per box. I just stored the remainder in a tupperware for the next batch.

Here's to doing our part, one baby bottom at a time!

Peasant Revolt

Is it possible to be just a little exhausted? I know that the definition of the word "exhaustion" conveys the most supreme amount of tiredness possible, and I'm not quite there. But it's close. Very close.

The reason I am a "little" exhausted is because of, you guessed it, my kids. Baylor and Jack are reaching their tantrum-throwing stride a little earlier than anticipated, and it's wearing me out, what with all the kicking, screaming, arching of backs, and even (gasp!) hitting. I knew this day would come. I just talked myself into believing that we wouldn't get there for a few more months, at least until their 2nd birthday, which we celebrate toward the end of March.

But, as usual, my kids are out to prove me wrong, wear me out, and knock me off of my Terrific Mother In Control of Everything Throne.

I like that throne. I just recently clawed myself back into it, even managing a sitting position for a few brief minutes. It is cushy, comfortable, and elevated, and it means I get to look down on all the plebes, struggling with their misbehaving children, and sniff condescendingly, confident in the fact that I, as the name of my throne suggests, have everything in control.

But then I was startled into reality when Baylor started having frequent fits of drama. Jack would be playing with a toy, Baylor would want it, Jack would innocently walk away from Baylor's aggressive advances, and then screaming (on Bay's part) would ensue. Baylor has been pulling the Go-Limp-When-You-Get-Upset-Thereby-Endangering-Yourself-at-the-Hands-of-Your-Own-Tantrum Stunt for awhile now, and we thought we had adjusted ourselves to the fickle nature of his mood by now. Little did we know that he had higher aspirations, louder screams, more spectacular displays of arching his back up his sleeve.

Suffice to say, yesterday I was completely prepared to start officially labeling Baylor as the Tantrum-Prone One and Jack as the Laid-back One. And then Jack pitched a fit and hit me, and all labels jumped out the window in a mad suicide pact.

I have once again been knocked off of my comfortable throne.

The peasants are revolting, and I just barely managed to scrabble away and lock myself in a hidden closet off of the royal chambers. Let's just hope they don't hear my muffled sobs.

What My Kids Look Like Lately

My husband and my mother-in-law have pointed out that I have been remiss in posting pictures for the last few days, especially pictures featuring Charlotte. Here are a couple to tide you over.

(Note the drool.)

I took those pictures to illustrate how well she does holding up her head and upper body. Also, I wanted to share the joys of that darling toile sleeper with you all. You access her bottom half by some snaps in the back--so cute! And just in case you were curious, yes, she is losing some of her hair. Sigh. The fluffy, downy, baby duck hair in the back is rubbing away, leaving some funny-looking bald spots that I hope fill in quickly. The stuff on top seems a little more substantial and continues to stick up proudly. She still has the receding hairline, but you wouldn't notice it normally for all the headbands. She doesn't seem to care about any of this, instead focusing all of her efforts on eating two jars of baby food a day, plus nursing, plus supplementing all that with her hands, which are constantly in her mouth. She is growing up so quickly.

Oh, yes, and Jack loves to put on our shoes. Here he is wearing my winter boots, looking quite stylish and slightly stubby.

That's all for now! Hope you liked the pictures. I'll try and get some more today.

Exciting Bloggy Developments

Yes, I know, three posts in one day. Please try to contain your excitement. But I feel as if I have been accomplishing some very good and constructive things on the blogosphere today, and I just need to share.

You know, because this is a blog. I share here. With you, my loyal readers. Who obviously care about the inane trivialities of my life, or else you wouldn't still be reading.

Moving along.

First off, within the next few days my blog will be transferring to a custom domain. Whoo-hoo! Instead of having to remember that pesky "dot blogspot" in the middle of everything, you will be able to find me at www.keepingupwiththecases.com. It's just that simple. Don't worry, if you mess up and type in the old blogspot address, you'll get redirected. Blogger is just good like that.

Why, you may ask? Because I can.

As if THAT isn't exciting ENOUGH, I am proud to announce that I have been recognized in small ways by two celebrity blogging heroes just today. The Nester left a comment a couple posts ago asking to see my boys' new room (we've been painting--I'll post about it soon), and then MckMama mentioned my squinty-eyed profile picture in her most recent post.

So much has happened today. I feel like a celebrity.

Except, you know, my kids have no idea about all of this. To them, I am still their milk distributor, diaper changer, record album starter, drill sergeant, food preparer, naptime coordinator, and playmate, rolled into one convenient, exhausted, sweatpant-clad package.

They are not dazzled by the bright lights of fame.

Freakish No More!

Cute, huh? I took Denise's advice and headed over to Scrapblog, where I had the most delightful 45 minutes of my life fiddling around and making a custom scrapblog. I then transferred the scrapbook page into a jpeg file and made it my header. Presto chango.

(My sister will tell you that it wasn't "just" that simple. I nearly lost my grip on my salvation exporting it to a jpeg. This is insanely easy, I assure you. I just tend to make insanely easy tasks into very difficult and angry tasks. Especially when it comes to computerish things.)

So anyway, thanks for all of your encouragement and words of advice. Denise, you are a genius! I would highly recommend Scrapblog to anyone else wanting a quick blog fix or a fun take on scrapbooking. It's a little addicting, I assure you, especially when confronted with literally thousands of background and sticker choices. So! Many! To! Choose! From!

Also, I love green. In case you couldn't tell.

Sorry My Blog Looks So Freakish

I got a wild hair to do a little "redecorating" here on the old blog, and given my limited ability with that sort of thing, I'm a little stuck. I was sick of the damask border (it's my pattern, really, but it was just too much here) and wanted everything to stretch across the screen. Thus the boring template. Now I'm trying to fiddle with the header, and my image just doesn't want to load. I suspect this has to do with my insanely slow internet connection. So for now, the boys-on-the-table are off-center and I get to grumble at AT&T.

Any suggestions? I'm open and willing to listen to any idea, no matter how ridiculous. Many of you know much, much more than I, so please share.

Thank you. Now I'm off to, you know, have a life.

Charlotte, the Genius Baby, and a List to Prove It

I have a couple darling pictures of Miss C that I have been trying to upload for the last half hour, but Blogger just won't have anything to do with them. And I say it's their (er, its? What sort of possessive pronoun is appropriate for "Blogger"?) loss, because Charlotte is just a DOLL.

Really, she's amazing. Don't believe me? Here's a list to prove it, because lists are, as we all know, infallible documents of proof, or at least they are in my blog world:

• Charlotte can put herself to sleep. THIS IS AMAZING. Never underestimate the value of your baby learning to put herself to sleep. I just put her in her crib, she smiles and coos at me, continues smiling (I assume) and cooing after I leave, perhaps cries out once, and then is out like a light by the time I sneak back in to check on her after a few minutes. You should know that this skill was really hard for the twins to grasp. We took the "let them cry themselves into exhaustion" approach at bedtime, and while I definitely stand behind that approach, it was exhausting for us, too. We experienced weeks of them crying each and every night for 45+ minutes straight before they finally figured out that, hey, we can just sleep, we're in bed and all, it all makes perfect sense! It probably doesn't help to have a brother in the next crib over, egging you on, but still, in comparison, CHARLOTTE IS A GENIUS BABY.

• That was long. Moving on.

• Charlotte pacifies herself throughout the day by sucking on her fingers. Her digits of choice are her index and middle fingers. No discernible hand preference yet. Anytime she gets fussy for any reason, she just pops those fingers in and buys herself (and her mama) a few extra minutes of peace. This is further proof of a genius baby at work, as the boys took pacifiers, which forced Stephen and me to undergo many months of playing the Midnight Search for the Pacifier Without Waking Up the Other Brother While the One Impatiently Waiting for Said Pacifier Begins to Grow Increasingly Agitated game. De-lightful.

• Charlotte is generous with huge, beautiful smiles. She is already learning how to charm us all into giving her exactly what she wants. Clever.

• Charlotte is a little more stingy with her laughter, but when she chooses to laugh, boy, is it ever worth it. Her laughter wouldn't qualify as "giggling" as much as chortling. It's deep, bubbly, and comes right out of nowhere, surprising its fortunate hearers.

• Charlotte loves to eat baby food and seems a little puzzled as to why I have held off just so long introducing it to her. She is (nearly) five months going on two years.

• Charlotte is so very close to sleeping through the entire night. I suspect this has something to do with the extra food in her tummy. Whatever it is, it's making her mama do internal cartwheels.

• Charlotte's two-month long Period of Extreme Colic is but a distant memory. Enough said.

• Charlotte enjoys watching her brothers play. She takes in all of their blustery, boyish activity with wide, serious eyes, as if making mental notes about what to do when she has the ability to move on her own. Occasionally something that one of them does will strike her as funny and she will let loose with one of her unexpected chortles. What's really funny to watch is one of the boys interacting with her, like when she and Baylor got into a laughing contest a couple weeks ago. Too. Cute.

• Charlotte can hold her head up, support herself on her arms when she's on her tummy, stay sitting up for a little while, grab anything in her immediate vicinity, roll over, and even do a very little bit of crawling. Plus she is in 6 and 9 month clothing, which just astounds me. (The boys were still in 0-3 month clothes at her age.)

• Charlotte is, and always will be, my sweet, sweet baby girl. She only has eyes for her mama at this stage, and that's just fine by me. I love her all the more for it.

And after all of that, Blogger still won't take my word for it and let me post pics proving my Charlotte's sweetness. Oh, well. Like I said, not my loss. I have her to cuddle with any time I want!

Photographic Evidence

Instead of doing laundry or dusting the furniture or doing anything else productive, I am instead producing photographic evidence of the fact that my boys do not have bowl cuts. I know you are in awe of my time-wasting ability. Kneel before the master. Er, mistress. Whatever.

And just so you know, this morning the boys are parading around in polo shirts, jeans, slippers (Batman-themed in Baylor's case, Optimus Prime in Jack's), and backpacks whilst brandishing toy drumsticks. These things are important.

This is the face Baylor makes when you

ask him to smile. It's a little terrifying,

what with all those teeth.

Oh, my heart breaks.

Also, I got that shirt for $1.58.

Evidently Target thinks that January

warrants rolling out the shorts and

putting the long sleeves on clearance.

I don't ask, I just benefit from the general stupidity.

And this is what Baylor did when

I asked him to smile again.

I guess he was feeling uncooperative.

Okay, okay, now I'll go do laundry. (Grumble, grumble.)

Oh, wait, one more thing! Have you ladies heard about this? I have bought Clinique foundation every month or so for the last, oh, maybe six years, and Carson Pirie Scott, our local department store, is on the list. Free makeup, here I come! Plus I'm bringing all my kids with me, so maybe they'll feel sorry for me and shower me with lots of freebies. We can only hope.

Mama Grows Up and Gives Them Real Haircuts

**Update**

Contrary to what their hair may look like in the following pictures, my boys do not have bowl cuts. I'm pretty much vehemently opposed to the existence of bowl cuts. Both Jack and Baylor have a nice crop left on top which, as I discovered tonight, is absolutely adorable when gelled up just a bit. So no, no bowl cuts. Just so we're clear on that.

**Original Post**

Today I did it. I took the plunge. I cut off my boys' baby curls.

Well, really, I didn't cut off their hair. Thankfully, too, because I'm crazy with scissors, a fact to which my childhood Barbies would willingly attest. A sweet little gal at our local Great Clips (or Great Cuts, I don't know which) stoically and even cheerfully agreed to cut both boys' hair without flinching or even letting loose with one facial tic. I was impressed. I told her that I was done with trying to hang onto their curls and that I wanted them to look like little boys instead of mountain men or, even worse, sweet little girls. I'm pretty happy with the results, although upon closer inspection Baylor's bangs are rather straight across, a la Julius Caesar. (She was in a rush by the time she got to his bangs, as he was starting to fret and give the "all done" sign with his hands. I don't fault her in the least.) And don't let the above photo fool you. Baylor (on the left) was actually a dream child in the stylist's chair. It was Jack, the one with the innocent expression, who cried, grabbed the comb with his hands, and turned his head at inopportune times, like when, say, the scissors were mere centimeters from his ears.

I did a lot of talking, pointing, distracting, and even singing. I am exhausted.

And the girl who cut their hair? She left for the day after she was finished with us. Not a coincidence, I am certain.

I need to give a shout-out to my mother, who gladly accompanied us on this errand and helped keep the baby and whoever wasn't getting his hair cut at the time occupied and happy. I could actually get very little done if it weren't for my mother, who loves her grandchildren with a ferocity that is awe-inspiring. Thanks, Mom.

Jack from the back. You can still see

the wave from the curls.

And am I the only one who thinks Bay

looks like a young Ron Howard (Opie) in this photo?

Too cute.

Not Me! Monday

Uh-oh, it's that time again. Time to spill my guts without actually spilling them, if you know what I mean. Here goes. 

• I was not secretly (or perhaps not-so-secretly) ecstatic that my educator husband got two days off of teaching because of the bitter cold just because this meant he could paint the boys' bedroom. I did not put him to work painting on his snow days.

• I did not get all pouty and slightly put-out when he said he would not be able to get all of the painting done over the weekend. This pouting did not happen after he had put in a solid two days of painting.

• I did not let my baby girl lounge around in her pajamas for two days in a row, barring only bath time, after which I immediately changed her into fresh pajamas, just because I didn't have the energy to go through her clothes and admit that she is too big for most of them. Admitting this would mean I would have to organize said outgrown clothes into cute, labeled plastic tubs. Said tubs are not hypothetical. We do not find ourselves in possession of more diaper boxes than plastic tubs at this point in our lives.

• I did not get a wild hair one morning this week and convince myself that I could, in fact, take all three children to Target by myself without succumbing to the frigid temperatures, temper tantrums, or a nervous breakdown. I was not the slightest bit proud when I managed to leave the store unscathed and with all of my children and intended purchases intact.

• I did not take my first extended baby-free date this weekend. This date was not with a girlfriend instead of my doting husband. My doting husband did not stay home with the kids (with a little help from my family). I did not completely fall in love with the symphony and Verdi's Requiem all over again, and I most certainly did not forget about my children for most of the evening.

• Also, I am not still shocked by how cold it can get in Chicago. I did not wear my Cuddl Duds over my pantyhose in order to pass them off as black tights. This plan did not succeed brilliantly.

• I did not stick a straw up my nose at the restaurant where we ate before the symphony.

• I am not that woman who has let her sons' hair get incredibly long and out-of-control just because she cannot bear to cut it and potentially lose the baby curls. My husband did not have to point out that the reason Baylor has been rubbing his head lately is, in fact, because his hair is getting in his eyes and bothering him. Stephen did not then say this makes Baylor looks like "a girl." My sons do not look like wild, hairy, monkey men. Or girls, depending on whom you ask.

• I did not wear my pajamas (with Cuddl Duds underneath!) to my parents' house tonight just because they are so incredibly cozy. Real clothes and shoes other than snow boots do not make me cranky in the wintertime.

• I did not forget that tomorrow is my first time to bring breakfast to my moms' Bible study group meeting. I did not previously have grand plans of cooking a hot casserole or coffeecake. I have not given up these plans in despair (and lateness) and instead succumbed to the idea of buying some donuts in the morning. I am not struggling with perceptions of perfection.

And... I can't think of any more. Not because I'm perfect, mind you. I'm woman enough to admit that. But mainly I'm finished because I'm tired (I did not take a two hour nap this afternoon) and Charlotte's five o'clock feeding time will come all too soon. If you need some more confessional, here's Raechel's from last week to tide you over. And doesn't her blog look great? Her super-talented designer husband, Ryan, did a nice little makeover for her. I am not the slightest bit jealous. I did not show Stephen the design and pointedly hint that he should be like Ryan instead of oh, I don't know, reading books about dead people all the time.

Oh, and finally, I did not successfully convince my husband to read Robin McKinley's only vampire novel this weekend. He did not read it in like a day and a half. I am not the slightest bit smug that I got him to read fiction.

Romancing the Steve

The following is an actual (albeit short) conversation Stephen and I had a couple of nights ago. I came to bed a little after he had gone to sleep.

Me: (obviously feeling very generous and grateful, leaning over to Stephen, and whispering...) "I love you very much."

Steve: "Your breath smells like fish."

And.

Okay, I got nothing. It was hilarious, and he couldn't even appreciate it because he was dead to the world. And to his credit, I'm sure my breath did smell like fish. So point for him.

I Can Has Cheezburger

So you've seen I Can Has Cheezburger, right? Or you've at least gotten some of their pictures on an email forward or something. If not, prepared to get sucked into the hilarity that is pictures of cats coupled with funny, often text message-type captions. Here are a few recent faves:

Steve and I sat together and cruised this site for like 15 minutes, laughing our heads off. Yes, we have better things we could be doing. I'm sure of it. So... we'll just go do that.

Snow Day Projects

First, I'll open with some recent kid shots.

This picture is deceiving.

There are actually four children in that tent.

Four.

Baylor and Jack like the snow.

Charlotte tries some peaches.

Such a big girl!

I really have no idea how Baylor did this.

He was whimpering for some time

before I figured out that he needed aid.

I, of course, had to snap a picture first.

Today the temperature is reaching a high of -2 degrees (Fahrenheit, although my husband loves the idea of converting to Celsius--you have this argument a lot when you live with a man who has an advanced degree in physics) with a wind chill of somewhere around -35, so school was closed and Stephen got the day off. He is celebrating his snow day by staying in his pajamas all day. I am celebrating by cleaning, organizing, hanging things on the walls (or making him hang them, rather), and cooking.

I also have the great honor of announcing that my curtains are finally finished, or at least the ones in the dining room are. I still have to tackle the two in the living room, but they are hidden by a side table, so for now I'll wait on those.

Here is a picture of how they looked before I added their "skirts," as I like to call the block of fabric I sewed onto the bottom of each panel: 

Ridiculous, no? Remember, they were on clearance, and I wanted my room to look huge, so I hung them really, really high. I found some great fabric in a coordinating color on clearance at JoAnn's, convinced myself that I could, in fact, use the sewing machine, and proceeded to painstakingly sew panels onto the bottom of each of the four curtains. Here is the finished product:

Ta-da!

I'm actually rather proud of myself. As I said before, I am no seamstress, and I rarely get out the ole Singer. Here is a picture of my geriatric sewing machine:

I think I mentioned before that my mother got it used (from a university--it's an old Scholastic for teaching purposes) back in the early 80s, so there is no telling how old this thing really is. I actually Googled it, and there is just so little info out there on this model. I found its twin for sale on eBay, but that's about all I could find. It's like the heaviest thing in the world. There is no plastic to be found, I swear, it's all metal. Anyway, it still works like a charm, and it didn't disappoint for this project. When I am using this machine I do have to constantly remind myself that I have Jesus in my heart, since I want to swear and throw things every time I wind the bobbin, thread the needle, etc. It's just too much.

But somehow, by the grace of God, I have managed to finish this sewing with my faith intact.

Now I'm relaxing a bit in between projects, until I will start putting some fondue dips together for dinner. We're having my family over (they usually troop over here en masse at least once a week) and I have declared today Fundue Day. Yes, Fundue. We put the "fun" in everything, I promise. I can make cleaning fun.

Almost.

Crib Recall Alert

Hey, all you moms (and grandmas and aunts and uncles and such) out there. The CPSC has issued a recall on all Stork Craft baby cribs manufactured from May 2000 to January 2009. Go here to see the official recall with instructions. This is kind of a big deal, like on the scale of hundreds of thousands of cribs that may have faulty supports. We don't have Stork Craft cribs, but I know they are sold at lots of retailers out there, like Penney's, WalMart, and Babies 'R Us.

Sorry, I don't mean to be a scare monger or whatever. But I get these recall alerts from the CPSC every so often and never have I seen one this big. I figured the old blog would be a good way to get the word out. So pass it on, okay?

And don't laugh at me if this has been like headline news for the last two weeks. Remember, no TV here, right? Just humor me.

And kiss those babies for me. They need all the kissing they can get with scary things like this on the loose.

Dear Heavens, She's Rambling

I haven't posted in a couple days, and even though I don't have anything particularly life-altering to say (although I like to think something like "Popcorn-and-peanut-butter sandwiches are amazing, go make yourself one right now" might be pretty astounding for some people, so let's call my quota fulfilled, mkay?), I get itchy if I haven't posted recently.

So here I am. Posting.

Twiddles thumbs. Except she's typing. So let's say she twiddles her toes instead.

And yes, she can do that. She has particularly dextrous toes.

Someday we'll do a "All You Ever Wanted and Simultaneously Never Wanted to Know About Christine--Revealed!" post, and things like toe dexterity and the weird eye-jiggly thing she can do which totally FREAKS her mother out will be made known, laid bare for all the blogosphere to see.

And hello, I'm back, done using the third person like Elmo, because that's just weird.

Anyway, I'm posting. What happened today that was out-of-the-ordinary? Oh, here's one: Today my friend Rachel dropped off her two kids K. and E., and I was solely responsible for the well-being of four toddlers (ages two and under) and a baby for the span of about two hours. All went well, considering the mass destruction that could have ensued had I not consumed a fair amount of coffee this morning, which enabled me to be alert and energetic. Because believe me, you gotsta be having some energy if you are even attempting to appear like you want to keep up with four toddlers. And I wasn't just appearing, I was doing it. Charlotte really, really helped by taking an uncharacteristically long nap the entire time our munchkin visitors were present, so I ONLY had to keep tabs on four children instead of five.

Haha! Only four!

No, really, it was fun. Last night I wondered if I was crazy to have volunteered my services to Rachel, who had a doctor's appointment and needed some help after her babysitter canceled on her. I have the luxury of several family members in town who are almost always available, never demand pay, don't balk at poopy diapers, speak Jack-and-Baylor Lala Language, know my kids' routines, and think that Charlotte puking up the contents of her dinner on a semi-regular basis is something to be pitied and even baby-talked over. So what's two hours of heightened toddler activity if I can help out a mom who doesn't have the same luxury? Her kids were great, and I didn't even have to bust out any DVDs.

So that was fun and out-of-the-ordinary. Also we got some more snow today. When the kids and I were making our way out to the car this afternoon, I looked back to see what was keeping the boys, only to spot Baylor shuffling around in the snow in funny little stompy steps, giggling to himself as he kicked up snow, all the while soaking his shoes. Jack was apparently frozen in terror (as he often is), still standing at the porch. I like seeing their reactions to things that aren't so new to me anymore.

And... that about covers it. Otherwise I cleaned, read, cared for children, knitted a little (my new thing, thanks to Janie, and I love it), managed to put on makeup, and trooped everyone to my folks' house in yet another successful stab at not cooking dinner, for the second night in a row, thank you. Our days can get a little monotonous in the winter, so anything that breaks up that ordinariness, that drab monotony, is welcome. Snow and extra kids definitely count.

Tune in sometime in the next couple days for another exciting installment of the Case family blog! Toe dexterity and poopy diapers may or may not be included. Read at your own risk.

On the Finer Points of Will Smith, Naked Monkey Bandits, etc.

You know we use our record player constantly, right? The boys are absolutely fascinated by it and its various accoutrements, and I don't have the heart to tell them that the technology is outdated by nearly 30 years. They'll grow up thinking every other kid listens to LPs at home of wacky old musicals and classical recordings. (Luckily their uncle has an Xbox, so perhaps they won't turn out completely screwed up.)

So anyway... Steve's mom sent us home with a Stevie Wonder album, and I'm in love with it. You'd know a lot of the singles--standard Stevie Wonder stuff--and we here at the Case casa love to groove to the funky strains of his songs. I was reading up on the history of this particular album (when it came out, how it fit into his repertoire, etc.) and was thrilled to read that, after 2 years of hot anticipation in the mid-70s, it was finally released with 2 LPs, one EP, and a 24-page lyric book.

That's the one we have! We have the original!

(Note: When I communicated this all to my mother, including the fact that it was released in 1976, she got all sigh-y and said, "That's the year I graduated from high school." I told her that she should be glad she's so retro. That sort of thing is really big now.)

OK, so after all of that draw-out buildup, here follows a conversation that Stephen and I had a couple days ago while we listened to "I Wish" for the 67th time that afternoon:

Me: "You know, Will Smith used this song as his basis for 'Wild Wild West.'"

Steve: "Really?"

Me: "Yeah. Can't you tell from the beginning?"

Steve: "No. I don't recognize it."

Me: "Yeah! Here, listen." (Here I hum the part to which I am referring.)

Steve: "Nope. All I remember from that song is 'Wild wild west' being repeated over and over."

(Here we both repeat that line a couple times in funny low voices. It's the only part of that song we know.)

Steve: "Isn't it weird to think that Will Smith used to be famous for his songs?"

Me: "Yeah. Wasn't that his first movie?"

Steve: "No, he was well-known by then."

Me: "You sure?"

Steve: "Yeah. Hadn't Men in Black already been made? I'm pretty sure."

Me: "I dunno."

(Pause here to keep Baylor from flinging his lunch onto the floor.)

Me: "Hey, wait, wasn't Will Smith the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?"

Steve: "Oh, man, yeah, I think he was. That's weird."

Me: "No kidding."

Abrupt end to Will Smith debate in light of the fact that Jack is furtively sneaking food to the dog.

Maybe this conversation isn't that funny, but right afterward, I mused over it and thought, Wow, I wonder what it would be like to be a celebrity and have people ruminating over the fine points of your career just in casual conversation. Plus who puts that much thought into Will Smith? We had just recently seen both I Am Legend and Hancock, so this conversation seemed particularly poignant.

And for the record, I couldn't sleep for like three nights after I saw I Am Legend.

Freaked. Me. Out.

____________________

In more Charlotte is Awesome News, today she had her first taste of rice cereal (mixed with mama's milk), and I am pleased to announce that she was a pro at it from the start. When we first introduced cereal to the boys when they were about 5 months old, neither of them were too receptive to it. In fact, Baylor burst into angry tears just a few moments into the whole ordeal, and I don't think he has yet fully recovered. I fully expected, based on my past experience, to take three or four weeks introducing the cereal to Charlotte, who I was sure would be absolutely confused by the concept of a spoon, considering how much she loathes bottles.

To my profound astonishment and delight, she swallowed her first spoonful without any difficulty and promptly opened her mouth for more. In fact, anytime the spoon hovered anywhere near her face, she opened her mouth wide and squealed for more. When I called Stephen in to see, he was dully impressed and compared her expertise to the dismal cereal failings of her brothers, calling them something like "Goobert" and "Goofhound." She ended up eating it twice today, including a big bowl right before bed, which I hope stays on her tummy and helps her start sleeping through the night.

A mama can dream, after all.

And in case you were wondering, no, we didn't take any photos. I didn't expect any success, so I wasn't prepared. When the boys had their first cereal, we took approximately 400 pictures and at least 2 short videos, all of which we promptly sent to their adoring grandmothers. Poor Charlotte. This is what happens when you're trying to feed a 4-month old baby while two naked, freshly-bathed monkey bandits run around you, climbing all over and threatening to pee all over creation unless Dad gets diapers on them quick.

If I were you, I'd avoid the Case house every evening around 6:30. Unless you enjoyed getting peed on by naked monkey bandits, then by all means, come on in.

And... with that lovely picture, I'll close. Sleep well, bloggy buddies. Or, if you're one of my South Korea readers (hi, Kaila!), then have a fantastic day.

We Love Photos!

The camera cord came in the mail today!

Three cheers for my mother-in-law!

Hip-hip hooray! (x3)

So without further ado, here are the pics that made the cut. A surprising majority of them feature Charlotte; this is a measure of her cuteness factor, since it's recently gone through the roof and I feel like I'm taking pictures of an actual human being and not just a lump of fleshy baby goo. Mmmm, fleshy baby goo.

Way to be adorable, Char.

I thought it would be funny to show you

how small she looks sitting in this corner chair.

(Yes, this is one of my hated armchairs.

I threw whatever I could on top of it

to disguise its hideous 70s-era olive and orange stripes.

As messy as this looks, believe me, it's an improvement.)

(And also I realize how neglected this corner looks.

Big plans are in the works, folks. Big plans.)

Way to pacify yourself to sleep, Char.

Three cheers for you, too!

The boys, in a rare identically-dressed shot,

dip their straws into the honey mustard

during a recent Culver's outing.

I think this is all they had for dinner.

Two little hairless monkeys playing 

with their grandpa's Mac.

I had Stephen take this for her hair.

And her shirt.

I wish I had one like it.

And finally, the much-anticipated

Baylor-on-the-table-with-Jack-close-behind shot.

Yes, he did get one of those crystals down.

Yes, I am not learning my lesson

and blogging while ignoring

what they are doing in the next room.

The Chowder Confessional

I have a humorous (at least to me) story to tell. Well, maybe not a story, maybe more like another stinkin' confessional. It involves this White-Cheddar Corn Chowder recipe that Raechel posted on her blog. She had posted a tweet about eating it the same night I had burnt our dinner--for the first time in our married life, I should add. Of course her elegant chowder sounded wonderful compared to Burnt Pork Nastiness (I don't even like pork, but a big frozen hunk of it was sitting in our freezer, screaming to be used up), so I asked for the recipe and she, as usual, delivered.

Have I ever mentioned Raechel is my hero? Not only has she sustained some pretty incredible blows to her and her little family's life (go here if you're curious about the beginning of the story), but she manages to keep her head above it all with an amazing faith in her Savior's grace and bounty. Plus she's cute, she's incredibly creative, her house is darling, and she likes to cook fun things like this chowder. When we were college roommates, she was the girl who introduced me to the very cheap, yet supremely satisfying, concept of egg sandwiches. She has come a long way from the eggs, as the two times we have visited her and her boys in Tennessee she has cooked up wonderfully exotic-sounding things for us, each and every meal. So naturally I want to emulate her mad cooking skills and try to be like her on occasion.

Thus I tried my hand at the chowder last night. Now you need to know that I am not above cutting corners, substituting, and just generally being a little half-you-know-what about cooking. Usually things turn out okay, because usually I have good enough sense about what will and what won't work out in a meal. I've been doing this often and long enough to get away with this, or at least that's what I tell myself. Plus I kind of have to accept the occasional half-way approach to cooking because usually I have three crying kids all vying for my attention... while the dutch oven is overflowing with boiling water.

Welcome to my world.

So here is a list of the things I cheated on when I prepared the lovely White-Cheddar Corn Chowder last night:

• First off, I didn't use white cheddar. I shop at Aldi and UltraFoods, folks. I don't think those particular stores even know what white cheddar is. We are just at that time in our lives where things are lean and I have to be as strict and sensible as humanly possible when I shop for groceries. I'm not trying to garner sympathy, I'm just telling the truth. And I didn't see the sense in buying either a nice block or bag of white cheddar so I could use 2 oz. of it to sprinkle on our chowder. I wish I could have; I'm sure it would have added a very nice, sharp element to the soup. Instead, I just used what sharp regular cheddar we already had in the fridge.

• Also, I cheated on the corn. The recipe calls for fresh corn from 6 ears of corn. If you had been in our home yesterday, you would have heard me shout out, "Six ears of corn? What do you expect of me?! I already cut up an onion and peeled and cut three potatoes!!" I'm just that way. I absolutely hate peeling and cutting up potatoes, and I felt I had done a Great Thing by following the recipe and purchasing some Yukon Golds instead of substituting some plain old baking potatoes. Plus corn isn't in season, which is something we've recently become concerned with. So, since we aren't starting a garden until the spring and I don't have anything canned myself, I just used a couple of cans of sweet corn I had from the store.

• 2 cups homemade or store-bought low-sodium chicken stock... this didn't happen. I boiled up two bouillon cubes and called it good.

• Also, the only milk we have in the house is either whole or vanilla-flavored soy, so the nonfat milk thing didn't happen either. (For the record, I used the whole. Call it my cooking intuition, but I just didn't think vanilla soy milk would work well with this. When you have cooked as much as I have, you'll have this very same intuition.)

• For whatever reason, I didn't have cayenne pepper. I searched my spice collection high and low and finally gave up in despair, instead using Tabasco sauce. Also, believe it or not, I didn't have coriander. I am a little ashamed about this. I have been cooking several nights a week for the last almost-four years, and I have never needed coriander. I don't even know what it is, and I'm too lazy to google it at the moment. When I was at UltraFoods on Wednesday I noted that it was on my shopping list (I am that organized), so I sauntered over to the spice aisle, all ready to possess yet another jazzy spice. Imagine my absolutely shock when one container of it was priced at over five dollars. Now maybe you're shocked that five dollars seemed like a lot to me, but really, we're in that lean time of our lives, remember? Five dollars is a lot for a container of a spice that I have never used and don't know if I will ever use again. Perhaps you are a spice junkie (I have a suspicion Rae is) and will vehemently argue against my reasoning. Be that as it may, I weighed the need for coriander against the money left in my grocery envelope, and I ended up leaving it out of my grocery cart, as well as this recipe.

• Ah, the white wine. It hadn't occurred to me to have cooking wine on hand (thanks, Rae, for that suggestion), but I, as usual, have a massive container of apple juice haunting our fridge, so I just used that instead.

• I just used pepper out of the shaker instead of freshly grinding it because our pepper mill (which we do possess, thank you!) has been acting up lately. Plus the natives were getting really, really restless at this point in the recipe, so me taking the time to grind the pepper would have sent them over the edge.

• Those are all the corners I cut, but I would like to mention that I almost completely forgot about the bacon, dear heavens we cannot forget bacon in a recipe that actually calls for it, that would be blasphemy, and then when I did finally remember it, I nearly burnt it. Geez.

So that's how I made this chowder. Like a crazy person. And you know what? It turned out tasting really good, and I plan on adding it to our meal rotation. Don't get me wrong. I am not trying to diss on Raechel's original recipe and the fact that she probably lovingly did everything it said and had everything it called for--I respect her immensely for this. I wish I had been able to follow it to the letter. It probably would have turned out even better had I been a more responsible cook, and someday I will possess such exotic spices as coriander and cayenne pepper. But I just wanted to share how a few (okay, several) substitutions don't have to necessarily ruin a meal.

And for the record, my husband just wandered into the room and said, and I quote, "I love it when you make a meal like last night, because then I have leftovers for lunch for a long time."

If that doesn't warm the cockles of my heart, then I don't know what does.

Ode to Charlotte

I really wish I could download a video I got of Charlotte today, because she is just so stinkin' cute these days. Well, of course I have always thought she is so stinkin' cute. It's just that she is four months old and getting to that stage where she seems like a real person, you know? She smiles, laughs, communicates with you, grabs things, and can even pacify herself to sleep.

She's my dream baby.

And there is only one of her.

So I thought I'd compile a little list of things about Charlotte Anne that make her oh so very irresistible to me. Things that daily make me want to melt into a puddle. Things that make me say, "Oh, isn't she just wonderful?" and "I just love her!" to whomever may be in listening range about 745 times a day. I'm sorry I don't have any updated photos to accompany this list. Rest assured, she is the most beautiful little baby girl that has ever graced this planet. Truly.

• Her cheeks are starting to fill out and oh-my-goodness I could kiss her face off. I about do. I noticed that they looked a little chapped today and had to consciously keep myself away from her for awhile.

• She has the chunkiest little thighs and most adorably chubby tummy. We had to laugh at dinner last night because, as my mom held Charlotte into a standing position, her shirt hiked up, revealing her little chubby gut pooching over her pants. (This is Charlotte we're talking about, not my stick-skinny mother.) It's not cute on me, but boy, has she got it going on with her 4-month old self.

• She loves to grab at anything in her line of sight, including fingers, toys, and her Dad's nose.

• She always has a ready smile. Rarely is she upset, and then it's for a good reason. Like maybe Jack has put her burp rag over her face.

• When she's sleepy, she squints up her face and rubs her eyes.

• She is her mama's little girl. Wherever I am, her eyes follow me. When someone else holds her, she twists and turns and contorts herself just so she can keep me in her sight. It makes me feel wanted, which is a welcome change from the two hoodlum toddlers who have very independent minds of their own and who are currently obsessed with their daddy.

• And finally (and I'm only stopping because I just realized that Charlotte's diaper has leaked all over my lap--the little dear!) I love snuggling with her in bed in the middle of the night, when she nestles up next to me to eat. We both hunker down under the covers and just cuddle, and I get to smell her baby soft head and trace her soft, wispy hair with my fingers without anything else holding my attention.

I really love her, folks. I am so glad she is here to bless our lives.

Where Did You Come From, Where Did You Go?

[Note: If anyone else recognizes the song I'm referencing in this title, then you get a big pat on the back. I grew up going to school dances in West Texas, so this was a popular hit. I remember dancing to it my senior year at a banquet while wearing cowboys boots and a cowboy hat.]

So I recently included the StatCounter application on my blog and my husband and I have been sitting here oooohing and ahhhing over the amazing capabilities of the internet. I can see how many people have visited, how long they stay (an alarming amount of you stay for 5 seconds and then leave--I would like to tell myself that this group is solely made up of my mother and mother-in-law, who type in the address and only stay long enough to see if there is a new post), what website refers them here, where in the world they are from, and on and on and on. It's amazing.

There are people visiting from such exotic places as Bolivia! And London! And Kentucky!

You all are warming this little Midwestern girl's heart. I'll try not to stalk you and your activity on my little blog too much. I'm just continually amazed at what I can do online, and considering that I am a member of the internet generation, you'd think nothing would surprise me anymore.

And now I'm going to check on the latest global news, move some money around in my bank account, and order goods from anywhere in the world. Instantaneously.

AMAZING.

Confession

Maybe you've noticed the lack of new pictures to the ole blog by now. Even if you haven't (and that would be surprising, considering how many requests I get for updated photos of my kids), you need to know the truth: we left the downloading cord to our camera at my in-laws' house.

Shoot. That's in Michigan.

My dear MIL called the other day to confirm that we had left it buried underneath some papers on her desk, and, saint that she is, she offered to mail it. It should be here soon, but for now I'm left penning pictureless posts (tee hee!). I can't even really dig into the old stuff, since my hubby got an external hard drive for Christmas and put all of our family photos on it. (Note: It is a 500 gb drive, which he had to explain to me is very large, and our 2,000+ photos took up just over 1 gb. That is pretty amazing. As he put it, we could take pictures for a lifetime and never fill that sucker up.) And while I realize that it is possible to get stuff off of external hard drives, I have neither the knowledge of how to do it nor the energy to figure out how at the moment. So if you're dying to see how ridiculously chubby my fat little Miss Charlotte has gotten (she weighed in at 14 lbs, 4 oz. at her 4-month checkup Monday), or the fantastic scratch Baylor scored on his face after tumbling down the stairs, or the way Jack pumps his arm and bobs up and down double-time every time he hears "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown," then you're just going to have to sit on your hands and wait.

And for the record, we also left Stephen's winter cap and a bottle of Windex (don't ask) at my in-laws' house, as well as my beloved housecoat that Janie made for me several years ago at some friends' house, also in Michigan. It's a wonder we made it home with as much as we did, really.

Also, while I'm confessing, I need to let you know that yesterday I was so absorbed in blogging that I failed to notice that Baylor had quickly and quietly climbed onto the dining room table (via a chair), was standing in the middle of it, and batting cat-like at our chandelier. I caught him only after it dawned on me that it was a little too silent in the house, but not soon enough to prevent Jack from joining him and knocking down a glass bauble.

I realize it's not Monday, but really, that needed to be said.

I feel so much better now. Thank you.

(I should also confess that I only got them down after I first took a picture. I'll post that ASAP.)

My New Geek Site: xkcd

Go to xkcd.com for funny, obscure, geeky comics. Yeah, they're pretty dirty sometimes, so view at your own risk. The author is a guy with a physics degree and a background in programming, so oftentimes the comics are pretty out-there and even esoteric. And sometimes they aren't funny at all. But when they're funny, they are funny, at least to Stephen and me. We're pretty geeky, and we get most of the obscure references to Firefly, Star Trek, grammar, and other subjects along those lines. Plus my husband, who also has a degree in physics and teaches astronomy for a living, definitely gets all of the math and science references. Here's a good one I stumbled across this morning:

HAHAHAHAHA!

Get it?

(If not, here's a good, concise explanation.)

Not Me! Monday

I think it's my week (maybe not, but I'm still forging ahead), so I'm taking up the Not Me! Monday mantle and confessing to my shortcuts. Go here to see MckMama's from this week. Sometimes hers make me want to crawl in a hole, I'd be so embarrassed to admit to them.

• I did not cut corners, money-wise, by buying five 84" curtain panels and only one 95" (all on clearance, so I grabbed what was available) and tell myself that of course I know how to sew and can make them all 95" panels.

• I do not only bust out the sewing machine once every eight months or so.

• I did not have to bite my tongue to keep from swearing while trying to teach myself how to set up the sewing machine yet again. I do not have to do this every time I drag out the ancient Singer my mom passed down to me. My mom did not get this machine in the early 80s. This machine was not already used when she bought it.

• I did not drag my husband over to see my finished product when, after an hour and a half, I finally finished one of the six panels.

• I did not bring my children over to my folks' house so that they could feed, change, and entertain them while I knit by the fire.

• Knitting by the fire is most certainly not an old lady thing to do.

• I did not nurse my baby on a couch in the middle of an Ikea living room display. I did not realize that there is a more private nursing area only afterward. I am not to the point where I just don't care anymore. (Hey, I cover up.)

• I did not make my baby wear her ridiculous hot pink flower hat when we spent the day at Ikea simply because everyone has to comment on her when she is wearing it. I do not selfishly delight in complete strangers gushing over how beautiful my daughter is. I am not the slightest self-conscious about her male pattern baldness and wonder if people would even be able to tell that she's a girl without her hot pink flower hat on. I do not already cover my bases by dressing her to the nines (in the most decidedly girly clothing ever) every time we go out. Despite all of this, I did not have a woman ask me what gender Charlotte was, despite the fact that she (Charlotte) was wearing a pink bow, pink shirt, pink shoes, and ruffles.

• I did not foolishly order a Truffle Espresso with an extra shot from Starbucks the other day, drink most of it throughout the afternoon, then wonder why in the world my baby girl keep waking up during the night. Oops.

• I am not scarfing down every bit of chocolate/dessert/any remnant of sweet that's in our house because of the impending nature of our New Year's resolution involving things like cutting down on sweets and exercising. My husband did not have to bribe me to work out by offering monetary incentives.

• My heart is not breaking almost daily now that Jack and Baylor can clearly pronounce words like "Mama" and "bubble." I did not almost cry when Jack walked over to me tonight, handed me a cardboard oval shape, and very slowly said, "O-vaaaal."

• Stephen and I are not about to cry out to the good Lord above for intervention every time Baylor pulls his "boneless" move. (He gets mad, goes limp, and nearly kills himself, as he's usually in our arms about five feet off the ground when he does this.)

• I do not constantly have the title song to You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown in my head. This is not the record that the kids always choose to listen to every time they want music to dance to. They did not get mad at me the other day when I tried to sneak in a little Justin Timberlake instead.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a short rundown of our week, at least through the eyes of a confessor. If you're dying for more, go to Rae's blog and check out her latest Not Me! Monday. We mothers. We're characters. We just like to pretend that we're infallible and all-knowing, but now you know the truth: we cut lots of corners.

And we listen to lots of Charlie Brown.

And drink lots of coffee.