At Least He's Cute

I don't know why, but blogging has shifted to chore status for me lately, and not even one of my favorite chores (vacuuming and laundry). I used to look at life from a blogging perspective...for about a year every worthwhile moment/experience/thought/event was accompanied by the notion that I should blog it. Something has changed for me recently. Some of you have noticed it too. I received the following message from a friend on Facebook this evening:

"I really really need a new blog post from you. I always look forward to them! Get Seth a straight jacket and strap him to post. You can get something done then. :) "

Both timely and ironic.


Seth is our family scapegoat. Any negative outcome or undesirable hiccup in any situation is blamed on Seth. Every phone off the hook, every clean laundry pile unfolded, every cup of water spilled, every toy bin dumped out, every bag of Cheerios found smashed into the carpet, every toilet played in, every drawer removed and overturned, every meal thrown up, every full box of cereal found emptied on the floor, every late arrival to any function or cancellation of the activity all-together...it ALL gets blamed on Seth. In defense of the rest of the family, 9 times out of ten--it really is Seth's fault. In Seth's defense, he's taking it well. Though while I'm here and have the opportunity, I'm going to blame my recent blogging slump on him too. Because this is what I find when I try to get anything done with him around:

Oh Seth. Dozens of times a day I hear little voices insist "it was Seth!" 9 times out of ten, I sigh and mumble, "At least he's cute." For the time being anyway...

The Cutest Quilt Ever

Hey remember that one time I had a blog?...and I posted things on it?...regularly? Me too. I know, I've been lame lately. It's not that we haven't had interesting things going on around here. Quite the opposite in fact--we've had so many interesting things going on around here that I can't be bothered to blog and only the seriously dramatic amputation stories make it on. I think we're done with those for a little while (though I will give you a yummy after pic in the next few days) so now I can just catch up with the not as dramatic stuff.


The day before Seth's accident I finished that quilt I was working on. Since it finally made it to its intended recipient last week I thought I'd show you the finished product. I had to get it in the mail before I had a change of heart and sold it to the highest bidder! It really is one of my all-time favorite projects:

I'm trying to decide on the color palette for the next one...sadly, it too already has a designated recipient.

A Cautionary Tale for Crazy Babies Everywhere

Seth is a handful. Anyone who knows him personally knows this about him. He is a 15-month-old force to be reckoned with. Our neighbor friend calls him Sethanator, I call him Little Monster, his brothers call him Baby Kong...you get the idea. Today he is slightly less of a handful, but only literally, and today we're adding "Mr. Stubs" to his well-earned and expanding collection of nicknames.

Last night he chopped the end of his finger off.

All 3 boys were playing in the front yard with the babysitter. Mr. B turned his bike upside down and was spinning the pedals. Word on the street is that this is a super fun game. Seth thought so anyway. He reached out and stuck his chubby little finger in the bike chain, which cut it right off. (We still haven't found it.)




It took three of us to hold Seth down for this shot...Did I mention he's a handful? The x-ray doesn't do it justice since the 2nd finger wasn't straight at the time the x-ray was taken and it obviously omits the blood and gore an actual photo wouldn't. I'd post an actual photo, but every time Seth's finger was exposed last night it gushed blood...which made picture taking feel irresponsible...But, if you hold your hand up and look at your index finger and imagine everything north of the nailbed is gone and then imagine that there's a bone visibly poking out from the center of that, you'll get a good idea of what Seth's finger looks like.


Right now he's bandaged up to his elbow, with a tube sock over that so he can't rip off the bandages. He doesn't know that he should be miserable and very still. He also doesn't know that he shouldn't chew on his stump and thump it on things, which is a little disturbing. We meet with a hand surgeon tomorrow, so we'll know more about the fate of the rest of his finger then.




If you thought taking care of a rambunctious baby was hard, try taking care of a rambunctious baby on heavy narcotics. Holy Smokes. I need a nap.

For My Mom Who Cannot Imagine What a Fried Egg Flower Might Look Like

A couple nights ago I was happily sewing along on my latest project while I chatted on the phone with my mom. She asked what I was working on and when I said only the cutest flower quilt EVER, she asked what the flowers looked like. I guess my description "like fried eggs with two more layers" didn't conjure up mental images of a very cute flower. Hopefully this helps:

Resolution for 2010

Thinking back to last New Year's Day, I can't help but be a little disappointed with this New Year's Day. If I'm writing candidly, I have to admit that I'm nowhere near where I thought I'd be a year ago. I'd be ungrateful if I didn't acknowledge the positive things that have happened for my family in 2009, but still I think I set my expectations a little high.


Probably from thinking about this combined with everyday stress and tension, the other day I had a massive headache. A headache so bad that at a couple of points I thought death would be less painful. Then I ate an apple and my headache morphed into little more than a dull pain. I started thinking about that show "Mythbusters"...


I hate that show. Ordinarily I try to avoid use of the word "hate" because it's so negative. But I really hate that show. Is it that one guy's seriously annoying mustache that leads me to feel so strongly about the show? Or is it the fact that whenever it's on I find myself internally begging these morons to grow up and find a real job? But if I really think about it, these people are being paid lots of money to figure out whether or not there's any legitimacy to MacGyver's escape tactics so who am I to begrudge them that?


Back to my headache and the apple...I'm pretty sure it was the motion of chewing and the pressure of the apple on my teeth that relaxed my jaw and decreased the intensity of the pain in my head. But the old adage came to mind: "An apple a day keeps the doctor away." What if there's something to that? What if the healing powers of the basic apple extend beyond TMJ and headaches?


RESOLVED, and thereby infinitely lowering my expectations for 2010, I am going to test the apple a day theory by eating an apple every single day for the entire year. I'm being influenced by the handful of episodes of Mythbusters I've suffered through for sure, but what could it hurt? By the end of the year I could be in better shape than ever and planning a vacation with the money I've saved on copays.

MercyMe "Homesick"

It's been a little while since I posted anything heartfelt and potentially depressing. In case that has caused you to think maybe I'm not still crying myself to sleep at night I thought I'd set the record straight. I always feel on some level that sadness is my shadow, but the intensity fluctuates from week to week and day to day. The last few weeks have felt...empty. My relationship with my boys has been particularly awesome, like I'm getting into the groove of the whole single parenting thing...though I did remark to a friend the other night that if I had wanted to be a single parent I would've gotten knocked up in high school. (That's a joke, Mom.) My boys are adorable, hilarious little people and I thank God daily that I have been blessed with them. Oddly, that doesn't fill the hole.


So I'm working on a project right now and I'm listening to the radio. A song just came on, and I've heard it before, but I guess I've never really listened to it. Just now I did and it had me bawling in my kitchen, so of course I'm going to share. I've never been big on Christian rock, but this one is definitely worth a listen. Unless you care what your mascara looks like right now, in which case you should skip it.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IL0s1ah2Wmc


I guess for me it sums up how it feels to go through one more round of Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year's without my man. I'm homesick.

Not Your Mother's S'mores

Inspiration can come from anywhere. It's almost inspiring just thinking about all the places you can get inspiration. Last week I got it on an end cap at Target. It looked an awful lot like a bag of caramel filled- and a bag of peanut butter filled- Ghirardelli squares.


Last week with our Texas constituency in town for Christmas we decided it was finally time to break in the backyard fire pit with a family marshmallow roast. So after a delicious dinner at Lulu's Tacos we headed back to the casa.

The day before the big event I had gone to Target to pick up some Hershey bars for s'mores making (which should be an Olympic Sport...or the official National Pastime...or something really awesome) and that's when I got inspired... If there's one thing I learned from all my years with Matt, it's that even a great classic can be improved on. Laymen might consider it more of a snob factor, which is fine by me. We'll just call these Snobby S'mores...they are lovingly made with the afore mentioned Ghirardelli squares instead of the everyday Hershey bar. And Oh My Cow (direct quote from Hunter) are they good!

Seriously inspired.

While I wouldn't say it came about as the result of inspiration, this is Hunter's version of a s'more. "I don't need the crackers" he says.