Friday, October 29, 2010

the requisite halloween post

I knew we had deer and bears and the occasional moose .... but who knew there were also teeny tiny widdle pink kitties and BIG BAD TIGERS in the woods? Spotted yesterday:



When I got Anderson into his costume and walked him over to the mirror, he looked himself up and down and busted out laughing. Then: "WALPH! WALPH!" Oh, Mister. You really loved that Walph.

I mean, seriously? I ever thought I didn't "need" a daughter? The pinkness! The tights! The coordinating shooooes! I. Die.


Happy Halloween weekend, everyone!

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

it noes!

What did people DO in the olden days? Before they had washers and dryers and dishwashers and television and internet and, like, LIGHTS? Because yesterday we got a taste of that very simple unplugged life, and mama no likey. Thanks to the three bajillion mile wind gusts, we lost power around 1:00 yesterday afternoon. We waited and waited for the house to come to life again. And by 5:00, the littles were eating dinner by candlelight and the mama was starting to think it was going to be a wee bit chilly to sleep in a house without heat. And at 5:10, I about fell over when my mom informed me we'd lost water as well (well system runs on power or some nonsense like that), so we couldn't flush or wash or bathe. Ew, right? That wasn't going to do. So by 6:00, we were packing bags by flashlight and loading tired, shivering little people into vehicles filled to the brim with pack and plays and pajamas and diapers and bottles and a dog and a 200 lb. basket full of wet clothing that had completed the wash cycle just before the power went out (and contained EVERY pair of fleecy footie jammies in the house, hence, the 4:00 run to Wally World where I bought them out of fleecy footie jammies in case we never, ever got power again). So we checked in to "Hotel Grandma & Grandpa's House". Where we all enjoyed a warm and peaceful night, thanks to some fancy work by dad around 1am when THEIR power went down and he ended up out in the (freezing, wet, windy) yard getting his generator up and running. While we helped by .... sleeping obliviously through it all. Thanks, Papa!

This morning, Bug and I headed back over to our house to check on the electricity situation. Thank my lucky stars, it had just clicked back on. And while we were here, the snow started flying. Which, of course, meant it was camera time. Couldn't miss the opportunity to document my boy experiencing his first northern snowfall. (Okay, fine, and wearing his super stylin' new winter jacket for the first time, too.) "Noes! Noes!"

At first, he was hesitant.

Skeptical, even.

But in true Mister A fashion, he came around.

'Atta northern boy.

Rodger, however, remained unconvinced that this "noes" was something he wanted his people messing around with.

And that snow? It just keeps flying. No accumulation just yet, but wow, I'd forgotten how beautiful these early (read: ones before I'm sick to death of winter) season snowfalls are. Beautiful for the lucky ones at home in sweatshirts and slippers with littles cozied up in their cribs, anyway.

Friday, October 22, 2010

not dead

No, blog, I'm not dead. Just busy, as anyone with a couple kids and a bunch of pets and a house to keep up and a house to try to sell and a long awaited fun filled family (and football game) weekend to prepare for and a MOOSE in their yard might be busy. And a 2 year old who woke up today and decided his new favorite word started with "sh" and ended with "it". I'm all for his recent lingual explosion, but could probably do without a toddler cussing at Elmo. (Though, if he's going to cuss at anything, Elmo is a fine choice. Annnnnoying.) We've also been sleep training Miss V, because seriously? Eight month olds don't wake up three times a night to eat. Not in my world, anyway. Last night was night 3 or 4 (we've been so sleep deprived I can't actually COUNT any more), and I think we're on our way to success, because she only woke once and put herself right back to sleep. Thank you, thank you, thank you Dr. Ferber. And also thank you, Diet Mountain Dew, the breakfast of (sleep deprived mommy) champions.

So, there you have it. No big news, no cute pictures, just a check-in so nobody thinks I've been eaten by bears.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

8 months

And then, alluffasudden, baby Vivi was eight months old. And she was babbling and pulling up to stand and getting the hang of crawling with her belly off the ground, making us all clap and laugh as she did so. And she was smiling as big as an 8 month old ever could and giggling (mostly at her daddy) and sticking her tongue out when she was reallllllly happy. And bringing so much baby girl sweetness to every single day.
Happy 8 months, V!

What's that? You're wondering what I did with Anderbug during Vivi's photo shoot?

And then we let him out. And Vivian was all like "You sure we're related, mama?"

Yep. That's your brother, V. (It says so right there on his shirt.)
And he sure does love his bubbis.

Monday, October 11, 2010

hello, rodger

Friends, meet Rodger.

Rodger, meet friends.
(I think he likes yall!)

Remember those shelter trips I was making to check for Ralph? Well, obviously I didn't find Ralph (yet). But on the first visit there, I was introduced to Mister Squeakers. And there was just something about him. But I left empty handed (and in tears). And along with worrying about Ralphers, I kept thinking about poor Mister Squeakers, locked in a 2x2 cell since the second of August. And how all he wanted was someone to love, and how sad it made me to think of him passed over time and time again for the tiny playful kittens that never seem to spend more than a week at the shelter. I went back again. No Ralph, but there was Mister Squeakers, pawing at me through his cage and rolling on his back begging for a tummy rub and then curling up silently at the back of his cage, watching me with sad kitty eyes as I walked away again. Then drove home, left the babies with my mom, and raced straight back to grab him up before the shelter closed at noon, so sure I was that we couldn't spend another night without Mister Squeakers curled up in our bed.

A name change (named for Aaron Rodgers, our Packer QB, in case you don't do football), some Frontline and a good Furminating later ... he's settling in easily, trying to make nice with George, calmly putting up with A's not-so-gentle "snuggles", and howling at the door when I try to leave. He's not here to replace Ralph, with any luck, he'll just be another buddy for Ralph when he does come home. But in the meantime, our new buddy is sure making us smile. It feels good to save a life. Try it sometime! There's millions of kitties just like Rodger waiting for their forever home.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

yet another post where i whine about my cat

So, when your cat is lost, and some old man a few miles away calls and says he has your cat in his garage, don't get too excited. Because the cat that the old man describes as "small, really orange, has short hair" might turn out to be medium sized, peach, and a ball of fluff. A cute medium sized peach ball of fluff, but NOT your beloved kitty. So you might get there all breathless and hopeful and peek into the old man's garage and get a look at not-Ralph and have to hold yourself together so you don't burst into tears right there in front of some old man. And worse yet? You might end up with the cat in your car ANYWAY, because when the old man called and you were all excited, when he asked if you'd "handle" the cat regardless of whether it turned out to be yours or not, you may have agreed because you were SO FREAKING EXCITED that this old man might have your cat that you would have, like, agreed to floss his teeth or something. Really.

So there I was, deflated and disappointed, driving off down the road with some stranger's lost cat howling in the kennel my car (in between bites of the treats I'd brought for Ralph), tearfully breaking the sad news to my mom. On the way to the shelter, where I was taking not-Ralph, because what else was I going to do? (Note: I wouldn't have been able to do the shelter drop-off had I not already visited the shelter earlier in the day in search of Ralph and been informed that they pretty much never euthanize, unless the cat is a beast who eats someone's face or something. And like my mom said, not-Ralph's mommy is probably out there looking for him, and that's where he'll have the best chance of a happy reunion.) So anyway. Boo hoo.

And for the record, yes, I did think about whether the old man was luring me to his house to beat me over the head and lock me in his garage where I'd die a slow painful death. As I drove there, I was totally thinking of who could play me in the Criminal Minds episode, because I was trying to keep my mind occupied on something other than Ralph because I knew I was getting my hopes up way too high. Anyway, I called J as I pulled up to the old man's house, and he called me three minutes later to make sure I wasn't beaten/locked up/dead. If I didn't answer, he was calling the cops. Just FYI, so you know I'm not a dummy.

I do have to say, if you ever lose your pet, try FindToto.com. Though the 500+ calls they made for us have yet to reunite us with Ralph, it's a genius service and has brought us some promising leads. And I read once in UsWeekly that it helped Sandra Bullock and Jesse James find their dog, which, not going to lie, was totally what made me call. Because if UsWeekly says it, it's the WORD.

Monday, October 4, 2010

packer backers

Best to start the brainwashing young.
(Says the girl who wore her "Majik #7" t-shirt with pride way back when.)





Go Pack Go! Or as Bug would say "DOE DA DOE!" What he lacks in the enunciation department, he makes up for in fist-pumping exuberance.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

look who's big

To start with, thank you times one million for all the kind words and thoughts and prayers for our Ralphie. I'm sad to report that he's still not home. So, so sad, and not a day (or more than a few hours, really) has gone by where I haven't cried over his absence or out of disappointment when I think the pumpkin/pile of leaves/pair of shoes outside the door are my Ralph, returned. But we've papered the town with fliers and called everyplace there is to call and posted online ads ... and all that's left to do is hope and pray that our sweet kitty finds his way back home.

Moving on.

Vivian? She wants your attention.
"Hey, yall? See me? I'm BIG. See my new car seat? Big girl seat. Vivi BIG."

I'd been lugging Miss V around in her infant seat like she was, um, an infant or something. Which she's not. She's very big and was very squished and wanted to sit up straight like her big brother. And of course, since she's a girl and must never be without the pinkness, it had to be pink. And dotty.

Today, we took her on her maiden big girl voyage. All was peaceful and quiet in the back seat. Well, sort of. A's taken to yelling "WALPH? WAAAAALPH?" at the window everywhere we go. Bug wants his tikky back. But Vivi wasn't screaming, and that was very nice.


And now, I turn my attention back to my wonderful husband. He who is bustling around the kitchen whipping us up some chicken parmasean and making me a very happy girl by doing so. Good night, all. Keep those 'come home Ralph' vibes coming, okay? Thanks, friends.