Emma Hoodenpyle

Emma has learned a monumental new trick, HER LAST NAME! This is big! (Yes, yes. Her trick is big too, of course.)

Seven Years Old!

Today is Jack's birthday. He is seven years old, and I can hardly believe it! Where did the time go? Everyday I am startled by how fast he is growing up. Where did my first little baby go? I tried to reminisce with him about it this morning. It went something like this:

Me: "Jack? Remember when you were my baby? And you would let me rock you? And cuddle with you? And hold you in my arms? And love on you?"

Jack: "Yes, Mom. But that was when I was just six."

Happy birthday, my BIG boy!!!

Christmas 2009

Stall Tactics

When you're two, stuck upstairs in a crib, and you don't want to commit to sleeping at bedtime, try shouting bizarre things from your room. After all, everyone else is awake and having fun downstairs. That's not fair. Here are a few options to add to your list of SHOUTABLE stall tactics, as tested and recommended by Emma. Try:

*Pretending that your foot is "STUUUUCK!" in the bars of the crib. Call for help. (This may come out sounding like "HUUUUCK!" if you're not too good at your "s" onset yet. That's ok. Your mom will still come.)

*Feigning dehydration with pleas for "WA-WA!"

*Filing a missing person report regarding any one of your usual bedmates who may have been accidentally left downstairs. (The critical sleeping roster includes: WOODY! MONKEY! ELMO! MICKEY and MINNIE MOUSE! and BABY! Take roll.)

*Falsely reporting "POOP!"

*Falsely reporting "PEE!"

*Yelling out important up-to-the-minute fashion alerts. "MOMMMM! ROSE ON HOCK! ROSE ON HOCK!" (Hock = sock. Again, she's not good at s.)

*Insisting that your "BLAAAANKIE!" needs adjusting.

*And employing seasonal distractions as applicable. "HAAAANTA CLAUS... HANTA CLAUS COMIN'.... TOWWWWN!"

Emma's Funniest Home Videos

Well, this is not really intended for ALL of your eyes. But it's too funny to pass up. Grandma and Grandpa mentioned wanting to have Emma's "I Love You's" on a video. So I obliged. (Because they're old, ya know.) I'm just kidding, Grandma/pa. You know I love you. Here is the result:

Santa and the Christmas Bird

What do you mean you don't remember this old story? Santa and the Christmas Bird! Everyone knows Santa and the Christmas Bird. Good grief. I can't believe you.

Think back to your childhood... all the old Christmas folklore? Remember? Santa Claus and the Christmas Bird! Come on! The story goes something like....

One night Santa Claus puts on some really snazzy clothes. He struts around his house in a cool red suit with fluffy white trim -an outfit that he got for Christmas last year. He is sure to show everyone in his family how cool and eviable his outfit is again this year. All who see his cool red outfit exclaim with delight and praise about how awesome he looks. All... but one. There is one who does not appreciate the fact that Santa has a neat outfit. This one is full of jealousy and rage that she doesn't have a red suit with fluffy white trim. She wants to wear Santa's outfit. She wants to wear Santa's outfit right now.

And thus, the Christmas Bird is born! Look how EQUALLY cool the Christmas Bird outfit is! Isn't it beautiful? Isn't it just as amazing and terrific as the Santa outfit? (Nod your head with some umphf here if you want to pull this off, people. Consider this an interactive story.)

Yes. Yes. She thinks it is just as cool. THANK GOODNESS. Perhaps we can have some peace now. Ahh... Santa and the Christmas Bird. What a great story.

Compulsive Is The New Fabulous

Wow! It's been awhile since we played a tagging game together. Here we go. Angela says my blog is fabulous and is due for the winning of a "Fabulous Award." While this is certainly no leggy lamp with fishnet stockings, I do consider this a "major award". So thanks!

According to the rules of this tagging game, I'm now supposed to discuss five things that I am compulsive/obsessive/somewhat disturbingly overanalytical about and then award the "Fabulous Award" to a handful of other blogging friends.

Okay! Let's do this! Everybody's got their weirdness, and here's some of mine:

1. Step into the dark corners of my mind with me for a moment. At night when I can't sleep, sometimes I make emergency plans in my head. What if a fire breaks out in my livingroom right now? What if a burgular was to break into the back door at this moment? Would you know what to do? Would you know the exact order of your steps in these emergency situations? Don't worry. I would know. You could go back to sleep. I would have it all laid out and save the day. If you're spending the night at my house and terror ensues, you're covered.

2. My blanket. I love my blanket. And yes, I can't very often go to bed without it. I carry it around with me. Jim, Jack, and now Emma have helped me search the house for it when I occasionally lose track of it. Good grief.

3. Christmas lights. I am slightly Scroogelike when it comes to Christmas lights. When I drive past your house, I will sometimes lose my sense of the benevolent and kind Christmas spirit that should surround us this season. Only momentarily will I slip into a really-not-so-gentle critique of what you've done wrong with your lighting. I'm sorry about that. Merry Christmas!

4. Wrinkles. I abhor them. I don't like them on my clothes. I iron a little more than I probably should. I don't like them in my bed. I will remake the bed just to tighten down the sheets and rid the sleeping area of all things wrinkly that could possibly be beneath my body as I lay unconscious. I don't like the feel of your t-shirt's wrinkles underneath my hand whenever I place my palm on your shoulder. Without hesitation, I will go so far as to yank on your clothing in a vehement effort to smooth things out. There will be no wrinkles underneath my offended hand. (Do I still get my award if this paragraph has been entirely about not my own obsession but my crazy husband's?)

5. To make up for my cheating ways on number four, I'll share a good and gross one that I'm sure you'll feel obliged to give me crap about later. You know that story that came out a little while back about the guy who has collected all of his fingernail clippings over his lifetime in a clear plastic bag? They are curled and brown and disgusting... but he has them. Well, I kind of get it... in a weird way. I do enjoy peeling sunburned skin and collecting it in a pile on the bed beside me before I throw it in the trash. I really like to use the Ped Egg on my heels and then open up the contraption to see the little white mound of dead skin cells waiting there. I like to see how many gray hairs I can pull out of my head in the morning, and it irritates me so much when I lay them on the counter, finish yanking, and then can't find them again to survey my collection. (Gray hairs magically turn invisible when they are not attached to my head.) So, yeah. I understand weird guy's fingernail collecting ways. I would not ostracize him. I would cut him some slack.

(Unless he had screwed up Christmas lights.)

I tag Danavee, Ashley, Andrea, and Jennifer. Go and continue being fabulous. You're it!