Fuzzy PJ's from H-E-double-hockey sticks

My mind heard the taunts of the future. "Hey red fluff." "Pajama boy" "Princess Pants" To understand the potential names called to my youngest son lend me your ears.

We were spending some time at a home of close friends and Will decided he wanted to take a bath. We all agreed that that would be fine. The two older girls in the family oversaw the bath and clothed Will afterwards in a pair of Bea's pajamas. No worries. We wore them home, slept in them and they became a part of our wardrobe.

Last night a bathed and clean Will requested said pajamas. Sure. Whatever you want man. This morning he awake bright eyed and bushy tailed, ate his breakfast, did his morning constitutions, played a bit, etc. Finally it was time to get dressed and go. I took Will into the bedroom and for 20 minutes worked diligently to unzip the pajamas. The zipper wouldn't budge. I know sometimes zippers get stuck on fabric and once you remove it you can work them. No fabric in this one. It had just given up and was no longer willing to zip. "Elspeth can do it.", Will said because she was the one who first put him in the jammas. However, she was unavailable due to kindergarten requirements.

Hmmm. As tempting as it was to just let him stay in those hideous red overstated jammas all day or for the rest of his life, the poop smell got the best of me and I proceed to cut them off of him with a pair of sewing scissors. "Hold REALLY REALLY STILL." "Otay."

End result. No more fuzzy red princess pajamas but Will's future pride is still in tact.

Extra Extra

Opened the morning paper and look who I saw...

http://www.observer-reporter.com/or/greenecounty11/01-31-2012-pinewood-derby

He is beside himself with excitement.

Bring on the Trophy

Second year in Pinewood Derby and the "Lego" car competed beautifully. This second place trophy will sit on the shelf and floor of Ethan's bedroom nicely. He has quite the collection. I, on the other hand, have ONE trophy from my years of athletically competing. Maybe he'll share??

Waiting for that Elusive High

I try to exercise. Even try to do so regularly. For years now I have been stepping foot on our treadmill every now and again to attempt to make my self feel better at times or escape the stress of parenting small children via song. I don't watch television while on the treadmill or read a juicy novel...I sing. I shove in my i-pod earbuds, crank the wheel up loud and sing my heart out. Don't care who is listening. Don't care if I am off tune. Don't care if I am making up words that aren't really in the song. I sing to survive the 20 minutes.

I go through phases with what I listen to. Passed through a big "Grey's Anatomy" phase for awhile, tapped my feet to Jason Mraz and skipped along to the banjo strumming of the Dixie Chicks. My huge collection of mix cassette tapes is resting on a shelf because I can't part with the items that got me through the hard times of my sketchy exercising past. Of course now I have moved on to playlists created by my charming musically inclined husband. If it was up to me I would still be caring around my giant sony CD man.

What I am wondering is when I will love it? When will I feel the "runner's high" that I have heard about for so many years? Though I don't really consider myself a runner. Oftentimes the treadmill "calories burned" section will only read an amount comparable to consuming a miniature twix or milky way. I end the session with headband hair and many times scratching my arms wildly because I seem to get hives upon occasion. (Allergic to exercise?? perhaps)

I will continue to attempt to develop some sort of routine. Not sure if I will succeed. Sitting on the chair reading a good book and sipping afternoon tea is such a lovely way to spend my 45 minutes without children between Will's nap and the screech of the school bus tires. I vow to keep on keeping on. Seeking the exercise buzz. I'll keep you posted.

Bookworm

The three volume set of the Hunger Games books was a Christmas gift to my husband from his children (really his wife). Having read these disturbing, yet impossible-to-put-down books, I was not surprised to find K. throughout the following day devouring the tale.

Poor Katniss. Man, she's got it rough. I try to remember that at least I don't have it THAT bad as I wallow in the self-despair brought on by yet ANOTHER gray winter day. It's hard to find the motivation to do ANYTHING. I found myself laying on the bed eating popcorn from a bowl. I didn't even have the energy to sit up. Just laid there crunching my little heart and the afternoon nap hour away. Pitiful. No Hunger Games going on here, but certainly my own game of survival.

Give me S-More

Nothing better than s'mores on a winter's day....except maybe for a bit of sunshine.

Do It Yourself Blog Entry

(Too tired and unimaginitive to write. It's up to you this time.)

wittty introduction

deep insight

cute picture

wrap up

Repeat

Best Pals

Will is happy to walk up and down the hills of life with his best pal, Bea.

That, my friends, has some serious cuteness factor.

The Gnome Mobile

While driving down the road yesterday, we passed a truck pulling a trailer. From a distance I said, "What is that an airplane nose?" As we approached the vehicle and passed it on the left this is what we saw.

Imagine a gnome the size of a truck. It is hard to get a perspective on size from the pictures because I couldn't fit the truck in the frame.

A logo on the truck and gnome wrapping indicated "Shipping Wars". Kevin thinks it is a television show of some sort, but we are unclear of the premise. Wars about shipping? Who knows?

Who would have known that we would pass a gnome on the way home?