Update

We are getting a package ready to send to Daniel this week.  Finn thought it would be fun to sit in the box; I think we'd need a bigger box to send him overseas (and probably some air holes and maybe some goldfish crackers to tide him over.)!

Countdown to school starting: 22 days.

We are going school clothes shopping this week (I'm not sure if I'm up to this, so please pass the gin.).  We're going to my Mama's and she is going to come shopping with us - for moral support.  We've already gone through Abby's closet and gotten rid of the stuff that no longer fits (about 90% of what was in there; this growing taller thing is so lame.).   Based on that, Abby made a list of what she needs and a list of what she wants.  She knows that I have the final say in this new world we're venturing into - a world of 7th grade and "Why can't I wear make-up?" and after-school sports and no school uniforms (again, please pass the gin - if I were running for Miss Universe, A) I wouldn't be married and B) my platform would be school uniforms for everybody!.).  Abby went to a dance last night with some of her school friends and, upon threat of torture, would not tell me if she danced with a boy.  Then she went to an overnight slumber party and when she got home this morning, she looked beat.  If I had to venture a guess it's probably because they stayed up until 4 in the morning so that they could freeze someone's bra.      

Finn spent the week on the injured list.  He got a red wagon from Auntie Emmers and Uncle Jerad for his birthday, which was hand delivered last week when Emily came to visit and is so much fun to play in, to push around and to be pushed in.  Uriah and I took him on a walk to the park last week, where we got to discussing the bike trail map and completely forgot about the one-year old who was getting bored in the wagon.  Finn fell out; luckily his forehead broke his fall.  He had a bruise and some scratches and he only cried for a minute before he was ready to play again.  Uriah hyperventilated and spent the rest of the evening feeling like the world's worst dad, which I can understand since this was his first experience with a baby injury.  I am an old pro, so it didn't phase me - it was nothing a cold pack and some neosporin couldn't fix.  Finn has decided that he can kind of, sort of, maybe stand on his own without holding on to anything, but he hasn't taken any official steps yet.  He has, however, lost his balance and hit his chin on the faux-marble hearth that our non-working new fireplace has.  His chin was fine, but his top teeth bit his bottom lip and that was swollen for most of the week.  I kept asking him, "Whatchyou talkin' 'bout, Willis?" which was probably in poor taste on my part because now he thinks his name is Willis.

Anyway...the unpacking is going really well.  I've been sorting through a bunch of stuff in our basement to hopefully have a garage sale before the season ends and all of the tourists go away.  I can't decide if I should keep the baby stuff - thus jinxing us and ensuring we would have a girl baby (please, please, pretty please pass the largest bottle of gin you can find.), or if I should sell it all - thus ensuring that we would have a boy baby (and then would have to re-outfit said boy child with all new boy clothes.).  Or if I should feel good/content/blessed/lucky with the 2 kids I've got (in which case I can buy stock in Tanqueray instead of Huggies.).  In any case, there will be a bunch of furniture, books, and Polly Pockets in that garage sale!

Here's to a week of packages in the mail, easy shopping, and mental clarity.  Not necessarily in that order.  Oh, and gin.

We are getting a package ready to send to Daniel this week.  Finn thought it would be fun to sit in the box; I think we'd need a bigger box to send him overseas (and probably some air holes and maybe some goldfish crackers to tide him over.)!

Countdown to school starting: 22 days.

We are going school clothes shopping this week (I'm not sure if I'm up to this, so please pass the gin.).  We're going to my Mama's and she is going to come shopping with us - for moral support.  We've already gone through Abby's closet and gotten rid of the stuff that no longer fits (about 90% of what was in there; this growing taller thing is so lame.).   Based on that, Abby made a list of what she needs and a list of what she wants.  She knows that I have the final say in this new world we're venturing into - a world of 7th grade and "Why can't I wear make-up?" and after-school sports and no school uniforms (again, please pass the gin - if I were running for Miss Universe, A) I wouldn't be married and B) my platform would be school uniforms for everybody!.).  Abby went to a dance last night with some of her school friends and, upon threat of torture, would not tell me if she danced with a boy.  Then she went to an overnight slumber party and when she got home this morning, she looked beat.  If I had to venture a guess it's probably because they stayed up until 4 in the morning so that they could freeze someone's bra.      

Finn spent the week on the injured list.  He got a red wagon from Auntie Emmers and Uncle Jerad for his birthday, which was hand delivered last week when Emily came to visit and is so much fun to play in, to push around and to be pushed in.  Uriah and I took him on a walk to the park last week, where we got to discussing the bike trail map and completely forgot about the one-year old who was getting bored in the wagon.  Finn fell out; luckily his forehead broke his fall.  He had a bruise and some scratches and he only cried for a minute before he was ready to play again.  Uriah hyperventilated and spent the rest of the evening feeling like the world's worst dad, which I can understand since this was his first experience with a baby injury.  I am an old pro, so it didn't phase me - it was nothing a cold pack and some neosporin couldn't fix.  Finn has decided that he can kind of, sort of, maybe stand on his own without holding on to anything, but he hasn't taken any official steps yet.  He has, however, lost his balance and hit his chin on the faux-marble hearth that our non-working new fireplace has.  His chin was fine, but his top teeth bit his bottom lip and that was swollen for most of the week.  I kept asking him, "Whatchyou talkin' 'bout, Willis?" which was probably in poor taste on my part because now he thinks his name is Willis.

Anyway...the unpacking is going really well.  I've been sorting through a bunch of stuff in our basement to hopefully have a garage sale before the season ends and all of the tourists go away.  I can't decide if I should keep the baby stuff - thus jinxing us and ensuring we would have a girl baby (please, please, pretty please pass the largest bottle of gin you can find.), or if I should sell it all - thus ensuring that we would have a boy baby (and then would have to re-outfit said boy child with all new boy clothes.).  Or if I should feel good/content/blessed/lucky with the 2 kids I've got (in which case I can buy stock in Tanqueray instead of Huggies.).  In any case, there will be a bunch of furniture, books, and Polly Pockets in that garage sale!

Here's to a week of packages in the mail, easy shopping, and mental clarity.  Not necessarily in that order.  Oh, and gin.