Tag Archives: sister

Book Club

Book Club

Yesterday afternoon we took a walk and mini-golfed. I’m not even going to tell you my score. When we got back to the condo, it was time for some shade, so we got our books, spread out a blanket on the lawn and got the extra pillows from the bed and made ourselves a nest.

Joey was reading his book on Starbucks (I KNOW, two years ago the man would have not been interested in such a book) and Analie didn’t really care about her book.  She just kept waving it up and down and beating it on the pillow.

THEN she discovered that Daddy’s book has smaller, crinkly pages and Book Club was pretty much over after that.  SO! MUCH! FUN! TO! DESTROY!

We stayed outside playing with toys, pulling grass and eating leaves (the eating leaves was mainly done by Ana) for a good half hour before our party was crashed.

Crashed, you say?  BUT YOU’RE ON VACATION, how can your party get crashed?

Who is that mysterious pullmeister dragging Analie off the blanket?? Why it’s my nephew, Jeshuah, of course.

TRUE STORY: out of all the weeks in September and October, and all the resorts in Illinois, and all the condos in the particular one we’re staying at…my sister’s family is right next door to us.

Freakish, isn’t it???  We thought so too when we were chatting on the phone last week and realized we’d be at the same place at the same time (weird enough) and then even more so on Friday when we randomly opened our door at the precise moment they were pulling in and unloading their stuff in unit 81.  (We’re 80, naturally.)

So as we were laying outside in our nest of pillows having Book Club yesterday, Sister and Jeshuah came plowing outside (because he was nap-skipping) and she stopped dead in her tracks and said “WHAT is going on here?”

Jeshuah was all, WOAH!  STUFF! and he dove right in to the action, immediately stealing Ana’s sippy cup and plucking her Wubbanub off the blanket, petting its head and poking its eyes a few times before popping the binky part into his mouth.

Ana was totally fascinated by him.  She scooted herself down off the blanket right about the time he discovered her leg and started shaking it around, so she’d wiggle her foot out of his grasp and he’d grab it back and start shaking it around again.  They were pretty cute, if I do say so myself.

Right about the time Ana got a little bit tired of the leg/foot game, he discovered my flip flops and tried to wear them around.  Considering they’re about as long as his entire leg, they were more like skis.

I cannot tell you how nice it has been to get away.  (Not that we don’t love all you Indiana people.  Because we do.  And we will love you even more after we haven’t seen you for a week.  HAH.)  Our original intent was to hermit for a week and not speak to anyone at all whatsoever (this is how Introverts vacation), but since my sister is next door we are required to use at least half of our manners.

I’m actually quite pleased they’re next door because we can see them a few times a day and catch up on things and hermit the rest of the time.

For instance, last night Sister found a tree frog on the sidewalk between our houses.  We were outside a good 10 minutes catching it and enjoying the disgusting feel of its suctioney feet against our hands and being impressed by its jumping skillz when it would try to escape from us.  Joey just does not appreciate a good tree frog, so it was loads more fun with Sister.  (It’s my cross to bear.)

So far the only lame part of vacation is that we forgot the SD card for the camera.  At least we brought the iPad so we can take photos with it.

And that is the end of this post.

 

 

 

Back in the Day …

Back in the Day …

A couple of weeks ago, much to my chagrin, Chang and Angel stumbled upon a DVD on our shelf and made us watch it.  I’m not even sure what this particular DVD was doing on our shelf in the first place.  I think it technically belongs to the Parents, but at some point which I do not remember, we must have borrowed it from them. Why, I do not know, as I do not tend to enjoy subjecting myself to the kind of torture that is watching that DVD.

You see, it is a home video from the year of 1995. You know, the year of big hair, leotards, and stirrup pants.  It was also the year I turned thirteen and suffered from all of the above.  That was the year all of us kids got together with our childhood friends, Nicki and Dustin, and produced a play based on Adventures in Odyssey’s episode “The Vow.”  For years, it had been our favorite radio drama, but this was the year we were going to turn it into our very own production.  I, however, was entering the teen years, and it wasn’t necessarily “cool” to listen to radio drama anymore.  My younger siblings hadn’t caught up with the trends yet and were still obsessed, so they spent months writing the scripts (and trying to understand what terms like “fade-away jumper” and “documentaries” were), building the sets, and rehearsing parts.  Nicki and I were roped into playing the parts of Donna and Jesse and grudgingly went along with it.  In the end, we invited our parents, grandparents, and a lonely neighbor down the street to our live performance.

In the moment of putting stuff like that together, you have no idea how humiliating it will be years down the road. The movie is probably not as embarrassing to The Brother, as he rocked in his Lakers Jersey, or to The Kid, who was five and Just. Plain. Adorable in his walk-on role.  But for me, it’s one of those movies that makes me cover my face and watch through my fingertips due to my bad hair and oldschool fashions.

However, it is good for one thing, and that is comic relief.  So, despite the fact that I said I never wanted anyone else to see this again, I gotta admit it is Highly Amusing and may be worth the humiliation I may suffer in order to share it with the rest of you.  It won’t be winning any awards, but it always gives my family a lot of laughs every time we watch and reminisce.

Kids, don’t try this at home. Unless you want to be subject to blackmail at some later point in your life.

This is how we roll

This is how we roll

Sister and her little munchkin came to visit for a few days this week, and yesterday we drove up to Carmel to visit them at my grandparents’ house.  Jeshuah was feeling active and excited in the late afternoon, so they went outside for a walk around the sidewalks while I fed Analie.  Once she was full, dry, and cozied up in her panda sweater, I stuffed her in the sling and we went outside to play with the “big kids”. (Also known as Jeshuah.)

We found him attempting to drive his walking toy up the neighbor’s driveway and into their garage.  The garage door was open and the neighbor lady was out doing something to her tree; she was trying to be subtle and yet still obviously watching Jeshuah take a running start to try to get himself up the hill to the house, then just as he was starting to make some progress Sister would grab him and turn him back around and drive him back down the driveway.   He tried this three times with no success.  Sister always busted him.

Poor guy.  It’s rough being a kid.

I gotta say, that child is pretty fast, even heading up hill.  Especially considering he wasn’t wearing any shoes.

We walked through the yard and arrived at the site of the chaos, Analie happily wadded up in her sling and head peeping up over the side, clearly impressed by Jeshuah’s mobility skills.

The Kid and Sister glanced up to see us coming, and then they burst out into laugher.  Because I guess Analie looked hilarious?  Judge for yourself:

Please note that I was unaware I was in the picture when it was being taken.

This is how we go on walks.  It’s much easier than finagling with a buggy, and Analie likes it better because she can see what’s coming, not what is going.  I don’t blame her either.

We crashed Jeshuah’s party, because Sister drove him back to the Grandparents garage where she strapped him into his buggy, and off we all went on a walk around the neighborhood.  (I think the neighbor was disappointed to see Jeshuah leave.)

Perhaps someday you’ll find us walking on the Monon this way, and then you too can laugh at us.  It’s the thing to do.

Cousins

Cousins

On December 22 last year, my sister had a cute little baby boy named Jeshuah Paul Willcox.  And I never posted anything about him on this blog.  Jeshuah and our first little baby Samuel were due on January 2 and January 1, respectively, and after we lost Samuel and Sister had Jeshuah…I just could not bring myself to post any pictures or any little stories about Jeshuah.

Joey and I both wish we had been emotionally stronger when Jeshuah was born, because now that we have Analie we are disappointed that we missed out on Jeshuah’s early weeks, and pictures, and stories. We shut ourselves up in a little coccoon and we stayed there until the middle of January when we felt it might be kind of safe to think about starting to come out.

A year later, I can say that I am thankful that Analie has a cousin who is close in age with.  I always loved playing with cousins growing up, and Ana will definitely have fun learning the ropes from Jeshuah when we all get together.

Yesterday, I had Sister send me a few pictures of Jeshuah so I could compare them with Analie’s first pictures.  You know, to see if they resemble each other.  Jeshuah looked a lot like The Brother’s baby pictures when he was first born (still kind of does).  We think Analie looks like me.

I like this one.   Jeshuah looks very sleepy and bored.

And this is Analie…obviously.  I actually do think they resemble each other.

These days, Jeshuah is much bigger and into pretty much everything.  When he came here to visit a few weeks ago, I wanted to put a Swiffer on his tummy and let him clean my floor while he squiggled around after his toys.  I didn’t, though.  Child labor laws, and all that.  I didn’t want a lawsuit on my hands.

 

He looks like the kind of guy who would sue for full compensation, don’t you think?

She, on the other hand?  Yeah, she’ll take us to the cleaners.  We already don’t have any money, so if Jeshuah DID want to sue us…I guess he’d be out of luck.

The Name Game: Week 17

The Name Game: Week 17

I’m starting to wonder how many of these weeks we are going to have left.  Today marks 37 weeks – FULL TERM, Y’ALL.  And her nursery is done and organized; pictures forthcoming, but not until Friday at least. (Due to the fact that Sister is coming and staying in there with The Child…the room will likely be real messy until they leave.)

So yeah.  Reviving names.

Poll results are as follows:

  1. Analie – 40%
  2. Julianne – 37%
  3. Nora – 16%
  4. Helena – 2%
  5. Xara – 2%

Soooooo….welcome back Analie and Julianne!

And, speaking of welcoming things, I’d better go make my salad, cut up some carrots for dinner, and get in the shower so I’m not late to Bible Study.  I have a really bad track record on Bible Study attendance.  Usually I feel awful on Wednesday mornings, or I forget it’s Wednesday (true, that has happened a lot), or for some reason Joey goes in to work super late and I don’t want to up and leave if he’s actually at home for awhile.

I should stop typing and leave.

The NEW AND IMPROVED names list now looks like this:

Analie

Beatrice

Coraline

Darcy

Elinor

Frances

Gillian

Helena

Isabelle

Julianne

Kiera

Lenore

Marna

Nora

Olivia

Piper

Quincy

Rowena

Simone

Talia

Uma

Violet

Wren

Xara

Yalena

Zerubabella

A New Poll

A New Poll

So far, the worst part of being pregnant is the EXTREMELY DISTURBING DREAMS I have.  For instance, last night I dreamed that my Sister and I were in South America on vacation, but she did something really annoying and hosed off the local government.  So they decided to kill her.  The closest thing they had to kill her with was a wood chipper type thing, so they sent her through that and then made paper out of her.  Then they made me write letters on the paper.

I woke up, like, SOBBING ALL OVER MY PILLOW.

The only silver lining on this dark cloud of my Sister’s demise, is that I am likely to be pregnant for only about 5 more weeks.  That’s a very limited number of sleeps and potential for highly disturbing dreams.

Therefore.

We must eliminate a name from our rapidly dwindling list.  We’ll delete the least popular name in the “Which name do you hope NEVER gets voted off” poll which I have just now made.

Please vote accordingly.

Character Counts

Character Counts

I remember a bunch of years ago when I worked for a school district, we had these Character Counts signs EVERYWHERE.  Maybe they still do.  The pictures on them were really annoying, and I thought the whole program was kind of cheesy and lame, but I still had to look at them all the time.  Anyway, not related at all to what I was going to say.

Character.

Name with character.

I woke up this morning and checked the poll results, and I was quite surprised.  QUITE.  Sister and I discussed yesterday (in between taking cabinet-sanding breaks) which name would have the least character.  ”Wren,” she had said, and wrinkled up her nose.

Guess which name came in as the #1 Most Character-y name?!

WREN.

(Sister, you were way off I guess.)

Actually they were all four pretty close, which I thought was surprising.  But anyway, here’s the percentages.  (I wish I could get PollDaddy to export the pie chart for me to a format I could just import here, but so far I haven’t figured it out.)

  1. Wren – 28.72%
  2. Zerubabella – 26.6%
  3. Piper – 23.4%
  4. Helena – 21.28%

So, Helena clearly has the least amount of character.  And it is now DELETED.  I am pleased to see how well Zerubabella is doing in the running.  You just never know…

Analie

Beatrice

Coraline

Darcy

Elinor

Frances

Gillian

Helena

Isabelle

Julianne

Kiera

Lenore

Marna

Nora

Olivia

Piper

Quincy

Rowena

Simone

Talia

Uma

Violet

Wren

Xara

Yalena

Zerubabella

15.3

15.3

No, no, that’s not how much weight I gained last week but WOULDN’T IT BE FUNNY IF IT WAS?

On Monday night we processed 168 ears (give or take) of delicious Iowa sweet corn.  Actually, there were less than that because we saved out 12 to eat for dinner and then I stole one more after dinner.  So whatever 168 minus 12 is, that’s how many ears we processed.

Mom and I had gone out earlier that afternoon and picked them with great gusto and speed.  I got a magnificent corn rash in the process, and then right before we got in the van to go home I also saw a dead rat with ants crawling on it.  It was a pretty exciting afternoon.

We got home and Pops and The Kid carried the laundry baskets filled with corn out to the fence row and we stood there shucking, talking, and throwing the husks over the hotwire to the cows, who despite being stuck in the lower pasture seemed to know that we were shucking corn and they wanted those husks RIGHT NOW.

Then The Kid noticed that one of the laundry baskets was actually HIS laundry basket, and he got all high and mighty, spouting off, “I put my clean clothes in this!” as he scowled down at the corn silks, dirt and occasional corn boar squigging around in the bottom of it.

I told him it was Mom’s fault, not mine, and he decided it wasn’t such a big deal after all.

An hour and a half later, all the corn was in its quart freezer bags and Pops decided that it was time to go to Auto Zone.  I was super tired.  SUPER TIRED.  ”You need to drive so we can put gas in your car,” he said.  So I dug the keys out of my purse went out to the RAV-4, where I discovered it pretty much full of my brothers and my Pops, who was wearing my huge purple sunglasses.  ”It’s dark out here,” he said.

When you wear huge purple sunglasses at dusk, it definitely is dark.  Can’t disagree.

So the four of us went to Auto Zone where we picked up some parts for…actually, I don’t even know why we were there.  Something about a door being broken, and maybe spark plugs too?  Basically me, The Brother and The Kid just stood in the aisles screwing around while Pops did all the talking and bought whatever we came to get.  I do know that we walked out with a giant thing of Pennzoil and a mysterious plastic sack, probably containing something for the allegedly broken spark plugs.

The four of us piled back into the car and then we filled it up with gas.  I tried to check the oil but it had been so long that I did it all wrong and Pops and the two brothers had to supervise in order to ensure I pulled out the correct stick from the engine.  (My first attempt left The Kid saying, “Uh, NO, don’t touch that one.”)  Then Pops and The Brother cleaned all the bugs off my windshield.

Obviously I need to be married because I totally stink at vehicle maintenance.  Joey is all over this kind of thing.

On Tuesday morning, I peeled out of my parents driveway at 7:50 in the morning and set my course East on 80 toward the Quad Cities.  I planned to have lunch with Sister at her new house in the QC.  Unfortunately, I took the wrong 74 and wound up going all the way around the QC and having to backtrack to get to her house.  Thirty miles later, I arrived.

We had a very nice time, I got the tour of her house and yard, and then we went to Fazolis for lunch.  Fortunately, we drove her car.  Then I realized just what time it was and squeaked and said I MUST GET ON THE ROAD!  So I loaded up Henry and off we went, tooting right along down 74 for hours…and hours…and hours.

See, we had birthing class last night at 7:00 and Indy and Iowa are not in the same time zone.  This is very inconvenient for Joey and I, so we’d really like it better if Indiana would just go on Central Time.  It’s not going to happen though because we’re not important and no one listens to us much anyway.

Just about 6:15, I finally hit 465.  It was going to be a tight one, and I called Joey to tell him I was almost home but we’d have to turn around and RUN out the door when I did make it.  I whizzed down the side streets, stopping at a stop sign (because I follow the law) and noticed that my car kind of chugged when I hit the gas to speed up after I stopped. Then, I adjusted in my seat and noticed…the gas light was on.

HOW LONG HAD THE GAS LIGHT BEEN ON!?  I’d never heard it ding.  But, OH YEAH, I had been listening to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix so loud to keep myself awake I wouldn’t have heard anything.

I mentally tried to calculate how many miles it was between Iowa and Indy, but I got all confused quit.  Two more blocks to go…please keep driving little car.

PLEASE.

We’re already late.

I pulled into the driveway and turned off the car.  Joey was waiting for me, looking quite pleased to see his long-lost wife. “We have to take the Corolla,” I told Joey.  ”We’re out of gas in this one.  I have no idea when the gas light came on, and I forgot to stop for gas on the trip.”

He affectionately shook his head at me (somehow this did not surprise him?) and so we jumped straight into the Corolla and drove up to Fishers for our class.  Which I just about slept entirely through, so exhausting was that drive.

This morning, Joey took the RAV-4 to the gas station and filled it up. He drove slowly and carefully on the way, and fortunately it was only a mile.

He put 15.3 gallons in the tank.

It’s a 15 gallon tank.

And that’s what you call making it on fumes.

And now…a belly picture

And now…a belly picture

About two weeks ago, I began getting texts from Sister that mostly just said, “Belly picture?” and/or “When are you going to post a belly picture?” and more or less urgent-sounding variations on the theme.

Joey and I have been dragging our feet on the whole belly picture thing.  For some reason, the whole thought just made us feel uncomfortable.  I’m not sure why, maybe because we both maintain a fairly detached view of pregnancy.  Yes, we’re getting excited.  But we really have to work at it and, this probably seems weird to most of you, it’s really hard. And I think if we were forcing ourselves to be disingenuously “excited”, just to put on a shiny happy face like everybody else…that wouldn’t be very good for us.

So we’re happy about it in our own, quieter way.

However.

I am now 17 1/2 weeks pregnant.  Baby Girl is wiggling around in there like the wild child she probably will wind up being.  This is happening.  It’s starting to feel safe.  So over the last week, I thinking about The Belly Picture phenomenon.  I remember absolutely loving looking at pictures of Mom when she was pregnant with me, and started thinking about how I wanted our little girl to have that same experience.

So on Thursday, I told Joey I thought we probably better start getting intentional about taking a picture now and then.  And he agreed that yeah, probably would be a good idea.  We may get all squeaked out by it now, but in 15 years we will be glad we did it.

On Saturday, we finally took one.  I was buzzing out the door to my first baby shower/going away party <sob> and since I actually looked fairly decent it seemed like as good a time as any.  Unfortunately, there was nowhere in our poor house that looked fairly decent.  ”Let’s just go outside,” I suggested, as we looked unsuccessfully for a space of bare wall that wasn’t covered in boxes or random odds ‘n ends.

We went outside.

“OK, now, stand and face me,” Joey said.

I was like, seriously?  I look like a fat cow from straight on.

But I obliged.

And this is actually one of my favorite pictures because, honestly, LOOK AT MY FACE.  I look like I just swallowed 1/4 cup of lemon juice.

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Like I said.  Kind of looking like a cow here, not so much in the way of pregnancy proof, mostly I just look like I have 0% waist..  (And really don’t bother commenting to tell me I don’t look like a cow.  Because I will know you are lying.)

Finally Joey took one of the side.  This looks much better, as you will see.

SEE?!  Much better, yes?  And look at that baby taking up all that space!  Good job, little girl.  Good job.

Also, please observe my new and cool glasses.  Joey thinks the frames are a bit over the top, but I say BRING IT ON.  I like flashy glasses.

So.

Now I have posted a belly picture.

(Sister, I hope you are pleased.  You are basically the only reason we even bothered to decide to take one of these, so kudos to you.)

ARMADILLO!!!

ARMADILLO!!!

If you’ve been around this blog for awhile, you are aware of my four year quest to see an armadillo.  It has failed at every juncture because I think I had upon my head The Curse Of The Armadillo.

We were driving up here on Sunday afternoon and Joey said, “Oh, woah, did you see that armadillo on the side of the road?”  He ALWAYS sees them!  ALWAYS!

And I screamed (no joke, The Kid was in the back seat and he was all, LADY, MY EARDRUMS) because I had missed it once again; by the time I turned around we were way too fast past it.

I sat there, wilty for awhile, then I squeaked out “can you please turn around so I can see it?”  But Joey thought I was joking and he said, “pssh, NO WAY.”

I was really disappointed.  Five minutes when I was still sitting there, quietly, and Joey glanced over and noticed me.  “You’re really sad about missing that armadillo aren’t you?” He asked me.

“Yeah…” I sighed.  “FOUR YEARS I have been trying and I always miss them!”

By this poing we were way too far away from it to turn around (plus Pops and the Lairdmobile were somewhere behind us and we’d lose them for sure if we did a turnaround) so we pressed on.

Well.

Yesterday.

We were on our way to the Pensacola Dam to take a tour, and Pops and the Lairdmobile were in the lead.  Suddenly, in the middle of this teeny little town, Dad slams on his breaks, veers left off the road, and does this kind of maniacal sort of 180 that involved going on this gravel path, and ended up the opposite way we had been going on the gravel shoulder.

The entire contents of the Lairdmobile poured out onto the road, and we in The Fort Worth were like “OK, who threw up all over the carpet…?”

Dad started waving his arms frantically and yelling “JENNA”, so I dove out of the car and ran over to where they were standing.

There, in the middle of the road, was a dead armadillo.

So I screamed again.

“I should get extra credit for noticing this and stopping,” Pops said.

“You get credit, Pops,” I said. 

Then, the traffic cleared and I ran into the middle of the highway to inspect it.

It was fully intact except for its head, which had recently been blown off by the car that ran over it.   We took a whole bunch of pictures that I can’t yet post due to lack of interwebbys in our condos (we are still refusing to pay the $16.00 required to connect…I think it’s the principle of the thing) so I’ll have to post it later.  It’s kind of disturbing due to the lack of armadillo head and armadillo blood, but not disturbing enough that I am not extremely proud of it.

I have seen my armadillo.  I told Joey we are free to leave Texas now if the need arises, because my goal has been achieved.  For the rest of the day, I would randomly break out into squeals of “I SAW AN ARMADILLO”.

Next time we find a gas station (few and far between around here, lemme tell you) I am buying my Pops a Snickers (or Almond Joy if he prefers) and Pepsi for his diligence in armadillo sighting.  I didn’t have any money earlier and I tried to borrow some off him, but he caught on to me like usual.

Today we’re going to Har-Ber Village, which is an old-timey settlement type thing.  Should be exciting.  Everything is exciting when this group gets together though.  So far no one has fallen on any saws, which is a good thing because we had a look at the hospital in Grove  as we drove past; I encouraged Joey to practice all his safety measures so we wouldn’t have to go there.

I saw an armadillo.  The end.