skip to main |
skip to sidebar
The obligatory Halloween post will follow after this Public Service Announcement: Rhett picked his own costume this year. We asked him over and over (and over and over), but the boy was faithful to the witch. And really, I think he makes a dang fine one. I made the cape as I thought it was a bit more "wizardy" than a regular witch dress, but maybe not. Like I said, he loved it and we love him, so we didn't care.
The whole weekend was spent doing Halloweeny things: playing funny pumpkin face games (how cute is this idea?! And so adaptable for different holidays), carving pumpkins, hugging trees (??), visiting Google and Gummy, Trick-or-Treating, and watching our ghosts bleed sugar. It was good times.
You have to know that the pumpkin picture in the bottom left is Rhett's FAVORITE face to make. He'll often make that one face and then be done because he just wants that face to be on it perpetually.
My sad, bleeding ghosts.
The skeleton watching over the pumpkins. I love how mine (guess which one it is?) turned out. Thanks to Chuck for his engineering skills.
Getting ready for the festivities of the evening.
Okay. Every once in a while, on our way to the car, Rhett will want to give the tree a hug and a kiss. I promise I didn't teach him this. Or at least, I don't think I did. Probably I did.
I think Gummy loaded his bag with half of the candy he got the entire night.
Leaving Google and Gummy's house.
Ready or not, here Rhett comes!
Certainly Chuck and I will take our cut, but then hopefully we can make this last until the New Year. Honestly. How much junk does a two-year-old need?!
Although we coached him on saying, "Trick or Treat," hysterical things escaped still escaped. Some choice quotes from the little man as he Trick-or-Treated: "Where are the candy?" Or its relative, "You have candy?" Or, "Where are the chocolate?" And almost everyone opening the door for Rhett, "What a beautiful witch! She's so cute!" (See previously stated Public Service Announcement.)
I've seen a couple of blogs recently with some confessions of how things don't always go as planned. My sister (sorry for you, her blog is private) blogged about her real life and some of its low parts. I'm sure she didn't plan on this reality as a new mom, but such it is. My blogger friend (called that because I've never met her in real life) Alyssa told her story about throwing her wedding ring at her husband (awesome). I'm guessing she didn't intend for that ring to go down the vent.
I think I've been thinking about this lately because I always feel so overwhelmed by the nice things people say when I post my projects. I feel like others must think I'm doing it because I seek the praise and the fawning. But in reality? Nope. Mostly I do it so that my sister and mom can see what I'm doing thousands of miles away. Partly I do it for those of you who also like creating; I can share the awesome tutorials I find. Partly I do it for my own reference: I have a terrible memory. When there's a birthday coming up, my mind draws a blank as to what I could make. So I turn to the blog and am reminded of gifts past.
But my things don't often turn out so lovely. Remember the pajama pants I made for Chuck but totally screwed up the cutting so they became pants for me? How about those pants I dyed because of the "chocolate" spot on the butt? I spent a lot of time dying them brown, only to have them come out mottled. Later, Chuck and I later tried dying his man-pajamas from purple to black, for them to come out...purple. The exact shade of purple they were before. And then, on their first washing, the purple dye bled onto a lot of other clothes in the washing machine, ruining one of Chuck's new favorite work shirts. D'oh. And my cute Halloween ghosts that were tied onto our tree in the front yard? During some serious rain the other night, some of the ghosts started to "bleed" the color of their wrapper onto my nice white fabric. We even have candy stalactites growing from some Tootsie Roll Pop sticks. So much for using them again another year.
So there you have it. What is it they say about the best laid plans?
Remember when Chuck said he wanted one of these? Apparently it's been festering in his mind for four years because yesterday while at CVS, we bought a Snuggie. I'm not lying. Oh, how I wish I was.
Do you think I should try this chili for a ward chili cook-off tomorrow? The lack of tomatoes and beans is almost too risky for me. What do you think?
I haven't bought clothes in about seven years. Sure, I have a couple of newish pieces, but most everything I own is seven years old. Pathetic, I know. I'm finally ready to start redoing my wardrobe, but I have no idea where to start. Where does a mid-30s woman buy clothes that are age-appropriate but still stylish?
Speaking of clothes, what do you wear to bed? I found out a woman in my ward not only doesn't wear pajama pants, but couldn't imagine anyone else wearing them. WHAT?! That's all I wear from 7 p.m on. (In case you're wondering, she wears a long tee for pajamas.)
I want to enter this contest. But what should I make? As they're requiring the entry to be "original" I'm just not sure I'll be able to come up with my own creation. You know, me being re-creative and all.
Rhett entered his "Why" stage this month. It's driving me INSANE. Yes, I like that he wants to know and understand things. But no, I can't keep on this way. Here's an excerpt from a conversation we have at least 19 times a day:
Rhett: What day it is Mom?
Me: Wednesday.
Rhett: Why it Wednesday?
Me: Because yesterday was Tuesday.
Rhett: Why was yesterday Tuesday?
Me: Because the day before that was Monday.
Rhett: Why?
Me: Because that's just how it works.
Rhett: Why is that how it works?
Me: I don't know.
Rhett: Why don't you know?
All conversations end with this last question, "Why don't you know?" The kid's going to grow up thinking I'm an idiot. And really, it's taking every last bit of patience not to just ask him to stop talking altogether. Any suggestions on making this "why" stage better for all of us? (To emphasize my point, on our run this morning Rhett spent about ten minutes singing "Why you don't know, why you don't know, why you don't know...." Nice.)
Not really a question, but ah, how sad but true this is (and was for me). Even sadder still was how little the double major with geography helped me.
This weekend in Shenandoah we...
...saw something more rare than the black bear--a telephone booth! Every time we've been in Shenandoah we've seen at least one bear, this trip included. However, this is our first telephone booth. Rhett loved it.
... We took kid-friendly hikes. Even if it meant that I dropped a couple of tears missing the days of 10-mile hikes for me and Chuck. I know now is just not the time for that.
...Instead, it's the time for playing in leaves! And boy does this kid know how to do it.
...We ate some good food (this is Rhett hoping for another bite of a fire-baked apple)
...And we ate some not so good food (like this charred pig in a blanket). And just so you know, we didn't actually eat this. We ran to the store and got some fresh hot dogs to replace these.
...And since it was camping, we ate some granola bars. How do you love those socks-as-mittens? Is this good parenting or what: take your kid camping when you know it's going to be cold and forget mittens. Awesome, I know. I love how Rhett thinks this hat fits him.
...We went to Luray Caverns. This place was cool, despite how much it cost. If you want to go, don't forget your Giant card. It will save you money.
...And we had fun with a timer. But this was no ordinary timer. Oh no. When depressed, it would take FIVE pictures, not just one. After doing this a couple of times, we have a live-action flip book documenting this.
Rhett: Mom, do something silly, [he says while holding any of his "cameras" (e.g., paper towel roll or even just his hands).]
Me: [Something silly is done.]
Rhett: Click. Cheese!
[Then I am expected to thank him for taking my picture.]
Rhett: Mom, why you don't know how to make a number eight? [Talking about setting up a train track after my previous attempt took much longer than expected.]
Me: I don't know; I'll try.
Rhett: Rhett don't want you to try, Rhett want you do to it.
Rhett: Rhett going to turn you into a goon! [He blows some air my way.] Now you a goon.
[I was upset at the stupid grocery store for not ringing up more than $8 in coupons. This happens at this store all of the time and it just makes me so angry! Rhett could sense the anger as I strapped him in his car seat. But he said the following when we got out of the car:]
Rhett: Mom, you calmed down!
[I'm singing the "Maybe" song from Annie to Rhett as we're driving in the car.]
Rhett: Mom, Rhett want you to be done.
Rhett continues to sing by himself. He's always making up some song or another. Like the other day he was singing a song called "Foot Book." You know, about how many, many feet you meet! Awesome. And sometimes, he even sings it with a cup holder in his face. Not lying.
Rhett: Rhett made a toilet!
[Yes, son, yes you did.]
So all you yard salers, what do you call this?
Sure, I know that Wednesday's picture is strictly on the "yard" while this one encroaches into the garage. But still. They're both garage sales to me. I thought I'd at least get some Utahans saying "garage sale" but only Emily? Huh. It must be a Dixie thing. Thanks Mom. Thanks a lot.
I just don't know what to say you those of you not wearing shirts underneath sweatshirts. I'm amazed. Every time Chuck takes off a sweatshirt to reveal only a garment top, I get the chills. Oh well. I'm sure it will pass in about ten years. (Why ten? That's the number of years it took me to overcome my gross-out-edness of ankle socks.) If I see you when you're dressed this way, please just don't tell me. I'd like to stay in the dark on this one.
Finally, if I say, "Shame, shame, I know your name," what do you think of?
In other news, we got cable yesterday. Ugh. Because that's what I need: more TV.
This just in...the arm hair continues to grow! Two inches and counting.
Let's say it's chilly outside and you'd like to wear a sweatshirt. Do you wear a shirt underneath that sweatshirt or not? And for clarification, you are a garment-wearer.
What is this called?
