Field trip

Clayton's class went skating.  He was so excited, especially when he found out that I'd go too.

He rode the bus to the arena and I drove myself.  I got there first and stood against a wall, waiting for him.  When the bus got there all those little first graders came bursting through the doors, making a beeline for their grown-up.  Clayton was near the end of the line and for the few seconds before I could get to him, I loved watching him look for me in the crowd.  I imagine it won't always be like this--someday he'll be too old, too cool, for his mom.

For now, though...he even still lets me plant kisses on his sweet forehead, in front of his classmates.

 I don't actually have any ice skates that fit me, and as you may remember from last winter's post, I've never met a pair I like.  They're tight and stiff, my right foot cramps up into a charlie horse, my feet get cold and my legs get blisters.  I couldn't imagine not skating on a skating field trip though, so I called my friend/neighbor and asked if I could borrow some skates.  She happens to be a skating coach, and not only arrived a 1/2 hour later with the ice skates, but also foot warmers, insultated leggings, and wool socks.  She also mentioned I might want to take a thermos of coffee, a snack, and some water. 
I figured I could tough out the cold feet part--after all, we'd only be on the ice for an hour.  I was wrong.  After only 25 minutes my feet were so cold they felt like clubs.  I gave in and used some foot warmers and they made all the difference.
Back on the ice it looked like this:

 It was a tiny bit terrifying.  Most of the little stinkers have no fear and tons of confidence, especially if they're in Peewee Hockey.  They whizzed around the rink with no regard for more cautious individuals like me.  I only hoped to get through it without falling, and I'm happy to report that I succeeded in that.

Clayton needed to rest and get a drink of water so we sat out for a couple minutes and I took his picture.  I had to.  He's lost two teeth, see. 

 And then we were back on the ice (an hour can seem like an awfully long time!).  The kids' principal, Mr. F, always comes along on these field trips and skates with the kids.  He was impressed by Clayton's ability, especially when he heard that it was maybe his fourth time on the ice.  He took Clayton on a few turns around the ice.

 I love how Clayton is looking up at Mr. F in this picture:

Finally the hour was up, and some class pictures were attempted.
*Three short hand claps* "Okay! Mrs. B's class over here, Mrs. V's here! And Ms. V's class (not to be confused with Mrs. V), gather around Mr. F."

It was chaos. The children seemed to forget who their teacher was. Oh thank goodness...here's our Ms. V.

Clayton (far right, blue coat) has this photo shoot thing down. Nobody has to ask him to stand still and look at the camera.

Aren't they cute? I remember going on this very same field trip when Rebecca was a first grader...a little six-year-old. I know I say this a lot, but wow...time flies. In four short years, Rebecca is in fifth grade. My boys, both just babies ages four and two at the time, are now in school.

I want to stop the clock...time is passing at an alarming rate. But since I can't stop time, I'll just enjoy the moments.

Joel's 8th birthday

YAY!!!  The pictures finally uploaded!  I've chosen these particular photos more times than I can count, tried to get them here on my blog over and over and over...and finally!  sucess!!

Moving on...

Saturday, January 15 we celebrated Joel's 8th birthday with Jerry and Sabrina and their family.  His real birthday is January 17, but since that was a Monday we did it early.  No kid has ever complained about getting presents before the actual day, to my knowledge.  Joel begged for weeks to get an early present, but we held firm.  John actually didn't even buy his gift until a couple hours before we gave it to him.

First things first though.  We had to see if the cupcakes were any good.

I love how the boys are gazing up at the candles.

 Haaaappppy Birthday to youuuuuuu!

Did I do it?  I DID!

 From John and me:  a remote controlled boat.  Joel thinks it's called a "mote-control."  And while we're on the subject of mispronounced words, my kids think that "Santa Claus" refers to more than one Santa, so just one would be a Santa Claw.  I'm not about to correct them.  And while we're on that subject, Rebecca asked me why parents tell their kids not to lie, but then they go and lie to their kids and say Santa is real.

 Anyway, back to Joel's birthday...he got a tire inner tube from Jerry and Brina.  As a bonus, when it's deflated Joel can wear it as a skirt.

Of course, on Joel's birthday I can't help but remember what that day held for us eight years ago.  It's a miracle that he's alive and (relatively) well. 
It's been a long, hard road.  Allergies are no fun.  And that statement seems mild when compared with reality.  You can't know unless you've been there, as with most things in life.  If you've never had to experience it, count yourself lucky. 
I've pretty much had it.  I want to wave the white flag of surrender...I give up.  It certainly hasn't gotten better as he's gotten older, as we'd hoped.  I've tried every doctoring technique known to man, with absolutely no success.  None.  Everytime I've learned about something that's helped someone else, I've been very hopeful...almost pathetically so.  I've tried things I'm not about to admit here.  We've seen doctor after doctor, who've all been eager to take our money, but when results aren't forthcoming, well...too bad.  Sorry.  So we're done.  Joel has alligator skin...behind his knees it honestly feels like it's a 1/2" thick.  Behind his armpits it's dry and cracked.  His entire body is red and sensitive to touch at the worst of times.  At best, he scratches constantly.
Sorry, this post went places I hadn't intended.  It must be one of those days for me.
Happy Birthday, Joel.  Here's hoping the next eight years treat you better than the first eight.
I love you.

Situation: resolved

Thank you, everyone, for your suggestions.  All six of you.  :) 
I decided to check on how much it would cost to purchase extra photo space and to my surprise, it was only $5.00 for 20GB of space for an entire year.
To put this amount of storage into perspective, let's consider the fact that I've been blogging since December 2004 and have uploaded thousands of photos.  That's six years.  In that time, I've used 1 GB of space. 
John doesn't share my thoughts on this.  He thinks it's silly to pay to be able to upload pictures.  I one way I agree, but the pros for me outweigh the cons.  (Let it be known that I am very thrifty.  Some may even say I'm so tight I squeek.  I have a hard time spending money.  In this case, though, it seemed like a bargain.)  I've had my blog for, as I mentioned, six years.  I don't want to start over with another blog...I'm afraid I'll lose the six readers I have. 
This was the simplest option to me...so there you have it.  In case you were wondering.  Now you'll be able to sleep tonight!

Uh-oh

Blogger tells me that I've run out of space to upload photos.  You all know how important pictures are to me, so I'm sort of stumped.  What do I do now?
Do I start another blog under a different e-mail address? 
Please, please answer.  That means YOU...lurkers and all.  :)

Food, and Fondant

Clayton celebrated his birthday at school on January 14.  His birthday really isn't until July 30, but this way he got to bring treats to his class.  John bought him some cupcakes and there were a few leftover at the end of the day.  This poor lonely cupcake was meant for Chet, but since Clayton couldn't keep his fingers off the frosting, it ended up being his.  He's no dummy.

 The inside of Brina's fridge, just because.

 Saturday afternoon at Jerry and Sabrina's, I started decorating Joel's cupcakes, since his birthday was January 17.

 I wanted him to have something special, since he can't ever have the treats his friends bring in for their birthdays, and also because he also celebrated with his class the same day Clayton did, but Joel brought in suckers. (We're not allowed to bring homemade treats.  If we were, I'd be all over it.)

 I am no cake decorator.  I end up disgusted with myself and the finished product, and wonder what's so hard about spreading frosting on cake that I can't do it.

 This time I decided I'd try fondant.  I've seen it done on the internet and it looked easy enough.

 And I promised myself that if I wasn't happy with the results this time, I will not decorate another cake for a very long time.

 Thankfully, they turned out better than I expected...because I really didn't want to have to keep that promise.  Jaina and Brina jumped in a decorated a few for me, so I wouldn't have to think of 24 different designs.

 The kids loved them.

 Most importantly, Joel loved them!

I might even try it again someday.

Talent

She gets it from me. 
Nevermind that I don't play the guitar.

Nevermind that I don't paint.

I could if I wanted to.  I just don't want to, that's all.
Who just snorted?

Hodge podge

Someone got ahold of my camera Monday morning...I'm guessing it was Rebecca, and I know I'm right because she admitted to it.  She had also taken the camera upstairs and took photo after photo of her cousin and Joel by a door, in the bedroom, smiling, frowning, acting goofy, being serious...you get the picture.
She also captured her parents at breakfast.

My sis suggested we do face masks just for fun.  It ended up to be hilarious because we were laughing even before the masks dried, which resulted in awful wrinkles held in place by the petrified paste.  If nothing else, it was a picture of what I'll look like when I'm old.  I wasn't impressed...but then again, there's nothing time doesn't touch.  My grey hairs are testament to that.

Honestly, I hate that I just wrote that last sentence and that it's true.  Me...with grey hair.  Ugh.
Joel and Chet:  Men in Black (Shades)

Birds flock to my sister's feeders and I loved watching them.  It's got me itching to get some sort of contraption on the deck railing so I can watch the birds too.

See?  Another sign that I'm getting older.  Bird watching.  Sometimes my sister and I laugh when we realize what we talk about.  We used to discuss dolls, and boys and clothes.  Now it's things like gardening, feeding the birds, fiber in our diets...What's happening to us? 

Curiosity and cats

Remember Fiona?  The cat that was supposed to be outside?  The cat that got sick and almost died?  The free cat that's cost us $150 so far?

She mainly lives in the laundry room, usually has absolutely no interest to venture outside, but sometimes makes a run for it and stays just out of reach, dashing around corners, hiding in bushes and climbing trees.  It's at those times when I'm chasing her, leaping to catch her and she slips out of my grasp that I mutter, "Stupid cat!"

 Sometimes she does manage to entertain us though.  Like when she bats at a shoestring or plays with a toy mouse or falls into John's boots when she's trying to catch whatever we're dangling above them (just for the fun of seeing her fall into said boots.  It's hilarious, especially late at night when we're extra-tired and she's wide awake.)

 One night John was out in the garage.  Having just mopped up the salty slop the van dripped, he moved on to change oil on one of the vehicles.  There was a very thin skiff of ice where he had mopped and that cat went to check it out.

 John told me he saw her streak past a time or two, and wondering what was up he stopped to watch her.  She actually would run from one side of the ice, slllllliiiiiiide across it, turn around and make a run for it and slllllliiiiiide back across over and over.

 Tonight she investigated the dripping faucet in the laundry tub.  John turned the water on just enough so it was a little stream and Fiona hopped up there.  Look how she's balancing on the edge of the sink.  At one point she almost folded in half between the tub and the washer but she managed to stay up.

 She batted the water, drank from it, got her head wet and shook herself off, licked her paws and went back for more.

It's come to this...a post about our cat with seven pictures to boot.  I never thought I'd see the day.

Project: Wall

We have this little wall downstairs that needed a little something.  When we moved here it was tiled with 12 x 12" mirrors.  The mirrors had gold streaks.  I told John they had to go, and since he wasn't real fond of them either, they went.

Since then the wall has been a source of minor frustration for me.  I didn't know what we should do with it since I couldn't just paint over it--the tape from the mirrors had peeled some of the paper off the...um, you know...that white stuff that has hard plaster stuck between two layers of paper.  (I've never been good with the names of things regarding construction.)

 These pictures don't show what the walls really looked like.  I primed over them at one point, and plastered some of the larger peeled areas.  Incidentally, last night John told me I should leave the plastering to the pros...namely, himself I would assume.  He hates it when I do things like that.  I can't imagine why.
So anyway, we (read:  I) finally decided what to do with that wall.  And what do you think I decided?

 Am I crazy?  I wanted mirrors back up.  The difference is, these don't have gold streaks, see.  They're way cooler.  Mirrors add interest and make it brighter.  It's a two-fer! 
Oh yeah, I made another apron too.  Yes, it's a minor obsession.  I honestly can't help it.  When I see aprons for sale in stores I study them, the fabric they're made of, the pattern, the little details, hoping I'll remember some of it so I can make one like it.  This one is in the classic Diner Style.

 Back to the real focus of this post though...the wall.  (Wait!  I made that bag, too!)  We got almost all the tiles up last night, except that one little row over there on the left edge.  They have to be cut, and John's productivity was dropping exponentially last night the later it got.  We decided to quit while we were ahead, before we wasted too many tiles.

Oh yeah, and that sign on the door?  It says (or shouts, rather), "I AM YOUR MOM, NOT YOUR MAID.  Clean up!"  They pretty much ignore it, or sometimes I hear Joel saying, "I am your maid, not your mom."