we need a little christmas … now

Another little organization project that I’ve been working on. Up until last week, our holiday decoration boxes were a pure mess. Stuff was thrown in whichever way it would fit, and I wasn’t completely happy with that arrangement. Sometimes, I am after a particular thing and I don’t want to fish through everything else to realize that it was in that other box. So – during this moving process – I took the opportunity to sort through all this stuff. I reorganized everything – sorting it all by ‘type’ – and rewrapped all my breakables in real packing paper … instead of the tattered scraps of ten-year old tissue paper and paper towel shreds. I made new labels for all of the boxes, too. All of which makes my heart sing with happy.

I will say that we got a little Christmas fever during this time. I went through all our other decorations, too, but the red and green seemed to hit a bit harder. The whole house smelled like holly and mistletoe and cookies and spice. Looking through all our ornaments just made me itch to get them on a tree. Brian and Ammon were in on it, too … not just me. And so … we made the most of it. We listened to Christmas music and we watched Christmas videos. We’re still doing this and the boxes have long since been done.

But, what can I say? We’re Christmas people. And what’s wrong with enjoying a little winter goodness in the middle of May? What’s wrong with needing a little Christmas now?

We say … why ever not?

empty nesters, chimneys and the end of good luck —or— are we havin’ a good time now?

This past week has been an interesting one for the Thomases Three. Very interesting.

We are slowly marking projects off of our list. We have really begun to make some stalwart progress when it comes to ‘completing our move’. Sure – we’re moved in. Of course – we’re living here. But we’re still in that in-between stage. We still have boxes just sitting around. We still have pictures waiting to be hung. We still have purchases to make and little projects to finish … and we need to scour the world to find some things to make other things just right. Despite this, I’m proud to report that we are really accomplishing some things. I’ve marked three huge items off my list in the past week, not to mention really tackling my craft room. I’m far from done there – but I’m happy with what has been done.

Project Yard Beautification continues … and will continue to, well, continue. Brian hacked those darn azalea bushes last week. They are now down to the normal size – which is about half the size of what they were. You can actually see our home now. In fact, if the house itself wasn’t so distinctive, you probably wouldn’t be able to even recognize the property now. After all that we have done to this place – which has been some s.e.r.i.o.u.s work – it truly looks like a different space.

For some reason, Ammon has begun biting. He has never been a biter, but I’ve noticed him biting George over the last couple of weeks. He is now biting people. Don’t quite know what to make of that…

I guess you could consider us empty nesters. Henry, Penelope and the babies have flown the coop. The honest truth - is that 'something' got the babies. But we're choosing, at the time, to not dwell on that. It’s difficult to describe just how much we miss them. Because we really do. I miss watching that little nest as I go about my day. I had to break the news to Ammon yesterday. Up until then, he was still saying, “Shh” as he passed that particular window. He was frequently asking me to pick him up so that he could peer out the window. I just couldn’t take it any longer. I sat him down and explained that the birds had moved to a new home. And – surprisingly enough – he seems to understand. Maybe not why – but that they are, indeed, gone. We will all remember this first Spring in our new home. We will fondly reflect on our little family of birds that shared their lives with us.

My record has been tarnished. Apparently, my luck has run out. I say this with a chuckle. In fact, that comment deserves a barrel of laughs. I am not known for my good luck. I feel a lot like Bella Swan when Edward says, “If we could bottle your luck, we'd have a weapon of mass destruction on our hands.” And I know why it happened. It’s all because I ratted on Brian not so long ago. But, anywho, Ammon and I had some errands to run last Tuesday. Now, one of the many quirks of our new home is the back door. It locks from the inside. It is my routine to always check and make sure that I have keys, etc. before we even get close to heading out the door. But, that day was one of those days. One of those scatterbrained, everything blows up in your face days. Ammon and I waltzed out of the door and I realized, just as I was closing the door, that my keys were inside. I screamed like I’ve never screamed before … so loud, in fact, that the people at the gas station on the corner looked down the road to see what was up. I have never – n.e.v.e.r – done anything like this before. I have n.e.v.e.r locked my keys in a.n.y.w.h.e.r.e . Just like my Never Been (Caused) in a Car Accident or Never Been Pulled Over by a Cop records, this is one that I am proud of. Luckily, I did have my cell phone and I was able to call Brian. Lucky still that he actually answered. And, most of all, lucky that he was where he could run home for a minute and unlock the door. Of course, Ammon and I had a nice little wait outside. This absolutely infuriated me because I had gone to painstaking efforts to stay inside all that week. You see, Brian and I had a special little treat coming up just the next day (which you will read about later). I wanted to have a great time … with no interference from my allergy woes. But – as expected – that 30 minutes of outside just about did me in. All because of some dang keys. All because I made fun of Brian. I guess I deserved it. It was my turn after all … and most certainly my luck.

We have had a little bit of – for lack of a better term – a development on our hands over the last week. In our new home, we have a fireplace. An old, very old fireplace that is no longer functional. It has been closed off – in a way. We have had a fireplace before – but not one with a real chimney, like this one. About a week ago, I started smelling something a little off. Not all the time, but sporadically. Brian didn’t notice anything and probably just chalked it up to my ‘overactive’ senses. Well, just prior to the weekend the – again, for lack of a better word – aroma got so bad that even Brian The Unaffected was, well, affected. We decided that the only possible explanation for such a thing was that some unmentionable something had chosen our chimney to be its final resting place. On Sunday, things got so bad that Brian removed the cover on the fireplace and attempted to extricate said something himself. He couldn’t see anything but the years of dirt and other whatnots that had just been piling up. Of course, once the cover was off the ‘aroma’ spread farther than the living room. We called our landlord yesterday, and he sent some guys over to look into it and a few other things. The cover was off for about an hour … and that lovely smell spread throughout the entire house. They better secured the cover over the fireplace with a horrendous smelling silicone something. Even though this smell was vile … it was so much better than the other. There is still some work to be done, so we are sort of in the middle stages of fixing the issue. We’re still dealing with it, but it isn’t as bad. Either way … we’ve been enduring some serious funk. Some serious funk that is about to kill us, too.

Despite our ever present pal, Decay, I had a lovely Mother’s Day. We were able to stay at our home this year, since we had visited with other family earlier in the weekend. Friday, we spent the afternoon with Brian’s grandparents and parents. We went to dinner at Circle Grille in Graceville with Brian’s mom and dad. Saturday, we went to Enterprise to see my mom and grandma. My Aunt Kaye was also in town, which was a treat. That evening we went into Dothan and did some shopping and went to dinner. On Sunday, I enjoyed my family. I was given a lovely card and a canister full of sour power (yum!). I also got The Young Victoria … which is such a good movie, by the way. My most precious gift, of course, is being a mom. It has its own rewards that are beyond measure. It is my greatest treasure and my greatest calling. And always will be.

Last Wednesday night, Brian and I had the opportunity of a lifetime. We went to Columbus for a … wait for it … ZZ Top concert. Ammon was a tad put out with us for not taking him, too … but we went anyway. As you know, the ZZ Top blood runs thick in Brian’s veins. He comes by it honestly. Ammon comes by it honestly. Brian called his uncle in Texas a few days before the concert and he told him that one of his dreams was coming true. He began to describe what he could possibly be talking about, to which his uncle replied, “Well, I can only think of one thing … and that would be the Top.” And it was – without a single solitary doubt – one of the very most awesome things we have ever – e.v.e.r – done. And probably will ever – e.v.e.r – do. Seriously. We have been to lots of concerts – Brian has certainly been to more than I have. But it is still a rare thing to feel that kind of energy. It was incredible. Purely fantastic. Seriously! I have nothing else to say. I am without speech. I should add, though, that I made a friend there. She looked exactly like Edna from The Incredibles:

… except she had blonde hair. And no younger than 60. I'm totally serious, people. And, she offered me her leftover marijuana. Yes, indeed, she did. At first, I thought that it was a cigarette … until she shoved it up my nose getting up from the step. And then, of course, there was no denying what it was. I do regret gagging in her ear … though I have a feeling she didn’t notice. But – again, and then a t.h.o.u.s.a.n.d times more – the show was just incredible. I know that we will be seeing them when they are in these parts again. The whole thing has me hankering for some Mexican food. Real, real bad…

This is Brian's Grandfather. He is '39' today.

Happy Birthday, Granddaddy. We love you so.

Sometimes, the best man for the job …

is a woman.

Happy Mother’s Day

my new life

meet the family

Say hello to Henry. You won’t see him much. So trust me when I say: Jump at these chances. They are rare.

Again – we rarely see Henry. He’s a flighty little thing – no pun intended. Unlike Penelope, he is v.e.r.y skittish. For instance, the other day I was measuring the window right by their nest – I sort of slipped off the chair and nearly flew through the windowpane … but Penelope didn’t even so much as flinch. As far as Henry is concerned, though – all one has to do is walk past the window and he gets all nervous and flies off … leaving the nest alone.

I have to admit … I’ve been a little hard on Henry and his gender throughout this experience. Brian has tried to defend little Henry – unsuccessfully. I have watched little Penelope lose herself in her calling. I watched yesterday as she sat on her nest all day in the pouring rain – being hammered continually by the downpours and wind. I’ve watched her go days at a time without leaving the nest for food. And then … there’s Henry. He who does his five minutes of servitude and then flees. But. I’ve had a change of heart. Because I have not only watched Penelope today – but also Henry – as they care for their sweetest babies. Yes. We have baby birds.

Can you see them? We've decided that this is a family of cardinals. After much internet research we've deduced that - even though Henry and Penelope are on the small side - that this is them. Of course, now, it is obvious. And we wonder in vain at what the confusion was before.

Henry and Penelope certainly chose a prime place to call home. Their nest is snuggled up high in this camellia bush … carefully protected from every hazard – to include my camera. We can hardly see them, but we know that they are there. We have loved observing this happening of nature. This miracle of life. True – we’re glad these two chose our home to be theirs, too.

the switch

Well … it’s done.

After much debate, Brian and I decided to convert Ammon’s crib to a toddler bed. We were planning to do this before we found out we were moving – and then, of course, chose to wait until we were settled in our new home.

For a while now, Ammon has been in the middle of that he-could-stay-he-could-go phase. I – of course – have lost sleep about moving him to a toddler bed. It’s a thought that scared me a lot. He is so small – and such an incredibly rough sleeper. Seriously. You would have to see it to believe it. I wondered if he would ever even stay in his bed, too. I never really worried about nighttime; however, naptime had me nervous. And then, of course, there’s the whole loss of confinement. I – when I’m at the end of my rope – have been known to depend on the gridiron bars of that crib. Not out of neglect – but desperation. Most importantly, though, was the knowledge that this act would officially catapult my baby into toddlerhood. Something that makes me sad. And again … scares me just a bit.

But – I was reminded again that my baby boy must grow up. And will grow up despite my best efforts. So … Sunday was the day. Brian converted the crib – removing the front panel and adding on that little, tiny guard rail. Ammon helped him out, naturally … and was so proud of his new big boy bed. To quote him, “Wow … neat!”

Within seconds, he had arranged all of his buddies, blankets and pillows … and had mastered the art of climbing in and out. He also attempted – only once, because I was eyeing him very carefully – to climb onto the guard rail and jump off.

The switch was made after his afternoon nap that day – so his first rendezvous with his new bed was that night. When we put him to bed … he was giddy with excitement. This new bed was proof to him that he was r.e.a.l big. We had taken every precaution – that we could think of – to keep him from inadvertently falling out. We barricaded the opening. We layered blankets and quilts on the floor, just in case. We mentioned it in our family prayer that night. You name it, we did it.

And … he stayed put. For a couple of hours, anyway.

To explain the sound that Brian and I heard from the living room, I can only say that it was like a gunshot. We’re talking loud. Clearly, he had landed directly on the hardwood floor – and not on the blankets that we laid out for a good two feet around his bed. Brian and I ran right in there – but, in that short minute, there was already a good ole' knot on Ammon’s forehead. It looked like someone had cut a golf ball in half, painted it bright purple, and glued it to his forehead. And – obviously – he wasn’t happy.

Ammon already had some painkillers in his system, luckily. He screamed like he has never screamed before. He was clearly scared out of his wits – he had been asleep when he hit the floor. Finally, he shrieked for juice. I got him some ice water, and he slowly started to calm down. Brian sat down with him in my big chair and I put together an ice pack. After about 30 minutes of ice – and a blessing from his daddy – the swelling in Ammon’s head started to go down. But the kaleidoscope of colors on his forehead were still ever present.

While they were rocking, I went into Ammon’s room to assess the situation. I tried to recreate what had happened – figuring out that he had somehow rolled completely over the guard rail and flown about three feet away from his bed, landing upside down on his forehead. I thought through all of this and made a couple of changes to his bedding that I thought had caused the problem. Of course, this wasn’t going to stop Ammon’s wild sleeping habits – he is just going to have to learn his limitations, I guess.

We put him back to bed after a while. He looked up through those impossibly long eye lashes of his and gave us a look that clearly said, “This is all your fault.” Of course, changing his bed had been our idea. As keen as Ammon had been about the whole affair, I’m sure that he now thinks that this big bed stuff isn’t so great after all. But – despite whatever was going on is his beat-up head – he slept the rest of the night without a problem. This is his knot and bruise the day after, eventhough the photo doesn't do it justice:


Since this episode, Ammon hasn’t fallen out of his bed again. He stayed in his bed for both of his naps yesterday and slept all night. Today – hasn’t been the same story. After moaning at his baby-gate for about 2 hours, this is what I found:

All in all – even with the bumps and bruises – this has been good for Ammon. I’ve noticed some changes in him that are just grand. He is exhibiting a desire to be a little more self-sufficient. He is showing us that he can handle these changes. Of course, there have been some behavioral adjustments that haven’t been so groovy, but … we’ll take what we can get.

In fact – this has been a good experience for us. We have proven to ourselves that we can handle these ‘growing up changes’. These obligatory developments that we must face sooner or later. This experience has shown us – has shown me – that maybe we can handle the other changes that loom on our horizon. Like potty training.

A quote from Teeny Little Super Guy – of old school Sesame Street fame – comes to my mind: “It isn’t too scary. Just … scary enough."