Further signs of ADD

I have realized I am a literary polygamist. I have at least three books that I am currently in the middle of reading. This was never my way before. I was religious about finishing a book to the last page before beginning a new one. What changed? Perhaps I am so worried that I will never have time to complete one book that I panic and pick up the next one. Ahh... I never thought of myself as a cheater. But here I am. This is what is currently on the docket: ScreamFree Parenting (anyone think I really should read this one cover-to-cover??), The Bible Jesus Read, and Divine Prophecies Fulfilled (a very interesting 1922 book about Ellen G. White & her prophecies). And I'm sure there are several others that are not privileged enough to be on the night table.

Devastating Loss

You may have seen on the news about the plane crash in Montana, with 14 confirmed dead, 7 of them children. Well, a family of four that we knew in Paradise, CA, was on that plane. Brent & Kristen Ching, and their 2 children were going for the last ski trip of the season. If you could pray for the Mautz & Ching families, I would appreciate it. May God give peace to them in this time of loss.

Gross fact of the day.

So I read an article on MSN.com about common food additives. The first delight was about strawberry yogurt. Come on, don't ruin yogurt for me. But ruin it they did. Apparently, when you have something that's nice and pink, like, say cranberry juice or strawberry yogurt, they get often get that scrumptious color by adding ground up bugs. Oh yes. You heard me. But it gets worse, if that's possible. The Dactylopius coccus costa bug from Peru likes to eat red berries. A lot. And where does all that color from the red berries go? Into the stomach & larvae in the female bug, of course. And what better way to make your food look deliciously appetizing than to crunch a bunch of those suckers up and put them in your favorite foods. Delish, no?

For those of you who are worried, the FDA is soon requiring manufacturers to label their packaging to let consumers know if they have six-legged creatures in their cuisine. This particular variety is called "Carmine" or "cochineal extract." Sounds innocent, doesn't it? Well, I checked out our container of HEB Strawberry yogurt before making the kids their smoothie today, and guess what?
Do you see it in the corner there? Carmine. AKA bug guts & larvae. Yum.


And being the good mom that I am, I paused before pouring half a container in the blender. How can I in good conscience feed my children squished bugs? I gave a little laugh, and kept pouring.

Then..... and now.

Ah.... Midland Adventist Academy, Class of '99. This last weekend was the 10-year reunion up there in Shawnee, KS. My whole family made the trek so I could see most of my former classmates.

What a strange feeling walking into the building that I spent most of my time in 10 years ago. I had my three kids with me, but somehow I still felt 17. And to see my classmates, and schoolmates, and their kids. Well, it was an interesting juxtaposition.

Eight of the 11 students in our class showed up for the weekend. Susan, who has two kids and has been married for almost 10 years, Carlos Mott, who looks exactly the same as he did 10 years ago, Tasha, still the unofficial leader of the class, trying to get everyone together. Carlos Prieto, still asking how my sister's doing, Mikey, as full of mischief & teasing as ever, but now a father and preacher. Seth, the other preacher in the class, with the content and powerful delivery of a sermon that amazed me, Dean, still the same, yet all grown up with two boys of his own. We missed having Doug, Tesha, and Brandon.

It was a great year, and this was a great weekend. Thank you to my classmates for giving me a place in your ranks. See you in 10 years!

Creating Traditions

This is the first Christmas I will have ever had without my parents. Strange. While it will feel like something's missing, I'm excited to start creating our own family traditions when it comes to Christmas. In my family, we would wake up, beg our parents to wake up (even in the teenage years!), wait a couple of hours while dad "disappeared," then go open our stockings. After that we would have breakfast, usually omelets made by dad. When our appetites were sufficiently sated, we could return to the living room for the main event: presents.

Now, to make sure you understand, my mom, especially in the later years, went a little overboard with presents. She liked to shop early, throughout the year. Which is good. Except she likes last-minute shopping, too. And she was really good at hiding the presents from us.... and usually herself too. So we ended up getting a lot more than even she realized she was giving. The end result was that the presents were not neatly stacked under the tree. Oh, no. The presents were amassed under the tree, but oozed out from under every branch, until there was about a 4-foot radius of brightly wrapped gifts.

These gifts would show up under the tree over a period of time, starting soon after the tree was decorated the first Saturday night in December. Any time the present count changed, my brother and sister and I would immediately have to do a comparison--who has the most, who has the largest, who has the tallest tower when stacked, whose presents make the longest line. It's a wonder my mom even bothered to put anything in the packages. This game entertained us for hours (even in the teenage years!). Although there were many many gifts by Christmas Eve, there were always twice as many that showed up over night. Crazy Santa.

So we have these piles of gifts, and you would think that it would create pandemonium. But, no. In our family, it was a tradition to open one gift at a time, one person at a time. This way everyone could appreciate the special gift. Combine that with the number of presents, and you can see how Christmas became an all-day event in our house.

But now I have my own family. While that sense of nostalgia entices me to extend the traditions of my childhood to my own children, I am only one half of the equation. My husband also has traditions, some of which he wants to pass on, too. And we also want to create our own, so this is what we're trying to do.

Tonight we started a tradition that he had in his family: Christmas Eve dinner. Since Thanksgiving is obviously not celebrated in Brazil, Christmas Eve is the stuff-yourself-with-turkey equivalent. So today we made dinner, and even showered & dressed nicely and ate in the dining room. I was skeptical at first, but it was actually kind of fun! Then we took some pictures of the kids while they looked half-decent, since it doesn't happen often. So here's a peek into the first Fernandes Family tradition of this Christmas. Hope you're enjoying your families as much as I'm enjoying mine!

I believe in miracles!

As I turn in for the night, I look at my kitchen and sigh. It truly is a miracle. The counters are cleaned of most clutter. I don't think there are any sneaky crumbs hiding on those tricky mottled-stone surfaces. The table doesn't have any smears of mayo or ketchup. The trashcan is empty. The dishwasher is processing a full load. The smooth top stove is free of (most) spills. It is a beautiful sight. A sight I know will disappear with the morning fog as soon as my three little elves wake up and want their milk. I sigh again. If only for one night.....

Anticipation, or An Apple a Day

I was in HEB the other day, doing some shopping in the produce department, when I saw them. Piled in a big crate, set in the middle of the floor, so as not to miss them. HUGE, beautiful, shiny green and red apples. I picked one up. I gave it a couple of nice hefts in the palm of my hand, awed by the weight/volume ratio. That extra poundage, of course, means that the water content is high. High water content = juicy apple. Yum.The sign above them said "Honeycrisp" in a way that made me absolutely sure they would be sold out within a few minutes, so I had to get one while they were there. Of course, the sign also said "$2.99/lb" in a way that made me absolutely sure that they would completely blow my budget for the week. So I only bought one.

This beautiful specimen of an early fall apple was just shy of an entire pound. It cost me $2.63. I took it home and gave it a quick polish before giving it the place of honor in the fruit basket. It made the Jonagold apples there seem puny by comparison. I thought about eating it right away, but knew that anticipation is half the enjoyment. So I just admired. And waited.

I was right about the anticipation. I was enjoying it, perhaps too much. Last night, I had a nightmare in which someone mistakenly ate my Honeycrisp beauty. I felt bereft when I woke up. I was only pacified when I went downstairs to ensure that it was, indeed, a terrible, terrible dream.

This afternoon as the boys napped, I decided that the time was ripe. I sharpened my knife. I gave the apple one last scrub. I set it on the cutting board and took a deep breath. As the knife sliced through the skin, I could hear the pop! as the juice squirted out. My water/volume ratio theory was confirmed. This was a succulent one. The anticipation was climaxing. I just knew that this was going to be the kind of apple that caused the fall of mankind. I couldn't wait.

I cut it into manageable pieces and took a final look. Mouth watering, I took my first bite. Yes! It was juicy! As those apple juices reached the various tastebud locations in my mouth, I felt...........

Disappointment.

For all the good looks & hefty weight (and hefty price), this apple rated a 4.5 on the sweetness scale. Rats. What a waste of anticipation. I guess that taught me it's best not to expect the best. No matter how good something looks, it probably isn't.

Filipe says I'm a pessimist. I think I'm a realist. Either way, the apple was mediocre. Better to expect mediocre and be pleasantly surprised than to anticipate greatness and be disappointed.

Oh, and by the way, those "puny" Jonagolds were about the sweetest, juciest apples I've had in a long time. And they were on sale.

From where I sit

I grabbed the camera last night (or was it this morning? We were up until after 1am) as Filipe was packing for his annual sales meeting in Montreal. This is what I saw.

Filipe's still-unpacked suitcase....
Still unpacked hanging bag....

Sewing machine covered by still unfinished Christmas gifts....

So I'm realizing that I have a lot of unfinished business in my life. When do I get to finish something? Take it from inception to completion? See it through to the end, where I can shelve it and say, "I did great. That was fun." or feel that sense of accomplishement? I look around my house right now, and the dishes from lunch are still on the table, I have a load of laundry sitting in a basket from when I took it out of the dryer two days ago, the desk is covered by this-and-that from who the heck knows when.

This doesn't just apply to my housekeeping issues (and I have plenty!). I have a couple of boxes of craft supplies I got to do projects with Sofia (and I'm not a crafty person), I have school books to do with her that I haven't gotten around to, I have all sorts of ideas for community service projects & church projects, even an idea to start a business. But do I finish any of it? Do I follow through? No. It's just more clutter in my head.

I just want to finish something. Anything.

Hey, got a ciggie?

My daughter's new obsession: Cigarettes. One day we were walking to our car from HEB, and Sofia looks down and sees this little white stick on the ground.

"What's that, Mommy?"

Oh, crap.

So we have a short conversation about cigarettes, and how we don't like them because they are dirty and make people sick. I don't want to make a big deal out of it, but I want to make sure her first impression of smoking is significantly negative.

Well, it sure did make an impression. Now, every time we get out of the car, she walks slowly around the perimeter, looking for cigarettes, and pointing out each one. When we go by the outdoor ashtray in front of the stores, it's like Christmas for her! She'll ask me questions about them, like, "We don't like to touch those. But do we like to look at them?" Why is the forbidden so tantalizing?? Mommy says No should be enough for her!

When I see someone smoking, I cross my fingers and push the cart faster, because I know she'll ask me very loudly if that person is sick because they have a cigarette. And while the answer would be yes, I'm not ready to be a public crusader on that point yet. How do you tell a 3-year-old why an adult is doing something that will indeed make them, and people around them, sick? It doesn't fit into her sense of logic, and it doesn't really fit into mine, either.

So we had another brief discussion about addictions, which I connected somewhat loosely to her habit of sucking her thumb. We had to talk about how sometimes it's hard for people to stop doing things that are bad for them. I know, I know. Smoking not equal to thumb-sucking. But I didn't exactly have much time to prepare a thesis for her. I thought I had a good 10 years before we would be having the smoking talk.

So here's my advance apology to all the smoking addicts we might come across around San Antonio: I'm sorry my daughter's judging you. But she's right. Smoking makes you sick.

Far, Far Away

My beloved left me this Wednesday past to go to the far away land of Mongolia. No, he's not moving there. I know I am a pain to live with, but I don't honestly think I'm that bad. He's actually there on a medical missions trip, accompanying some pediatric cardiologists that he used to work with who have a non-profit called For Hearts and Souls that, among other things, do heart caths & procedures for children in these far away lands.


He's very excited to be able to participate not only through the medical aspect, but to also minister to these children and their families to show them Christ's love. It's been something he's been looking forward to for a very long time, so it's hard to believe he's actually over there now.

It costs almost $6 a minute to call him on his cell phone over there, so we won't be talking much. Luckily, he does have periodic Internet access in his hotel room (yes, it's a missions trip, but you think the Dr.'s are going to rough it? The pictures of the hotel look nice) so we get to email and use MSN Messenger occasionally. Mongolia is 13 hours ahead of us, so we're not often awake at the same time.

I asked him if his skin color blends in with the Mongolians, and he told me it does more or less. Apparently more, because he said a tourist (he thought Japanese) asked to take her picture with him. So either he really does blend in, or she thought my man was hot. Which he is.


I looked at pictures of Mongolia the other day, because I don't really know anything about it other than that it's called Mongolia (I never was good at geography) and it looks really pretty there. I guess the city itself is pretty nasty (I think he's in Ulaan Battar, the capital), but most of the population is nomadic, raising wild horses and such. It is quite amazing, actually. I also saw an article talking about how Mongolia is one of the last unspoiled travel destinations left.







The language is a little crazy, a cross between maybe Russian & Mandarin or something (no surprise, since it's sandwiched in between Russia and China). Definitely not a roman alphabet. That would drive me crazy. They should really consider changing that. Here's an example of the Sabbath School lesson over there:



Tomorrow Filipe's going to try to meet up with the pastor of the Adventist church over there, who happens to be Brazilian. Go figure. So he's excited also to be able to talk with someone who can understand him!

The kids really miss him, and every time the door beeps (thank you ADT), they drop what they're doing and yell "Daddy!" so that's kind of sad. But it's nice to see them missing their Daddy. I guess you could say I miss him too! I'm counting the days....

Amazing picture of the week

At first glance, this may not seem like an amazing picture. Actually, the picture itself isn't really that good.

What is amazing, is what it represents. This is a picture of my feet. They are propped on the arm of the couch. Which means I am laying on the couch. Which means I'm not standing, running, cooking, cleaning, retrieving, picking up, or carrying. This is the amazing part. As I'm admiring the rugged state of my feet (no pedicures here) I realize how infrequently this happens. I don't even eat sitting down. The only time my feet do not touch the ground is when I am in bed. Which isn't for long. So, I've decided to try to take at least one (short) time during the day, and put my feet up. The poor suckers deserve it.

What does Mom know?

Tonight for dinner we had angel hair pasta with sun dried tomato pesto sauce and steamed broccoli (someone call Martha Stewart). The kids, of course, loved the angel hair pasta. I told Sofia she had to eat three pieces of broccoli, since she's three years old, or else she had to eat the green beans (no, you heard me right. We weren't actually having green beans for dinner, but when given the choice between anything and green beans, she'll eat whatever else that isn't green beans. Works like a dream so far). I then glanced at the boys, and decided I didn't want to mess with the mashed up, ripped apart, squished around broccoli that would inevitably find its way onto the floor, chairs, and hair--everywhere but in the mouth. Kids don't like broccoli. But Filipe insisted, and so I gave a small piece to Sam & Ben.

I went over to the counter to load up my plate, and when I came back to the table, sure enough, Ben's tray had magically turned green. I looked at Sam, and I didn't see the green mush I expected. I looked under him, beside him, under his chair, everywhere, but I couldn't find where he stashed his broccoli! I thought he's way more advanced in the art of hiding food than he ought to be at 20 months. Filipe said he must have eaten it. Yeah, right. But I gave him another piece, because, gosh-darn-it, he needs his greens. As I'm standing there, looking straight at him, he takes that piece of broccoli, and without any hesitation or cajoling, puts it right into his mouth and eats it. And then asked for more!

So I have learned today that I need to refrain from putting my preconcieved notions on my children. I think that children don't like broccoli, but I think sometimes it's because mommy or daddy don't like broccoli, and so they think it must be bad. Or, even worse, mommy just figures they wouldn't like it, and they never get the chance to try it! So new resolution: offer the kids everything, even if I'm sure they won't like it. After all, maybe next time I'll find Ben with a mouth full of brussel sprouts. You never know.

My first witnessing experience

I had my first real witnessing experience today, only it was supposed to be me that was the witnessee, not the witnesser. We have this nice Jehovah's Witness lady that comes to our neighborhood with various partners every so often, only I'm usually on my way to the library when they come. But a few weeks ago, she left me with their book, What Does the Bible Really Teach? and I promised her I would add it to my study of Revelation.

I really did read parts of it, and found they have a lot more in common with us that I have previously been lead to believe--state of the dead, hell/purgatory, etc. When she came back Tuesday, we were on our way to the library again, but what the heck, I told her to come back Thursday so we could talk.

Very out of character for me. I don't talk to strangers (thanks for the lessons, mom!), and I don't talk about religion/spiritual things, and I certainly don't talk to strangers about religion/spiritual things!

So they showed up this morning, all three of them--my neighbhorhood Witness, Maggie, her daughter, and another church member (I'm terrible with names). I sent the kids to the park with vovo (grandpa) and we sat down to chat.

One of the things I found interesting about their beliefs was that they don't celebrate holidays, especially "religious" holidays like Christmas or Easter. I kind of agree with them on that for a variety of reasons. So we started out with that--let them see I have an open mind to new ideas, right?

They brought up the subject of Constantine changing "Christmas" to the pagan holiday on Dec. 25th, so we then kind of segued into the question of Sabbath, and how he was also responsible for changing Sabbath from Saturday to Sunday. Now, I'm not trying to convert anyone or anything, I have never had the opportunity to ask a non-Adventist why they don't keep Saturday as Sabbath. Let's say we had a spirited discussion. I think they were surprised at some of my questions & the verses I pointed out. My guess is the people they deal with usually need a more elementary guide to the Bible. Lucky (Thankfully, really) for me, I have had a renewed interest in studying the Bible, not for religious purposes, but for my own questions & spiritual growth, so I had a lot of stuff fresh in my mind.

So we went back & forth for about an hour or so. I don't think I've convinced them (yet), but they haven't convinced me either. I'm sure they'll be back. Actually, Maggie had brought me a book about Revelation, since I had mentioned last time that I was studying it on my own. So it'll be interesting to read their take on that bit of prophecy. Hopefully I won't have a panic attack and hide next time I see them. Again, anyone who knows me knows this whole scenario is not in my list of likely actions. But I will say it was quite interesting. I hope they weren't disappointed they didn't bring me into their fold. I think at the very least, I gave them some good practice.

P.S. Any local ladies interested in a weekly/bi-weekly Bible study group?? Might be nice to study among those who have the same belief system as I do, but anyone's welcome!

Devastation

My mom called me this morning with the news regarding Christian music star Steven Curtis Chapman. For those who haven't heard, his five-year-old daughter Maria was killed Wednesday evening. She was struck in their driveway by an SUV driven by her teenage brother. You can read an article about this tragedy here.

This affects me on two levels. The first reaction is to the utter, unimaginable devastation that family is feeling for not only the loss of a child, but the guilt of the sibling. His life will never be the same. And to lose a beautiful daughter. Well, lets say I don't even want to comprehend that pain. My fervent prayers are with them today. May the Lord somehow comfort them. I just can't imagine.

The second level that affects me is the glut of pain we are experiencing in this world. I feel so much pain for the Chapman's loss.... but what about the 50,000+ people in China feeling that same excruciating pain? or the tens of thousands in Myanmar? It's easy to look at the horribly large numbers of dead in other countries, and withdraw emotionally from it. If we let each of those losses bring us so much pain, how could we function?

But I believe God feels each of those individual losses, even more than we feel for a loss within our own family. I cannot imagine God letting this mess go on much longer. He's got to be coming back soon. These tragedies have galvanized me--I have to do what I can to help Him come as soon as possible. Whatever the sacrifice, this pain and suffering has got to stop. Please, Lord, come quickly.

Happy Mother's Day!

Mother's Day is an interesting holiday. I think most of the country believes it is a day to honor mothers, and to show them how much they are appreciated. It is also a day that many myths of motherhood are perpetuated, even by fellow mothers.

Allow me to explain. I am speaking, of course, from the perspective of a young mother with three small children. Motherhood for me is different from the motherhood of, say, the 65 year old woman from church. Speaking of church, we had a lovely mother's day service today, complete with Bible readings on the topic of motherhood/womanhood (Prov. 31) and specially selected hymns for the occassion. My personal favorite was "Love at Home." Now, I have never really been a fan of this song (ask Filipe), but today, it really struck me as somewhat ironic. The lyrics are so sweet and serene:

There is beauty all around,
When there's love at home;
There is joy in every sound,
When there's love at home.
Peace and plenty here abide
Smiling fair on every side;
Time doth softly, sweetly glide
When there's love at home.

I get such an uplifting mental picture when I focus on the words. Then I look over in my pew at my three rapscallions: Sofia's pouring fruity cheerios into her hand, but managing to get most of them on the pew or the floor, Sam is trying to grab another kid's truck that has struck his fancy, but the other kid didn't think it was a good time to share (sorry, Brady!), and Ben, dear Ben, is throwing a tantrum on the seat because I won't let him run down the aisles. None of my children are joyful in the sounds they are making, and I'm not feeling particularly peaceful, either. And since I'm counting the minutes until we can leave, time doth not sweetly glide for us.

My point, here, ladies and gentlemen, is that Motherhood is idealized, especially from a religious perspective. The Everyman Mother, on the other hand, experiences something quite different. At this point in my life, rather than have a lovely little poem read for me, I would love it if the earliteen Sabbath School would sponsor a morning of child care for the mothers, so for once we could actually listen to a sermon, instead of playing referee between our kids (and sometimes the kids next to us!). Instead of focusing on the image of a glowing, perpetually cheerful, nurturing mother, please acknowledge that this job includes a lot of impatient, even angry times, and that it's okay if we don't live up to the honestly beautiful idea portrayed in Proverbs 31. I would like some affirmation that even if I don't enjoy being a mother all the time (gasp! did I just type that!) it's okay, it doesn't make me a bad person, or a bad mother.

Being a mother of three little children is a contact sport, it's an active occupation, it's depressing, frustrating, annoying.... But I wouldn't choose to do anything else. I love those children more than life itself. And I talk bad about my kids sometimes, but just like a mama bear, if anyone else suggests a threat, I will maul them. Okay, that sounded a little more graphic than I planned. But I still mean it. My children are the brightest, sweetest, most loving children I have ever met. They just drive me crazy sometimes. And that's okay, because even if that line didn't make it into the final editing of "Love at Home," it doesn't make it any less true.

"There is laundry all around,
but there's love at home;
There are many screeching sounds,
but there's love at home.
Toys and puzzles here abide,
games and dolls on every side;
Lack of sleep make-up hides,
But there's love at home!"

Dr. Mom

The life of a housewife includes many job descriptions. Some are glamorous, like spousal stylist, or chef extraordiaire. Some titles are not so glamorous, such as toilet scrubber or booger-nose wiper. But there are some titles that would really rake in the money in the "real world," such as CPA, Executive Personal Assistant, Chaufer, or, as the role I'm taking on this week, Doctor. You can call me Dr. Mom.

To be fair, when a mom takes the persona of Doctor, she really is also playing Nurse, 24-hour Caregiver, P.A., Candy Striper, Labratory Assistant, and Janitor. I'm sure there are other titles I've left out, but you get the idea. And of course, this goes for working mothers as well as the SAH moms.

So Saturday we come home from church, and without any warning, Sofia gets sick. I'll spare you the details, but we'll just say it was several kinds of sick. Still don't know exactly what happened, but it wasn't fun. And it wasn't a 24-hour bug, because she got a fever that night which stayed all day Sunday, too. So then she started complaining about her neck hurting. She cried when I made her touch her chin to her chest. So I basically panicked, and after calling the 24-hour nurse hotline, got my insurance card ready to go to the ER. Good times. Luckily, I checked her temp again before leaving, and her fever had broken. She also had started perking up, acting like herself again. Thank the Lord it wasn't meningitis.

Monday, Sofia's feeling mostly better. I'm thinking, "Good deal, this wasn't so bad. Ha. " Tuesday morning, Sam has a fever, higher than Sofia's was. Actually, he woke up at 12:30am with a fever of as high as 104.9. Yikes! Luckily, it came down pretty fast with water & Motrin. Two hours later, and his fever has broken, so hopefully he's over the worst. But by my estimation, Ben should be coming down with something on Thursday morning. That's just how these things work.

The icing on the cake is that the sick kids are grumpy and needy all day long (I don't blame them--I'm that way when I'm sick too, but my mom is no longer in-house), but also wake up a lot at night. Notice it's 3am right now. This equals a very tired mommy. I've had to skip fun things this week, like opera night at the local vege restaurant, and the zoo with friends. All so I can stay home and not earn a paycheck while I take care of the children's wing of the Fernandes Medical Center.

My intention is not to complain about every minute of my life. In fact, there's some sick pleasure (no pun intended... well, maybe) in having a moderately feverish and lethargic baby want to do nothing but lay on your chest all day.... just cuddle. That's good times. Although it would be better without the fever/lethargy.

I'm telling my husband to watch for the bill. I'm no cheap doc.

Fawn meets the 21st Century

So I've always thought of myself as technologically advanced. I mean, my parents had a "green screen" computer way before any of my friends had. I remember typing a report in 5th grade about the egyptians on that lovely beast. And printing it on the dot matrix printer. And, of course, just after reading about the newest technological wonder, the "information super highway" in my Weekly Reader, I thought, "Maybe when I'm a grown up. How rad would that be?" And here we are, not 15 years later, and I can hardly remember a time before internet. My family, of course, had AOL as soon as it first came out. My parents can vouch for the triple-digit bills I ran up as I chatted with my "friend," who happened to live up the street.

CD players, DVD players--my dad came home with them all soon after they surfaced. He's the kind who bought my mom an iPod for her birthday, and she says, "and i-what?" But he knew she just had to have it. My point in all this is that I must not have recieved from my dad that technology gene after all, because this is my first foray into the world of blogging. I've read blogs, I even subscribe to a couple (waiterrant.net, thepioneerwoman.com ) but I've never mustered the time or courage to make my own contribution.

Until Now.

I still haven't figured out what exactly my blog will be about. Probably just mundane life stuff, all the boring things that happen when you have three children 3-years-old and under. Very boring life. I'm not recommending you read this if you're looking for excitement on a Saturday night. But if you've exhausted every other resource available to you in the entertainment sector, perhaps this will help you sleep. So, sit back, relax (because I never do), and perhaps even enjoy.