Waldo Flea Market-Part One

This past Saturday Jimmy and I went to the Flea Market in Waldo, FL. My parents live just south of Waldo and we were visiting and needed to get out of the house for a bit. My mom buys produce there from local farmers so she gave us some money and her list. We took our three middle kids. I was amazed by what we saw. So much so that I went back later with Jimmy and Jackson and brought my camera. How much fun it was to feel young again, looking at things through my camera and not through the eyes of a mom who is worried her kids are going to touch chicken poop (or anything else there for that matter) and then put their hands in their mouth.

I have looked at pictures of funny signs from foreign countries. I have lived in the south my whole life. But I never knew that all in one place I could see funny grammatical errors and spellings and rebel flags and cute puppies and, well, lots of junk. If you don't believe the south will rise again, just go to the Waldo Flea Market. It is a step into a different culture.

I took a ton of pictures. I am going to show them in the exact order in which they were taken. This is what we saw when we walked in one of the side entrances.
It's nice to have you back, but enter at your own risk...

Maybe you need a concrete sculpture of a caroler dressed warmly for the yard outside your trailer in the summer heat of Florida...?

They have a huge hardware store...my dad has bought plenty of parts/hardware, etc. from them. But I found this sign funny since there are like blades everywhere you look. Jackson of course did the kid thing and tried on sunglasses. You know you can never resist trying on glasses.

The sign says, "We have straw hats and others inside...essential oils & roll on perfume." Roll on perfume? Sign me up!!

You could buy boiled peanuts from "The 3 Flamingoes." As you can see, they have salted, valencia, cajun, bar-b-q, and garlick with a "k". Yummy!

I appreciate this...they want to help people stick to their budget I think. I like the glitter tape around the edges.

I've actually never heard this one. I didn't pick anything up. I didn't want to have to buy a oil and vinegar dispenser or porcelain soap pump.

Now I know where to go if I need to buy a stun gun. Seriously. I might need one some day.

Sunglasses anyone? We have a few.

Or belts? They ALL have shiny jewels on them! Pretty!

We now entered one of the many sections of the flea market that are full of boxes and the boxes are full of items that are made in China.

Because women and men alike need a camo tank top. Note how it says "AMERICAN" across the top.

Or maybe you want First Quality tanks. They give you medium sized biceps and make you feel as if you're floating in the clouds.

You can imagine how excited I was to see this next item...

Shoupies!!!!! Actually they're called SUPER Shoupies! Tou Wen Zi Fine Point Permanent Marker SUPER Shoupies! Love it.

And underneath those...

Shizixing SUPER Shinies! Does it get any better than this? Well, we will all have to wait and see. My flea market trip wasn't over yet, but I'm tired for now. I will go to bed dreaming of Super Shoupies and Super Shinies.

Um, I forgot the title...

I'm feeling old, tired, and stupid. I'm going to write a blog about it. Put that in your laptop and smoke it.

I am a huge advocate for breastfeeding. I have nursed all five of my kids. I was asked recently why I do it. I wanted to ask back, "Why wouldn't I?" One of my main reasons is because of the proof that it increases their brain development. I know their brain is still growing just like the rest of their body and who doesn't want to help out their child in the "smartness" department?

I've heard that everything has a price. Well, the price I've paid for my children getting breastmilk and better brain cells is the total and utter decrease in my own brain activity. My children may be getting smarter, but I am quickly going down the path towards total idiot. I can't remember words. I mistake imaginary characters for real people. I forget important numbers. I purposely put something in a safe place so I'll know where it is only to discover I can't remember my safe place. I stare at people while they are talking to me and I don't hear anything they're saying. I can't answer questions without the help of an encyclopedia. And when I open it, I have to strain to remember alphabetical order. Sometimes I make mistakes when correcting my kid's schoolwork. They are so excited that I have missed something. I am thinking about all that sweet breastmilk I sacrificed for them, and now they want me to do multiplication too? Go get a calculator, smarty pants.

Is it just the breastfeeding? Or is it my age? Is it both? When did I get older? How did I get here? Since when did the "classic rock" station fill up with songs from when I was in sixth grade? Since when do I think that 40 "isn't that old"? When did I start saying things like, "I just need a little peace and quiet" with my forehead all wrinkled up? How long have my hands looked so old and sad? And I won't even begin to ask about my body. After five children I'd like to zap my skin with an amnesia gun and make it forget the stretching out and in, out and in, out and in...will someone hit the reset button please?

I know that young, fun Julie is in there somewhere, but she doesn't change diapers, wipe cracks, do tons of laundry, and buy things in bulk. So she hasn't come out to play in a while. But that's okay. Adult mommy Julie can be fun too. She can make scrambled eggs. And give a fun bubble bath. Every once in a while she can still write a witty blog. And she's highly entertaining if you want to laugh at someone who can't remember her kid's names or where she's parked her car when she's standing right in front of it.

Top 'o the mornin' to ya

We don't celebrate St. Patrick's Day but we do try to wear green if we go out in public. I don't want strange old ladies at the library or grocery store pinching my children. So here's Juliet's green. This shirt was given to me by a friend. She apologized because it was a six to twelve month size and she knew Juliet would only be two months when St. Patty's day came around. But if you're an Alley, you can fill out clothes that are a bigger size with no problem.


I know what you're thinking. How do you do it, Julie? How do you cope every day with so much cuteness oozing from your baby? Well, it's not easy. I try to handle the overwhelming desire to just get into bed and snuggle with this angel until I can't lie there anymore. She is more precious than a pot of gold. We love her!

GROSH!

I have done my dear Libby a disservice by not blogging sooner about her writing. Libby is a writer. And illustrator. She is so productive it would put any artist to shame. She is constantly fleshing out her creative ideas and putting her imagination to pen and paper. We are all entertained by it. The bunk room is, as Jimmy put it, "a story graveyard." Libby has used approximately 2.5 reams of paper so far this school year. She writes. And writes. And draws. And writes and draws some more.

Lately it is comics. They are so genius and funny I have finally saved a few back and photographed them tonight to share on the blog. Hello, hello, hello...






Here's another one in the "comic world" series:



These next few were done in pencil so I've tried to make them easier to see. This first one is quite long, about dog and cat. Here is the cover and the first three frames:



And this is a cover I found on the floor...she never wrote the comic (on to something else I'm sure) but I love the name "Evil Dr. Mean Guy." And I'm sure he would be defeated by "Super Kid."

Libby, I think you're a super kid! I love you! Mom

A time for Windex

Since Juliet was born I am very often asked, "What's it like with five?" And I haven't come up with a response. I think people are just being polite and don't really want a response, but I've been trying to come up with one with no luck. Today, I figured it out. Mostly, it's the same only you add breastfeeding and diaper changes and middle of the night feedings. What's the same? What it's always been with kids. A dichotomy. Wonderful and overwhelming all at the same time. There are times you want to pluck your eyes out, and times you're winking at someone. Times for hugging, times for a spank. Times for eating, times for pooping. Times for laughing, times for crying. And all of these can happen simultaneously somehow. It is irony at it's best. And it is life all around me all the time.

What made me come up with this amazing insight to such a flippant question? It came through Penelope. Today we were cleaning up the house. This means I was trying hard to make sure no extra messes happened. Penelope got the Windex off the counter and began to spray (a lot of) it on the french door rectangular windows. When I discovered what she was doing I said, "Stop!" and went to get a paper towel. No need, she was rubbing it around with her bare hands, then rubbing her hands on her shirt. As I was tearing off the paper towel she said, "I'm washing the index, Mom!" And there it is. A time for a mess, a time for something really cute. What's it like with five? It's awfully good, terribly terrific, and there's lots of laundry.

Aliens and Terrariums

Last night when I went to bed I decided I was going to wake up and do something fun. The weather was supposed to be perfect so Cash stayed home from preschool, we abandoned normal homeschool work ("Just do your math") and the kids and I built a terrarium. I intended to take pictures of every step but I forgot. I've got a good excuse(s). I was dealing with four loud children who seemed to think they knew exactly how to do something they'd never done before. Plus, they all had hammers and were flinging dirt.

Meanwhile, I'm shushing everyone so the baby wouldn't wake up, doing constant laundry (can't suspend laundry day, sorry) to the tune of my dryer which squeaks like 200 fingernails on a chalkboard, and I cut myself on an exacto-knife. So the camera kind of took a back seat.

But here are the steps we used to build our terrarium. And the pictures of steps I did remember to photograph. A friend recently gave us his aquarium so that's what we started with.


Step one: Fill the bottom of the aquarium with dirt. That little plastic container on the side is cut on the top and half the remaining bottom of it acts as a little ramp a creature could go down to get inside the little "cave".

Step two: Add a layer of rocks. We didn't have rocks (and I don't take all five children to the store to buy rocks, puh-lease) but I did have some tile under the house so we used hammers to break up the tile into small pieces. The children totally should have been wearing eye protection and Cash and I both cut ourselves on tile, but sometimes you just live on the edge.


Step three: A layer of spanish moss. There is plenty of this in my yard.

Step four: Put a bowl for a little pond.

Step five: More dirt.

Step six: Plants! Plant them and water them. Add whatever bugs or worms or caterpillars or centipedes the kids can find. Jackson found a lizard, put his hand down into the terrarium to let him go in and the lizard ran up Jackson's arm and leaped as far away as possible from our terrarium. The lizard is no dummy I guess.



I'm going to get some more plants and hopefully one of the boys will catch a lizard and make it stick. It was a beautiful day and fun to be outside. And tonight for dinner I made chicken with onions on top and rice. Penelope looked at it and said, "I don't want aliens!" We gave her chicken without aliens and the kids went back outside to play. I love nice weather!

Pics, nips, and quips

Here are Cash's nipple tattoos which he applied on Sunday morning before church. I made him put on his nice shoes, all the while he has tattoos on his nipples. We can try to impress, but underneath it all, we're pretty much as wacky as Buzz Lightyear on our chests. (I had a cute pic of him in his underwear showing tattoos on his arms and legs as well, but I'm trying to keep a little of his four year old dignity intact.)


Here are Libby and Cash at the "Sweetheart Tea" at Preschool on Valentine's Day. Cash chose to bring Libby. I have to admit I encouraged him in that direction. But if anyone deserves to be called his sweetheart, it's Libby. She has been an amazing big sister to him from the beginning. Penelope wanted badly to be in the picture but I wouldn't let her. I told her I'd take a picture of her after I did them.


And this is the expression I got. Typical Penelope. Obstinate but so cute doing it you almost forget. Almost, Penelope. I said almost.

I also wanted to record a few funny things that Penelope says. I don't ever want to forget that she calls pajamas "ja-mammas" and yesterday she asked for a "garoney" (baloney) sandwich. A couple weeks ago Libby had a friend named Lily over. Penelope was asking me where Lily was. It took me the longest time to figure out what she was saying because her "l's" are "w's". So she kept saying, "Where's Wihwee?" I finally got it when she said very emphatically, "Wihwee! Wibby's friend!" Last night she wanted to play with her "Princess hunnel." She meant tunnel. It's a collapsible contraption you can crawl through. And if she messes her pants and I'm about to discover it she says very quickly, "I don't care, Mom." And when I see what she's done I realize what she's talking about. When it comes to pooping your pants, I do care. But I know they'll grow out of poopy pants, funny words, and nipple tattoos. Until then I get to love and live with it all.

Newbie

Here is my precious newborn baby. Can I just say that there is nothing like it? Holding and loving a newbie. Feeling them against your chest. Kissing their soft skin. Listening to their little breath and feeling it against your lips as you kiss them. Holding out your finger so they can clutch their little fist around it. It makes my heart full of life and hope. My sweet girl is one month old and has been really good and is getting so big already. Here she is hanging out in her crib.


I was lucky to get a smile in her sleep.



Here's the peanut gallery who had to view every picture on the back of my camera as I took them.

Juliet and Cashy-boy. All her big brothers and sisters like to hold her and kiss her.



And this is what she looks like most of the time...she lays on the floor and watches all the chaos that surrounds her!

Sweet angel! We love you!

For the love of Toast

I love toast. I truly do. Is there anything better than bread and butter? Oh, wait. There is. Toasted bread and butter. I eat it at least twice a day. Too many carbs for you? Not me. I will be morbidly obese before I give up toast. I'm not real into food, but toast I can get behind. The appliances on my counter? A bread machine, and my four slice toaster. (And down at the end, the microwave.)

My toppings of choice? Well, there's just butter, of course. Then there's cinnamon sugar (with butter first, of course), honey (with butter first, of course), peanut butter (butter first still), and jelly (I always apply butter first of course). For lunch I often eat sliced cheese (on top of toast with butter) or yogurt (on top of toast with butter). Yummy! (And for those of you who are worried, I don't always use real butter. A healthy spreadable margarine will do too. But the best choice is butter, of course.) Okay, enough about how much I love it. On to my point.

Now. There is something about toast. You must butter it while it is hot. And you must eat it right after buttering. Otherwise, you've compromised it's ability to completely satisfy. And I never trust the toaster. Even if I've scientifically set the toaster, I'm always using different types of bread and so you never know when you might have to manually override the toaster and pop it up yourself. So I keep watch while it is down. Oh, the patience it takes to wait for the perfect browning. Nothing beyond a deep sepia color. Move into the chocolate browns and you've let it go too far. But don't pop it up while it's still just warm bread, you're making toast here!

Okay, I've digressed again. I could write for a while about toast. My point to all of this was that these days, I've been ruining toast. I push down my toast in the toaster and cannot wait for it. The baby is crying. Someone can't reach the light switch. Someone spills their milk. "Mom! I went poo-poo!" and so on. I think I have time to wipe a crack or locate shoes or switch out laundry while my toast is down. I abandon it. It burns. Or worse, it pops at the perfect browning but no one is there to butter it and it sits there and gets cold. Oh the tragedy.

I know one day I'll have all the time in the world to stare at my toaster and butter and eat it promptly. And that I'll wish I had children pulling on my legs asking for a piece. But for now, I just wish my little munchkins understood the sacrifice I make every day (at least twice a day) when I walk away from my toaster with my bread in the vulnerable position. But you are worth it, little ones. And you're probably the only thing to me worth burning toast for. (Don't tell them, but sometimes if I mess up my toast I offer it to one of my kids so I can start again. Hey, it's the least they can do!)

The Minivan

If you've got kids, what goes on in your vehicle is a lot of things. In mine, it's messy, loud, stressful, fun, loud, tired, joyful, sad, excited, educational, loud, crazy, and loud. But you know what? It's my van, and it's my business. It's between me and God what goes on in there. Once I close those sliding doors the world outside doesn't have to be a part of my transportational chaos.

Until today. Could you imagine someone revealing an unknown audio recording of the sounds of your van- recorded randomly without your knowledge for an undetermined length of time? This happened to me today. Twice. Jimmy and I and the kids were out running errands and Jimmy made a phone call on his cell phone, unintentionally leaving his phone on after voice mail picked up on two different calls. So there sits his phone in the middle cup holder of our van, recording everything that's going on. Luckily, the calls were not to any of his clients so we're good there. And he actually got a compliment from his co-worker who listened to a few seconds of her "live in the Alley's minivan" message. She heard some whining and said we were patient with it. Whew.

But oh, the horror! It really gave me a reality check. I would hate for people to hear some of the not so nice mommy moments I know I've had in the van. Some of the questions I answer to the best of my ability but probably not so wonderfully because I'm distracted by driving. How often do I say, "Don't pee, you can hold it, just pee in the bushes when we get home" or (after I'm already out of the driveway and down the street) "Buckle up--Now!" or other such embarrassing things.

But when I really stopped and thought about it, I wish I had more recordings of our rides in the minivan. I have had to answer many a question in the van. Buckle down a child with a five point harness without much to do and they ask all kinds of interesting things. The minivan houses the soundtrack to our life--there's always music going. Our outings are full of everything that happens when you are in close quarters with people you love. So...good times, laughter, and fights. These things are what makes us a family. But please Jimmy, no more unknown recordings. Because you never know when I might need to scale the back seat to help someone pee in a cup.

B is for Beautiful Buttons Blog

One of the secrets of my home school is my mom, the queen, the primary grades teacher of 27 years. She taught mostly kindergarten, and saved many of her files, from a to z. I went through them when Jackson hit pre-K, and have benefited ever since.

The most favorite thing I gleaned from her past as a teacher were coloring pages of the Letter People. I used the Letter People when I was in school, and can remember how much fun they were. My friend Noelle and I whom I went to school with from K to 12th grade, used to sing "Mr. M has a munching mouth" into middle school.

My kids LOVE the Letter people. I start doing a letter of the week when they are in PreK, so this year it's for Cash. Every week on Monday I reveal the letter, shape, color, and number of the week. By far the most anticipated event is which letter it will be this week. And, in turn, the coloring of said letter person on Thursdays. Cash wants to color the letter person all week, which is why I make him wait until Thursday. It gives him something to look forward to. We also look up online the movie (which are puppet skits from the 70s) and song (I download the MP3) every week. Even though Cash already knows his letters and their sounds, we do it anyway. They love the personification of the letters. It is really exciting for some reason.


This week is letter B. Mr. B. has beautiful buttons. I happen to have a jar full of eclectic vintage buttons that came from my Granny's estate. I got them out and we had fun doing sorting activities with them. Afterward, I suggested we turn Cash into Mr. B. and cover him with buttons. The kids thought this was a great idea and I ended up doing it to all of them. You know you have boys who are growing up when your 4 year old tells your 9 year old he's going to put buttons on his privates. Thank goodness I only have two boys and not five. So here is Cash, posing as Mr. B. Happy letter learning to all those preschoolers out there!

The End of an Era

We have been going to Family night at the Chick Fil-A in the Tallahassee Mall here for years. You get a free kids meal with the purchase of a value meal. And all the kids get free ice cream. This saves us about 12 bucks every time we come. It's Tuesday nights. This means that every Tuesday we decide to go (which is most Tuesdays) I get to use the hour from 4-5 p.m. when I'm usually cooking dinner, to clean up the house and catch up on other chores. It also means we get home right at bedtime and kill the witching hours out at the mall. The way I figure it, we make money on the deal. If you figure in what we would pay for groceries at home, the utilities we save by using the mall bathrooms for 2 hours, what it would cost to pay someone to do the cleaning up I do every Tuesday afternoon, and the time kill, it is totally worth it.

Through the years the mall has had its ups and downs. I remember the Tallahassee Mall being cool when my sisters were in college here. I even played miniature golf on the course behind the mall which is now overgrown bushes we drive by every week. The mall got a movie theater shortly after I came here for college and had a surge of good years but since we've been going there on Tuesdays it has begun to decline. This is good for us because the mall is like a ghost town and the kids can be a tad disruptive (because my kids always max out at "a tad disruptive" --right) and you don't feel like you're bothering anyone. We invite friends. We put together 8 tables. No one cares. Imagine our disappointment when we found out last Tuesday that the mall is going up for auction and Chick Fil-A has decided to pull out and will be closing on March 31st.

I have tried all week to put it out of my mind. I planned a big "last time" party event in my mind for sometime in March. I figured we'd invite everyone who ever came with us to the mall. It seemed so far away. Unfortunately when we arrived at Chick Fil-A tonight we found out that it was the last "kids eat free" night. It is the end of an era. We can still go to the mall until the end of March of course, but it will not have as much appeal--having to pay full price.

This evening the children were eating and hanging out with their friends. Unaware that their sweet hook-up of nuggets, fries, and ice cream once a week was coming to an end. I gazed at their innocent faces. They smile, dip their fry in ketchup, and laugh, fully oblivious of the implications this has for us. It is completely and totally sad. Little Juliet slept in her car seat and I looked down at her sweet innocence. She will never know the good times at the T-mall.

Other restaraunts have kids eat free deals. Even other Chick Fil-A's in town. But we own the mall. It is our space. I have come to enjoy the smell of the questionably nasty food court. The eclectic music they play. The stuffiness of the mall as they try to save money on their utilites by raising the thermostat. Too bad it didn't work. I would have endured even hotter temperatures to prolong kids night a little longer.

So I will recite the cliches you tell yourself when change like this occurs. The end of one thing is always the beginning of something else. At least we still have each other. Everything will work out in the end. When God closes a door, He always opens a window. All's well that ends well. Eat more chicken!

Scoot n Zoom

Sometimes I think about the fact that by having five children, I've increased my chances for experiencing familial injuries. If I only had one kid, the probability of me visiting the emergency room and doctor's office would be much less. But as it is, we've actually only visited the emergency room with a child once--last Wednesday when Penelope busted her chin open on the wood floor due to an accident on the "Scoot n Zoom" toy she got for Christmas. These toys are great. A huge hit. But for some reason it locked up on her and she went over the front.

Penelope was a really good patient and as you can see from the pictures, is very proud of her stitches. (And also has really clean nostrils!) :-)

The Dream is Alive

It is time I devoted a blog to my wonderful husband. He has been really incredible this first week of my post-partem recovery. Being married to Jimmy is nothing if not eventful. He is always fun and makes me laugh all the time.

This past week was not without Jimmy excitement. It began on Wednesday morning. My mom and I returned from taking Juliet to the pediatrician and Jimmy's first question to me (with a panic stricken tone) was "Have you seen my phone?" He was referring of course to his Blackberry, which he needs for all things real estate. The phone was lost. We retraced steps, looked everywhere, explored all possibilities. We couldn't find it anywhere.

Meanwhile, since he was handicapped as far as work goes, Jimmy decides to cash in some lottery tickets he got as a present from my brother in law for Christmas. We do a $3 Christmas in my family. Your gift amount cap is $3. So Jimmy got three scratch-off lotto tickets. With those three he won $4, so he bought four more. Then he won $21. He pocketed $10, then bought 11 more. He's still going. Coming back from the convenience store saying things like, "The dream is alive!" Currently, he's $1 in the black.

During these crazy escapades to the corner store to cash them in, I'm begging him to stop. I mean really, is there ANYTHING more white trash than playing the scratch off lottery? I think it is pathetic, sinful, stupid, ridiculous...need I go on? Yet I love my husband and his excitement for the game seemed to make him happy and was a good distraction for a man forced to stay home phoneless on a rainy day with his recovering wife and mother in law.

Late Thursday afternoon he figured out where his phone was. He had placed it on top of the van when taking Cash to preschool on Wednesday morning. So it had traveled a few places and of course it had rained so it was soaked. Since then it has sat in rice, baked in the oven, and been taken apart and put back together countless times by my determined man. He's been unable to get it to work completely, but it lights up so I believe there is hope.

Tonight in the van Jimmy turned up a little Guns N Roses. When I was a middle schooler, Guns N Roses for me, a Christian music youth groupie, was like one step above full out Satan worship. Now, I allow my husband to play it loudly for my children. Even with a newborn sleeping in the back. This is only because I love him with my entire being and see that he loves music, and that it makes him happy.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't really approve of the lottery or heavy metal music, but I fully approve of my husband. He loves me and he loves our kids and he showed that multiple times this week, while being very entertaining in the process.

Juliet Hope

Juliet Hope Alley

December 31, 2010
7:11 p.m.
8 pounds 4 ounces
20.4 inches

Birthing Technology

Well, baby Juliet has arrived. I gave birth about 24 hours ago on the last day of 2010. Still in the hospital but wanted to record some thoughts about this experience. I feel free to express myself because I'm pretty sure no one reads blogs anymore due to the hated Facebook. (No offense to anyone who uses it. I love you. I hate Facebook.) And even tweeting has not made it to our family. I love birds. I do not like to tweet.

I felt as though this was the first birth experience that was filled with technology. I'm kickin' it old school, pushing the baby out and all without the help of a robot or anything, but meanwhile my husband and those around me are connected at the hip to the internet and cell phones.

It started when Jimmy decided to post on Facebook that I was in labor. Little did we know, Jackson had already logged in at home to his Facebook and informed all his Facebook friends of our new status. He got a talking to for that one. Then, as we were in the labor and delivery room, Jimmy decides to try and Skype with Jackson and our other children (and my dad who was home with them) and talk to them while I'm having contractions. (I could only tolerate this because I ended up getting an epidural.) Don't I leave the children at home during labor for a reason? If I wanted them in the delivery room, I'd bring them. I don't need them "skyping in" while my body is doing it's work.

Although a little disconcerting, the Skype thing was pretty cool. I could wave at the kids and tell them I love them and reassure them things were going fine. When Juliet was born, Jimmy called them up with the laptop and showed them their new pink naked baby sister on the warming bed. Meanwhile, I'm after birthing and doing things that come after birth (was that vague enough?) and telling Jimmy across the l&d room..."Don't point that thing over here!" The last thing I need is for my four kids to see their mother in that position.

What made me laugh the hardest is earlier today when Jimmy was having a few words with Jackson on Skype, trying to speak sternly to him about something, in an attempt to help out the grandparents and remind Jackson to behave. Not thinking, he said, "Jackson look at me." (Jackson was sending emoticons galore, what 9 year old doesn't like those things) So he stopped, and looked at Jimmy. He's on the computer screen in front of him. But Jackson looking at Jimmy on the computer screen doesn't mean he'll be looking his dad in the eye. So Jimmy tries again, "No Jackson, stop looking at the computer. Look at me." And I'm cracking up, trying to explain to Jimmy that if he wants Jackson to look at him, Jackson has to NOT look at him and stare at the web cam. It was pretty funny.

I barely ever leave my kids. But I leave them when I have a baby. I need to focus and take a few hours to get better. Having Skype and cell phones to communicate with them really makes things more difficult in many ways. What is the most wonderful thing about being me and having a baby? Not technology. Having 4 awesome grandparents who love my kids and are totally willing to help out with them even though they are jumping off the walls, crying a lot, keeping them up at night, and sending beer mug emoticons to their crazy excited proud dad in the hospital.

I birth the babies, Jimmy links to the world and informs them what's going on. Hey, at least I blogged this. Status update: still blogging. behind the times. don't facebook. have babies. but I'm quitting that one now. (insert smiley emoticon)