Footprints on a bathmat

I just have to say, I love looking down as I'm doing my business in the bathroom :) and seeing little footprints on the bathmat. Somehow, Ava's feet leave these perfect impressions on the bathmat when I take her out and stand her there as I'm wrapping her towel around her. Perfect! Just a little moment of joy...

Tarantula

There is a spider on my wall. Seriously. A tarantula. I'm going to put a pic of it up here, but it doesn't do it justice, of course. It's the size of a golf ball...a little bigger than that. It's too big to fit into the vacuum hose nicely. Normally, I can get the vacuum out, turn it on Max, stand as far away as possible, be sure not to touch the flexible part of the hose so as to not feel it bang it's way up the hose, let out a scream...and suck it up. But when they're this big...Even Radley gets squeamish about it, and he'd totally deny that, but you know...It's so big you can almost see it thinking, "Yeah, biatch...What you gonna do about me and my big, bad self? Nothing cuz you too scaaaaaaared! So I'm just gonna sit here and chill like I own this wall..." My defense...Leave the stairway light on so he doesn't finish climbing up out of the basement into the living area of the house. But that's not a sure thing...So, I'll just have to leave Radley a note (because of course he's not home to deal with this crisis) to deal with it when he gets home or he knows what kind of freakin' out he'll have to deal with from me when I find out that he let it escape and find another hiding place while I know that it's still here somewhere...Just next to my feet...Watching my every move...Planning when to creep out and--AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

A good cry

Don't you find it hitting you at the most unexpected moment? The need for a good cry. It may be that life has just bombarded you with demands, expectations, and bitter disappointments. Or maybe you just had a crappy day. You feel it welling up inside you. The rational side of your mind says, "get over it, you're an adult--deal." But child inside you wants to lie on the floor kicking and screaming, "Waaaaaaaaahh!!! Why me?!? It's not fair!" And then, equally as unexpectedly...The Release...Usually prompted by an episode of Extreme Home Makeover, Oprah, or one of those priceless credit card commercials...An unrepentant ugly cry. You're sobbing loudly over the injustice of Rachel and Ross being denied their rightful true love all these years because of their blind stubbornness to see the truth right in front of their EYES!!! You're heaving great sighs of sadness over the poor crippled boy who JUST NEEDS A RAMP TO GET INTO HIS HOUSE! You're wailing because Oprah looooooooved her doggie and how could he die?!? What? That hasn't happened to you before? Never been hit by the sobs and the sheepish relief that follows? Oh, I see. Yeah, I was just talking about what my friend does...She's crazy.

Bad Memory

I have a horrible memory. Unless I'm in an argument with Radley--then it's impeccable. Anyway, recently one of my friends put up pics of us from our college days up on her Facebook account and I was enthralled. There were bunches of us and there were so many moments I realized I'd forgotten about. But seeing the pictures just brought it all back and now I'm feeling nostalgic for my Longwood days. I tend to remember mainly my regrets. Like, I wish I'd partied harder, explored more friendships, and not bought those gastly blue suede shoes at Wal-Mart that I let my friend talk me into and I never wore. And that's a horrible thing, because really, I did have a great time and I did branch out and explore in my own way. My time at Longwood was the time I view as when I started to become the real me. I made my own mind up about my beliefs and opinions, and those are still evolving today, but that was the beginning of me realizing I didn't have to believe the same thing as those I loved and respected. I also realized, slowly, what a capable individual I am. I've come a looooooong way and it's really been a wonderful journey! So, the pictures have triggered some nostalgic introspection in me, but it's also because another Facebook friend found some of my old youth group friends and it was so cool to reconnect with them. So three cheers for friends, Facebook, and reminiscing!

Cooking...BAH!

I am so sick of my standard recipes and limited cooking repertoire. I've been trying lately to get some new recipes to try out. Rachel Ray's stuff lends herself to my style because it's simple, quick, and comforting. So, tonight, I tried her french onion soup. I felt very fancy with my french bread, gouda cheese, white wine and beef boullion (you must pronounce that as I did--with a snotty french accent). I only made servings for myself and Rad since Aiden would rather slit his throat than try something new and Ava would burn herself being too impatient to delve into onions to wait for it to cool (polar opposites, those two). They got chicken soup to fit the soup theme, which they love and that's fine with me. Anyway, I would say it turned out phenomenal with maybe a teensy bit too much thyme and bread (not really soupy, but I don't mind that). Radley with his onion phobic self, left a pile of tender onion loops in his bowl. He tried to be positive, but he clearly wasn't satisfied and I was bummed. I never imagined it would be so difficult to cook for 2--let alone 4--individuals to satisfy, well, even two of them! Well, I guess I will fight the urge to be discouraged and try again. This time, it'll be something even Aiden may put a bite of in his mouth--cheesburger meatloaf with mashed potatoes! Yeah...wish me luck.

Off the bottle

I decided that Ava needed to go cold-turkey off the bottle. She only gets it at night now but with infant formula that is costly and does her no good. Plus, most of the time in the middle of the night, she'll wake, take a couple sips, and go back to bed. Why would I want to mess up such a predictable, smooth thing? Like I said, formula is NOT cheap (she rejected the toddler kind and refuses milk) and it just bothers me that she's 17 months old and still drinking from a bottle. Plus, she has lately gotten really attached to it and started requesting "mih" [milk] about 2 hrs. before bedtime and I refuse to give it to her until it's time for bed and thus the battle begins. That girl is nothing if not persistent. I can forget about trying to sit down and relax for 1 minute if she is on a mission to get something--especially that dang bottle. Anyway, tonight is the second night of mission "Ditch the bottle". She cries for a while, but eventually goes to sleep. Not that bad. Still, I feel bad like I've cut off something valuable to her. Or maybe it's just me realizing that she's more a toddler than a baby now. How did that happen?!? Growing pains...We all have them but for different reasons. So my victory is tempered with a bit of sadness. Until I think of all the bottles I don't have to wash anymore--hallelujah!!!