Ms. Mags

Baby girl, your birthday is tomorrow!

A few weeks ago I was worried about how you would adjust to leaving brother at school three days a week. The two of you are such buddies and you love being his hype man. While walking out of the church for the first day of Frank's preschool you looked at me confused. "Brudder? Brudder? Brudder?" you asked with increasing confusion and anxiety. We went off to run errands together, explore the Sunbury library, and sneak a donut hole.

The next day we dropped Brudder in his classroom, walked outside, and you started yacking. Nonstop for three hours you talked, sang, hummed, giggled and talked some more. You danced and wiggled, did some form of chicken strut, had twinkle toes, and episodes of twinkle toes. You knew you had my full attention for the next three hours and planned to take full advantage of those hours. You crack me up!

You have got such spunk. Your command of the English language is strong enough that you enjoy arguing with your brother... but not strong enough that you know what you are arguing about.

Your daddy is wrapped oh so tightly around your little pinky. You love to play airplane on his feet and he has trouble refusing you even after a long day.

I'm sad to see your baby phase fading away, but I am so delighted to get to know the big girl you.

I love you, Baby.

Cant refuse the refuse

We were only a quarter mile from home when I spotted a huge pile of "junk" next to the road. Whenever we pass such trash I coyly smile at Dave. He looks at me, looks at the clock, looks at the kids in the rear view mirror, and then looks back at me. This was a good pile, so he turned the van around.

Our new "treasures"

Solid wood headboard and frame

Two swings

One small cooler

And a huge rubbermaid tub with lid

Some of the items I know I will use, others will be passed on to friends that can use them. I picked up the rubbermaid tub simply for the tub. I couldn't care less what was in it. I was happy to dump the contents in my trashcan or at Goodwill the next morning. But when I looked inside I started to dance. It was full of boy clothes! Clothes just a few sizes larger than what Frank is wearing right now.

Now to the point: Does this make me a trash picking hillbilly? a frugal fairy? pwt? economically intelligent? Will I look at this period of time with a grin or grimace? Right now I think this is amusing. Its a hobby that occationally helps my family and costs me nothing. BUT, I am careful about who I share these episodes with. Certain relatives and friends are told of my great finds. Others, well... if asked where I got a particular item I'd shirk off the questioning with some lame "Oh, some friends didn't need X anymore." Why? Why do I do this?

Mr. Non-stop

I had a bit of a headache yesterday afternoon. After plopping the kids into bed for their naps, my husband suggested that we take advantage of the calm and indulge in a nap ourselves. After twisting my arm into a pretzel I agreed with him and snuggled up with him in bed. It took an agonizing 78 seconds for me to fall asleep.

I woke up about an hour and a half later to the sound of a chainsaw. I was blissfully in that half sleep state when I realized Dave was no longer next to me and the chainsaw sounded much closer than our nearest neighbor.

Sometime after the 78 seconds it took me to fall asleep, my husband snuck out of the house, cut down a tree, a big tree, and was in the process of burning it along with other yard waste.

The man amazes me. He can get more done on a Saturday afternoon than I can all week.

Dave, I love you.