Flashback Friday - Digital Rejects

With the advent of digital cameras, we have the luxury of taking rapid-fire pictures in hopes that we can get a great shot.  Usually out of the twenty rapid-fire pictures there's one worthy of keeping/sharing/printing.  We used to be a lot better about purging our camera of unwanted/unworthy pictures, mostly because they take up mammoth amounts of computer hard drive space. 

Lately though, we've gotten pretty lazy about it.  And by "lately", I mean in the past two or three years.

This year, I made Sam a little photobook from Shutterfly for our anniversary, and in doing so dug through countless amounts of  delete-able photos.  I gave some thought to deleting them as I went along, but then realized I would miss out on what could be considered the "bloopers" of our photographs.

 

Another luxury of digital cameras is that I no longer have to pick and choose which moments I capture on film.  (Read:  I don't have to be quite so selective because I'm too cheap to buy film.)

Without that luxury, I'd miss out on pictures like this:

 

  

  

  

 

And with that, I wish you all a fabulous weekend!

#65 Make my own pizza dough.....check!

I'm somewhat embarrassed about this list item.  It turns out that this was almost a non-event it was so easy.  That being said, I probably wouldn't have done it if it hadn't been on my list.  So there's that.

With Sam out of town, we're (I'm) trying to keep busy so that I don't realize how lonely it is without him.  In an effort to make things less stressful, I was successful in meal-planning for the week, and declared Monday night homemade pizza night.  I enlisted the help of the kids, who were responsible for stirring (tasting), spreading, sprinkling, and placing.

Then I put it in the oven.

So, pictorially, it went something like this:

Step 1:  Stir pizza sauce (or taste it & consequently get it all over your body resulting in a shirt change).

Step 2:  Prepare the dough (a task that wouldn't be complete without getting flour EVERYWHERE).

 

Up close and personal with the dough.  You know, it REALLY doesn't look appetizing like that.  I think it was a little "sticky".  I guess it didn't matter too much.

 

Step 3:  Apply sauce to dough.  (For Abby, step 3 is "Kick older brother off the stool", which you will see she completes successfully.)

 

Step 4: Continue to apply sauce to dough.  (This took a REALLY long time.  Ben's somewhat of a perfectionist.)

Step 5:  Sprinkle with Cheese!  (Of course I failed at having enough mozzerella on hand, so we supplemented with a little cheddar.  How American of us.)

Step 6: Place the Pepperoni (...and bake!)

Step 7:  Enjoy!

I won't say it's the best pizza I've ever had, but I can say with absolute certainty that it was the best pizza I've ever made from scratch!  (wink, wink)  I now know some things to tweak on my next go round.  But really...it was INCREDIBLY easy to do.  Hooray!

Mom Things!!!! (They actually aren't worthy of 4 exclamation marks, but read them anyway.)

You've been pantsed by a toddler trying to scale your leg, probably while in the kitchen trying to prepare a meal or load/unload the dishwasher.

You feel obligated to apologize to strangers for your 8-month old's "staring problem".

You and your husband have verbally compared/contrasted the size & shape of your children's naked hineys with each other.

You hear the word "supply" and your thoughts immediately go to breastmilk.

You alternate between 20 minute power naps and coffee to get you through the exhaustion.  The jury is still out on which works better.  (So far, the guess is neither.)

As soon as you find out you're pregnant, you are suddenly barraged with pregnant people...friends, strangers at the grocery store, people on tv...they're all pregnant.  Why is it that you never noticed that before?

You've given yourself a mommy time-out, whether as a disciplinary action or as a reward. 

You've contemplated putting the kids to bed in their school clothes so as to skip that step the next morning.  The only reason you reconsidered is that you know there will be syrup involved at breakfast and that would totally defeat the purpose.

The most fun you've ever seen your kids have is when they found a tiny frog swimming in the kiddie pool in the backyard, and also when a tree fell on the fence, and they subsequently piled all of its wood into a bonfire pile.  You witness it and smile, relishing the free entertainment.  Then you wonder, why on earth do you pay to go to places like the aquarium and fair? 

Only a parent would know that when your child asks to watch "Jello Man and Woman", she's talking about "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs."

My Big Toe

I rarely, if ever, blog on weekends.  I'm making an exception this weekend as the kids are in bed, and the husband is out of town on a business trip.

The fact that he's out of town is rather significant.  You see, tomorrow is our 7th wedding anniversary. 

For the first six and a half years of our marriage, we had an incredible streak going.  Some might think it's crazy.  Others might think it's sweet.  Maybe others pathetic.  No matter.  The fact is that for six and a half years, we did not spend a single night apart from each other.  It was one of those "whither thou goest" things, I suppose.  We're best friends.  We never really had a reason to be apart.

Apparently, when you get to be good at your job, they make you start going places.  And so, in June 2009, we spent our first nights apart when he went to Oklahoma City for a week to train some other nerds how to do nerdy things.  (Sorry, Sam.  You know I mean "nerd" with the utmost respect.)  In October, he went to Baltimore for a few days to do more of the same.  Luckily for him (wink, wink), he got to hang out with my parents in his down time.  (And if nothing else, got to enjoy a By the Docks crabcake.)

Now it's January 2010, and he's in Utah for ten days teaching the folks at Hill AFB all about electronic test equipment.  This will be our longest stretch apart yet, and my longest solo stretch with the kids.

[Let me pause briefly to thank the men and women whose spouses serve in the Armed Forces and regularly  face extended stretches like this as a part of their lives.  You are heroes as much as the soldiers themselves.  The sincerest of thank yous and applause from me to you.]

I know they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and maybe that's true.  But I can't help feeling like my arm is missing when Sam's away.  I always think of the line from Stripes, "An Army without leaders is like a foot without a big toe."  Of course, I amend it in my mind to play, "Jennie without Sam is like a foot without a big toe."

I know my foot will be whole again in ten days.  Until then, we'll take it one day at a time.  We'll make it.  And if you happen to read this, Sam:  Happy Anniversary.  I love you!

On a semi-related note, I'm happy to report that the first nine hours of single-parenting have been mostly uneventful.  (Unless you count the few minutes that I couldn't find Abby, only to locate her hiding in the dark playroom behind this toy eating a donut she stole out of the box on the counter before dinner.)  This is one time when boring is absolutely fantastic.

I am grateful for the list, as it proves to be a good distraction.  We will be making homemade pizza dough tomorrow night (#65).  And I intend to use any post-bedtime time to myself to work on ordering prints of photos from April 2009-present (#56) and/or reading a book (#74).

(And this completes the most random blog post ever.  I think maybe instead of a foot missing its big toe, I'm more like a brain missing the ability to organize and communicate thoughts!)

Flashback Friday - Do you like my hat?

I might not be a huge PD Eastman fan, but my kids are.  Go Dog Go was the first book Ben read on his own.  There's an exchange between two dogs that repeats several times throughout the book.  One wears an absurd hat and asks the other "Do you like my hat?"  He replies (until the last time), "I do not."  Then they part with a "Goodbye!"

Lately, Abby has taken this up as her favorite game.  She'll rest any random object on her head, walk up to me, and say "How do you like my hat?"  It could be anything from a newspaper, to a toy, to a blanket.  I always reply, "I do not like that hat."  It repeats...indefinitely.

I could have seen this coming.

Abby has always had an affinity for putting things on her head.

 

Unless of course, it was something that belonged on her head:

 

I guess she was thinking, "I do not like that hat."