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atticus at 30-something months ("2.5+ years" is equally un-catchy.)

atticus is getting closer and closer to being an official three-year-old.  they tell you that every age is your favorite, and it's so true.  he's like a good cheese - just getting better with age.  also, really stinky.  but that's just the nature of things, i guess.

he LOVES all things vehicular - scooper trucks, trucks 'fixin-a road' (construction), tractors and 'kime-bines,' watching the trash truck 'pickin-uppa trash,' trains, helicopters, airplanes, etc.  he frequently requests to see certain trucks along the road ('mama, wanna see a crane?') and doesn't quite understand that i don't really have control over that.



 we went to 'day out with thomas' when thomas the train came to boone.  needless to say, it was a hit.

he loves watching thomas the train and 'beegee-teels' (veggie tales).  we don't watch a whole lot of tv, but i definitely take advantage of thomas DVDs when i need to fold laundry, and it's nice to have a VCR in the van for longer trips.  if i try to put in sesame street (or something equally old and therefore found on video cassette) he'll tell me, 'no, mom.  wanna watcha coo-cumba.'  (on a positive note, all the veggie tales-watching has made him positively disposed to the idea of vegetables.)



pretending cucumbers from our garden were scooper trucks

he is basically fully potty trained, although i still put him in a diaper overnight.  even though he wakes up dry most mornings, i like the extra insurance :).  he will pee with me in the room, but will not poop with company.  i say that's fair.  if i come back in before he's completely done, he says, 'i still POOPIN' with a wild and desperate look on his face.  his favorite pair of undies are a nasty pair i got for free at a garage sale that have another kid's skid marks in them.  but you can't control who - or what - you love, i guess.

he's starting to get a little bossy.  unfortunately, he gets it from me.  must be an oldest-child thing.  many days i have to redirect more 'sissa, NO!'s than i can count.  it gets a bit tiring.



finally understanding the concept of head-in-the-hole photo ops.

he loves reading, and we've begun being more purposeful in spending longer amounts of time reading, and reading quality books.  i use the sonlight pre-k list for recommendations for good books, and we've been going to the library every couple of weeks before children's church (D6) to get a new stash.

in addition, we've started reading the Jesus Storybook Bible at breakfast, and working on memorizing a few verses from D6 and from My ABC Bible Verses.  we haven't done any official preschool stuff, nor am i good about sitting down and purposefully teaching him letters and numbers.  ABC bible verses are a good way to get me in the habit of at least exposing him to the official names of letters (although, he already knows a lot of them somehow and loves the fareway sign because it's super exciting to see two A's in the same word).

he also has memorized some bible facts:



who made you? god.
how many gods are there?
what is god's name? jesus.
where does jesus live? heaven.
where did jesus go? to the cross.
why did he go to the cross? for our sin.
what did he say on the cross? it is finished.
who was the first man? adam.
what did john the baptist say? repent.
to whom did god give the ten commandments? moses.
who built the ark? noah (only he says, 'noahnoah built-a ark' because there's a song that says that)
to whom did god give the promise? abraham.
who was the brave queen? esther.  (this one is taking a while to stick.)

i love hearing him pray, and he frequently asks us to pray with him.

his favorite song is 'stories' by go fish.  he is A.DOR.A.BLE when he sings it.  i hope i can get it on video at some point.  plus, he has all of these awesome dance moves that he breaks out, including what can best be described as an all-out floor pose.

he hates having a stuffy nose, and has a hard time sleeping when it's stuffed up.  the other day he said, 'i no wanna have a sick nose.'  i feel you, buddy.


getting slowly smothered to death by a constrictor.  fun times.

that's all i can think of for now, although since he's two, there are plenty of things i'm sure i'm leaving out since basically every second of the day is wildly entertaining or absolutely infuriating.  but that's what this season of life is all about, and to be honest, i'm really enjoying it.  the terrible two's haven't been too bad to me.

thwr: in which todd shows off his mouthy side.

as we were getting on a plane with the kids, who really ended up being fantastic the entire flight.

lady on plane: (loudly to neighbor) if i had known kids were going to be on the plane, i would have taken a different flight.

todd:  (just as loudly) yeah, because kids are the WORST.


the lady did not find that amusing, but you know what? we didn't find it amusing that she automatically assumed that kids she didn't even know, who would be sitting 20 rows behind her, were going to ruin her flight.  and that she had the cahones to say that right in front of the kids' parents: she didn't even wait for us to get past her before commenting - she said it while we were standing three feet away.  in my humble opinion, that lady deserved a punch to the jugular. 

so, while i'm glad todd didn't actually start throwing punches and get us kicked off the plane, i am hoping that lady got shamed into at least keeping her mouth shut next time.  parents have enough to deal with while raising toddlers than to have to hear about how 'inconvenient' their kids are to people around them.  plus, who's to say that we don't actually really like and enjoy our kids and hate hearing when other people assume they're horrible to be around?  what's so freaking wrong with VALUING children?

well, not on todd's watch, lady.  open your ugly trap again and your flight will suck at the hands of the furious five (our team name when we're mad).

video vednesday: pumby umby umpkin.

 

p'nut at seventeen months

i realize i have gotten really bad at remembering to post updates about the kids.  those angelic little faces are, after all, the only reason why i have all this time to sit around and blog in the first place.  did they not exist, i would be a working chump like everybody else.  instead, i get to sit here eating spaghetti bake and blogging during naptime, so the least i can do to thank my kids for this opportunity is acknowledge every once in a while that they exist.

first up: penelope.



she will be 17 months on the thursday, and it's weird to think that she's almost exactly the same age - to the day - that atticus was when we welcomed her into our family.  she still seems so little to me, but now she is about to be come a big sister!  i can't believe it.

she typically wakes up between 7:30 and 8:00 (although i think she'd sleep later if she and atticus didn't share a room), and the first thing she does when she gets downstairs is to grab a book and head to the fridge to whine for her 'ma.' (milk.)  milk in hand, she camps out by the book basket until it's time to eat.  and the kid can eat.  the other morning she ate FIVE EGGS by herself, stole some off my plate, and cried when i told her she couldn't have any more because i didn't want to clean up egg puke.

she's a pickier eater than atticus was and is; she isn't big into crackers, bread, or really carbs in general (with the exception of pancakes and spaghetti); she's tolerant of vegetables when she's in a generous mood; and she'll eat fruit if driven to the brink of starvation.  not a meat eater.  what does she eat without being coerced, then, you ask?  eggs.  cheese.  milk.  yogurt.  i think she's begging by her preferences to move to a homestead...hmm. 


her favorite activity is reading.  i think all kids love reading at this age, but she spends most of the day pulling all the books out of the book basket and looking at them until atticus steals them.  her favorite book is 'ba ba' (brown bear, brown bear), but her favorite author/illustrator is sandra boynton.  what a weird thing to say about a 17-month-old (their favorite author/illustrator is...).  todd even discovered the other day that she has mastered the concept of 'i spy' and can identify all the items in the 'i spy' board book we own.



like her mama, she will read whatever she can get her hands on  - even thomas.

she started talking way earlier than atticus did, and she's capable of saying way more than she typically shows off - her vocabulary includes quite a few words, but her most commonly used words are 'ma' (milk), 'muh' (more), 'duh' (done), and our very favorite 'yah.'  we hear 'yah' about 20 times an hour.  did you notice the rest of the words are food-related? no surprise.

she can also say 'mama,' 'dada,' 'buh buh' (brother), 'puh' (puppy), 'tah' (cat), 'no,' 'bye bye,' 'ball,' 'buh' (book), 'shoes,' 'this,' 'that,' 'baby,' and probably several more that either i can't remember or haven't identified yet as being actual words.  (please tell me i'm not the only mother who recognizes a word as being an actual word months after my kid started saying it.)  it's funny - at this age, atticus could only say 'mama,' 'dada,' 'puppy,' and 'baby.'

she LOVES wearing shoes and will request to change shoes multiple times a day.  she likes putting on headbands and hats and brushing her hair.  she loves carrying around dirty laundry, particularly socks and atticus' underwear, so we have to keep an eye on her around the hamper. (yesterday i found her pushing a baby stroller full of dirty socks around the house.)  she's starting to realize she's capable of refusing to do what i ask her to do, and i can always tell she's being willfully disobedient when she stares at me and blinks her eyes really hard.  she loves giving kisses and hugs, and patting atticus on the back.  she's already more strong-willed than atticus, and we probably see more temper tantrums from her on a weekly basis than from him (anyone who knows atticus will not be surprised by this).

in all, i've found raising a girl to be similar to raising a boy in a lot of regards, but in other ways it's funny to see how innate the differences are.  even though she spends her time playing with cars and trains, watching thomas the tank engine, and waiting for the garbage truck to come, her interests are definitely more feminine than atticus'.  she likes brushing my hair and bringing me my own shoes to put on my feet - i think she's trying to get me to buck up and start developing more feminine interests like hers.  recently i wore my hair down for the first time in a long time, and she just kept staring at me and smiling and playing with it.  atticus would never have done anything like that.  he probably would have just pulled it and gone on his merry way.



though she's more feminine than atticus, she's also more brave, and apparently fascinated by this tarantula.  did NOT get that from me.

and i will end this very long post with her dental report because, as you know if you get our annual christmas newsletter, dental news is a very big deal in our house.  sis currently has four front teeth on top, four front teeth on bottom, all her molars, and is working on teething a few more in between.  (it has been a long two months of nonstop teething, and it doesn't look like it will let up any time soon.)

so that's 17-month-old sis in a really big nutshell.

'member that time?

what is it about fall that makes me reminisce about high school vandalism?

'member that time a bunch of my friends tried to TP my house, but the only tree in our yard worth TPing is a pine tree, and the toilet paper rolls would go up into the tree when they threw them, but wouldn't come back down?  so 'member how every time it got windy after that, whole rolls of toilet paper would come sailing out of our tree and re-TP our yard? 

and 'member how we ignorantly pulled in the driveway when they were only mid-destruction, so they took off running, leaving behind a still-sealed four-pack of charmin?

i felt like the luckiest girl in the world that night because A) anyone who's anyone gets TP'd during homecoming, B) i have the kind of friends who would vandalize my house with the expensive toilet paper, and C) i got some freebie, lint-free toilet paper out of the deal.  

no, sweet pea. that would be called the black market.

when todd and i went to my 12-week appointment, we took the kids with us.  before we got out of the car, i tried to use the moment to explain to atticus that mommy has a baby growing in her tummy, and someday soon that baby will get to come and live with us at our house.  today we're going to hear its heart beating.  can you feel your heart beating? etc. etc.

we get inside and go up to the counter to check in and atticus is all like, mommy buy a baby now?

nope.

i must've missed the opportunity in our deep and meaningful prior conversation to explain that we're at the doctor's office, not in a shady back alley to pick up our trafficked human.

just providing you with the facts, folks.

warning: if you're one of those people who would like to continue thinking that pregnant ladies are cute, you shouldn't read this blog.  if you like to think that the belly is 90% decorative and that there's a 'glow' about a pregnant lady that can only be attributed to the spit left behind when the angels kissed her, stop here.

i warned you.

i am here to dash your preconceived notions about the cuteness of pregnancy.  while i'm at it, i will also say that the stork does not deliver babies and watermelon seeds are in no way involved.

and also, i strongly suspect, from the pure ratio of the number of actual blind guys in the world to the number of focus on the family radio programs addressing the topic, that masturbation does not cause blindness.

that last one has very little to do with pregnancy - actually, it has the opposite to do with pregnancy - but i thought it pertinent.  not condoning anything here, people, just providing you with all the facts.  i'm like your D.A.R.E. officer, only without the potbelly mustache.  and my D.A.R.E. officer went on to win the lottery, so if i could be a millionaire by simply growing a mustache, i'd do it.  (i've got the potbelly thing down, does that get me at least half a mil?)

anyway, back to crushing your fantasies:  i STINK when i'm pregnant.  as in, i have B.O. about 10 seconds after stepping out of the shower.  also, my pit hair grows really fast and i'm balding on top of my head, but that's not the point of this part of my post.  (all in due time, friends.  all. in. due. time.)

and it's not that i don't wear deodorant or anything.  in fact, the other day i tried putting on todd's deodorant to see if the man-stuff is in fact stronger than sparkly berry-scented teen spirit or the kind with built-in pit moisturizer.  (yes, i did, todd.  i'm sorry you're having to find out this way.)  (also, girl deodorant is dumb.) and you know what?  i smelled like a tenth-grade boy.  like, aww, good effort, but now i really just smell like sweat with a hint of pine.

and that 'preggo glow'?  just good old fashioned perspiration.

you heard it straight from the horse's mouth.  because my breath kind of stinks, too,  but that's from all the puking.

video vednesday: oh no. uh oh -




just for the record, this was as far downhill as this whole debacle got.  lucky for the cleaning crew at the local BK, my kid doesn't have a sensitive upchuck reflex.  he was only sad that stuffing the whole burger in his mouth, gagging, spitting the whole thing out, and then (not unreasonably) refusing to eat any of it was not, in my opinion, grounds for more fries.

the land of make believe

atticus loves pretending. we have all kinds of characters pass through our house on any given day. there are 'the guys,' who are the fingers of one hand that he carries in the other hand. there is 'man,' who talks in a really deep and kind of abrasive voice. there are your typical animal characters (a cat named murph, my mom's cat marley, a dinosaur named dinosaur.) then there's the ever-present 'baby.' don't get me started on how much i dislike baby.

(i'm not saying his names for all his characters are the most original. he seems to have gotten the 'i hate the naming process' gene from me.)

the other day, he was pretending to be 'mama.' he talked in a singsong voice, hovered over penelope, read a book, and ran to the bathroom to 'pook.'

it's apparent that i'm leaving quite the legacy.









'member that time?

'member that time i failed at vandalism?

so then 'member how, for hours upon hours after my sad experience, i sat with a bunch of girlfriends stringing together a yards-long chain of rubber bands?  and 'member how we returned to adam's house at four in the morning and stretched that sucker all the way around his yard so the only way to clean it up was to cut it and watch it fly?

second time was a charm.  i dubbed us the 'rubber bandits,' adam's dad was pissed, and i can only hope that the giant rubber band somehow got stinging vengeance on the Lame Neighbor.  street cred REINSTATED.

sick. and sick.

just thought i'd share this little nugget with you:

a couple weeks ago, i puked into my own eye.

yes, i did.  because i'm paige van voorst and i have the spiritual gift of accomplishing the impossible.

it turns out, it's not that hard.  you just lean into the toilet at around a 65* angle, and chances are that the laws of physics will turn that stuff right around and boomerang it back to you.  tuck that away for your next trivial pursuit tournament.

but while it burned, i am happy to announce that puke is apparently not hazardous to optical health, and me and my peepers have recovered.  although i would suggest adding to your first trimester toolkit (along with seabands, B natal suckers, listerine and a full-time housekeeper) a pair of goggles - safety or swim is up to you. 

i prefer swim for the wide variety of color options, but that's purely a personal decision.  

dirty bit.

the other day i was listening to the radio, and the black eyed peas came on.  my first response was, this is really catchy.  my second response was, what the crap are they talking about? are they even speaking english?  my third response was, who cares? this is catchy.

it was at that moment that i realized a very important nugget about the way of things.  there are (at least) two kinds of people in the world:  the mozarts and the will.i.ams.

the mozarts of the world want their work to say something, to convey beauty and truth and fullness and emotion.  the will.i.ams. don't really care about a message (or even real words, for that matter), so long as what they say rhymes and can be mixed on top of a beat that is medically impossible to resist.

and here is the thing i realized about myself in all of this: my blog is basically the 'my humps' of the internet.  no matter how badly i may desperately desire to write deep and meaningful posts, my blog is no 'requiem mass.'  that is best left to ann voskamp.

and i spent a little while kicking myself for the fact that what i have to say is about as profound as 'let's get retarded' without even the fall-back assurance of me at least looking like fergie.  i really kicked myself when i realized that not only am i not the fergie of this analogy, but i am that one vague, long-haired, creepy, gothic-alien Pea whose name no one knows.  waah waah. 

but then i was all like, there is a place on the radio (and in my heart) for the black eyed peas.  sure, no one's going to listen to their latest 'retro-futuristic party' hit (billboard's words, not mine) and be all, this song has inspired me to run for president and love my family more.  but you know what?  sometimes you don't need to run for president.  sometimes what you really need is mindless fun and disasterous lyrics.

so that is what i'm here for.  that is what i was apparently created to do.  and who am i to be ashamed of that?

so bring it on, black eyed peas.  no matter how incoherent, juvenile, or that's-not-even-a-real-language your lyrics become, you will always have a loyalist in me because we're cut from the same cloth.  and in return, i expect you to read my blog, which posts monday-friday around 12:01 a.m. CST on most days.

video vednesday: i'm not there yet, you guys.

fall weather always makes me get nostalgic about starting school. this video always makes me nostalgic about school dances and being besties with my mom.


everything is shiny and brand new!

with this pregnancy, stuff has gone pretty easy.  lots of fatigue and some puking, but nothing like it was with either of my other kids.  it was actually kind of a nice excuse to do nothing but lay on the couch and read gone with the wind.  (maybe i should have spent my time reading something with a little more substance...)

however, 14 weeks was a magical turning point for me.  a crux, if you will.

not only did i ditch the puking and the fatigue (although i still sleep like i'm brain dead), but i gained a HUGE surge of energy.  as in, i have chopped down close to 10 trees in our yard.  literally.  (well, i guess to say 'literally' would mean to admit that i didn't chop them so much as i bow saw-ed them, and to confess that one particularly obese mulberry tree got the chop at the hands of my dear husband.  but the point is, i have the energy to ORDER my husband to cut down said tree.)

(and, yes, if you caught that, i cut down the mulberry tree.  i'm not sorry.  no more ma-ingallsin' it for me.  now i get my berries the old fashioned way - from the store.)

i also decided to paint my living room (although deciding on a color has been more than slightly problematic).  and paint my storm windows.  and direct todd to hang said storm windows.  i also got caught up on laundry, hung some art in my kitchen, cleaned out my cupboards, and pulled out the kids' fall clothes.  dang, i'm like a whirlwind of activity.

i did not vacuum the stairs. even though i probably have had the energy to do it, vacuuming stairs is what they make you do in hell.  oh, also in hell, they tell you that the stairs you have to vacuum will lead to the exit but then there IS NO EXIT and you're all like, whut the crap, and they're all like, get it through your head that this is hell and not a sitcom.  now vacuum the stairs again...and for all eternity.

(todd would also like to insert here that they make you eat mustard while you're vacuuming the stairs.  turns out, people in hell are mean.)

anyway.  back to my stories.

also, i got a haircut.  for the first time since my only-semi-successful freauty school cut.  which means i've been rocking the homecut for the last year.  which, if you know me at all, is kind of my M.O.:  i have the greatest intentions of getting my hair cut on a rigid 12-week schedule and then it's all a year and a half later and TLC is wanting me to come on one of their shows about pathetic losers who never cut their hair.  (if there is one thing TLC is awesome at, it's making you feel sick at the human condition.  and also, giving you a glimpse inside the lives of little people.)  but this time, i broke down and actually drove all the way to madrid (through construction, mind you) and shelled out cash for a professional.  i'm nothing if not determined.

anyway.  all i really want to say is that the second trimester of pregnancy is like prozac and caffeine and also lots of street drugs, all rolled into a magical, mystical time.  and i have to say, i quite like it.

'member that time?

hey, 'member that time in high school when i tried to TP my bff adam's yard?  but i'm sure you remember how i'm hardly known for my iron core biceps and so i was having kind of a hard time getting the toilet paper all the way up in the tree... so after like fifteen minutes he came out and helped me.

then 'member how, as i was driving away, his lame neighbor was already in the yard picking up all the fruits of my labor?


not a brag-worthy attempt at vandalism.  next week i'll tell you how i tried to redeem the night... and my street cred.

i should become a scientist.

a while ago, we had a tree frog sitting on our window. not on our windowsill. our window.

so from the inside, you could see his little frog belly and what i can only assume were his her little frog parts. which i can only assume because i'm not well-versed in frog reproductive health.

so then i'm all, this is weird. that frog is suctioned to glass. vertically. it defies gravity. nay, it defies nature in its entirety.

so i laid it upon myself to figure out the science behind how a tree frog does this. (maybe someone else has attempted to explain it before; i don't know, i didn't check. encyclopedias are for nerds. real smarties use their own brains.) and here is what i came up with:

i think god has to lick all the tree frogs every day to keep them sticky. like when you have to lick a spoon to stick it to your nose. and it really gave me a profound perspective on god, because that kind of job takes a lot of patience and a lot of spit and a lot of tolerance for the taste of raw frog. but that's how much god loves the tree frogs.

marinate on that little nugget for a while.

i suppose three cribs would be too many.

three nights ago, atticus officially moved out of his crib.  granted, it wasn't to a technical 'big boy bed,' considering we haven't had time to go pick out a bed (and the promising garage sale listing for a 'twin-sized jenny lind headboard/footboard' turned out to be a big dull dud of a 'generic 1970's grandma headboard with no footboard').  so we just took the mattress out of his crib and put it on the floor.  whammo, instant tumble-proof alternative to the real thing.

eventually, he will be getting a real bed of his very own.  just to clarify that we won't permanently be keeping him in wartime prison-like sleeping conditions.

the relevance of this story will make sense in a second:  i cut atticus' hair for the first time when he was two months old, and probably didn't keep the clippings.  mostly because it kind of grosses me out to keep chunks of hair around.  (ask me sometime about the flourescent orange ponytail we have in an envelope in our guest room closet - we have more than enough human hair around for my liking.)  i really could care less if my kid keeps their 'baby curls' at the expense of sporting a mullet - mullets weigh heavier than baby curls in my book, and that stuff has got to go.  

in fact, more generally speaking than just in terms of hair, i love it when they start to grow out of the baby stage and start sleeping like a normal person, eating like a normal person, and in general behaving like a really short and sometimes out of control adult (so basically, like danny devito).  maybe chalk it up to the fact that i'm not really a 'baby baby' person, or the fact that i have a soft spot in my heart for the episode of friends where danny devito plays a tiny little stripper.  all i mean to say is that i'm not super sentimental about keeping my kids in that baby stage of life.

but the other night, laying in bed and knowing atticus would never again (under normal human developmental conditions) sleep in a crib...i got teary.  my oldest baby isn't a baby.  he's a kid.  and there's really not a whole lot left tying him to those little baby moments.

and the pragmatist in me (the side of my brain that is much bigger and stronger and probably better-looking under MRI) knows that it's time - he needs to be in a bed, and soon we'll need the crib for the next kiddo.  and purchasing a third crib is just insane, even for the van voorsts.  but that other side of my brain - the side that proudly admits to it not really being christmas without watching love actually and not so proudly admits to having repeatedly imagined a boy at my middle school standing on a lunch table and singing me a backstreet boys ballad - well, that side...

may or may not have crawled onto a tiny crib mattress at midnight and laid next to a tiny kid and cried for fifteen minutes.

video vednesday: do you hear that?



that friends, is the heartbeat of the tiniest van voorst, scheduled to literally burst forth in a blaze of guts and glory on march 3, 2012.  (we are nearly 15 weeks knocked up now!  i told you i'm awesome at keeping secrets.)

you've been forewarned: the van voorsts are about to be five strong and you don't stand a chance. 

thanks, church guy.

i have this tshirt that i have loved for a long time.  what can i say?  it's boatneck, it's gray, it's long enough, it's fitted but not too tight, it's from the gap, i got it for free.  all things add up to one major WIN.

so, i wore it like every day that i actually got dressed.  which was about once a week, so it was always clean.  another win.

then i ran into this guy from church who was all like, 'my wife has that same shirt and she LOVES it!  yeah! she wears it when she really doesn't care what she looks like and just wants to be comfortable.'

why is it that even the best-intentioned conversations with church guys frequently make you feel like a burlap sack full of crap?

this tshirt is now officially my painting shirt.   

'member that time?

hey, 'member that time in second grade i watched the berenstein bears valentine's day movie and learned that S.W.A.K. means 'sealed with a kiss'?  so 'member how i wrote a love note to the boy sitting behind me and wrote S.W.A.K. on the outside and threw it under his desk?  but 'member how he didn't notice it was there, so i was all, hey there's something under your desk, and he was all, who is swaaack?

then 'member how i was all, how dumb are you? s.w.a.k. stands for 'sealed with a kiss,' duh.  also, don't talk to me you have cooties.

he never figured out it was from me, but i'm not sure what i was trying to accomplish with this whole episode.

whoops, there goes another rubber tree plant. i mean, well-intentioned bible read-through plan.

this year, i had high-apple-pie-in-the-sky hopes for reading through my bible from cover to cover.  (minus the table of contents and the maps and that weird part in the front of every bible that explains why they put this version of the bible together in such-and-such a way when you're all, who cares.  also minus the concordance and the index.  skipping these parts made a bible read-through plan seem much more realistic, since there seem to be a lot of pages in my bible that aren't actually the bible and are therefore unnecessary to read.)

in fact, i even got a little cocky and can be pressed to admit that i even casually mentioned that i'd like to finish by september, and once i may or may not have said something about a read-through-the-bible-in-three-months plan.

well, i think i heard somewhere that god humbles the proud and it is now officially september and i am officially halfway done with deuteronomy. for those of you who are new to the bible table of contents, that's the equivalent of being about 15 minutes of the way in to a lord of the rings marathon.

so, because i haven't yet learned my lesson, it crossed my mind to sprint the last leg of this thing and actually accomplish that whole read-it-in-three-months craziness.  but then i realized that a) running analogies should tell me something about the realism of this plan, since i can't run half a city block without sending myself into cardiac arrest and b) i'm sitting here blogging and eating tootsie rolls and it's highly unlikely that that's a recipe for success.  i'm not ruling out the possibility that helen keller and jonas salk spent hours on end eating soft candy and staring into space.  but i'm basically ruling out the possibility that helen keller and jonas salk spent hours on end eating soft candy and staring into space.  or if they did, i'm quite confident they attribute their success to something in addition to that.  something which i currently am not implementing.

so here's my cheery note of the day: it is currently september and i have no hope for the next three months holding anything remotely resembling accomplishment for me.

wherein i tell you about my bathtub.


this is a picture of our bathroom, stolen (the photo, not the room) from the MLS listing site when we first became smitten with our house.  not much has changed since we moved in, other than the fact that all the fancies you see here, such as wall art, a bathmat, and towels, have not been replaced.  so it looks pretty bare.

BUT.  i'm not here to discuss my lack of decorating motivation over the last few months, nor am i here to tell you about this inexplicable primal urge i have to wallpaper the top of this room in something really crazy to make up for all the blah i feel in there right now.

nope.  today is the day i'm here to tell you about our tub.  this is the day the lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.

i had long dreamed of having a clawfoot tub and i literally developed an arrythmia just looking at those listing photos.  then i saw the little beauty in person.  i think this tub was nearly singlehanded in making me fall for this house.  (although it was aided by pretty much every other feature of the house, minus the kind of creepy damp smell the basement gets when it rains and the fact that our newly remodeled shower is unusable unless we want to cause irreparable water damage in the kitchen and encourage mold spores to exercise squatting rights.)

in fact, this gal will turn 100 years old next year - she's original to the house - but you wouldn't know it.  her clawfooted legs are still just as spritely and trim as they were when she was a teen (i'm guessing.  since i was about 3 generations away from even  being a sparkle in my daddy's eye when this little lady was a teenager).  she's the kind of 100-year-old that you can tell was a total hottie in her heyday because she's STILL a total hottie.  there is not a single wrinkle or sag anywhere to be found on this tub (although i'm fairly confident she's had some work done, mainly in her 'plumbing hardware' and 'leg' areas.  plus, i think she may have had an all-over airbrush effect done at some point recently.  oh well.  can't blame a girl for trying to maintain her youth.)

anyway.  want to know the thing i love best about our tub? the way she cradles your head just so when you're taking a bath.  stupid fiberglass tubs have that rim around them that's too low and pointy-edged and flat, and you get out of the tub with a headache if you lay in there for more than five seconds.  but this baby makes you feel like a masseuse is holding your head up for you, minus actually having to invite a masseuse to bathtime.  call me a buzzkill, but bathing with a hands-on audience sounds considerably less relaxing.  so this tub is win-win.

however, i do have to be honest here and say that there have been a few unforeseen drawbacks of having this ancient tub.  one, she's mouthy.  two, she's way hard to clean - i have no idea how this tub was kept clean in the, oh, 93 years between her birth and the advent of the magic eraser.  you look at this tub wrong and it gets a soap ring.  third, that lovely, skinny, rounded edge that is so perfect for cradling your neck is not so practical during toddler bathtime.  there is nowhere to set shampoo.  there is nowhere for the kids to set their toys.  there is no margin of error between 'in the bath' and 'on the floor' when it comes to water pour-age.

do not get the wrong impression.  barring some midlife crisis, i will never trade this tub in for a younger model.  but i have realized that she is like a lot of old ladies:  all sweet and serene on the surface, inviting you over for cookies and a hearty game of scrabble, but then she says something racist and you're all, i'm pretty sure i still like you but i think i should probably go home now.  but she lures you into staying with a handful of werther's and the opportunity to see photos of her husband liberating a concentration camp and you're all, let's be besties and watch law and order all day.

so, if you're still following along, that's where i'm at with my tub. 



also...really craving a werther's.