Apprenticed to a pirate
We have a cute little cartoon pirate picture up on Little's wall and it doesn't come up often, but it has apparently made an impression. We were sitting in his room reading scriptures the other day when he suddenly points to the picture and says clear as can be, "Pirate! YAR!" I about fell over with laughter. Neither of us having explicitly taught him such a thing, Bryce and I figure that he was born to be piratical and have decided we should do our best to find him a suitable pirate name. And yes, we do spend far too much of our time deciding what our names would be if we had alternate personalities (ex: mobster names, cowboy names, viking names, etc.). In short, we are ridiculous. We both have pirate names already, but we're taking suggestions for his. So if you have any good pirate names, send them our way mateys.
Also... We found this generate your pirate name website: http://www.piratequiz.com/. If you have a few minutes, you should try it. Bryce's was "Filthy Jim Jones." Fantastic. Everett's were "Clive the Bald" or "Mad Roger Bonney"... we're still not sold on either of his, but we're thinking of changing Bryce's.
Without further ado... Christmas!
Hooray for Christmas! And double hooray for finally getting around to blogging about it. The long and short of it is that we made it to Bryce's parents house relatively unscathed. Little was a trooper there and back. Seriously... amazing. All my panicking was for naught (as usual) and after 14-15 hours of travel Little was still happy as a clam. There were a few breakdowns, but at what was 2:00 AM for us he got his 56th wind and was bouncing around the house like a crazy nut and loving everyone and everything. The loving everything and everyone is still going strong, and sometimes the crazy nut, but for the most part it has settled down.
We got to hang out with Great Grandma Lowder (who Little adores--all she has to do is enter the room and he starts giggling), went caroling, watched plenty of football, ate great food, spent lots of good time with family, all-in-all a perfect Christmas.
We also went to the zoo with Grandpa and had a blast. Munching penguins, chasing birds, petting goats, could life get any better? Little was exhausted by the time we were done, but he was a trooper and he had so so much fun. We also got to take a picture in front of the self same storks we posed in front of when I was pregnant with Little. Things have definitely changed since then.
So there is Christmas in a nutshell. Family and fun. We're glad to be home, but so so sad to leave. We're already doing our best to con them into visiting us though, so hopefully we'll see everyone soon.
Also, as a bonus. Here is Little's new trick:
Love in my heart
It may seem silly to dedicate an entire post to a suitcase, but once you see her, you'll understand. Meet Vivian, our new addition to the family:
The long and short of it is, having underestimated all the stuff we'd have to bring home from Christmas, we were looking into buying a new suitcase when Bryce's dad suggested that we go look out in their shed and see if any of their old suitcases would work for our purposes. So, Bryce braved the spiders and potential rodents of the shed* and brought eight-or-so suitcases out for inspection. We picked a couple that looked like they would work and I set about cleaning them while he went back to the shed to check for more. And then... He emerged from the shed with Vivian in his arms. It was love at first sight. We cleaned, named, and adopted her at once--and by we I mean me, but Bryce put up with my shenanigans, so he is culpable.
A bit ridiculous? Definitely. Best piece of luggage ever? Absolutely.
(Christmas post still to follow. I promise.)
*Which truthfully wasn't as guck as it sounds because the exterminator takes care of anything that could truly be scary, but all the same...
In which Bryce's diet takes a turn for the worse
This morning, Little and I sneaked into our bedroom to ask if Bryce was ready to get up or not and found a few bright blue earplugs (life savers for him when sharing a room with Little) strewn about the room. I vaguely wondered at this as we pussy-footed through the room, but when we got to the bed my curiosity was piqued. Sitting next to Bryce on the bed was an ear plug that looked as though it had been eaten by either a dog, or a very thorough rodent, and short of said dog shimmying silently through the second floor window and back out again, there was no way to get into the room, thus creating the mystery. I picked it up and looked at it for a minute before Bryce said in his groggy half awake voice, "I ate my earplug."
I was dying laughing as he explained that sometime during the night his subconscious self had plopped the earplug into his mouth and he had been chewing it all night. When he woke up the morning spitting out bits of bright blue rubbery foam, it was quite the shock. I think law school has brought his sleep antics to a whole new level.
(Christmas post to follow)
Hello... my name is Haley and I'm a Stress-aholic.
I sort of hit a wall a while back and realized that my strange addiction to stress needed to stop lest I end up agoraphobic, if not in a padded white room. Luckily, I have a wonderful husband who acts as a resident therapist and tells me when I'm completely nutty and lets me talk it out until we're both exhausted, not to mention helping me set up parameters to keep myself in check, but following those parameters is growing increasingly challenging the more holidays we go through.
Admittedly, it is ridiculous to be addicted to stress and as with most of my silly, self-created issues, I wish I weren't so serious about it, but I mean it quite literally. I don't know when, but somehow stress stopped being a symptom and started being an outlet. Problem being that it has the unfortunate side effect of making me crazy. Seriously. Ridiculous. My sister and I were talking about it a while back and she told me something that stuck with me: "You are way too careful with your laundry, so you ruin it."
Let me explain... Ever since I started doing my own laundry it has been a cardinal sin in my family for anyone other than myself to do it. Reason being that I am ridiculously careful about following instructions/overly caring for most of my articles of clothing. Yet somehow, inexplicably it always gets ruined anyway. It is a mystery of epic proportion how this happens all the time. But happen it does. And granted, I'm not as careful as I once was (a necessity of motherhood I suppose), but I'm still careful, and it still gets ruined.
So, when my sister said, "Haley, you do this with everything. You are way too careful with your laundry, so you ruin it," we of course started laughing immediately because she almost accidentally stumbled upon a very effective mantra for my life. I spend my time worrying and fretting about something going wrong, making endless lists of possibilities, and doing everything humanly possible to avoid them and then they happen anyway (and sometimes because I spent so much effort trying to avoid it). Even if there isn't something legitimate to worry about, rest assured, I can find something. In short, it's a never ending cycle of stress. Hence the need to do something about it.
And now... back to the point: At this time of year when stress is a staple and making lists is fully sanctioned, I am having a backslide, an extinction burst if you will. Blech. I love Christmas, I do, but it turns out it is a challenge for a recovering stress-aholic.
That said, Hooray! for Christmas. I love this season and if I remind myself enough of why we have it, my stresses don't matter one bit. I'm totally not scrooging Christmas; in fact this year I sort of get two Christmases as we're headed to the Lowders for a fun-filled, stress free, three-week Christmas extravaganza, but we don't want to bring our gifts for each other, so we are having a pre-Christmas, and a real Christmas when we get to California. I couldn't be more excited.
Or more stressed.
And now... back to the point: At this time of year when stress is a staple and making lists is fully sanctioned, I am having a backslide, an extinction burst if you will. Blech. I love Christmas, I do, but it turns out it is a challenge for a recovering stress-aholic.
That said, Hooray! for Christmas. I love this season and if I remind myself enough of why we have it, my stresses don't matter one bit. I'm totally not scrooging Christmas; in fact this year I sort of get two Christmases as we're headed to the Lowders for a fun-filled, stress free, three-week Christmas extravaganza, but we don't want to bring our gifts for each other, so we are having a pre-Christmas, and a real Christmas when we get to California. I couldn't be more excited.
Or more stressed.
I have officially done it
Out of his depth
Being married to Bryce has made me very aware that there are so many simple things I take for granted. The latest? Depth perception. Normally Bryce functions just like everyone, but sometimes he'll do something odd, or make a comment that makes me realize just how many adjustments he has to make for his absent eye.
The other night we are sitting in bed chatting about everything and nothing and he says to me,
"Man! I totally miss having a back scrubber."
"What do you mean?" I ask, "You have one hanging in the shower."
"What?!!"
"Remember," I say utterly confused, "I bought you one for you a while back."
Pause of confusion before he says, "Wait... Is it clear?"
And we immediately bust up laughing because, as it is indeed a clear back scrubber and because of his lack of depth perception (not helped by the lack of glasses), he can't see it at all in the shower. So for a number of months now it has been sitting in the shower completely camouflaged for my dear husband.
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