My temporary hostel has officially been relegated back to a closet. It appears the plague has left the building and.... Oh Yeah! Oh Yeah! I came out unscathed! (that's as close to Neener Neener as I'm going to get. I wouldn't dream of annoying those Karma police again)
While I was in hiding, I decided to finally take the plunge and change my blog over to the used-to-be-beta-but-now-out-of-beta version. Everyone else was doing it because Blogger was making them (?). I don't like to be told what to do... so I just did it. Ohhhh, the labels. Such pretty post labels.
I've been working for days trying to get them applied to all of my old posts. I'm halfway done. *sigh* They looked pretty at first.
Also? I found out I spend a lot of time in 'Blatant Whining' mode. Hmm. I'm a whiner. Well, no more of that! (this week - it's a slow process undoing a habit, gimme a break) So. All the good happening in my world?
Umm, yeah... I've got nothing. (Heh. That's not true at all but I had you going didn't I?)
Really, quite a bit has been going on. Saturday, we had baseball tryouts at 1:00pm for Doodlebug and then the 1st practice for Shaggy at 5:30pm.
Tryouts were a bust - that league completely failed to call me and say, "Oh, by the way... tryouts were changed from 1:00pm to 10:15am." We arrived at 12:15 and were told, "Yeah. Sorry about that. Come back on Tuesday."
Shaggy's practice - Hmm... so much to say there. Though Mr. Clean and I tried for many, many years to get Shaggy into baseball, he always declined. Insisted the sport was not for him. At. All. Now, of course, he has dreams of Major League ball. Sufficed to say, this is his first year playing. That being said, the other boys on the team really welcomed him into the fold and his coach (Oh, more about him later) said he has oodles and oodles of natural talent (we knew this... hence trying to get him to play for years). Bottom line - he'll be just fine.
That being said - I have a couple of statements:
What in the heck are parents feeding their boys these days? As I sat out there in the stands, my hind parts frozen to the wood (it happens, I can prove it)... I mentioned to Mr. Clean: "Wow. There are a lot of older boys on this team. I hope Shaggy fits in okay." A nice woman next to us, hearing this, leaned over and said: "Oh, almost all of them are fifteen, just like your Shaggy." And then I died because I'd actually been casually enjoying some non-cradle-robbing show of muscles. EWWWWWW.
Statement the First -- I am NOT a perv. I swear I thought almost every one of them were 18 (the team runs from 15-18). A good handful out them practicing with one who was definitely NOT 15... they looked college-bound. I swear it!! For a moment (a very SLIGHT MOMENT), I could almost.... ALMOST... understand the new rash of teacher/student scandals here lately. These guys really, honestly, looked very close to adult. I'm still gobsmacked by it.
My Shaggy? He does not look adult. He's just hit a growth spurt and is built like his grandpa so he's talllllllll, and thin, and ropey; his muscles defined but very close to the bone still. Heh. His baseball pants make him look like he has bird legs. So. Not. Adult.
Statement the Second - It turns out the one who was definitely NOT 15... is not. He's 20. And he's the coach. And he's a little bit yummy. That's all I'm going to say on the subject.
In other news... today is my Doodlebug's birthday. He's 9 years old and I can't figure out where the other 8 years went. Just yesterday he was curled around my middle, still in the womb, with his little fingers and toes clawing outward so forcefully I developed bruises on the outside of my belly. Really. It looked like I'd been involved in a pea shooting incident. Humorous aside -- I used to use a bag of frozen peas to make him 'get off already'.
Doodlebug spent his first year looking like an Elvis impersonator. He came out with a thick mane of hair that had absolutely no rhyme or reason to it. It whirled with cowlicks every which way, creating the ultimate bouffant no matter what I did to try and tame it. We finally buzzed it. And then it grew out; still Elvis hair. We buzzed it again. When it grew out again, I took him to my stylist and said: "Oh, for the love of God, can you please tame this child's Elvis hair?" She laughed and used thinning shears on it. Elvis had left the building. Finally.
My baby is a human teddy bear. He loves nothing more than to cuddle and will routinely drag out every blanket and pillow known to man in order to cuddle up next to me on the couch. Did I mention all of his blankets are about as heavy as they can get? I think I have an inkling of what it feels like to live in a sweat lodge now... but that's okay because he is SO darn lovable.
Indeed, he is SO cute his teacher told me at the first of the year: "Doodlebug is just So So cute. He talks in class aLOT and he doesn't always follow directions or finish his work but he is So So CUTE, I just cannot bear to discipline him."
I told her to get over it. She didn't... until this semester, when she wrote a note home saying: "Doodlebug will not focus and finish his work or follow directions. He's always talking and not living up to his potential and I'm fretting and wringing my hands because I do not know what to do about it." Hmmm... maybe she should have gotten over that cuteness factor in September like I told her to instead of allowing him to wrap her little head around his finger so tightly.
That's my Doodlebug. He's the epitome of self-preservation through cuteness.
See the halo? We are in Such. Big. Trouble. when this one hits the teen years.
Today, I will spend my lunch hour(s) baking him the most awesome Vanilla-Almond cake with Cream Cheese Icing and Strawberries. Because that's what he wants. And then, this weekend, it'll be Oreo Cookies & Cream cupcakes. Because that's what he wants. And the Heelies he asked for? In my closet just waiting to be opened and drooled over.
Happy Birthday, Doodlebug. Your smiles squeeze my heart to bits.
While I was in hiding, I decided to finally take the plunge and change my blog over to the used-to-be-beta-but-now-out-of-beta version. Everyone else was doing it because Blogger was making them (?). I don't like to be told what to do... so I just did it. Ohhhh, the labels. Such pretty post labels.
I've been working for days trying to get them applied to all of my old posts. I'm halfway done. *sigh* They looked pretty at first.
Also? I found out I spend a lot of time in 'Blatant Whining' mode. Hmm. I'm a whiner. Well, no more of that! (this week - it's a slow process undoing a habit, gimme a break) So. All the good happening in my world?
Umm, yeah... I've got nothing. (Heh. That's not true at all but I had you going didn't I?)
Really, quite a bit has been going on. Saturday, we had baseball tryouts at 1:00pm for Doodlebug and then the 1st practice for Shaggy at 5:30pm.
Tryouts were a bust - that league completely failed to call me and say, "Oh, by the way... tryouts were changed from 1:00pm to 10:15am." We arrived at 12:15 and were told, "Yeah. Sorry about that. Come back on Tuesday."
Shaggy's practice - Hmm... so much to say there. Though Mr. Clean and I tried for many, many years to get Shaggy into baseball, he always declined. Insisted the sport was not for him. At. All. Now, of course, he has dreams of Major League ball. Sufficed to say, this is his first year playing. That being said, the other boys on the team really welcomed him into the fold and his coach (Oh, more about him later) said he has oodles and oodles of natural talent (we knew this... hence trying to get him to play for years). Bottom line - he'll be just fine.
That being said - I have a couple of statements:
What in the heck are parents feeding their boys these days? As I sat out there in the stands, my hind parts frozen to the wood (it happens, I can prove it)... I mentioned to Mr. Clean: "Wow. There are a lot of older boys on this team. I hope Shaggy fits in okay." A nice woman next to us, hearing this, leaned over and said: "Oh, almost all of them are fifteen, just like your Shaggy." And then I died because I'd actually been casually enjoying some non-cradle-robbing show of muscles. EWWWWWW.
Statement the First -- I am NOT a perv. I swear I thought almost every one of them were 18 (the team runs from 15-18). A good handful out them practicing with one who was definitely NOT 15... they looked college-bound. I swear it!! For a moment (a very SLIGHT MOMENT), I could almost.... ALMOST... understand the new rash of teacher/student scandals here lately. These guys really, honestly, looked very close to adult. I'm still gobsmacked by it.
My Shaggy? He does not look adult. He's just hit a growth spurt and is built like his grandpa so he's talllllllll, and thin, and ropey; his muscles defined but very close to the bone still. Heh. His baseball pants make him look like he has bird legs. So. Not. Adult.
Statement the Second - It turns out the one who was definitely NOT 15... is not. He's 20. And he's the coach. And he's a little bit yummy. That's all I'm going to say on the subject.
In other news... today is my Doodlebug's birthday. He's 9 years old and I can't figure out where the other 8 years went. Just yesterday he was curled around my middle, still in the womb, with his little fingers and toes clawing outward so forcefully I developed bruises on the outside of my belly. Really. It looked like I'd been involved in a pea shooting incident. Humorous aside -- I used to use a bag of frozen peas to make him 'get off already'.
Doodlebug spent his first year looking like an Elvis impersonator. He came out with a thick mane of hair that had absolutely no rhyme or reason to it. It whirled with cowlicks every which way, creating the ultimate bouffant no matter what I did to try and tame it. We finally buzzed it. And then it grew out; still Elvis hair. We buzzed it again. When it grew out again, I took him to my stylist and said: "Oh, for the love of God, can you please tame this child's Elvis hair?" She laughed and used thinning shears on it. Elvis had left the building. Finally.
My baby is a human teddy bear. He loves nothing more than to cuddle and will routinely drag out every blanket and pillow known to man in order to cuddle up next to me on the couch. Did I mention all of his blankets are about as heavy as they can get? I think I have an inkling of what it feels like to live in a sweat lodge now... but that's okay because he is SO darn lovable.
Indeed, he is SO cute his teacher told me at the first of the year: "Doodlebug is just So So cute. He talks in class aLOT and he doesn't always follow directions or finish his work but he is So So CUTE, I just cannot bear to discipline him."
I told her to get over it. She didn't... until this semester, when she wrote a note home saying: "Doodlebug will not focus and finish his work or follow directions. He's always talking and not living up to his potential and I'm fretting and wringing my hands because I do not know what to do about it." Hmmm... maybe she should have gotten over that cuteness factor in September like I told her to instead of allowing him to wrap her little head around his finger so tightly.
That's my Doodlebug. He's the epitome of self-preservation through cuteness.
See the halo? We are in Such. Big. Trouble. when this one hits the teen years.
Today, I will spend my lunch hour(s) baking him the most awesome Vanilla-Almond cake with Cream Cheese Icing and Strawberries. Because that's what he wants. And then, this weekend, it'll be Oreo Cookies & Cream cupcakes. Because that's what he wants. And the Heelies he asked for? In my closet just waiting to be opened and drooled over.
Happy Birthday, Doodlebug. Your smiles squeeze my heart to bits.
YAY that you didn't get sick!!
And happy birthday to Doodlebug! (Who I think looks just like his mama, BTW.)
Awwww, what a heartbreaker! You know....he looks a little like that middle kid from Home Improvement. Happy Birthday Doodlebug!
Thanks for the birthday wishes to Doodlebug. He beamed when I told him y'all had left msgs.