Well it seems that miracles will never cease. Not only are we going to be blessed with a baby girl in four months, but we've actually been able to agree on a name. And as I type this, I honestly don't know if I'm going to post the name or not. I've been agonizing over it for a week. It's not that I fear people's comments, because frankly I think it's a darling name and nothing's going to change my mind.
It's odd really because we've still got so much time left, and frankly I didn't think we'd ever agree. We've been discussing names ever since we found out about this baby. Boys names were no problem, we've had a short list of those for the last two years. But girls' names were not so easy. We just have extremely different taste. So it seemed we were never in the same ball park. For a couple of months we've tossed names back and forth. Neither of us really fond of anything the other came up with. We decided to table the discussion until we knew the gender of the baby because we really weren't getting anywhere.
Last Thursday when we got the news, we resumed our conversation. Truthfully, I figured we were in for a long four months of bargaining and pleading and vetoing one another's suggestions.
And then it hit us. Both of us. At the same moment. We were flipping through the baby name book, mostly mocking many of the suggestions in it, when one particular name kind of jumped out at me. I said it out loud. Travis smiled huge and said, "Yeah, I think I'd be okay with that." What followed was probably 20 solid minutes of "Are you serious, you really like it, because I do," and "Yes, I really like it, it's pretty cute," and so on and so forth.
I was so excited I couldn't sleep that night. The more the name ran through my head, the more perfect it seemed. I just knew that this was the name for our little girl. It's kind of ironic really because I used to make fun of people who named their kids while still in the womb. But if you've followed my blog at all, you'll know I had a similar experience with Gideon. It just came to us that this is what he was supposed to be called. There was never any question in our minds that's what his name should be.
And here we are again. I know it seems ridiculous to think that we know her name four months before she's even here, but we do. And we both absolutely love it and can't wait to meet her!
The funny thing about it, was that the name wasn't on either of our lists. Neither of us had ever even considered it. It literally came out of nowhere. And now that we know, I'm both thrilled and nervous. I'm excited on the one hand because the name is perfect and I love it so much, but I'm also a little scared because I'm afraid that if I tell too many people someone else might use it. I know that's completely selfish because it really doesn't matter what other people name their kids, I guess jealousy and posessiveness are just part of being human. (Travis says I can post the name if I make a threat that we'll hunt down anyone who steals the name. He's apparently a little possesive of it too.)
Okay I've been staring at this screen for nearly half an hour. I'm so excited I just can't stand it anymore. Our baby girl, when she gets here, will be Parker Holland Storer. If you love it, let me know, if you don't, you should know I really don't care. Because Gideon and Parker, those are my kids. I just know it.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Who knew I had great legs? Not me!
So I had a personal victory this morning. It wasn't when I got up to run a community sponsored 5K. It wasn't even when I turned in my fastest 5K time ever. (BTW there are no pictures to corroborate this because my cheering section arrived about 10 minutes after I crossed the line. It's okay though.) It wasn't when I ran into several people I knew who told me how great I looked and how impressed they were. (I didn't run that fast really, they were just being nice. OH! And Lindsay Wheeler says hi! This was her first ever 5K & she came in ahead of me. She did a great job! Skye you should call her when you're home.)
No my victory came when I decided to stop and go tanning on the way home. The girls at the tanning place all know that I run, so when they saw me come in all decked out in running gear, of course we started talking about it. Then came the sentence I almost didn't believe. One of them sighed and said, "I should start running again. I used to run in high school, but I haven't in a long time. But I want legs like yours. You have great legs. Maybe I'll go running tonight."
I almost laughed out loud. I have never EVER in my entire life been complimented on my legs. When you're the short curvy one one in a family of leggy (Jesse, Cami, Hillary) and thin (Shiloh & Skye) beauties, your legs aren't the ones that get noticed. Other parts of the anatomy may get lots of comments but not your legs. And even compared to most women, my legs aren't much to brag about. Still after my 2 second mental celebration I did my best to graciously thank her for the compliment and then basked silently in the glory that I was, for that moment, the girl with the great legs. (Then of course came that group of chatty teenagers with their dewey, youthful skin, perfect figures and wrinkle free complexions and totally stole my thunder.) But that's okay, for one moment, I was a woman with "great legs." Which leads me to think that I must be doing something right.
So for now I'll stick with running, because apparently it's sort of working.
No my victory came when I decided to stop and go tanning on the way home. The girls at the tanning place all know that I run, so when they saw me come in all decked out in running gear, of course we started talking about it. Then came the sentence I almost didn't believe. One of them sighed and said, "I should start running again. I used to run in high school, but I haven't in a long time. But I want legs like yours. You have great legs. Maybe I'll go running tonight."
I almost laughed out loud. I have never EVER in my entire life been complimented on my legs. When you're the short curvy one one in a family of leggy (Jesse, Cami, Hillary) and thin (Shiloh & Skye) beauties, your legs aren't the ones that get noticed. Other parts of the anatomy may get lots of comments but not your legs. And even compared to most women, my legs aren't much to brag about. Still after my 2 second mental celebration I did my best to graciously thank her for the compliment and then basked silently in the glory that I was, for that moment, the girl with the great legs. (Then of course came that group of chatty teenagers with their dewey, youthful skin, perfect figures and wrinkle free complexions and totally stole my thunder.) But that's okay, for one moment, I was a woman with "great legs." Which leads me to think that I must be doing something right.
So for now I'll stick with running, because apparently it's sort of working.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Survey says.....
Spring at last! Spring at last! Thank God Almighty, it's spring at last!
So we've been mowing our lawn....
...and going to the park...
...and hanging out with our buddy Lincoln at the park...
...And of course keeping the snow boots and umbrella on hand just in case!
Pretty soon Chi-Chi won't even have to wear her coat to come and visit us!
So we've been mowing our lawn....
...and going to the park...
...and hanging out with our buddy Lincoln at the park...
...And of course keeping the snow boots and umbrella on hand just in case!
Pretty soon Chi-Chi won't even have to wear her coat to come and visit us!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
How do you survive the Terrible 2's?
I adore my son. He's the most precious thing in the entire universe to me. Which is what makes this age so difficult.
Ever since he started running at 9 months old, he's been busy. But in the last few months busy has translated into mischevious. Add to that he's now stubborn and altogether too smart and you have a kid who's going to give his mom gray hair before it's all said and done.
The truth is, I'm probably not handling it very well so it could be more me than him, but I swear he brings me to the brink of tears at least once a day. Between the kicking, pinching and hitting I'm bruised and sore. And tired of being the evil ogre who has to punish him for those actions. But then he gives the sweetest kisses in the world and I think "This age really isn't so bad."
Of course I might not be so tired and cranky if he would sleep through the night. What happened to the boy who went down at 8:30 and woke at 7? Where did he go? Now I have boy who fights bed time, finally falls asleep and wakes twice sometimes three times a night, which means I spend half the night crunched up in a toddler bed trying to get him to sleep and the other half in my own bed getting pummled to bits by flying elbows and stray feet.
And who taught him that when he's done he should throw his food on the floor. That earns him more punishment, but it doesn't seem to deter him. I'm tired of looking around and seeing only spots on the floor and greasy handprints on my walls. I'm desperate for summer to really get here so we can actually go outside and maybe burn off some energy that doesn't include things like pulling every pair of mom's shoes out of the closet or emptying an entire dresser in .05 seconds or pulling furniture around to get into my desk and ending up with papers, pens, stickers, mail and everything else strewn everywhere.
Life was so much easier when he would just eat whatever snacks or food I made for him. Now he stubbornly refuses unless it's something he wants. Even worse, he's so independent I catch him trying to get stuff by himself the all the time! He repeatedly gets scolded and punished for climbling on the counters, and yet he still doesn't ask me for stuff, he just goes right back up there when I'm not looking. And when our power bill is twice as much this month because he's constantly standing with the fridge door open, emptying it as fast as he can I'm going to really come unglued.
I guess I'm fortunate that he doesn't throw tantrums. At least not often. No his favorite trick is to simply refuse. Like Monday in Wal-Mart. I didn't grab a cart because I only needed two things. We did great until we got close to the check out and he spied a display with beach toys. When I wouldn't let him run over there because we were in a hurry, he simply laid down on the floor. He didn't kick or scream or cry, he just laid there, dead weight, as I endured the horrified expressions and amused stares of onlookers for literally dragging him across the filthy floor on his stomach. (My arms were full, I couldn't carry him and I didn't know what else to do.)
I'm desperate for something, anything from anyone to give me a hint as what to do. I end up crying myself to sleep so many nights for all of my failings as a mother and wife and woman. I'm tired of feeling like this. I'm tired of living in a house that looks like a tornado hit it (I swear I'm going to meet my death tripping over matchbox cars.) I'm tired of mopping my floors only to have juice spilled on it within minutes. Or wiping my walls down only to have greasy hand prints magically reappear. I'm tired of being beaten and kicked by a boy who thinks it's funny and won't quit until he gets punished (and then of course breaks my heart with a pouty lip and big tears.) I'm just tired. Tired because I can't get a decent night's sleep even by my very low standards. I never felt old until I started spending the night getting beat up on by a toddler. Now I ache in the mornings. I'm tired of fighting him. Fighting to get him to eat, fighting to keep him off the furniture and out of the fridge, fighting to get him to let me brush his teeth, fighting to get him to sleep, fighting to get him to stay in his own bed. I'm just tired of fighting. The worse part is that it's making me feel like perhaps I'm not ready for another child. That maybe I don't even want another child because I don't know how I'll handle it when I can't seem to handle the one I've got. And that's the very worst feeling of all.
Ever since he started running at 9 months old, he's been busy. But in the last few months busy has translated into mischevious. Add to that he's now stubborn and altogether too smart and you have a kid who's going to give his mom gray hair before it's all said and done.
The truth is, I'm probably not handling it very well so it could be more me than him, but I swear he brings me to the brink of tears at least once a day. Between the kicking, pinching and hitting I'm bruised and sore. And tired of being the evil ogre who has to punish him for those actions. But then he gives the sweetest kisses in the world and I think "This age really isn't so bad."
Of course I might not be so tired and cranky if he would sleep through the night. What happened to the boy who went down at 8:30 and woke at 7? Where did he go? Now I have boy who fights bed time, finally falls asleep and wakes twice sometimes three times a night, which means I spend half the night crunched up in a toddler bed trying to get him to sleep and the other half in my own bed getting pummled to bits by flying elbows and stray feet.
And who taught him that when he's done he should throw his food on the floor. That earns him more punishment, but it doesn't seem to deter him. I'm tired of looking around and seeing only spots on the floor and greasy handprints on my walls. I'm desperate for summer to really get here so we can actually go outside and maybe burn off some energy that doesn't include things like pulling every pair of mom's shoes out of the closet or emptying an entire dresser in .05 seconds or pulling furniture around to get into my desk and ending up with papers, pens, stickers, mail and everything else strewn everywhere.
Life was so much easier when he would just eat whatever snacks or food I made for him. Now he stubbornly refuses unless it's something he wants. Even worse, he's so independent I catch him trying to get stuff by himself the all the time! He repeatedly gets scolded and punished for climbling on the counters, and yet he still doesn't ask me for stuff, he just goes right back up there when I'm not looking. And when our power bill is twice as much this month because he's constantly standing with the fridge door open, emptying it as fast as he can I'm going to really come unglued.
I guess I'm fortunate that he doesn't throw tantrums. At least not often. No his favorite trick is to simply refuse. Like Monday in Wal-Mart. I didn't grab a cart because I only needed two things. We did great until we got close to the check out and he spied a display with beach toys. When I wouldn't let him run over there because we were in a hurry, he simply laid down on the floor. He didn't kick or scream or cry, he just laid there, dead weight, as I endured the horrified expressions and amused stares of onlookers for literally dragging him across the filthy floor on his stomach. (My arms were full, I couldn't carry him and I didn't know what else to do.)
I'm desperate for something, anything from anyone to give me a hint as what to do. I end up crying myself to sleep so many nights for all of my failings as a mother and wife and woman. I'm tired of feeling like this. I'm tired of living in a house that looks like a tornado hit it (I swear I'm going to meet my death tripping over matchbox cars.) I'm tired of mopping my floors only to have juice spilled on it within minutes. Or wiping my walls down only to have greasy hand prints magically reappear. I'm tired of being beaten and kicked by a boy who thinks it's funny and won't quit until he gets punished (and then of course breaks my heart with a pouty lip and big tears.) I'm just tired. Tired because I can't get a decent night's sleep even by my very low standards. I never felt old until I started spending the night getting beat up on by a toddler. Now I ache in the mornings. I'm tired of fighting him. Fighting to get him to eat, fighting to keep him off the furniture and out of the fridge, fighting to get him to let me brush his teeth, fighting to get him to sleep, fighting to get him to stay in his own bed. I'm just tired of fighting. The worse part is that it's making me feel like perhaps I'm not ready for another child. That maybe I don't even want another child because I don't know how I'll handle it when I can't seem to handle the one I've got. And that's the very worst feeling of all.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
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