I don't eat Fruit. I don't in Veggies. Therefore I don't loose weight.
It's not that I hate F/Vs it's just that I don't LOVE them and don't think to eat them. I can go weeks with having little more than a banana in the F/V column of diet. So what do I eat instead? Crap. Prepackaged, convinient, crap. 3 point Granola Bars mostly. They are too easy. I know I just shouldn't buy them - but they are better than the 5 point ones I used to get...
Produce goes bad in my fridge more often than it is consumed.
I need to refocus my diet if I am ever going to be sucessful in the weightloss world. (Which by the way, I'm feeling very unsuccessful in these days - next week is rollover and I've only lost 6 lbs in the first 12 weeks - should have been more like 20! I sucked. But as far as excuses go, I guess a sick/dieing/dead mom is a pretty good reason to have had a few extra brownies, bowls of Lucky Charms and pans of full-fat lasanga made by sweet, well meaning friends/neighbours... but that's all over with now - no more excuses...the next 12 weeks will be MAJOR or my name's not Feather Tober! )
So ways to increase my F/V intake to a near healthy level:
1. make ahead smoothies to have for morning snack. (4 at a time b/c I have 4 "tummblers" from Tupperware - Fab for freezing smoothies! Fill with fresh or frozen fruit that I will not eat fresh (pineapple, honeydew, berries, mango, etc etc) Add 1% milk, slim fast powder, a juice box and blend to a palatable mush. Freeze. remember to take out of freezer when I wake up. Voila! 2 servings of satisfying fruit.
2. Buy the more expensive, but useable frozen veggie medlies/sauced ones(as opposed to the unusable/gone bad vegs in my crisper) Like the yummy broccoli in cheese microwave boxes, stir fry mix, and the ones with baby corns in them! They won't go bad, and they are easy and yummy - so cook them, bitch, cook them!
3. Have a some kind of fruit at breakfast everyday. Banana, orange, apple... skip the refined sugar/carb cereals and have oatmeal/cream of wheat (instant b/c I'm lazy, with brown sugar splenda and a dollup of strawberry jam!) and a fruit. Just say NO to 26 years of my 2 daily bowls ceral and fill up on something that keeps me full for more than 20 minutes!
4. Any other suggestion?, oh beautiful blog readers who have a healthy relationship with the produce section of life...
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
One Little Word
A lot of the local bloggers ahve been following the lead of Ali Edwards and choosing a word for the upcoming year. A flagship word that will describe 2011. I don't know the background of it all, as I'm not a loyal Ali Edwards follower, but it seems to be a type of new year's resolution. A way to shape your life around this one word.
In classic Heather style I'm having trouble committing to just one word.
My 3 words for 2011 are:
BREATHE - What I need to do more. Instead of yelling or losing my temper with the kids, Dan or Dad I need to stop and breathe first. Before having a freak-out, break-down or losing it I need to think and BREATHE.
TIME - Take time for myself, spend time with those who really matter to me, give myself as many time-outs as I give the kids, time to grieve, time to heal, never enough time to do everything!
NEW - Everything this year will be new. A new chapter in my life story...a chapter without my mommy. New ways of doing old things, a new baby (my sister's) in June, new start to weight watchers/weight loss, a new me??
In classic Heather style I'm having trouble committing to just one word.
My 3 words for 2011 are:
BREATHE - What I need to do more. Instead of yelling or losing my temper with the kids, Dan or Dad I need to stop and breathe first. Before having a freak-out, break-down or losing it I need to think and BREATHE.
TIME - Take time for myself, spend time with those who really matter to me, give myself as many time-outs as I give the kids, time to grieve, time to heal, never enough time to do everything!
NEW - Everything this year will be new. A new chapter in my life story...a chapter without my mommy. New ways of doing old things, a new baby (my sister's) in June, new start to weight watchers/weight loss, a new me??
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Junkie
A new low for me - almost as painful as the day I took the plunge and started this damn blog... I boughta book called "Love Your Handwriting" written by Heidi Swapp, endorsed by Becky Higgins, designed for crafty Marthas who appear to have their shit together. Those who ACTAULLY craft and scrapbook, not just compulsively buy and hoard supplies.
OK - in my defense, I was in Chapters - retail therapy after another long 12 hour shift with my mom- and it was on the baragain table. Only 9.99. So if it doesn't turn out to be a life changing read, at least I'm only out the price of a big box of cereal...
I long to be as put together as "those" girls are. To have unlimited bank accounts (or at least husbands that understand/tolerate their pension for all things new, trendy and hot off the Martha train.) Those women who have limitless time to scrapbook or blog or try new reciepes that can be blogged and scrapbooked next week. Whose houses could be in magazines, who's kids wear matching themed shirts, who always look so eff'n happy!
Me - well, I'm not a housekeeper or a decorator. My house is clean and I like how things look - but something tells me the 1970's couch, old-style TV, and dollarstore toy buckets won't be in any magainzes this year...
I'm lucky if my kids are wearing clean clothes that actually fit them! and well, my ACTUAL happiness is buried under layers of sadness, frustration, confusion, strength and necessity.
So, like a junkie, I sit and wallow in this self pity of not being picture perfect. I take another hit of my drug - Lucky Charms today - Bowl #3. Tastes so good. I hate myself for my weakness. For buying the box. For uncontrollably eating it. I already hate what it's doing to my body, my teeth. my weight watchers committment, BUT it tastes so good! So for now I focus on the sweet sugary crunch of Lucky's special Charms, and prepare to love my handwriting... or at least fake it!
OK - in my defense, I was in Chapters - retail therapy after another long 12 hour shift with my mom- and it was on the baragain table. Only 9.99. So if it doesn't turn out to be a life changing read, at least I'm only out the price of a big box of cereal...
I long to be as put together as "those" girls are. To have unlimited bank accounts (or at least husbands that understand/tolerate their pension for all things new, trendy and hot off the Martha train.) Those women who have limitless time to scrapbook or blog or try new reciepes that can be blogged and scrapbooked next week. Whose houses could be in magazines, who's kids wear matching themed shirts, who always look so eff'n happy!
Me - well, I'm not a housekeeper or a decorator. My house is clean and I like how things look - but something tells me the 1970's couch, old-style TV, and dollarstore toy buckets won't be in any magainzes this year...
I'm lucky if my kids are wearing clean clothes that actually fit them! and well, my ACTUAL happiness is buried under layers of sadness, frustration, confusion, strength and necessity.
So, like a junkie, I sit and wallow in this self pity of not being picture perfect. I take another hit of my drug - Lucky Charms today - Bowl #3. Tastes so good. I hate myself for my weakness. For buying the box. For uncontrollably eating it. I already hate what it's doing to my body, my teeth. my weight watchers committment, BUT it tastes so good! So for now I focus on the sweet sugary crunch of Lucky's special Charms, and prepare to love my handwriting... or at least fake it!
Monday, December 27, 2010
2 weeks
The urge to blog again hit me as I was taking the stairs to Unit 5A while eating a triple chocolate ice cream sandwich: My way of grieving with food and losing weight - both 2 interesting journeys for future posts...
I've been in Regina at the General hospital for what seems like months. It's really only been 2 weeks. 2 WEEKS! Crazy how the world keeps ticking. 2 weeks since we discovered my mom had a brain tumor. 2 weeks since the MRI revealed it was large and smack in the middle of her brain. Inoperable. Untreatable. Unstoppable.
It's a GBM phase IV. The worst of the worst (as more than one doctor has put it) Cancer - the C word. A Beast that is quickly enveloping her entire brain with it's greedy tenticles. Unreal.
5 days since out consult with a dr. at the cancer clinic. 5 days since we officially decided to walk the palliative path. It's a path that we've been unofficially tiptoeing down ever since coming to 5A.
My mom is going to die.
Every letter in that sentence breaks my heart. I hate it. It's too soon. Too fast. I'm not ready.
Mom has only been sick for about 2 months now. It started with tiredness, headaches and some flu symptoms. She laid in pain for weeks - the headaches taking every bit of her. She appeared depressed, not caring about anything. all she wanted to do was lay still in bed and hope for her headache to go away. When on a palliative path (end of life - terminal - nothing can save you now) path, pain management is #1. Such a rellief that she'll never be in pain again.
I deal with everything that's happening by nursing. (shoulda been one - or maybe I was one in another life...) Catching & measuring puke, emptying catheder bads, showering my mom, all help me help her. I enjoy (OK...I don't mind) helping her to the toilet, changing her sheets and keeping the nurses on their toes with med quizzes.
I know she'd do the same for me in a millisecond. I'm at the hospital early, stay late and in her room most of the time. I avoid company though. When she gets visitors I make myself scarce. I can't handle their sad looks or their complients that I'm so strong - doing so amazing.
F.U. is what I want to say. but perhaps, not the best PR for friendly, well meaning visitors... I'm not strong - I'm not the only one who's ever done personal care on their parent.
Maybe I am doing amazing, but that's what scares me. When will I lose it? When will I bawl and break things and scream and cuddle into a ball of fried emotions???
The reality is there won't be thime for that. Not now and not once we're back home. Too much shit to do. House is a friggin disaster. Kids have been without me for 2 weeks. I start back to work Jan 10. and I need to give 3 three my all. Plus there is all the other everyday things to do - all without the woman who kept my ducks in a row.
I am terrified for life after Arlene.
I know God needs her for something and I need to trust his plan for everything - but frig! - I need her for EVERYTHING!
Part if of me wants to give God the "tall man" and say FU!
The other part of me wants to go to church everyday, pray and pray and search and search for a spriritual meaning for this.
Both seem pretty radical...
I've been in Regina at the General hospital for what seems like months. It's really only been 2 weeks. 2 WEEKS! Crazy how the world keeps ticking. 2 weeks since we discovered my mom had a brain tumor. 2 weeks since the MRI revealed it was large and smack in the middle of her brain. Inoperable. Untreatable. Unstoppable.
It's a GBM phase IV. The worst of the worst (as more than one doctor has put it) Cancer - the C word. A Beast that is quickly enveloping her entire brain with it's greedy tenticles. Unreal.
5 days since out consult with a dr. at the cancer clinic. 5 days since we officially decided to walk the palliative path. It's a path that we've been unofficially tiptoeing down ever since coming to 5A.
My mom is going to die.
Every letter in that sentence breaks my heart. I hate it. It's too soon. Too fast. I'm not ready.
Mom has only been sick for about 2 months now. It started with tiredness, headaches and some flu symptoms. She laid in pain for weeks - the headaches taking every bit of her. She appeared depressed, not caring about anything. all she wanted to do was lay still in bed and hope for her headache to go away. When on a palliative path (end of life - terminal - nothing can save you now) path, pain management is #1. Such a rellief that she'll never be in pain again.
I deal with everything that's happening by nursing. (shoulda been one - or maybe I was one in another life...) Catching & measuring puke, emptying catheder bads, showering my mom, all help me help her. I enjoy (OK...I don't mind) helping her to the toilet, changing her sheets and keeping the nurses on their toes with med quizzes.
I know she'd do the same for me in a millisecond. I'm at the hospital early, stay late and in her room most of the time. I avoid company though. When she gets visitors I make myself scarce. I can't handle their sad looks or their complients that I'm so strong - doing so amazing.
F.U. is what I want to say. but perhaps, not the best PR for friendly, well meaning visitors... I'm not strong - I'm not the only one who's ever done personal care on their parent.
Maybe I am doing amazing, but that's what scares me. When will I lose it? When will I bawl and break things and scream and cuddle into a ball of fried emotions???
The reality is there won't be thime for that. Not now and not once we're back home. Too much shit to do. House is a friggin disaster. Kids have been without me for 2 weeks. I start back to work Jan 10. and I need to give 3 three my all. Plus there is all the other everyday things to do - all without the woman who kept my ducks in a row.
I am terrified for life after Arlene.
I know God needs her for something and I need to trust his plan for everything - but frig! - I need her for EVERYTHING!
Part if of me wants to give God the "tall man" and say FU!
The other part of me wants to go to church everyday, pray and pray and search and search for a spriritual meaning for this.
Both seem pretty radical...
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Weight Watcher.
Today is the start of my second week as a weight watcher. I've signed up to do the 12 week program in Carlyle every Wednesday night. I've been thinking about it for quite awhile, but it just hasn't worked out until now. I'm completly inspired my 2 of my friends who are WW's and SMOKIN'!!! I want to be skinny like them! So I took the plunge, wrote the check, stepped on the scale and made the committment. Which for those who know me, know that I have committment issues - and even commiting to a coffee date is hard for me! For the next 12 weeks I'll be counting points, tracking what I put in my mouth, crossing my fingers as I look down at the scale and trying to get my fat ass a bit (or a lot) smaller!
I know that weight is like age with women - a closely held secret - but I want to be able to tell everyone how much I weigh, and not be embarassed one bit - and I want to buy some clothes and not cringe at the size. I want to leave a change room smiling, enter a room without sucking in my tummy, and for the first time in my life feel SKINNY! I have memories going all the way back to grade 4 of being embrassed by my weight.
Anyways, it's starting out good, with a loss of 3.2 lbs in my first week! Lets hope I can keep it up though Chiristmas (will I be able to resist all the cream cheese goodies Shier Christmas Eve is famous for??) and into the new year!
I have no idea what my ideal weight would be - in my adult years I've never been under 180 - so anything under that would be a dream! The smallest size I've been was a 12 (for a short time) - so being a single size would be insane!
I know that weight is like age with women - a closely held secret - but I want to be able to tell everyone how much I weigh, and not be embarassed one bit - and I want to buy some clothes and not cringe at the size. I want to leave a change room smiling, enter a room without sucking in my tummy, and for the first time in my life feel SKINNY! I have memories going all the way back to grade 4 of being embrassed by my weight.
Anyways, it's starting out good, with a loss of 3.2 lbs in my first week! Lets hope I can keep it up though Chiristmas (will I be able to resist all the cream cheese goodies Shier Christmas Eve is famous for??) and into the new year!
I have no idea what my ideal weight would be - in my adult years I've never been under 180 - so anything under that would be a dream! The smallest size I've been was a 12 (for a short time) - so being a single size would be insane!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
2 years ago
October 3rd 2008:
Just another busy day in the life of the Tober's. One week before Heather's due date for baby #2. The day was typical in that there were errands run in town, chores done at both farms, a dog saved from yet another pesky creature (baby porcupine on this particular day), and a big steak supper for 2 guys from Matrix-Calgary (who'd been holed up in Oxbow for weeks with few food options...)
That night after the Matrix guys went back to town, and the dishwasher was filled I headed up to bed. Read a few pages in my perpetual book (takes literally months to read a book), switched off my lamp, rolled over and oops!!! my water broke. (i think)
I alert Dan to this possibility. He is does not believe me (he's half asleep on the couch, just getting into a new Law & Order) I head to the bathroom, legs trembling, to see what I can see. (Don't know what I expected!)
My water didn't break with Tristan (Drs did it at some point I assume) so I was a bit frazzled about this. Also - We were a week ahead of schedule! I had had no pains or hints that tonight would be the night, Tristan was a week late - I was gearing up for another overdue pregnancy. And besides - Pierson Craft Sale is tomorrow, and we're digging the trenches for our watering bowls - we HAD plans (not involving the arrival of a baby)
So I call the hospital to see if I should come in or wait for conractions to start. They say come in. I call mom to get her to come and watch Tristan. It is midnight by the time we leave the yard and the contractions have started. We are not expecting to have much time before this little baby arrives. Tristan was born 8 hours after the first contraction - no messing around when it comes to me having a baby! So if you believe what "they" say, this baby should take about half as long to come - 4hrs! yikes.
Turn onto the highway and 'bing bing' the Low Fuel Light comes on. 80kms to empty. Estevan is no more than 50 - we'll be alright. Let's just get there!
Speed up on the highway and the truck starts to shake and rattle. Mud in the tires. Washed my truck today, but didn't get all the mud out of the tires, aparently. SO. My laid-back chauffer sets the cruise at 80...80!!!! (and voila! no shake) HELLO - I'm in LABOR! anyway, I breathe through contractions, and try to block out his preactical advice on the importance of washing out the wheel wells.
We are just getting to Bienfait when the bright blue and red lights of a police car falsh on and pull us over.
cop: any alcohol in the vehicle?
dan: nope - just my wife in labour
cop: have you been drinking
dan: yeah, had a few beers at supper I guess
cop: i'll have to ask you to step out of the vehicle sir
are you freakin' kidding me!!!??? can't a person drive 80 at midnight and not be assumed drunk?? did you not hear the wife in labour part?! a million things run through my head. what if he blows over? can i drive myself to the hospital? What if we run out of gas? What if the baby starts to come while they are in the car? can i deliver this baby myself? what would happen if i waddled out of this truck and lost it on the cop? can they arrest a psycho-preggo lady in labour? after what felt like an hour dan is free to leave and 'have a nice night!' cripes! thanks a lot moron cop! Now let's get going!!!!
We make it the final 15km incident free, and check in to the hospital. In the monitoring room for a bit, where I'm instructed to try to rest and relax. Dan would like to do both as well - and those chairs in the monitoring room are just not made for sleeping! So he heads out to the waiting room and brings in a lazy boy! Might as well be comfortable!
After a bit I decide to ask for some drugs (demerol) I had no drugs with T and feel kind of guilty asking for them - but the contractions seem to hurt WAY more this time, and I just don't feel that I can breathe through them like I did 15 months earlier.
The nurses say I need to be moved to the labour/delivery room if I want the drugs - so they wheel me down the hall. Dan, wheels the LAZY BOY down the hall!!! So, these drugs really get me loopy - I keep trying to talk to Dan, he shh's me, as he's trying to get some more sleep. When it's time to push, Dan announces that he needs to use the bathroom first, and attempts to leave the delivery room for the public washroom down the hall. The nurses don't let him get away that easy and 3 of them herd him to the closer bathroom within the delivery room. Dr. Naidu magically appears, Dan comes back, I push like, 4 times and out comes this new baby - A GIRL!!
I don't remember much of what happened until after we are back in the "recovery" room. I say to dan "So, what are we going to call this little Pinkie?" We had not talked about names at all throughout the pregnacy - we don't exactly have the same taste... He says "uh... Rachel." In a tone that made it seem like I was silly for even asking, as if we'd talked about it and Rachel was a soild agreed upon choice. Me, still doped up, says, "oh. OK!" I vaguely remember asking him what about Sierra, Harlo, Dylyn or Summer??? (my top 4, Rachel didn't even make the top 20!!)No, No, No, and No. He could never take someone named any of those names seriously - a girl with any of those names would never be a boss of a business or have a chance at a good job, purely based on the flakey name at the top of the resume.
So Rachel it was. Middle name? no question. Eileen. That's Dan's Granny's name. She is an incredible woman that he and I both adore. We couldn't think of a better way to honour our favorite, spunky lady!
Completly exhaused Dan leaves for home and I pass out with a smile on my face.
We love you Rachel!!!
Happy Birthday!!
Just another busy day in the life of the Tober's. One week before Heather's due date for baby #2. The day was typical in that there were errands run in town, chores done at both farms, a dog saved from yet another pesky creature (baby porcupine on this particular day), and a big steak supper for 2 guys from Matrix-Calgary (who'd been holed up in Oxbow for weeks with few food options...)
That night after the Matrix guys went back to town, and the dishwasher was filled I headed up to bed. Read a few pages in my perpetual book (takes literally months to read a book), switched off my lamp, rolled over and oops!!! my water broke. (i think)
I alert Dan to this possibility. He is does not believe me (he's half asleep on the couch, just getting into a new Law & Order) I head to the bathroom, legs trembling, to see what I can see. (Don't know what I expected!)
My water didn't break with Tristan (Drs did it at some point I assume) so I was a bit frazzled about this. Also - We were a week ahead of schedule! I had had no pains or hints that tonight would be the night, Tristan was a week late - I was gearing up for another overdue pregnancy. And besides - Pierson Craft Sale is tomorrow, and we're digging the trenches for our watering bowls - we HAD plans (not involving the arrival of a baby)
So I call the hospital to see if I should come in or wait for conractions to start. They say come in. I call mom to get her to come and watch Tristan. It is midnight by the time we leave the yard and the contractions have started. We are not expecting to have much time before this little baby arrives. Tristan was born 8 hours after the first contraction - no messing around when it comes to me having a baby! So if you believe what "they" say, this baby should take about half as long to come - 4hrs! yikes.
Turn onto the highway and 'bing bing' the Low Fuel Light comes on. 80kms to empty. Estevan is no more than 50 - we'll be alright. Let's just get there!
Speed up on the highway and the truck starts to shake and rattle. Mud in the tires. Washed my truck today, but didn't get all the mud out of the tires, aparently. SO. My laid-back chauffer sets the cruise at 80...80!!!! (and voila! no shake) HELLO - I'm in LABOR! anyway, I breathe through contractions, and try to block out his preactical advice on the importance of washing out the wheel wells.
We are just getting to Bienfait when the bright blue and red lights of a police car falsh on and pull us over.
cop: any alcohol in the vehicle?
dan: nope - just my wife in labour
cop: have you been drinking
dan: yeah, had a few beers at supper I guess
cop: i'll have to ask you to step out of the vehicle sir
are you freakin' kidding me!!!??? can't a person drive 80 at midnight and not be assumed drunk?? did you not hear the wife in labour part?! a million things run through my head. what if he blows over? can i drive myself to the hospital? What if we run out of gas? What if the baby starts to come while they are in the car? can i deliver this baby myself? what would happen if i waddled out of this truck and lost it on the cop? can they arrest a psycho-preggo lady in labour? after what felt like an hour dan is free to leave and 'have a nice night!' cripes! thanks a lot moron cop! Now let's get going!!!!
We make it the final 15km incident free, and check in to the hospital. In the monitoring room for a bit, where I'm instructed to try to rest and relax. Dan would like to do both as well - and those chairs in the monitoring room are just not made for sleeping! So he heads out to the waiting room and brings in a lazy boy! Might as well be comfortable!
After a bit I decide to ask for some drugs (demerol) I had no drugs with T and feel kind of guilty asking for them - but the contractions seem to hurt WAY more this time, and I just don't feel that I can breathe through them like I did 15 months earlier.
The nurses say I need to be moved to the labour/delivery room if I want the drugs - so they wheel me down the hall. Dan, wheels the LAZY BOY down the hall!!! So, these drugs really get me loopy - I keep trying to talk to Dan, he shh's me, as he's trying to get some more sleep. When it's time to push, Dan announces that he needs to use the bathroom first, and attempts to leave the delivery room for the public washroom down the hall. The nurses don't let him get away that easy and 3 of them herd him to the closer bathroom within the delivery room. Dr. Naidu magically appears, Dan comes back, I push like, 4 times and out comes this new baby - A GIRL!!
I don't remember much of what happened until after we are back in the "recovery" room. I say to dan "So, what are we going to call this little Pinkie?" We had not talked about names at all throughout the pregnacy - we don't exactly have the same taste... He says "uh... Rachel." In a tone that made it seem like I was silly for even asking, as if we'd talked about it and Rachel was a soild agreed upon choice. Me, still doped up, says, "oh. OK!" I vaguely remember asking him what about Sierra, Harlo, Dylyn or Summer??? (my top 4, Rachel didn't even make the top 20!!)No, No, No, and No. He could never take someone named any of those names seriously - a girl with any of those names would never be a boss of a business or have a chance at a good job, purely based on the flakey name at the top of the resume.
So Rachel it was. Middle name? no question. Eileen. That's Dan's Granny's name. She is an incredible woman that he and I both adore. We couldn't think of a better way to honour our favorite, spunky lady!
Completly exhaused Dan leaves for home and I pass out with a smile on my face.
We love you Rachel!!!
Happy Birthday!!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
MidWeek
The kids and I sleep in until 9:00!! Unbelievable and unnecessary.
After breakfast we make blender banana bread (yum!) and then head up stairs to get the kids dressed and to srtip the beds. (It's been awhile...) They have fun tugging and wrestling with the sheets and blankets from everyone's beds. They take all the pillows they can find and make a path down the hallway and into my room. They "march" from pillow to pillow, making elephant noises.
Just when I think I can sneak in a bit of computer time - it is complete hell. Screaming and crying and pushing and fighting. On me, beside me and all around in the office while I try to read my email, blog and make a facebook invite to T's birthday party.
We go outside to cool down and blow off some of that agression. Steer and kitten chores. Then back inside. The kids take a break and watch Mickey and I do up some treat bags in anticipation for the upcoming (date To be Determined) birthday party for a 3 year old.
It's nearing lunch time, so I phone a couple of my buddies to see if they want to meet me down the street from their place for a "bro-burger" at the Open House. The Schultz family join us for a fab beef on a bun lunch. Little Phoebe was perturbed by Tristan's enthusasim in a thing called BobCat (that's not even a REAL CAT) and T had fum showing Phoeb all the cool machinery and corals ("Gates") that they had sett up. From town we got the mail and then drove to Carnduff to check out the herd there.
Kids nap while on the road - so that's nice. Once home I finish tidying up the trianlge room (which is my crafty nook/catchall room) and hang up pictures in the spare room (it was painted over a year ago...)
Make supper for the 3 of us and then work on the calendar for preschool/prek. The kis help me bring in several load of freshly air-dryed clothes that we fold. (or I fold and they unfold and I re-fold). We head upstairs to make up all the beds that we stripped this morning.
Bath time and PJs/ Then downstairs again to watch the stamede. T doesn't make it to the bulls, which are his favorite and I feel a bit bad for him, he LOVES them!... but it IS 10:00! Rach makes it through all of the rodeo and most of the chuckwagon races before she zonks out. (such a trooper)
I change the lightbulbs that I've been meaning to change for a month, and make up a batch of quick and easy cards to have on hand. (baby gift/birthday) Then head to bed.
After breakfast we make blender banana bread (yum!) and then head up stairs to get the kids dressed and to srtip the beds. (It's been awhile...) They have fun tugging and wrestling with the sheets and blankets from everyone's beds. They take all the pillows they can find and make a path down the hallway and into my room. They "march" from pillow to pillow, making elephant noises.
Just when I think I can sneak in a bit of computer time - it is complete hell. Screaming and crying and pushing and fighting. On me, beside me and all around in the office while I try to read my email, blog and make a facebook invite to T's birthday party.
We go outside to cool down and blow off some of that agression. Steer and kitten chores. Then back inside. The kids take a break and watch Mickey and I do up some treat bags in anticipation for the upcoming (date To be Determined) birthday party for a 3 year old.
It's nearing lunch time, so I phone a couple of my buddies to see if they want to meet me down the street from their place for a "bro-burger" at the Open House. The Schultz family join us for a fab beef on a bun lunch. Little Phoebe was perturbed by Tristan's enthusasim in a thing called BobCat (that's not even a REAL CAT) and T had fum showing Phoeb all the cool machinery and corals ("Gates") that they had sett up. From town we got the mail and then drove to Carnduff to check out the herd there.
Kids nap while on the road - so that's nice. Once home I finish tidying up the trianlge room (which is my crafty nook/catchall room) and hang up pictures in the spare room (it was painted over a year ago...)
Make supper for the 3 of us and then work on the calendar for preschool/prek. The kis help me bring in several load of freshly air-dryed clothes that we fold. (or I fold and they unfold and I re-fold). We head upstairs to make up all the beds that we stripped this morning.
Bath time and PJs/ Then downstairs again to watch the stamede. T doesn't make it to the bulls, which are his favorite and I feel a bit bad for him, he LOVES them!... but it IS 10:00! Rach makes it through all of the rodeo and most of the chuckwagon races before she zonks out. (such a trooper)
I change the lightbulbs that I've been meaning to change for a month, and make up a batch of quick and easy cards to have on hand. (baby gift/birthday) Then head to bed.
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