Extended Stay

I just enjoyed a vacation. At the beach. With my whole family.

I love all three of those things. But vacation always seems to fly by so quickly. It seems like it takes MONTHS to get here, then is over before you know it.  This year, however, I managed to find some things that seemed to extend our time there.


Top 10 Ways to Make Your Beach Vacation Seem Longer:

10. Make your pregnant sister sleep on the sofa bed.

9. Stay in a house that sleeps 8, but have 10 people.

8. Rent the quaint little house next door to the three story house with a beautiful, crystal-clear swimming pool.

7. While at stoplights, look around to find yourself surrounded by cars not only from your home state, but FROM YOUR COUNTY. (We were 9 hours from home)

6. Dream about work. Every. Flippin. Night.

5. Go to Walmart. Every day.

4. Make sure your dogs know that a recent high school grad is house sitting, and they need to do everything in their power to be the topic of several facebook conversations, including having puppies!

3. Pack almost 20 different shirts, but some how manage to forget to pack enough undies.

2. Get a major sinus infection the first day.

And, the number one way to make a beach vacation seem that much longer....

Plan it for the same time as Shark Week.

Oh, and, make sure your kiddo decides to cry the last hour of your trip home.

But that's 11 ways. Just leave one out.

Whirlwind

That's a pretty good description of our lives right now. Between the hubs being back in school, and attending numerous trainings- several hours away, Ansley cutting multiple molars at once, and, well, me just trying to keep my head above water, life has been a little crazy.

But, regardless of how fast life is going, I've realized that there's always time to slow down. Even if just for a few minutes.

And just... be thankful.

I was hit hard with this yesterday as I drove to a neighboring county for school.  It is a drive I have made a ridiculous number of times. But this time was particularly different.

Just a few weeks ago, the Southeast was devastated by hundreds of tornadoes. I hate storms. But I've learned that Ansley looks to me for comfort. When the sky lights up and the thunder rumbles, as long as Mommy is calm, then Ansley follows suit.

Despite a day of storms, several hours without power and record amounts of rainfall, we were fine. Actually, I was fine. I was surprised at how calm I remained, even when the school I was teaching at was evacuated into the halls for nearly an hour while the skies grew black.

Except for one small branch that fell in front of the house, we remained damage free.  I joked. Almost all day. Because the weathermen were giving strict warnings. Get inside. In the basement. Away from windows. And then, it turned into nothing.  At least, for us.

Then, I watched the news, and heard about all the destruction in surrounding areas. And even heard of destruction that happened here. Locally. I looked at pictures. But it was still so foreign.

Until today. When I saw some of that damage myself.

I was breathless. And not in a good way. A forest leveled. Trees snapped in half. A front porch, on front of nothing.

And I realized just how fortunate we were. And it wasn't because I was "lucky" enough to see all of American Idol before we lost power that night. But it is because we still have a roof. And it is still over our heads. And, right now, Ansley is snoozing soundly in her bed, the pups are snuggled on the couch, and I'm sitting here at the computer, while so many lost so much. More than just stuff.  But people.

And despite all that whirls around me, I've got to stop. And take some time. And realize just how fortunate I am. To have a family that loves me more than words can express. To have... so much.

I'm regularly emotional. But every once and a while, "emotional" doesn't come close to describing all that is running through my head.

So tonight, though weeks after such brutal storms slammed practically the entire nation, I pray that you and yours are all safe and sound. And despite whatever whirlwind hits your life-literal or metaphoric- you will be able to reach out and grab that which is really important to you.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Last week? So good.

Except for the record number of tornadoes that happened to ravage the south. And the fact that I wore two unmatching flip flops on Monday. And the fact that I've singlehandedly managed to eat all the peanut butter filled chocolate Easter candies. Ok, so that still counts as being so good.

But, today? I'm hoping it isn't a preview of what is to come this week.  Some small demon possessed my child. She was MEAN today. I'm pretty sure it is because 1.) She flipped between sitters last week, 2.) She is cutting yet another tooth, and 3.) She didn't nap. AT.ALL.

I've struggled with picking her up from the sitter's before. She isn't always the most excited about going home. I get a hug, but then she's back to playing with the two other kiddos. She normally will cry, saying "Pay, Pay!" Not because I haven't paid the sitter, but because she has a had time with the letter L. And, probably because I did forget to pay the sitter and she's teaching Ansley some not-so-subliminal messages.

But, today, it was the UGLY. Not only did she not want to come to me from the sitter, but, when I actually took her, she slapped my face and pulled my hair. And it hurt. Not physically. But emotionally, and it hurt my pride.

I'm quick to say, "Oh, my kid is so much better better than that one pitching a fit over a barbie doll at Walmart." But it's when it goes the other direction that I think I'm just as hard. On myself.

I know we've hit a stubborn streak. And I know she'll come back around to be that sweet little girlie. But right now, I feel like a failure. Because I frequently have the kid that is crying in the grocery store. Or refusing to eat at the restaurant.

Or I have the kid that isn't even excited about seeing Momma when she gets home from work.

Yeah, sometimes it sucks.

Just sayin'.

It finally happened.

Today, I was one of those moms.

You know what I'm talking about. The one with the screaming toddler in Walmart that wants to do everything and grab everything and push the cart with the handle and open the bag of mini donuts while yelling "DONUT" at the top of her lungs (the toddler does this stuff. Not the mom.)

That was me. And I tried everything. Put her in the cart basket. Cart seat. Hold her. Let her push. Give her something to carry and tell her to follow. Get down on her level and calmly explain to her that she is not making Mommy proud right now and there were going to be serious consequences to her actions if she did not behave while we were grocery shopping. I think she got a little hung up on the "consequence" word. Or maybe you just can't reason with an 18-month-old. I'm not entirely sure which.

But I was so embarrassed. I didn't want her screaming, but it was physically impossible for me to carry her AND push the cart. At least, push the cart in a controlled manner. And I wanted to give in. I wanted to give her what she wanted rather than discipline her for not obeying. And it suddenly became so easy to understand why some parents needed the help of "Super Nanny."

And Super Nanny would not have approved of my methods today. Because instead of a time out chair, Ansley got a spanking. ::gasp::

And then, that made me feel like even more of one of those moms. Because I heard myself saying "Ansley, do  you want a spanking?"  And people were looking at me. I'm not entirely sure if it was because I was threatening a spanking, or because I had about 5 pounds of cheese in my cart.

Either way, it was an ordeal. But I didn't want to leave her with someone while I went shopping. She is with the sitter for two hours on Monday afternoon, and I felt that it wasn't fair to pick her up and drop her off with someone else while I went out. So, I took her.

I don't regret it. I just wish she understood bribery  positive reinforcement.

Eating Words

Before I became a mother, there were certain things I said I would never do:

Go to the bathroom with a random nurse in the room.
Let my kiddo nap on her tummy.
Consider mac and cheese a meal for my child.
Keep a binkie after a year old.
Catch puke with my hands.
Catch poop with my hands.
Send the kiddo to bed with a cup.
Consider pink and purple as acceptable clothing and paint options.
Let my child go barefoot in public.
Take my child out in pajamas.
Let my child out of the house with messy hair.
Enjoy open mouth, slobbery baby kisses.
Enjoy shopping for her more than shopping for me.
Wear a shirt that has some baby pee on it because I was running too late to change.
Look forward to going to bed at 9 (myself)
Consider cereal or pop tarts an acceptable dinner for me.
Cry when I left the baby with a sitter for the first time.
Leave without make-up on and my hair fixed.
Wear jeans twice without washing in between.
Cosleep.
Be too tired for ice cream.
Give my child medicine if she doesn't meet the age requirement.
Consider being a stay at home Mom.




Does this make me feel like a failure? Nope. It makes me feel like "Mommy."

The Snowball Effect

I'm not talking about a cold nose or a sore face from catching one in the kisser (though, if that is a concern of yours as your children age, I recently came across a "safe snowball maker." So when your kids play in the snow, rather than making those dangerously deadly hand-packed snowballs, you can use this hand snowball maker to make soft, safe snowballs).

I'm talking about how when you get behind on one thing, you can't seem to catch up. And you get more and more and more behind, till eventually you decide it isn't even worth trying to get back in the swing of things.

I have not read any blogs in about a month. And I keep telling myself I'll get caught up, but even though I haven't been posting as frequently, I know my reads have been, and at this point, I wonder if I should go back and read the old posts, or simply pick up where they are. Or just not worry about it.

And, my daily document project. Yeah, that lasted almost a month. Maybe. But I love taking photos and showing off my kiddo. But really, it's just one more thing that I start and don't finish.  Like knitting. I have about 6 projects currently going. And, when I'm out and I find a really nice yarn, I buy it, because I would like something in that color, or I have a pattern that totally screams "Your sister would love this!" And now, I have a plethora of yarn, and haven't picked up knitting needles in about 6 months.

Or cleaning my house. When I'm so far behind on the dishes, what difference does it make to just add one more to the sink instead of washing it?

But, I have to keep telling myself that the slack I leave behind is picked up by the hubs. And he has so much on his plate, it isn't fair for me to keep piling dirty plates on.

So, my house isn't as clean as I like it. I have a bunch of unfinished projects. I don't know how any of my reads are doing. My camera hasn't been taken out of my bag in ages. But, tonight, I snuggled with Ansley. We rocked. We exchanged nose kisses. We laughed. We snuggled some more. And as I stood there cradling her ever growing body, and her eyelids got heavier and heavier, I can honestly say I wasn't thinking about everything that needed to be done. Because in that moment, I was doing exactly what I needed to do.

A big step

Tonight, the hubs and I are headed out of town for a weekend getaway. Sans kiddo.

I'm concerned. I'm excited. Anxious. Scared. Anticipating.

This won't be the first time I've been away from Ansley. A few months ago, the hubs had a week of training two hours away, actually in his hometown. So he took the babe to spend a week with the grandparents. It was difficult then, but at least she was with her daddy.

But this is the first time she's be away from both of us for more than a few hours.

The in-laws are coming to spend the weekend at our house, to feed the dogs, and, more importantly, Ansley.  We'll be just an hour away, and plan to be back early afternoon Sunday.  I know everything will be perfect, and it will be a great time for the in-laws (as long as the kiddo keeps sleeping in, and doesn't revert back to her 6:30 wake up).

And, we'll have fun. And, we need it. Because no matter how much we invest in Ansley, if we aren't investing in our marriage, it does no good.

So, wish us luck! And if you hear groaning, it's probably because the in-laws are accustomed to central time, so Ansley waking at 6:30 is really 5:30 to them. And they may not like that too much.

Little Lady.

My beautiful little Ansley,
I don't know how we've gotten this far. But, we have. And we'll keep moving forward.
This is where I'm supposed to write all that sappy stuff about you no longer being an infant and becoming your own little person. About how you've said goodbye to your bottle, developed your own personality, and have even taken a few steps. But despite your increasing independence, I know you are still my baby girl.
You don't stop moving very long. You aren't very cuddly. But tonight, right in the middle of play time, you crawled over to me and snuggled. It was just a few seconds before that need to explore kicked back in, but it was just long enough for me to catch that now familiar scent of Johnson's Baby Shampoo, mixed with the sweet smell of clean pjs. My heart leapt, and I remembered that day a year ago.
I remember that first cry, especially because it didn't come right away. I remember that first kiss, though, I'll honestly admit, you hadn't been cleaned off yet and it grossed me out to kiss you still covered in mommy's baby juice. But, I did it. Because you were my baby.
The next few hours left mommy so weak and disoriented that she couldn't get down to the nursery right away. But daddy had pictures.
And then we brought you home. And you grew. And you are still growing. Each day reveals a little more of who you are, and what you are becoming. You are happy. Despite the fear and anxiety that often surround you, you laugh. You smile. And, most of the time, it's at the UPS men.
You love your puppies. You share your kisses with them almost more willingly than you do with us. But that's ok, little girl. Because Mommy knows that at the end of the day, when the house is getting dark and sleep is closing in, we retreat to your room and cozy up in the big chair, without the puppies, and I get all the kisses.
We rock. I don't mean that we are cool, though that's true, but I mean in your chair. Sometimes we'll rock a little longer than other times. And you'll cuddle in, for just a moment. And, in that moment, I know that no matter how old you are, and how big you get, you'll always be my little girl.
I love you little girl. Happy Birthday to you!

Love,
Mommy

Love.

I love my husband. I love that he frequently brings me fresh flowers.

I love my dogs. I love that they know when I'm upset, and need a furry cuddle.

I love that even though Jillian Michaels is kicking my butt, I feel good. Because I'm doing something about my fat jeans not fitting.

I love that Ansley is generally a happy baby, and loves to wave at people.

I love her birthday decor.

I love my house, though am not at all opposed to getting rid of the old carpet.

I love that as I read more of the Bible, I feel closer to the Lord.

I love that even though our babysitting situation didn't work out, we've been able to find the best possible replacement.

I love polka-dots.

I love that a dear friend who just had a baby is able to strengthen my faith.

I love that the hubs got a much needed raise.

I love crunchy leaves.

I love reading books in a bubble bath.

I love watching Ansley nervously take a few steps, only to drop to her knees and crawl at lightening speed.

I love the feeling of satisfaction and comfort that comes with writing.

I love my life.

I need a spork, please...

So I can gouge my own eyes out.

4 days out of the week, I totally love my job. I'm making a difference. I'm encouraged. I encourage. I complete an assignment on time. I leave my mark. I laugh.

But, sometimes, there's that one day. That day where I'm frustrated. That day where I feel unappreciated and under-paid. That day that I go without a thank you. That day where if I'm checked in on one more time, I may possibly scream. And, seeing as how we do transvaginal ultrasounds, screaming would not be good for business.

But I can't help it. Sometimes, it is best just to keep doing things the way they've always been done, because it works. And if it works, why struggle to change it? And, sometimes, if we're given a task, expect it to be completed without checking in.

Because we are all adults. And we should treat each other that way. With respect. And the ability to have a personal picture on our computer. Because, doggonnit, some of us have cute babies that we miss during the day.

And we would rather be there with them. And a pint of Half Baked. Because it does make the whole world a better place to be.

Don't you, forget about me. Don't, don't, don't, don't you...

I'm still here. Well, I suppose here is relative.

I'm sitting in a cottage in Fenwick Island. And tomorrow, we head home.

After spending a day in D.C., we're headed back home, hoping to arrive about 2 a.m. Saturday.

Plenty of stories, TONS of pictures, and probably another sad rambling about how I missed my sister's departure.

We'll laugh. We'll cry. Ansley will wet her pants while sitting on grandma's lap. True story.

Remind me to tell ya about it.

Bittersweet.

As I sit here and type this blog post, it is T-minus 43 minutes until the end of my work day, and thus, the start of vacation. However, it's T-minus 4 hours and 43 minutes until we hit the road.

So I should be excited, right? I mean, a wedding and seeing tons of family, followed by 5 days on the beach with nothing to do except relax. I should be looking forward to Ansley's first time at the beach, and all the cuteness that is sure to be involved (especially a little lady bug bikini that I found as a steal at Goodwill).

And, I am excited. I've been looking forward to leaving for about 2 weeks. I've got outfits planned for some great Ansley pictures, and, of course, the typical khaki and white family photo on the beach. It's totally happening.

But, there's this nagging feeling that has brought me so very close to tears a few times today. Even now, the screen is getting a little blurry, and I'm wondering if this is what drunk texting is like.

In September, about 4 days before Ansley was born, I had to spend 23 hours in the hospital for observation. The worst part? Not the fact that I had to wear that stupid gown, or the fact that nurses kept checking in because they thought someone was crying in my room (actually, Paul was close to crying, but America's Funniest Videos was on, and his laughter was echoing).

No, the worst part was that I had planned to have dinner with my family, because they were heading out to New Mexico that evening to help my sister move. And instead, I was stuck in the hospital, unable to hug my sister's neck, and tell her in person how much I loved her before she moved across the country.

And, that's how it will be again.

When I leave tonight, it will be the last time (for awhile, at least) that I'll get to see my sister. She's leaving again. And while I'm so terribly excited for vacation and relaxation, I'm also terribly sad that Ansley will have to say goodbye to her favorite aunt, and not understand why.

But, I am excited. I'm excited that she'll soon see her husband, who has been deployed for several months. I'm excited that they get to be newlyweds again, even if their 1-year anniversary is nearing. I'm excited that she's more courageous than I am, and brave enough to start a life somewhere else. And I'm excited about what the Lord has in store for them.

And, maybe the excitement does color the grey. But, right now, it's T-minus 4 hours and 7 minutes, and I've made it through just about a whole tissue box.

So this is what it's like...

We don't have cable. Or Dish. And we never have.

I grew up with a television, with cable, in my room. Even in college, the dorm had a TV in the lobby, and there were plenty of others around campus for me to catch "my shows."

Since we've been married, we've operated on an antenna. And it hasn't been too bad. I can't watch the news (as a news junkie, that is a big deal), but I manage. I can use the internet for that. But, even with 5 channels, I somehow manage to spend too much time in front of the TV. And it's spilling over to Ansley.

She watches Sid the Science Kid in the mornings, followed by Clifford. Now, she doesn't actually sit and do nothing but stare at the TV, but I can tell she does enjoy the colors. We've also, occasionally, let her watch Two and a Half Men (in my defense, Paul is a much bigger fan of the show than I am).

But, yesterday, we decided against vegging in front of the boob tube. Ansley and I played outside. And went on a walk. And played outside some more. She LOVES being outside. It doesn't matter what we are doing. She is perfectly content to sit in the grass and hold a stick.

Yesterday, we played fetch with Rascal. Ansley laughed every time Rascal brought the ball back. And she played with Rufus. And it was fun, even for this techpendent mommy.

Then, she had dinner, and we played some more. After a long bath (I guess it is a good thing that she enjoys bath time so much, especially since she likes being outside so much), we snuggled on the porch swing for a bit. Then, she enjoyed her bedtime bottle while I cooked dinner. Even though it was just spaghetti, and pretty much cooks itself, I was involved.

I would have loved to rock the kiddo to sleep, but she will have nothing to do with that. She prefers to be put in bed while she is awake and put herself to sleep. So, after putting her down, I ate dinner. Now, I will admit, I watched television while eating. But it wasn't what I would normally watch. I bypassed American Idol (ok, I'll be honest. The channel was out.) and watched Nova on PBS. It was about tornadoes. And it was really stinkin' interesting.

And, then, I did the dishes (again, honestly because the channel Glee comes on was out).

But, ya'll, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed pulling myself away from the television for some time outside with Ansley. I didn't exactly enjoy doing the dishes, but I know it will make things easier for Paul, because I've already packed his lunch for tomorrow and the sink isn't full of dirty dishes. That, I enjoy. It makes me feel like super wife.

Now, I'm not saying I'm tossin' the TV to the curb, but what I am saying is that I actually really enjoyed my day. I enjoyed being outside, and I enjoyed watching Ansley interact with the pups and nature.

I don't expect us to get cable any time soon, and I know for sure that Ansley isn't going to have a TV in her room. We'll spend time together, outside, or inside playing games and laughing at each other, not the TV. And, just maybe, eventually that TV will make it's way to the curb.

That is, after I figure out what's going with Lost.

Wiggles and jiggles and feels so real...

It's my water baby!

How many of you remember these commercials? Just in case you've forgotten, let me refresh your memory.

Well, I have a water baby. Not one of those that you fill with warm water. That's just weird and freaky. But, and actual baby that loves the tub.

So, the other night, I was bathing Ansley. She LOVES her bath time. No.Joke. If she's fussy and doesn't want to be held but doesn't want to be put down, bath time is our hero. It's a great break for mommy too. She'll play and squeel in delight while mommy takes time to rest. Tubside, of course.

So, here we are. We've had several exciting bath experiences. Last week, I wanted her to take a LONG bath. Partially because she's so happy in the bath, and also because as soon as she's out, she's ready for the lotion, bottle and bed. Normally, she's in bed by 8:15 p.m. and she talks to herself until about 8:30. Then, she's out.

So, this bath started at 6:45. Following the typical schedule, she would have been in bed by 7:30, meaning she would wake up the next morning at 6:30. Sorry. I know I'm a mother and no longer a college student, but I'm pretty sure it is a sin against nature to get out of bed that early. At least, it's a sin against my nature.

So, obviously, that wasn't going to jive. So, I was faced with a dilema. How to stretch out bath time. Well, give her a playmate, of course!

Now that the kiddo is a tub sitter, she seems to enjoy the few bath toys much more. She and Rascal still battle over the rubber duckies, but Ansley doesn't just hand them over anymore. I debated sticking Rascal in the tub, but quickly decided that would not be the best idea. Rascal doesn't mind the water, but I did not see it ending well at.all.

So, what was to be the next option. I thought, and thought, and thought, and eventually decided I would be the bathtub playmate.

The last time I took a bath with someone else was, well, let's not think about that. But I couldn't get over the fact that this was just too weird. So, I opted for the more sensible choice. I dug out a swimsuit, and hopped in the tub with Ansley.

There were several reasons I decided to try this option out. Mainly, I didn't want to sit in 2 inches of water, naked. That's just a little too weird for my tastes. Especially with Rascal constantly trying to join the tub. I can't go to the bathroom if I think someone is listening in the next room, so bathing with someone watching me, even a dog, is out of the question.

The second reason I opted for the swimsuit was because I didn't want to scar my poor little girl. Now, I've taken a few showers with the kiddo, especially when she was younger. They worked out well, overall. However, I did learn that if a baby is breastfed, that naked boob means food. It doesn't matter if she just ate and isn't hungry. If it's there, she's after it.

Now, I stopped nursing Ansley after about 10 weeks. I had gone back to work full time, and she was already asking to supersize her meal AND add an extra order of fries on the side. I simply couldn't keep up. Plus, I was constantly hungry, and couldn't eat enough to stop losing weight (go ahead, flame me all you want, but it isn't any fun to be skinny when your husband continually tells you that you look like you're sporting an eating disorder). So, we stopped nursing, and Ansley hasn't been at the breast since.

I wasn't concerned about her all of a sudden backtracking. I was concerned because she's getting much better at grabbing things. And pulling. And pinching. And, honestly, I hadn't trimmed her nails in a few days and it wasn't a risk I was willing to take. So, the swimsuit seemed the best option to extend the bath time.

It wasn't nearly as strange as I expected it to be. We had tons of fun splashing each other, and Ansley got to experience more than 2 inches of water. We pushed the ducky back and forth, and enjoyed the warmth of the water. And when suddenly our tub became a jucuzzi tub, I knew it had come time for the fun to end.

I learned a few things though. Even if you think your maternity swimsuit is cuter than your regular one, you probably shouldn't wear it. Cause even if you haven't gone back to normal in other places, chances are, your chest isn't the same size. I'm glad I discovered that before heading to the beach this summer.

Secondly, I learned that thinking outside the box can be a lot of fun. Ansley and I play all the time, but it was great to take a simple everyday activity and make it something new. I hate when everyday is the same as the day before, and even just something as simple as putting on a swimsuit and taking a bath with your kiddo.

What are some ways you bond with your bundle of joy? How do you think outside the box?

Big news!

You know how sometimes, it's just easier to hide behind your computer screen to make an announcement, because you don't have to deal with the cheers and hugs, and even potential tears that come along?


Well, that's what I've decided to do. Partially because I can express myself much better through written words, and partially because I'm not a real touchy-feely kinda person. This is my space. That is yours. Don't invade my space without being invited, m'kay?


Anyhoo, the announcement. Paul and I decided to add another to our family. ::gasp:: Yes, it's true, and it's already happened.


We have been talking about it for some time now, but just didn't know if it was a commitment we were ready for. Ansley is a handful, and I can't even imagine adding more to my plate. But, things just seemed to fall in to place.


The first opportunity presented itself, and Paul was much more on board with the idea than I was. I mean, he's gone during the evenings, and that leaves me to handle a lot. But, I agreed, and we soon discovered that it didn't work out.


I felt relieved, but at the same time, I had that nagging feeling like I missed out. You know, like when you get the opportunity to enjoy a nice Mudslide, but pass up the drink because it's way expensive and is approximately the same price as that cute shirt on sale at Old Navy, and then they don't have the shirt in your size? Yeah, that's what it felt like.

But, a second opportunity came along, so, I took it.


It has taken me a while to let the cat out of the bag. I guess because I didn't want to be considered one of those people. You know, the ones that have a house full and are in way over their heads and still sign up to host a small group, a Mary Kay party and dog sit for their neighborhood? Yeah, I judge those people. I'm sorry, but if you can't properly care for one, and are nearly bald after a hectic day of feedings and cleanings, should you continue to add more to that already full plate?


How long has it taken, you ask? Well, we are certain of his status as a male. There is no doubt. We've even decided on a name already! We tossed a few around, like Jack, Max, and Remington. I also really liked the option of Hugo, but Paul said it was weird and I needed to get over my fixation with Lost. But, we finally decided.


We decided on Rufus. Yeah, a little bit out there, but we like it. It's different, and unique.


So, go ahead. Consider use those people. Judge us. Yes, our plates are full, but that's the way we like our house as well.


Hopefully, I'll do a much better job uploading pictures. I haven't been very successful in the past, but we'll see. So, world of the web, I introduce you to Rufus!

Oh, I'm sorry. Did I forget to mention that Rufus is a puppy? I hate when I leave out the most important fact!

Our house is full! Ansley, then furbabies Rascal, Bunker and Rufus (who will hopefully encourage the hubs to add a fence so he can live outside!)