Cheeks McGee

So I am a terrible blogger. I frequently think of writing, but somehow never find the time. I’ll try harder, Shannon. The least I can do is post a few pictures of Stud Mouse, right? He’s growing so fast! It is exhilaratingly fun and completely exhausting all at the same time. Just when I think I’ve “got it” and we are on a good schedule and I’ve adjusted my thinking to his current set of abilities…things change! A week ago he could not reach the blinds on the window; today he almost pulled them down. It’s a fluid process.

Today I am having a babysitter come over so I can get some work done and he’ll have someone to play with. I know he’ll be thrilled to have the undivided attention of a cute girl and I’ll be pumped to get work finished on time for once. Brilliant!

Next up: my obsessive neurosis regarding our trip to NYC at the end of August. Five FULL days away from Brown Bear. Can I do it? Will Clay have to Fed Ex me back early? Oi vey.

Hey Little Man

No description or witty commentary...just a cute 7 month old baby.

Snake Farm

Spring time is always interesting in Texas. It is pretty for a few weeks while the bluebonnets are out and the misquotes are not. Since we don't have much of a winter, the bugs here quickly come raging back out of hibernation attacking the fledgling vegetable plants in my garden. I'm OK with that because we have lots of lizards and grass snakes to handle them. My issue comes when the snakes come IN THE HOUSE. They do it every spring. I don't really mind -- I like snakes (unlike Clay who runs like a little girl at the sight of a large earthworm). I usually just scoop them up and put them back outside.

Funny side story: when I was 9 months pregnant there was a HUGE snake on our driveway that I thought needed to be investigated. So I waddled my ever-expanding ass over to check if it would eventually kill one of my dogs...while Clay sat in the car with the headlights on. Helpful, yes?

Back to my point. So we get little snakes in the house every spring. It freaks Clay out so I handle it. No problem. Clay cleans the cat boxes so I think this is a fair trade. What I CAN NOT handle is dead stuff. ANYthing dead. Give me a live snake, mouse, spider...what ever...just don't make me deal with dead. Here in lies the problem with the snakes in the spring (and mice in the winter). We have three cats. As you can imagine, most things move hastily into the "dead" category...therefore becoming something I can't deal with. If its a mouse it is kindly left half eaten in the kitchen by the door. I put a bowl over it and call our neighbor, Billy. This has happened so many times it is now SOP. Clay will handle the dead mice, but they ONLY come in when he's out of town. Snakes, however, follow a different path. Yes, they move quickly to "dead", but unlike the mice who are left decapitated neatly on the tile, the snakes are not consumed. They become the most fascinating playthings to be batted all over the living room. Thus, freaking me out EVEN MORE. Not only is there a "dead" thing, but it has now touched everything in the living room.

So why bring this up now? There is a snake in the living room. I think its mostly dead. I really don't know. I chased the cats away and put a stock pot over it. Austin and I are going to stay quarantined in the kitchen today. I'm hoping it just vaporizes under there.

Boat Drinks

Sometimes someone has already written everything that needs to be said. Thank you again, Uncle Jimmy!


Boat drinks. Boys in the band ordered boat drinks. Visitors just scored on the home rink. Everything seems to be wrong. Lately, newspaper mentioned cheap airfare. I've got to fly to Saint Somewhere. I'm close to bodily harm.

Twenty degress and the hockey games on. Nobody cares; they are way too far gone, screamin' "Boat drinks," somethin' to keep them all warm.

This morning I shot six holes in my freezer. I think I got cabin fever. Somebody sound the alarm.

I'd like to go where the pace or life's slow. Could you beam me somewhere, Mister Scott? Any old place here on Earth or in space. You pick the century and I'll pick the spot.

I know I should be leaving this climate. I got a verse but can't rhyme it. I gotta go where it's warm.

Boat drinks. Waitress, I need two more boat drinks. Then I'm headin south 'fore my dream shrinks. I gotta where it's warm. I gotta go where it's warm. I gotta go where it's warm. I gotta go where there ain't any snow, where there ain't any blow, 'cause my fin sinks so low. I gotta go where it's warm.

Yum. Sweet Potatoes.

More Guy Love

Austin and Micheal are finally old enough to see each other as people! It was really cool to see them "play" in their own little baby way. Soon enough we'll be chasing them around and longing for the good ole days when they were not mobile.

No Warning

When you have a baby everyone warns you about the poopy diapers, sleepless nights, and spit up. They even tell you to lock your cabinets, clamp down the toilet lid and bolt your furniture to the wall. I also remember my mom telling me “you’ll never love something so much as you love your child”. All true. But there is another truth that no one can warn you about and that you lack the ability to understand until you actually look in to the face of your own child. No one warned me that as soon as I became a mother I’d feel the pain of every mother. I no longer see stories on the news about abducted or murdered children as sad or tragic…I have no words for how I view them now. There is a heartbreak and an outrage that is impossible to explain. I’m thinking of this today because I watched a story this morning about the 10th anniversary of the Columbine shootings. I was in college when that happened and remember being very sad for the parents and students. Sad doesn’t even cover what I felt this morning as I looked in to the faces of the parents who lost their children 10 years ago. I know now that they can still see their children alive and well as if it were April 19th, 1999. It makes me wonder, “is it worth it”? Is it worth loving something SO MUCH that losing it would be so cruel as to NOT kill you? I assume those parents would all say yes.

It makes me want to put Austin in a bubble and never let him out. This morning I cried and begged him to stay a baby. But that isn’t the point of life is it? The point is to let him live and grow and see what kind of person he was meant to be. It would be easy to be irrational and crippled by fear. I imagine that most mothers have to frequently fight this battle. If anything, it makes me want to hold my child a little bit longer, put off cleaning or working a few more minutes to play with him and spend as much time as I want watching him sleep. Someday I won’t be able to do any of those things…hopefully it is because he is too old or too big.

I read a quote a few years ago from Bono (of all people). He said there is a terrifying moment after you first look into the face of your child. It is the moment you realize to what ends you would go to protect that life. I didn’t get it then…but I do now.

Born Cool

As I was taking pictures of Austin last weekend in his rockin' hat and groovy shorts, I commented on how there are so few people who could pull off mis-matched Hawaiian prints. Austin is a lucky guy to be in this select group. Clay, in his infinite wisdom, said, "some people are just born cool." I had no idea that a level of coolness could be determined so early in life! Apparently the ability to coordinate party fabrics is a early litmus test.

Bromance

Austin and Michael (aka The Moose and Mad Dog). It was Guy Love at first sight and fake cousins for life.

25 Things About Me and Other Conundrums

If you are on Facebook, you know what I am talking about. It is the latest and greatest way to let everyone you have “friended” know who you are, what you are about…what ever. Several of my friends have “tagged” me, but I have yet to take the plunge. I am, however, obsessing about it. Facebook does that to you. First, you start to think about everything you do in the third person, “Sarah is…”. It is insane. I am constantly thinking about what I am doing and attempting to come up with a snarky way to say it in a status update that will inform everyone that I am indeed cool and nothing like the person I was in high school. Now I must also add this “25 Things” activity to the list of things that haunt me. Can I come up with 25? What to include? The pressure is mounting and I may not be up to the task. My whole Facebook identity rides on this moment! Problem is… I have friends from work, friends from high school, friends who are friends with my parents and even friends I am not sure I really know. Do they all get the same “me”? Do the people I serve on non-profit boards with in Waco really need to know I curse like Joe Pesci at home? Will the people I went to high school with believe me if I try and imply I am no longer a stuck up girl with way-to-big hair? Will someone tell my mother if I admit my favorite drink is Jack & Coke? ARRUUGGH!

I’m not sure I am cut out for Facebook. I don’t think I can handle the pressure. I figure all the girls join to see who got fat & show off their reproductive efforts and all the boys join to prove they got married & still have hair. So what about me? Why did I break down and join? Desperation of being at home with a baby I guess. Oh that I could un-join…but alas, it is too late and I must live with my decision and the queries it forces me to come to terms with. What about this one: to friend or not to friend the creepy ex-boyfriend? I am desperate to know how fat he’s gotten and who the hell he convinced to marry him…but he’s the creepy ex-boyfriend! And what about boyfriends that weren’t creepy? If we friend each other must I also friend their wives? Such are the conundrums of the modern age of communication.

Then…a moment of clarity. I remember that I really don’t care who is fat, bald, married, working out, cooking dinner, picking the kids up, watching American Idol, gay, pregnant, finger painting, drinking beer, playing golf, going fishing or super-poking everyone they know. And no one really cares that I’m a Democrat and a music snob, or that I practice yoga, eat organic food, have three dogs, watch too much CNN and drink too much wine. Hell, I only joined to have ONE MORE way talk to Chris and Shannon…everyone else is just lucky to have me as a friend.

So will I breakdown and complete the “25 Things”? Probably. I can’t resist thinking I am THAT important to other people.

I'm really pretty

Clay just looked at Austin and said: “I’m sorry you got my chin, Dude”.

I asked why?…because I love Austin’s cute little chin with its beautiful perfect dimple. Clay said, “because he’ll feel like he has ‘short chin’ when he gets older – his chin will be captured between his jowls”.

Fair enough explanation. No one would wish THAT on a sweet little baby.

Then Clay said…

“I shouldn’t feel bad, I’m really pretty”.

Dear Lord, please let Austin inherit Clay’s humility as well as his phenomenal good looks.