Say Cheese!

It's picture day at our house! I needed new pictures of the boys for our Christmas card artwork, so they got duded up and took turns in front of the camera.

This year was tough, because the littles are at the age where they overthink their facial expressions.

For example, if I say "smile!" I get:


He's trying, but is a little overenthusiastic, don't you think?

I'm not very good at getting natural looks from the boys. I tried talking with them, distracting them, etc. I got a few good shots of each of them, but Audrey Woulard or Miz Booshay I am not!

I'm saving their adorable pictures for Christmas. However, I'll treat you to the outtakes that made us all laugh.

There were lots like this:





Colson was a bit of a chatterbox:


When I suggested that he maybe not smile, he went all tragic on me.




However it was Brogan who gave us our favorite photo-bloopers:




And my absolute favorite is........





Oh! It was a fun morning, and we did get some pictures that will make grandparents happy. But the bloopers brightened up our day. :)

This Boy is a Ham.

We set up the Christmas tree tonight.

M. and the boys were thrilled, while I was trying to squelch my "It's not even December yet! The tree can't go up! You're messing with my holiday timetable!" inner monologue.

Flexibility, Thy name is not Hillary.

But we all had fun, and the tree is up and looking lovely. Afterwards, we had the obligatory photo session, and Colson's were full of shots like these:


Sweet, hammy, wonderful, our year-old innocence.

He's 7.

How did that happen?

Brogan was our Thanksgiving Day baby. The one we never thought we'd have. The child who came after so much loss. We are so thankful and blessed to have him.

How is he seven already?

We had a low-key celebration today. It was very appropriate, as Brogan is a low-key kind of guy.

A little song, a little chocolate cake.....

the blowing out of candles.


I forgot to ask him what he wished for.

Happy Birthday Brogan! We love you! :)

Last year's birthday movie.

After Thanksgiving, It's Time For Therapy.

Not really. We love our visits with family. Honestly.

I'm playing to a stereotype with this video clip. I tought this clip was very funny, but there is quite a lot of truth here, as well.



We live in a blessed, prosperous nation and as a result we tend to do a lot of obsessive navel-gazing. Following this therapist's advice would help quite a few people I know.

(Myself included.)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Since we cannot be with either family this year, here I get to participate long-distance.

My contribution to the festivities:

A cartoon that I clipped years ago, because it reminded me of my parents.

A video clip that makes me laugh nearly 20 years after it originally aired, and also reminds me of my parents.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Braden's piano recital was today, and I made a clumsy attempt to videotape it. His white sweater sort of glows on camera, and even though I heard him just fine, you may have to turn up your speakers.

Overall he did well, I think. He made a small mistake at the end of one piece, but kept his composure and continued on nicely.

This recital was sort of humbling and encouraging all at once. There weren't many beginning students this time, and most of the other students playing were older and more advanced. So, humbling in the sense that his wasn't the most amazing piece we heard, but encouraging in the sense that he was able to see where he's headed and what he'll be able to play someday.

The first song is "Funeral March for a Marionette" (better known as the Alfred Hitchcock theme music), and the second is "Carol of the Bells."

Spreadin' the Love...

The "24" love, that is!

We're huge 24 fans in this house. Well..... not so much the kids.... and Marc's usually asleep when it airs..... so it's pretty much just me, I guess.

So, OK, I'm a big "24" fan in this house.

Except last season wasn't so great.

Hm. OK, I'm a big "24" fan in this house, except for last season when it was much more fun to read Dave Barry's live-blogging of "24."

Anyway, here's a clip of what is "supposedly" the original pilot made in 1994. Brilliant!

Hat tip to The Foil Hat, who posted it recently.

Happy, Happy Evening

Tonight we loaded up the van and hit the dollar theatre to watch "Hairspray." Brogan and M. went under duress (and a boatload of guilt), but Braden and Colson were happy to go.

Braden, thanks to twelve years in my company, has a surprising familiarity with showtunes and is always up for seeing a musical. Though he was tempted to duck into the adjacent theater where "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" was showing, he stayed the course and enjoyed the movie.

Colson, however, might have a future in musical theatre. He is the only one of my three offspring who can carry a tune. He has a good memory for songs and he loves to dance. He was the most excited to see the movie and was enthralled by every minute.

I thought it was just as fun the second viewing, especially since this time I was able to pretty much tune out John Travolta's Miss Piggy inspired performance. I wished for about the millionth time ever that I could have taken dance lessons at some point. The kids dancing on screen looked so fun and carefree!

Here's a sample. Turn up the volume and try to keep your feet from tapping. I dare you.

Believe it or not, we do have beds for our children. Nice beds. The littles have bunk beds, as a matter of fact.

But night after night they beg to sleep on the floor. Or on the couch in the living room. Many evenings I kiss them good-night in their beds, only to discover them wrapped in a blanket on their floor in the morning.

Do they think they're camping? I am not sure.

My recent discovery, though, takes the cake.

Before going to bed I checked on the littles, and discovered Brogan sleeping like this:

He is sleeping upright, dear reader, in a round, plastic laundry basket.

We’ve been working diligently on Brogan’s first grade reading and writing skills this year. His printing is really coming along, and he’s gaining speed and confidence in his reading.

I’ve been waiting for him to begin writing sentences. Real sentences. Not sentences that I’ve dictated to him, but ones that he generates himself.

I remember when my sister and brother were in this stage, and they wrote cute little notes to Mom: “I luv yoo,” things of that nature. It was sweet and adorable.

Brogan was so proud of his first sentence that he had to show it to me tonight:





Sigh……. At least it’s spelled correctly.


And, of course, I - ever the mature adult- responded with: