Ethan and his pumpkin ... here they are on the way to the pumpkin patch a few weekends ago. You may wonder why he's carrying a pumpkin to a pumpkin patch. Seems weird, unless you know Ethan ... he harvested it out of our garden and won't let go of it. Sleeps with it and everything. This little guy (the pumpkin) had to get his own pass to the pumpkin patch, so he wouldn't be confused with the local pumpkins, of course. 

I know y'all must've thought I was dead or something. So here's proof that I'm not! Please take solace in the fact that I'm either a) very happy (I only write excessively when I'm not) or b) working way too hard and spending my time sleeping when I'm not working. The fact is that it's a little bit of a and a little bit of b, peppered with a bit of nesting. I am happy, worrking like a dog (albeit a big one getting bigger every day, with a belly that kicks the crap out of it constantly), sleeping as much as I can (which is still just about 7 hours a night) and, get this people, nesting. We have to finish the basement before I can start working on a new baby room, so I have turned to knitting in my nesting frustration. Stephanie, knitting? That's right! Never thought you'd see the day, did you? When I put the finishing touches on my first project, I'll post it. (I'll bet your waiting with bated breath on that one ...)

Baby bubba for your viewing pleasure. 

Don't pay any attention to this ... just my slave labor; I'm trying to do something that I have no idea how to do, so again, don't pay attention ... 

Oh beach, where for art thou? We just returned from a wonderful week in North Myrtle Beach. Here are the kids gazing into the big blue from our balcony (sigh). 

SURPRISE!!!! Can the world handle a third Hamill child? I guess we'll find out around January 23, 2006! 

The house of brotherly love ... 

I'm actually in this one! Me, my two wonderful boys and my mom and step-dad. Please notice my mom's FRESH dragonfly tattoo on the inside of her calf. My step-dad got a matching one on the back of his calf. Now ain't that sweet. 

Does this officially make me a soccer mom? 

Be Still My Bleeding Heart

Outside my window today. P.S. It's still snowing ... 

Bad Mommie, Part 1 of Many
Conversation with my four-year-old while driving:
Ty: Mommie, why does Ethan like to hug me?
Me: Because he loves you, honey.
Ty: Why does Ethan love me?
Me: Well, because you're his big brother, I suppose.
Ty: Why am I his big brother, Mommie?
Me: Because you were born first, sweetie.
Ty: Why was I born first, Mommie?
Me: Oh, a crazy, crazy millennium new year's party ...
Ty: Huh?
Me: Um, never mind.

Warning to readers: If you do not have children and think that the whole kids-asking-neverending-question conversations that are in sit-coms and movies are just there to up the funny factor, you are wrong. They are real, oh, yes, they are very real. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

The Joys of Working at Home Pt. 2
The other day I had an online training class for some new software one of my clients uses. The software is pretty simple stuff, and I've already worked on it, so I wasn't exactly thrilled to have to subject myself to at least an hour of online show and tell. Add the fact that Brian couldn't be home to take care of the boys so I had to find some way to keep them out of my hair for 60 long minutes -- which will be hopelessly impossible for the next 10 years, at which time they will most likely refuse to speak to me and want to have nothing to do with me as most teenagers do -- and I was practically mortified. Fifteen minutes before the training, I sat them in front of a movie and explained to my responsible four-year-old that I wasn't to be bothered while he saw the phone to my ear. The class started without a hitch as I nervously darted glances to the stairs expecting to see one of my hellians bounding up to get a snack, complain about his brother or ask me several "why" questions in a row. Then, to my happy surprise, the conference moderator announced that she was putting the flock of learners on mute while she taught. Weeeeeheeeeeew! I was free. Let's recap what I did during that time, shall we? I fetched myself several cups of coffee, changed the cartridge and story on my two-year-old's Leap Pad after he got mad at it started banging on it and yelling at it, removed a strand of gum that my four-year-old had wrapped around both of his hands up to his elbows, and, I'm so excited to say, pee. (Not in my pants, mind you. I wasn't that excited for goodness sakes!) Now how many other decent, law-abiding folk can say they've peed while on the phone with 13 other people?

At Least I'm the Master of Something
It's days like this that drive me crazy. According to my Yahoo horoscope, my psychic ability is in overdrive today, which explains why I'm so unsettled. Add in the fact that I've committed myself to watch all three of the Lord of the Rings Series over the past few weeks and I'm a total mess. The reason is because if I am good at anything, it is in mastering the art of suspension of disbelief. When I watch a movie, I'm gone. All of me is in the world before me on the screen (big or little). So, for the past two weeks every knock at the door is either creepy little Golum coming to say, "My precious" in his creepy little way over and over again until I go insane, and every creak in the floorboards is from the feet of those horrible orchs coming to eat my children. Somebody save me. (Thankfully tonight I'm watching Sex and the City, so I'm in the world of Jimmy Choos and writers who are fabulously successful. Ah, the pleasure and the pain.)

apocalypse
I am listening to NPR. The cowbell comes on full force, complete with SNL sketch. I check the stream, and a little streaming faerie has not changed the station from WVTF. Is it the end of the world as I know it? A story on cowbells on NPR? Curious ...