houpley

The following guest post is from my best friend "Debry," who not only shares her silly story but also provides you with some uses for miso soup that you never even knew about: If i had a blog, it would be called something like "how many degrees does it take to screw in a light bulb", because no matter how much education i have, how many times i've been in court with serious cases involving important issues like custody and safety from violence, i'm still one of the clumsiest people i know, and i tend to not pay attention to some important details which surround me. if i had a blog, it would include stories like this: today i had a philidelphia roll for lunch -- just one of the many benefits of moving from a tiny town famous for its rodeo to a town full of liberals, hippies and foodies. while enjoying my philly roll, i was looking at a few things on the internet, so not necessarily paying close attention to what i was doing. it is just eating, after all, and

So I turn around for one second to tend to a bubbling pancake situation, and when I turn back to face the kitchen counter, there is Jackson on all fours - actually on top of the kitchen counter heading for the bowl of grapes. Looking as if he may have just stolen a large red grape, he looks up at me and grins. The older girls, who have come for a visit, are dancing, laughing, giggling, etc. I am in a state of shock at the tiny monkey that has landed on my kitchen counter that may or may not begin choking on a large grape. I utter his full name and snatch him up which sends one little girl into giggles. Once I have him safe in my arms, I ask him about the stolen grape. I cup my hand under his chin. "Did you eat a grape?" He shakes his head no. "Spit it out." Nope. No grape in here. I decide to believe him. His tiny dimple is very convincing. A few seconds go by and I offer Jackson a piece of cheese. He eyes it. Thinks about it. And suddenly....a giant red grape pops

I'm still not sure why The World According to Garp was so significant to me. I just know that to this day (I read the book probably 8-10 years ago) I still think about him. I wonder how Helen is doing. I still feel an ache for their lost boy. I think about that car crash on a weekly basis. I fear the Under Toad, and smell my son's breath waiting for it to change. What book changed your life?

"The filthy lucre" by helmet13 Every few weeks or so, my father will tell me two things. 1. Update your resume 2. Put more in your 401K These nuggets he has drilled into my mind since I joined the work force at 15.

While Row-Row-Row Your Boat has remained the No. 1 song for oh, say ... the last year, it has fallen to the No. 2 slot. Replaced by a tiny bird. A cuckoo bird. While drifting off to sleep, Jackson would request "row-row?" But a few weeks ago he started asking for "cuckoo?" I am not aware of any cuckoo song. I thought maybe hickory-dickory? No. I asked school. Nothing. "Cuckoo?" "You want a cuckoo song? "Cuckoo?" "Uh...ok.....well." I know how deeply in-love Jackson is with my parent's cuckoo clock. So, thinking fast on my feet, I made up a cuckoo song. It has become a major staple in the house and is requested multiple times throughout the day. And always asked for just before drifting off to sleep. So I thought I would post the silly lyrics. Also, he loves it so much he has memorized parts and will sing along a tiny bit. As his lids get so heavy and he is barely awake, he'll whisper the cuckoo chorus. And he loves to repea

I can no longer keep up with Jack's "new word" lists because now whenever we are using a word I ask him to say it and he typically does. This morning while dressing for sku, I explained he was finally wearing his new overalls since he appears to have grown a tiny bit. To which he replied: Overalls. Only it sounds more like: ooo-ullls. Yesterday, I offered him a marshmallow and now he approaches the cabinet every so often for a mma-meooo. (by the way, the boy's love for marshmallows is a post in and of itself) And on Monday evening, I discovered that he says the color blue. Sure, it is "buuu" but he identifies the color. So, I'll take it. He also asks every afternoon to go and get the "mail." And this morning he asked where daddy was going and I said work. To which he replied, "wrk." So, I guess the real milestone here is that mama and da-deee are going to have to weed out their less tasteful vocabulary.

Sometimes you get to witness almost the exact moment that your child's brain added a few new rooms. In Jackson's case, it added The Monkey Room. They say that for a while when you leave the room, you no longer exist to a baby. Of course, as they get older they remember and realize things exist outside of their 18 inches. Object permanence and so forth. Jackson has grasped the idea of people being elsewhere a long time ago. But this weekend school has become another place where he might be at some point. He realizes it exists outside of home. He has understood the concept of school for quite some time but this weekend school became a location useable in conversation. If something is not at home, then it must be at school. For example: Jackson, where is your sippy cup? Sku. Hey Jack, where did your mittens go? Sku. Where's elvis? Sku.

Of course, my biggest fan's favorite request is Row, Row, Row Your Boat. Every night before going to bed, he lifts his eyebrows and softly says: "Row, row?" these boots are made for walkin by nancy sinatra never been to spain by three dog night wanted by jon bon jovi