tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71348418668117679332024-03-13T18:09:51.334-05:00Exaggeration StationWelcome to my life.Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.comBlogger138125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-38294409270110440172013-07-01T12:13:00.000-05:002013-07-01T22:54:28.967-05:00The Prince & The VitaminOnce upon a time, there was a prince and a vitamin... Oh wait, let me back up.<br />
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At three years old, Snuggles is just now tall enough for us to start teaching him how to stand up to pee. Until now, he preferred to sit down rather than use the step stool to stand up at the toilet.<br />
To aid the learning process, Snuggles has been going into the bathroom with Guitarman to observe. His bathroom commentary (as reported by Guitarman) has been hilarious:<br />
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"Look, Daddy, you're making bubbles!"<br />
"Woah, that's a lot of pee!"<br />
"Daddy, you're making it rain!"<br />
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This commentary has been especially entertaining, not to mention comedic, since it frequently occurs in public restrooms. (Much to Guitarman's dismay.)<br />
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Throughout the process of potty training, we've been using common bathroom terminology. Initially we intended to use correct anatomical terminology, but we settled on the common terminology to avoid confusing Snuggles, since childcare providers typically use the common terms:<br />
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"Going potty" (urinate) "Poop" (self explanatory) and "Pee-pee" (Penis) <br />
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Since we started the process of teaching Snuggles to pee standing up, Snuggles has become more curious about the anatomical aspects of bathroom behavior. So, I decided it's time to teach Snuggles the correct terminology for his anatomy, especially since he asks so many questions about it.<br />
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As luck would have it, Guitarman is at camp this week. (Read <a href="http://www.melindawolfmiller.blogspot.com/2012_06_01_archive.html">this</a> if you need to be reminded how much I *love* camp weeks.) While Guitarman is away, I've been accompanying Snuggles to the restroom to oversee the process. (Basically to ensure he doesn't urinate all over the bathroom.) This morning, as Snuggles stood in front of the toilet, he started with the usual conversation:<br />
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"Mommy, boys stand up to pee and girls sit down."<br />
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"Yes, that's right".<br />
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"Do you sit down to pee?"<br />
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"Yes, I sit down to pee because I'm a girl."<br />
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He thought about that for a minute and said, "Mommy, do you have a pee-pee?"<br />
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"No," I responded matter of factly, "Girls have a vagina and boys have a penis."<br />
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He accepted that answer without further question, and we went on with our morning routine.<br />
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An hour later, we arrived at Preschool, and Snuggles said he had to pee. I took him to the restroom, where he dutifully pulled down his pants and approached the toilet. As he started to pee, Snuggles looked up at me with a smile and proudly announced,<br />
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"Boys have a <i>prince</i> and girls have a <i>vitamin</i>." <br />
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I immediately realized he was referring to anatomy, but I was laughing too hard to correct him.<br />
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Never forget your <i>vitamin</i>, ladies, and always treat your husband like a <i>prince</i>! :-)Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-48965055912135174262012-11-15T17:03:00.000-06:002012-11-16T10:17:41.006-06:00Birthday WeekI'm so glad we decided not to plan a big birthday party for Snuggles this year. We spent a lot of money on his party last year, only to have a handful of people show up. So, our plan for this year was to take Snuggles to Chuck E Cheese. <br />
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Snuggles' favorite ride was "Bob the Builder's truck" as he called it. I think we <strike>wasted</strike> spent half of his tokens on this ride. <br />
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Snuggles also enjoyed the horse, although he was too light to actually trigger the horse's motion. He still loved it. <br />
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The pizza was generally awful, but Snuggles didn't
mind. One doesn't go to Chuck E Cheese for the pizza afterall!<br />
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Snuggles really enjoyed the racing game, but he couldn't reach the pedals. Daddy was more than happy to assist. <br />
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It's quite possible Guitarman had as much fun as Snuggles.<br />
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As you can see, Chuck E Cheese was a smashing success! For the past two days, whenever we get in the car, Snuggles asks, "Are we going to Chuck E Cheese?!"<br />
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And so, it seems another trip to Chuck E Cheese is in our near future. I guess I better stock up on antacids and hand sanitzer.Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-55831749070798811362012-11-12T11:45:00.000-06:002012-11-12T13:39:50.057-06:00Happy Birthday, Snuggles!I failed.<br />
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I failed.... to keep my New Year's resolution, which was to blog more often.<br />
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I failed... as a blogger... I kept my readers waiting with no new posts. (Actually, my blog stats show that only a handful of people read this blog. It's more an outlet for me than for anyone else.)</div>
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I failed... as a mother. I lose my cool in the heat of the moment. My cooking is less than impressive, and my house is plain and sometimes messy. </div>
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Thankfully, however, there are a few things in my life that I've gotten right. In fact, my biggest success turned three years old today: Snuggles! Happy 3rd Birthday, Snuggles!</div>
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It seems like just yesterday I labored for 20 hours and pushed for nearly 3 hours to bring Snuggles into the world. The funniest part of his birthday was that I was recovering from a cold, and I had laryngitis. Seriously. The <b>one</b> time it was socially acceptable for me to scream bloody murder--and maybe even use expletives that aren't a part of my vocabulary--I was completely mute.</div>
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Snuggles' birthday is a fog... Well, it's more like a puzzle of memories... Little pieces of the day emerge from the fog. Other than the moment I touched Snuggles for the first time, one of my most vivid memories of Snuggles birthday is the seemingly endless pushing. I was exhausted. Absolutely depleted of energy. They had used two different types of vacuum extractors to try to get Snuggle's head out. I expected to hear the words "Cesarean Section" any minute. But my doctor didn't give up. She sat with me through three hours of pushing, and never left my side. (She is an amazing person, and I don't just mean as a physician!) Dr. Julie, my mom and Guitarman kept telling me, "One more push, Melinda! This is the last one!" For more than an hour, they told me, "This is the last push." I wanted to kick them, but my legs were numb from the epidural. I finally screamed, "Stop telling me this is the last push! You've been saying that for an HOUR!!" However, what I intended to be a scream came out as a very animated whisper. Looking back, it's actually quite humorous. I am such an outspoken person. I've worked for years to control my tongue. (Sometimes I'm successfull, sometimes notsomuch.) Yet on that important day, I couldn't muster a sound. Not so much as a squeak. Maybe God was looking out for all the people in the delivery room that day. :)</div>
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Snuggles' birthday was a special day I will never forget, just as I will happily remember his first birthday, which we celebrated surrounded by moving boxes, having just moved to Nashville the day before. His second birthday we celebrated with a Yo Gabba Gabba-themed party. For his third birthday this year, Snuggles enjoyed a simple celebration with family from Indiana, highlighted by a special cake my mom brought from our favorite bakery in Elkhart. Tonight we'll take Snuggles to Chuck E Cheese for dinner and games. He has never been to Chuck E Cheese before, so I'm looking forward to experiencing that with him!</div>
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No matter how old he gets, Snuggles will always be my baby boy. As Guitarman and I were discussing today, nothing is as important as family. I've experienced a great deal of failure in life and I've enjoyed some success as well. But my biggest accomplishment, my greatest joy and blessings are wrapped up in a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy with a dimply smile that melts my heart. Thank you, God, for my son. Happy Birthday, Snuggles!</div>
Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-53016332447431399462012-06-19T17:15:00.000-05:002012-06-19T17:15:00.721-05:00Camp WidowWe've come to the wonderful time of year called Summer. [Insert sarcastic tone] The kiddos are out of school for the Summer, which means Summer is the perfect time to ramp up the church activities from busy to insane. <br />
<br />Although the calendar says it ended two weeks ago, it seems like we just finished VBS. Snuggles unintentionally left out the first letter of VBS, calling it "BS" instead. Cute. But not-so-cute when he yelled across the church lobby: "Mommy! ARE WE GOING TO BS?!" Still, I find it rather ironic that Snuggles calls VBS "BS" because I have to be honest, every year I dread VBS... for several reasons. Mostly selfish reasons, I confess. But I dread it nonetheless. VBS is like crack for kids, candy for parents, and napalm for volunteers. Seriously, do parents give their kids intravenous kool-aid before their drop them off for VBS? You can almost hear the parents' sighs of relief as the minivan doors close, the tires squeal, and they run for the hills. *smile*<br />
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[Side note: The above (intentionally exaggerated) scenario does not apply to all parents. Our church is really great in that many of our kids' parents actually volunteer for VBS.] <br />
<br />It's beyond challenging to manage our family the week of VBS. We're out of the house by 7:30 a.m. to drop Snuggles off at daycare. We both work all day. Guitarman leaves work around 4 p.m. to drive 30 minutes back to Mt. Juliet to pick up Snuggles. He immediately turns around to drive back to the church (during rush hour), and stops for fast food so that Snuggles can eat in the car. (He won't eat at the church due to all the distractions, which means he goes hungry all evening.) It's 5:30 before Snuggles and Guitarman get back to the church... Which gives me just enough time to finish work, scarf down some food and prepare my classroom at the church before Guitarman arrives to hand off Snuggles to me. This gives Guitarman just enough time to handle all the last-minute details before the monkeys start swinging from trees.<br />
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Last year, I taught the Bible Stories at VBS. You might think this would be a simple task. But you would be wrong. See, back in the old days, VBS Bible story time involved a magnetic or felt board with cut-out character scenes to be moved around as a visual aid. In contrast, VBS curriculum now includes all kinds of very creative, hands-on activities employed to "tell the story". You don't just read a few verses from the Bible. We're talking lots of preparation in advance to decorate the room, purchase/make props, memorize dialogue, and even sometimes act out scenes. Sure, I could just skip the curriculum and read the story from the Bible, but that wouldn't engage the kids. And if you know me, you know I don't do anything half-way. So last year, I went all out... worked really hard to make the Bible lessons fun and memorable. The kids loved it, but it nearly killed me. I swore that I would never volunteer to work every day of VBS again, at least not while Jackson is young...<br />
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Oops. I did it again.<br />
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Only this year, I added potty-training Snuggles to the VBS insanity!<br />
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To be completely honest, I really do enjoy VBS when I'm in the thick of it. I love telling the stories in a way that gets the kids excited and involved in the stories. I love to see the "light bulb moments" when they really get it. But it's absolutely exhausting. When VBS wraps up for the evenings, and the last parents finally pick up their kids at 8:30 p.m., that's when it hits me... When I'm loading my extremely tired and grumpy 2-year-old into the car 30 minutes past his bedtime.. It's when I know I still have to drive 30 minutes home... It's when I'm finally getting Snuggles in bed at 9:30 p.m. and I still have to wash his pee-soaked clothes and study the lesson for the next day... That's when I swear to myself that I'll never do it again.<br />
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But I do. And I will. Because as I keep reminding myself, if one child leaves VBS with a new (or renewed) commitment to journey through life with Christ, then it's worth it. <br />
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I'm speaking that same truth to myself this week while Guitarman is gone to camp.<br />
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As Monday dawned yesterday, my Facebook news feed was filled with statuses from excited parents sending their kids off to camp. I wish I could share their excitement, but it's difficult for me to do that because while they're enjoying a break from their kids, knowing their kids are having a blast at camp, I'm a single parent with a two-year-old who misses his Daddy. I will have little-to-no communication with my husband because there is no/poor cell phone reception at the campground. I'm a camp widow. <br />
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And I get to do this again in a few weeks. Yippee!<br />
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Okay, I know I'm being Negative Nancy here. I understand it's important that Guitarman goes to camp with the kids, and I really do believe in camp ministry. On top of that, I know Guitarman enjoys camp (most of the time). But his absence takes its toll on our family.<br /><br />So I'm asking God to help my attitude this week. I'm asking God to help me not to focus on being a camp widow. Instead of dressing in black and wearing a veil, I'm praying for Guitarman, and, more importantly, I'm praying for the kids. I'm praying that they will not only have fun, but that they will return home with more than mosquito bites... My prayer is that they will return with hearts overflowing with Jesus' love.Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-44062612968965156492012-05-04T17:14:00.000-05:002012-05-04T20:34:27.510-05:00VacayI need a vacation. A real one... preferably at the beach.<br />
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We haven't been on a vacation, other than short trips to visit family, since 2005.<br />
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It's time.<br />
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Unfortunately, Uncle Sam doesn't share my sense of urgency... We still haven't received the tax return we've been expecting for eight weeks. Everyone we know who e-filed their taxes has received their tax return. Our accountant double-checked, and everything is correct...<br />
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But we're still waiting. <br />
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I was mad for awhile. Now I've just grieved the loss and moved on. Here's the reality: We still have time off work, but the closest I'll come to the beach is sitting in Snuggles' sandbox.<br />
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The good news is my Mom and Dad (let's be honest - mostly my Mom) have agreed to watch Snuggles for the week. So at least we'll have a break from parenting... time to relax, put our feet up, and focus on being a married couple.<br />
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Since we can't go on the vacation we had hoped for, here's my plan for staycation:<br />
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My goal is to read the entire "Hunger Games" trilogy... <br />
And go to bed without setting an alarm...<br />
And to sleep every morning until I wake up naturally... which might be noon.<br />
And to go to the bathroom alone. *Ahhhh* <br />
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Until I became a mother, I never understood what a luxury it is to poop in peace. <br />
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Here's to vacation!Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-21063141511574068972012-04-09T12:01:00.002-05:002012-04-09T12:05:29.928-05:00Lather. Rinse. Repeat.Recently, I received an e-mail from some friends of mine who resigned their ministry position. As I read their account of the circumstances surrounding their resignation, my heart ached. The basic elements of their story were disturbingly familiar because, unfortunately, their story is not unique. While Guitarman has been fortunate (for the most part) in his ministry positions, I've seen far too many of our ministry friends encounter difficult situations over the years. Many of them have succumbed to what I believe is abuse of what God intended for the relationship between pastor and the faith community. Here is the cycle I've observed: <br />
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Pastor begins ministry at XYZ Church. Pastor is welcomed with great anticipation and enthusiasm. Church family embraces pastor, showering him/her with gifts and invites to dinner. Church family is eager to support new pastor, and excited about the pastor's vision for the church, so church members show up in droves to volunteer for activities and events. Pastor is energized by the enthusiasm, and the first year flies by... But then something strange happens. The honeymoon ends.<br />
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Fast forward two years: Dinner invitations stopped after the first month. The excitement has worn off, and volunteers start to dwindle. Pastor begs for help at various events, but church members are too overwhelmed with their busy schedules to help out. People start to leave the church because they "aren't being fed". Pastor is expected to "make it happen" with or without support, so he/she works more hours, thus neglecting his/her family. As a result, the pastor's spouse and children are unhappy, which creates even more strain. Pastor Appreciation month passes without acknowledgment. Pastor's e-mail inbox is filled with "concerns" (translation: complaints) from people who are unwilling to be a part of a solution. Pastor begins to grow weary. Pastor feels tired and unappreciated, which is reflected in the effectiveness of his/her ministry. Church complaints grow louder. Church lobbies and/or votes to replace pastor. It's like instructions on a shampoo bottle: Lather. Rinse. Repeat. (The whole cycle starts again with a new pastor.)<br />
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And so I read my friends' e-mail with sadness in my heart... another good pastor bites the dust. <br />
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Perhaps it was this situation that caused me to react strongly to the words I read on a blog recently. The well-intentioned blogger in question used their blog as a platform to complain about their pastor. The blogger's complaint was that the pastor failed to act how the blogger thought they should. The pastor should have known better. Yada yada. As I read the blog, I threw up a little in my mouth. I felt so bad for that pastor, who will most certainly read the criticism published for all the world to see.<br />
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Another good pastor chewed up and spit out. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. <br />
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I've seen this same type of thing happen with school teachers. When I hear people complaining about teachers, I wonder if that parent has ever spent a day in their child's classroom? I doubt it. Anyone who spends time in a classroom full of children has a profound appreciation and respect for teachers. I, for one, greatly admire my friends who are teachers. I love my son, but I don't LOVE other people's children enough to spend eight hours a day with them. Being a school teacher is a unique calling. A teacher is truly a servant-leader..... a person who is underpaid, under-appreciated and overworked--devoting their life, making sacrifices, all with the goal of serving others.<br />
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Hmm... sounds familiar, doesn't it?<br />
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Lather. Rinse. Repeat.<br />
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Too many pastors, too many good teachers are being chewed up and spit out by those they serve. I wonder what would happen if instead of blaming pastors for all the problems in the church, if instead of blaming teachers for the flawed educational system, what would happen if we offered to be part of the solution?Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-71832337630165228972012-03-02T17:05:00.004-06:002012-03-02T17:05:00.726-06:00This is how he rollsIt was 70 degrees and sunny here yesterday! The weather was perfect to enjoy some outdoor fun after work. So we decided to go on a walk. Snuggles hasn't quite mastered the art of peddling yet, so we still have to push him.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWUiR9cV46CjOJ1PT3eoZUfbbMViTy0FgyXgrrVBVovJ_SL6_nR-NHICSVe9Ja-78UfFAMKROb8ljeSGTmwx2SMSglcLAUeVvvxhG1MvNKl_FiVwuBPbZnrMK7kbvb1KQ_Q1H-0Ip8Ok/s1600/tricycle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWUiR9cV46CjOJ1PT3eoZUfbbMViTy0FgyXgrrVBVovJ_SL6_nR-NHICSVe9Ja-78UfFAMKROb8ljeSGTmwx2SMSglcLAUeVvvxhG1MvNKl_FiVwuBPbZnrMK7kbvb1KQ_Q1H-0Ip8Ok/s400/tricycle.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
Snuggles' attention span is short, so we quickly moved onto the next activity: T-ball. I don't see a future in Major League Baseball, but at least he had fun.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Sl-3Gl2Rzv0" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Next, we moved onto the tunnel. Notice he is still wearing his helmet. Safety first! (He would wear that helmet 24/7 if we let him. He loves it.)<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/cL-TbyPa2Lg" width="560"></iframe>Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-49239832854275973112012-03-01T17:23:00.000-06:002012-03-02T10:25:31.308-06:00SnoringHe gets this from his Daddy. Too bad snoring isn't an Olympic event!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/FvsEIq7tE_c" width="560"></iframe>Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-75803278166397779562012-02-23T16:28:00.000-06:002012-02-23T16:28:36.751-06:00CrayonsSo, remember the other day when I wrote about feeling like I was hanging off the edge of a cliff...<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Tl16V8DbadM" width="550"></iframe>Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-20172021122893665942012-02-13T17:05:00.035-06:002012-02-15T16:41:44.165-06:00The CliffI feel like I fell off a cliff somehow and I'm trying to claw my way back up... But I. can't. quite. reach. the. top. Life just seems overwhelming. (Cue the melodramatic, Little-House-on-the-Prairie-style background music.)<br />
<br />
Okay, skip the music. But really, I'm struggling.<br />
<br />
It's not easy for me to be open about my weaknesses. I mean, I can (and do) readily admit that I'm flawed. But I really, really hate it that I have limitations. Drives me nuts. I wish I could take on the world by myself without having to ask for help. But it just doesn't work that way. I can't do it all.<br />
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So what's eating at me? Time. I. Just. Don't. Have. It.<br />
<br />
Between juggling work and church responsibilities and trying to take care of my home (at which I fail miserably most of the time), by 9 o'clock in the evening, I collapse on the couch exhausted. I should probably spend that last hour before bed doing something constructive, like cleaning or sorting through the stacks of papers/magazines piled all over my house. But I don't. I just sit there on the couch. I might watch TV or read a book, but my mind pretty switched to the "off" position the minute my butt hit the chair.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I reach for the computer to blog or check Facebook... and then I see Katie McCutie-Pants just posted pictures of the delicious, organic meal she made for dinner. And there's her smiling family, sitting around the table in their beautifully decorated dining room, which she just gave a fresh coat of decorative paint after being inspired by Pinterest. Who has time to cook (much less afford!) an organic meal? And what was that other word? <i> Decorate</i>? What's that? I don't have a single picture hanging up in my house! Darn you, Pinterest, and all your crafty ideas. Pinterest is like a jab on the arm, reminding me that I suck at all things domestic.<br />
<br />
Part of the challenge right now is that Snuggles is extremely time-consuming and demanding. The adjustment to the new daycare/preschool has been rough. He's not been taking his usual afternoon naps (or not long enough), which means that when he's home, he spends the evenings whining/fussing/throwing tantrums, and just being all-around disagreeable. Maybe it's the daycare transition. Or maybe it's just because he's two. Maybe a combination of both....<br />
<br />
All I know is I'm not handling it very well. (There it is again... Another one of those pesky limitations. Gag.) He throws things. He refuses to eat anything but bread. He drops on the floor and death rolls like a crocodile. He pinches. He scratches. And the screaming. Oh, the screaming.... <br />
<br />
But the good news is... In between throwing tantrums and screaming at decibels I'm certain can be heard from outer space, Snuggles is incredibly cute.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GTIlPwPE0e3_g4QpXgUHTA-4EKbk28dTl_96ij4QVQoLQ7EBj-6xsDTO6a6c4hosD9Gf6nlyjD-1-4E96EXtzOBXx7L6-RHhPTMQdlI72v15chU5l5vy87ybgQ_VrhsRbkS1_JuTINw/s1600/jackson-bench.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GTIlPwPE0e3_g4QpXgUHTA-4EKbk28dTl_96ij4QVQoLQ7EBj-6xsDTO6a6c4hosD9Gf6nlyjD-1-4E96EXtzOBXx7L6-RHhPTMQdlI72v15chU5l5vy87ybgQ_VrhsRbkS1_JuTINw/s640/jackson-bench.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Don't let the blueberry eyes and pinch-worthy dimples fool you... It's a good thing he's cute. Otherwise, I'm afraid one of us wouldn't survive. *smile*<br />
<br />
Someone will probably read this blog and think, "Homegirl has lost her mind. She only has <b>one</b> kid, and he's in daycare all day! Her life is cake!" Let me assure you, my life is not cake. It's not even a cupcake. I'm not comparing my life to others or saying I have it worse. I realize everyone has their struggles. This is mine. I'm in a valley right now, but I will claw my way out somehow.Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-52862559818543823052012-02-02T07:12:00.007-06:002012-02-02T14:22:46.146-06:00Childcare & ChucklesWhat happened to January? Seriously! It's like I blinked and suddenly it's no longer January? Good grief.<br />
<br />
Despite my lack of blogging in January, it was a busy month for us. Our world was thrown into a bit of a tailspin when Snuggles' childcare provider (who is more like an adopted grandma to Jackson) gave us two weeks' notice due to some personal issues and health concerns. It wasn't a big deal.... *cough* Okay, so I completely broke down and panicked. I'll let you guess which one of those is true. Ahem.<br />
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The thing is, it's difficult to get into daycare centers in this area, especially the good ones. Every church-based Christian childcare in the area has a waiting list. It's really insane.<br />
<br />
But as He always does, God provided. A friend of ours recommended a great, Christian childcare center near our house. They had a rare opening the week I called, and when they contacted the families ahead of us on the waiting list, none of them needed childcare. It really was a miracle! Looking back on everything, I'm convinced this transition is a good thing for Snuggles. He enjoys playing with his classmates, and I think it's time for him to have the added education and stimulation during the day. Not only that, he absolutely loves the playground! The bad news is that my biggest fears came true: he is not sleeping well at the new place. Please pray that Snuggles resumes his nap schedule because the screaming and whining and tantrums (normal for 2-year-olds) have ramped up from normal to nuclear. I told John this morning that <i>someone</i> is not going to survive this transition.<br />
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When he's not whining, crying and throwing fits, Snuggles continues to light up our world with his smiles. And he constantly makes us laugh. Sometimes we laugh because we don't know what else to do!<br />
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I've never thought twice about getting out of the shower in front of Jackson. Although it's not something I do often, sometimes I'm in my unmentionables in front of Jackson. In fact, most of the literature I've read says it's best for children to learn about body parts at home. We've just been very nonchalant about it, and he really hasn't shown much interest. Until recently.<br />
<br />
On a Sunday morning a few weeks ago, John had left for church, so I was alone with Jackson while trying to get ready for church. I had just gotten out of the shower, and Jackson was playing with some toys on the bathroom floor while I went about my morning routine. I hadn't dressed yet, and I was bending over the counter washing the cleanser off my face when it happened. Suddenly, I felt a small finger poke my nether regions from behind, while loudly exclaiming, "Owwooooga!" (This is the sound we make when we we're playing "honk" Snuggles' belly button.) After peeling myself off the ceiling, I choked back expletives as I reached for a hand towel to wipe the soap out of my eyes. Snuggles, of course, found my reaction hilarious, and he dissolved into a pile of giggles on the bathroom floor. I hid my laughter in the hand towel, as I told him that it wasn't nice to poke mama in the hoo hoo... And then I proceeded to have a brief, age-appropriate conversation about private parts, all the while making a mental note to always wear a protective layer of clothing in Snuggles' presence.<br />
<br />
Not long after the bathroom "honking", we had another bathroom incident. It was that time of the month, so I was in the bathroom (clothed this time) gathering the necessary feminine supplies I needed for the day. Snuggles walked in, saw the tampons on the counter, and said, "Oohh! I wanna popsicle!" Oh yeah, I had lots of fun trying to distract him from that "popsicle".<br />
<br />
During the same week as the popsicle request, Snuggles barged into the bathroom while I was unwrapping a pantyliner. "Oh boy," I thought, "Here we go". Sure enough, Snuggles was transfixed.<br />
<br />
Snuggles: (<i>Pointing to the pantyliner</i>) Bandaid? Mama have an ouchie?! <br />
Me: No, Mama's fine. Where's Daddy? Can you go find Daddy?<br />
Snuggles: (<i>Pointing to the pantyliner</i>) Mama have a sticker?<br />
Me: No, Snuggles, this isn't a sticker.<br />
Snuggles: I wanna stickerrrrrr!" <br />
<br />
Now, every time Snuggles walks into the bathroom, he asks for a "sticker". Yep, time to childproof the bathroom door.Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-66959145402087909562011-12-24T14:07:00.001-06:002011-12-24T14:09:35.394-06:00On the Road AgainWe drove to Indiana yesterday to be with family. He finally fell asleep after 5 hours in the car. Made the last 3 hours of the trip much less stressful.<br />
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For a two year old, he really does very well in the car. Of course, it helped that he had new DVDs to watch. <br />
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Merry Christmas Eve!<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltBoDKe9BIpMFQG-LMPoene3FRAe7JwyGVhCWL2i0oSAfqIN4uKd1iAAS98fLatn0lXmg_csGuqs5tZX66E1NxSika11C0fh4EKUZ9RbsR_UhEAYIAWHXKcA1EcqSPcF4O_iNEpnFjkY/s640/blogger-image-2069398930.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltBoDKe9BIpMFQG-LMPoene3FRAe7JwyGVhCWL2i0oSAfqIN4uKd1iAAS98fLatn0lXmg_csGuqs5tZX66E1NxSika11C0fh4EKUZ9RbsR_UhEAYIAWHXKcA1EcqSPcF4O_iNEpnFjkY/s640/blogger-image-2069398930.jpg" /></a></div>Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-22774417667069163342011-12-14T07:41:00.001-06:002011-12-14T07:41:00.513-06:00Happy Birthday, Jesus!<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/2SI7Je_LDi8" width="560"></iframe></div>Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-51802010635899075112011-12-12T07:05:00.001-06:002011-12-13T16:44:35.096-06:00The Adventures of the Miller Family Christmas Tree<div style="text-align: center;">Assembly of the Miller Family Christmas tree used to be rather uneventful process. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrqExwnSV03zZCjjNdB8w-augZPeG7rMv4DzGLuJ5XBGfInBH3FKkvPqsKLmTUFb-DkJgstVdQCksIpJtmw35Fk-Q1aD5kPch1CXURBCXA6T7cI6q9Z7oaYkLYMCQYjYFIz7yDIcCJpB0/s1600/IMG_0040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrqExwnSV03zZCjjNdB8w-augZPeG7rMv4DzGLuJ5XBGfInBH3FKkvPqsKLmTUFb-DkJgstVdQCksIpJtmw35Fk-Q1aD5kPch1CXURBCXA6T7cI6q9Z7oaYkLYMCQYjYFIz7yDIcCJpB0/s400/IMG_0040.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Not anymore.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You see, this is the first Christmas that Snuggles is old enough to "help" with putting up the tree. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigmXGOyzRqsx_jBjG3Wp7hEc1TMWpMbrmB411MYy9EdQio8iya5pxaKa8F0euVUfFXvKVEUiPZJ20ulqKAPa2GZRKddqh_WEOlaSsmHx8p_tflZWQD-0V-KpwAGz9RrhyphenhyphenELWlP981jBt8/s1600/IMG_0021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigmXGOyzRqsx_jBjG3Wp7hEc1TMWpMbrmB411MYy9EdQio8iya5pxaKa8F0euVUfFXvKVEUiPZJ20ulqKAPa2GZRKddqh_WEOlaSsmHx8p_tflZWQD-0V-KpwAGz9RrhyphenhyphenELWlP981jBt8/s400/IMG_0021.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">While this was going on, I was in the kitchen fixing supper. I came out briefly to find this...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwlXrBSAZET4rtUlgSzqNI1HKEdQL9R3b8TppdylRnlLXhizSk1yQrQrwmvRJGyu1M5We8cp4M6z5SMxFyHGma9_O3-IRdclL08IGQQHYF7uYfTyqGs7tuNwSnvR2CVs3WxNAuXBob0LU/s1600/IMG_0024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwlXrBSAZET4rtUlgSzqNI1HKEdQL9R3b8TppdylRnlLXhizSk1yQrQrwmvRJGyu1M5We8cp4M6z5SMxFyHGma9_O3-IRdclL08IGQQHYF7uYfTyqGs7tuNwSnvR2CVs3WxNAuXBob0LU/s400/IMG_0024.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
"The tree looks great!" you say. Yes. Yes it does... only it's the wrong tree! This is the "skinny tree" we purchased several years ago when our living room was too small for our tree. But the skinny tree looked very puny in our current space, so poor Guitarman had to put away the skinny tree, go back down to the basement, and pull out the big tree. He was less than excited.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Miller Family Christmas Tree: Take Two<br />
(Note: At 1:18 Snuggles says "Christmas tree!") </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/pV2BGJqRR_Q" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">After Snuggles helped take the branches out of the box, he sat on them.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIpoo538rLOMraxwoBg9f3660IvAND8BMDG_iO-7VgLr8dqC8hyphenhyphenGFKrPmJcKnrIo7z_FFhvqcrrDanBqMxcRJUYxzsd6iSqvaJ4akcJtjSresAS7TbK2OjY8b1ZEdZIIFMQHNlxWt7Jk4/s1600/IMG_0035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIpoo538rLOMraxwoBg9f3660IvAND8BMDG_iO-7VgLr8dqC8hyphenhyphenGFKrPmJcKnrIo7z_FFhvqcrrDanBqMxcRJUYxzsd6iSqvaJ4akcJtjSresAS7TbK2OjY8b1ZEdZIIFMQHNlxWt7Jk4/s400/IMG_0035.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Snuggles was so excited about the Christmas tree assembly process <br />
that he insisted on helping put each branch on the tree...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/fKwavsNLU6w" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">... which, of course, means the process of assembling the tree took <b>forever</b>! </div></div><div style="text-align: center;">So we managed to put the tree together, but that was the only thing we accomplished the first night. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_z5Zt8aIF8g" width="560"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Miller Family Christmas Tree: Take Three </div><div style="text-align: center;">(The next night, we managed to get the lights on the tree.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_COMn-Ji7_y77I5rnBERUCocEtiyOZo59FubTxrvJcHdKBf6nncyt5yrNX8-43jpkHAsPfIV2fp9pu5f09jKlj7fTXurq4mKhVbdMPtkARidLW5jTPiSrI_NxMw6Veoy_i4bhMi9A_k/s1600/christmas_tree_take3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_COMn-Ji7_y77I5rnBERUCocEtiyOZo59FubTxrvJcHdKBf6nncyt5yrNX8-43jpkHAsPfIV2fp9pu5f09jKlj7fTXurq4mKhVbdMPtkARidLW5jTPiSrI_NxMw6Veoy_i4bhMi9A_k/s400/christmas_tree_take3.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
Miller Family Christmas Tree: Take Four<br />
(The next night, we got the decorations on the tree.)<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/g0BTelppAfI" width="560"></iframe><br />
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Right after I finished recording the video, Snuggles threw an ornament, and this happened.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0zqxiyhRcZtuGI89e2kzpQtVHuh8izVNk2AwP5PjRoVEQ-eKcfozIze2MFvswK_2Pc87F956eA_DSD3K0NHgErQN8zk4Xv3C6rH8yNDgvgKk3WRe7d8F9LRrsc3IrlS8X7NOT1xARV0/s1600/shattered-ornament.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0zqxiyhRcZtuGI89e2kzpQtVHuh8izVNk2AwP5PjRoVEQ-eKcfozIze2MFvswK_2Pc87F956eA_DSD3K0NHgErQN8zk4Xv3C6rH8yNDgvgKk3WRe7d8F9LRrsc3IrlS8X7NOT1xARV0/s400/shattered-ornament.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
So we decided to put Snuggles to bed, and finish decorating the tree without him.<br />
(I know, I know. We're party poopers. But we wanted to get the tree up <u>before</u> Christmas!)<br />
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Miller Family Christmas Tree: Take Five<br />
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When Snuggles woke up the next morning, we let him put the star on top of the tree.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomqmSJPD5BgkrU39RgJz1QLww9xycfM_LMjTD5zrbv3kxR46cjRf4R6SwGJgXktvyc4jPrWKorN_EikyK9Q8jYOPtBHQje6MqnHDWGlyHqiApblhZ_KDwu6ckHnnGeW8DtJNhR77vN30/s1600/christmas_tree_star.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomqmSJPD5BgkrU39RgJz1QLww9xycfM_LMjTD5zrbv3kxR46cjRf4R6SwGJgXktvyc4jPrWKorN_EikyK9Q8jYOPtBHQje6MqnHDWGlyHqiApblhZ_KDwu6ckHnnGeW8DtJNhR77vN30/s400/christmas_tree_star.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>[Yes, Guitarman is wearing Elmo pajama pants. Snuggles loves to be matchy-matchy with Daddy.]<br />
<br />
And for the final touch... Guitarman hung Taco's collar on the tree.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47lIEchkD7d1u2EDV1I2HTf0mczUncYZfOuAZxR4prJnTFpqjK_UHCCgtzm2eI7Leo-ZWBDCdB769TBtvqJA_sZ3WkaQFlulHr61SOLlB6cnLa-bI89HAK-DAULMv2hOW9bwtcZLlNMU/s1600/taco-collar.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47lIEchkD7d1u2EDV1I2HTf0mczUncYZfOuAZxR4prJnTFpqjK_UHCCgtzm2eI7Leo-ZWBDCdB769TBtvqJA_sZ3WkaQFlulHr61SOLlB6cnLa-bI89HAK-DAULMv2hOW9bwtcZLlNMU/s400/taco-collar.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I find it fitting (and surprisingly comforting) <br />
that a little part of Taco will be with us this Christmas. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-30679947441917951692011-12-07T11:47:00.002-06:002011-12-07T13:58:38.314-06:00After 10 years...This is why I still love my husband...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGKKS18IV8kIVUoQpKEXlSg88LvYdIjWLqWpYBG7GFfP3Bh7a5vGcUl3HRfmYITPI_6qxlaSTAkhhNLAwy34eTQU6wiPkVZDiwLEwEgzoscmjqyHtTZfgiqDyV5o14V7MX37SrLusb9pI/s1600/IMG_0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGKKS18IV8kIVUoQpKEXlSg88LvYdIjWLqWpYBG7GFfP3Bh7a5vGcUl3HRfmYITPI_6qxlaSTAkhhNLAwy34eTQU6wiPkVZDiwLEwEgzoscmjqyHtTZfgiqDyV5o14V7MX37SrLusb9pI/s320/IMG_0011.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
He holds my purse for me when I've got my hands full. (Yes, he is purposely striking a "girly" pose.)<br />
<br />
Hey, I said he holds my purse. I didn't say he was <i>thrilled</i> to do it. *smile*Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-22092847302184137592011-12-05T07:11:00.001-06:002011-12-05T10:58:28.983-06:00Sneak PeakHere's a Sneak Peak of our 2011 Christmas Card... coming your way soon!<br />
<br />
<div class="sflyProductPreviewWidget" style="height: 494px; width: 425px;"><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetTop" style="background-image: url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/top.gif); height: 6px;"></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetCenter" style="background-image: url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/bg.gif); background-repeat: repeat-y; height: 482px; padding: 0 6px 0 6px;"><div class="sflyProductPreviewLogo" style="height: 34px; padding: 14px 0 0 14px; width: 105px;"><img src="http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/logo.gif" style="background: #ffffff; border: none; box-shadow: none; padding: 0;" /></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewContainer" style="height: 350px; padding: 0; text-align: center;"><a href="http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=1AbNWTJm4Zs3Hg&cid=SFLYOCWIDGET&eid=118"><img src="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/prs/v1/1AbNWTJm4Zs4/1AbNWTJm4Zs4cW/p/67b0de21b3127d902548/JPEG/1323104208000/0/" style="background: #ffffff; border: none; box-shadow: none; padding: 0;" /></a></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewMessageContainer" style="background-color: #f4f4e9; height: 55px; line-height: 19px; padding: 15px 0 15px 0; text-align: center;"><div class="sflyProductPreviewTitle" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-seris; font-size: 15px; font-weight: bold;">Photo Card</div><div class="sflyProductPreviewViewCollection" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-seris; font-size: 13px;">View the entire <a href="http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery" style="color: #6666cc;">collection</a> of cards.</div></div></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetBottom" style="background-image: url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/bottom.gif); height: 6px;"></div></div>Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-18876490151619591402011-12-01T16:51:00.016-06:002011-12-02T08:46:59.238-06:0010 YearsWell, the past <strike>year</strike> month has been so busy, that I've barely had enough time to <i>think</i>, let alone blog about what I've been thinking. Great ideas went unshared. Funny stories were left untold. TSS (Things Snuggles Says) went unpublished. But rather than trying to catch you up on the insanitythatismylife, I'll just list the things I've missed blogging about, at least what I can remember:<br />
<ul><li>Guitarman went to Honduras.</li>
<li>I injured my back while Guitarman was out of the country, and I walked around moaning like an old lady for several weeks.</li>
<li>We visited the pumpkin patch, where Snuggles enjoyed carrying around (and throwing!) pumpkins. Unlike his usual obsession with animals, Snuggles showed no interest in the petting zoo at the patch, preferring instead to ride in the pink car. (Much to Guitarman's shagrin.) Snuggles also refused to pose for photos. He <i>might </i>be smiling in like 2 of the 100 photos I shot.</li>
<li>We broke up with our former landlord (who was a major <b>jerk</b>!), and moved to a new-to-us (read: smaller, older, more affordable) house owned by kind home-owner-landlords who care more about people than they do about doing being a millionaire real estate investor. (Seriously, folks, he was a real prime-time <b>jerk</b>!)</li>
<li>My parents came to Tennessee to help us move. </li>
<li>Snuggles visited the pediatrician for his 2-year-old check-up. Aside from allergies, asthma, and truck-sized adenoids that face almost-certain-removal, he is healthy. (Thank you, Lord!) Snuggles now weighs.... wait for it... 27 pounds! No wonder my back hurts all the time. He is only in the 34th percentile for height and 40th for weight, but he <b>feels</b> incredibly heavy compared to how small he looks.</li>
<li>Snuggles continues to impress the pediatrician (and everyone else) with his words and sentences. Basically he's a short little motor mouth. I have <b>no</b> idea where he gets that. <i>Ahem.</i></li>
<li>Mother-in-law moved out of our house into a retirement home!!!</li>
<li>We had some Fall portraits taken by an <a href="http://www.kimvetterphoto.com/">amazing photographer-friend</a>.</li>
<li>Snuggles turned 2 years old. (Yes, people, he is two years old! And yes, we're experiencing The Terrible Two's, which, as luck would have it, started around 18 months for us.)</li>
<li>We observed the one-year-anniversary of when we moved from Idaho to Tennessee. (Can't believe we've been here a year. Time <i>flew </i>by!) </li>
<li>I celebrated my 36th b-day.</li>
<li> Mother-in-law moved out of our house!</li>
<li>Clumsy me sprained my ankle, which resulted in an over-priced x-ray, and me hobbling around and moaning like an old lady. (Again!) </li>
<li>We travelled to Indiana to celebrate Thanksgiving with family! Snuggles enjoyed time with his aunts, uncle, grandparents, great-grandparents, great-aunts and great-uncles and his cousins! He did <b>not</b>, however, enjoy the car ride back to Tennessee.</li>
<li>While in Indiana, Snuggles learned how to ride the battery-operated tractor by himself. (Well, almost by himself. He needed help steering.)</li>
<li>Did I mention mother-in-law moved out of our house?! (I really do love her.)</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">I spoke in the employee chapel at work a couple of weeks ago, and shared what I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving: My God, who gave me so many blessings in life, and who has always had His hand on my heart and life. Of course, a shared that gratitude in the context of a funny story about how my parents drove me to college in our car, pulling an aluminum bass boat with all my stuff in it. I'll have to tell that truly humiliating story later.</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">I switched from Android to iPhone. (This is a major step for me because I'm not a fan of Apple for a number of reasons.) I finally caved to Apple's obviously superior product, despite my misgivings with their business strategies, simply because I refused to replace my Droid phone for the 5th time.</li>
</ul>Last but definitely not least, Guitarman and I celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary today! (<i>Guitarman and Melinda, sittin' in a tree....</i> ) Well... we're not actually going to <i>celebrate</i> our anniversary today because 1) We have dress rehearsal for our church Christmas Program this evening; 2) Because I have a nasty cold/cough that limits our.... marital festivities (<i>cough)</i> to a card exchange, cyber kisses and "hubba-hubba" heckling from across the room. <br />
<br />
I'm blessed to have Guitarman as my partner, my best friend, my live-in comedian, my cheerleader, my counselor, my hot date, my pastor, and the fabulous father of our sweet son, Snuggles. After all these years, Guitarman still makes me laugh and he still laughs at my stories. Thanks for all the memories, Guitarman! By God's grace, I hope we have many more happy years ahead of us! I love you!Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-50257177088279019522011-11-15T17:42:00.015-06:002011-11-15T17:42:00.615-06:00TSSTSS (Things Snuggles Says)<br />
<br />
When I get home from work, the first thing I do is change my clothes. I have to get out of the office attire and into something more... ahem... comfortable. Like jeans and a t-shirt.<br />
<br />
Last night I arrived home from work, and walked into the bedroom to change my clothes. As I stood there in the closet, the door swung open, and there stood Snuggles. (I swear he follows so close behind me that if I let out a big fart, he'd be blown away.) As I removed my pants, and started to hang them on the hanger, the following conversation ensued:<br />
<br />
Snuggles: Mama naaaakiiiid!<br />
<br />
Me: No, Mama's not naked. I'm changing my clothes.<br />
<br />
Snuggles: Mama shower?<br />
<br />
Me: No, I'm changing my clothes.<br />
<br />
Snuggles: (<i>Pointing to my butt</i>) Cute!<br />
<br />
<br />
Trust me, Snuggles, it's anything but cute. But thanks anyway.Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-57564778811372682832011-10-18T17:15:00.003-05:002011-10-18T16:08:06.946-05:00Moving (again!)<i>"I know God won't give me anything I can't handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much." </i><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><i> --Mother Theresa</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
I've heard this quotation many times throughout the years, and besides the fact that the Bible doesn't actually say that, the quotation itself is thought-provoking. It communicates sentiment we feel sometimes when we're at the end of our rope. I'm going through one of those times now.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We've been looking for a rental house in the Nashville area because our lease is up at the end of this month. The house we're currently renting is beautiful (and big!), but it's expensive. Now that we've been here a year, we have a better understanding of our expenses for living in this area. We would like to reduce our housing costs in order to focus on paying down our debt with the eventual goal of buying a house here. (We still own our house in Idaho, but that's another story.)</div><br />
In the process of searching for a rental house, some friends made us an offer we couldn't refuse. After trying (unsuccessfully) to sell their beautiful townhome for the past year, they offered to rent it to us at a very reduced rate. We jumped at the chance. They contacted their realtor to take the townhouse off the market, and we were supposed to get the keys and start the process of moving in last week.<br />
<br />
We contacted our landlord and gave him our notice of intent to vacate. One hour after e-mailing our current landlord, we received an e-mail from the townhouse owners. Their realtor had called about a potential buyer, so basically their offer for us to rent the townhouse was tabled indefinitely. I quickly e-mailed our landlord and asked for more time, but he refused. Instead he pressured us to sign another 1-year lease. <br />
<br />
As home owners ourselves, we completely understand that our friends need to sell their property. But the bottom line is we were in a really bad position. We had 20 days to find a new place, not to mention physically pack and move our stuff!<br />
<br />
I literally worked myself crazy last week searching property listings, contacting agents, etc. We looked at a bunch of properties, but despite all our efforts, we found NOTHING suitable.<br />
<br />
Sunday morning after church, I hit a wall. I reached the end of my rope. I lost my mind. As I sat on the floor having a minor nervous breakdown, I thought about the Mother Theresa quote... I had to surrender the situation to God (again!) and just TRUST Him to provide.<br />
<br />
Sunday night, we found our house. It's an older home in an established neighborhood in Mt. Juliet, which is east of Nashville. It's much smaller than our current house, and it's a little dated inside, but it has enough space for our family and it's on a beautiful 1.5 acre plot of land.<br />
<br />
Once again God proved to me that He always provides our needs.<br />
<br />
My prayer throughout the past week has been this: <i> God give me the strength to see this adversity as an opportunity to trust You, a time to see Your grace at work in my life.</i><br />
<br />
I'm going to keep breathing that prayer throughout the next 2 weeks as we pack and move... AGAIN. This will be our 6th move in 10 years. I'm over it.Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-80461773092462730142011-10-03T17:49:00.010-05:002011-10-03T17:49:00.074-05:00Movin' On UpSnuggles is movin' on up... to size 18-24 months clothes, that is. Fall weather brings with it cooler temps, and he can't wear any of his long-sleeved clothes from last year. After hitting up consignment sales and outlet stores last week, I found some new and new-to-us clothes for Snuggles, which only means one thing... Time to clean out the closet!<br />
<br />
The process of cleaning out Snuggles' closet usually entails packing the old stuff into plastic bins and replacing it with the "new" stuff. [Did I mention my garage is PILED high with plastic bins full of Snuggles' clothes from the past two years?! Yeah, we can't even park our cars in there.]<br />
<br />
I dread the seasonal transition of Snuggles' clothes, for two reasons:<br />
<br />
1) I hate shopping. The search for new stuff wears me out!<br />
2) Cleaning out the closet is an unavoidable walk down Memory Lane.<br />
<br />
Okay, I'll be honest. I'm usually not a sappy person... But when it comes to Snuggles, I'm a blubbering, snot-running-out-the-nose fool. Transitioning his closet seems to bring me to a grinding halt in front of a sign that says: YOUR BABY IS GONE! As I packed away the size 12 months clothes on Saturday, I could literally see Snuggles' babyhood slipping through my fingertips. And although <strike>I want to strangle him sometimes</strike> he tries my patience on occasion, part of me doesn't want him to grow up so quickly!<br />
<br />
There I sat, on the floor of Snuggles' closet... Everything I touched had a memory associated with it: He wore the grey, fuzzy sweatshirt on his first wagon ride. He wore that striped t-shirt on his first trip to the zoo.... Each piece of clothing I held in my hands was like a fabric snapshot of Snuggles' life.<br />
<br />
Cleaning out Snuggles' closet to make room for bigger sizes, I found myself torn between celebrating the new phase in life and missing the baby days. That's when I found it--the white onesie with the lamb on the front and the big yellow stain on the bottom. That's when I remembered The Blowout.<br />
<br />
The Blowout: We were at a restaurant eating lunch when Snuggles grunted, made the-face-every-mom-dreads, and then proceeded to poop over the back of his diaper, out the side of his onesie, down my leg, and onto the floor. It was a Level 5 Blowout.<br />
<br />
So there I sat last Saturday, on the floor of Snuggles' closet, holding the poop-stained onesie. In that moment, I realized it's so important to live in the moment. We've moved on to new adventures now. And while I'm sure I haven't cleaned the last of Snuggles' poop-stained clothes, I am blessed beyond words. Every moment with Snuggles is a joy... even the ones that stink.Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-8104711653088435572011-09-23T07:34:00.000-05:002011-09-23T08:47:06.575-05:00PlaygroundCheck out the big boy at the playground. He is so proud of himself, that he's big enough to climb the stairs and go down the slide by himself!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="400" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/yr5SRX7YGlk" width="525"></iframe>Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-68115417227752914932011-09-19T12:15:00.002-05:002011-09-19T12:50:45.470-05:00Monkey at the ZooI took last Friday off work because Snuggles' sitter was away on a retreat. Since I had to use a vacation day, I figured we should make it fun! So we met some friends from church at the Nashville Zoo. I was a little nervous about taking Snuggles to the zoo by myself because Snuggles is quite a handful these days, and I really hate it when he <strike>misbehaves</strike> acts like a toddler in public. He gets restless when he has to sit still for long, and he pretty much <strike>throws a major tantrum</strike> refuses to ride in his stroller. To avoid him running off--and subsequently my having to chase him all day long--I decided to take his toddler leash, which is basically a cute, little stuffed animal/backpack with a strap attached for me to <strike>drag him along</strike> keep Snuggles within arm's length. I bought it several months ago for a trip, but I've never used it.... until now.<br />
<br />
If you're a parent, you probably know toddler leashes are not without controversy. I used to watch people with their kids on leashes and I would think, "Good grief. Do they think their kids are dogs?!" But now I have my own toddler, and I see those leashes in a whole new light.<br />
<br />
As we drove to the zoo, I debated whether or not to use the leash... <i>What will people think of me? They'll think I'm a bad mom.</i> To my surprise (and relief!) when I met up with my two friends (whose sons are close to Snuggles' age), they both had toddler leashes for their boys! :) So, there we were... three <strike>fine examples of motherhood</strike> moms with three rambunctious boys on leashes!<br />
<br />
Here's a video of Snuggles right after I put the leash on him. (The noises you hear in the background are white- cheeked gibbons.)<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8lRUcOQVJNc" width="575"></iframe><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">You've heard of chasing your tail, but what do you do when your tail is chasing<b><i> you</i></b>?! :)</span><br />
<br />
I'm not gonna lie. Snuggles hated the leash. (And his friends hated theirs, too.) But that leash saved my bacon at the zoo, and I will gladly use it again.Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-44315367411307621552011-09-18T21:50:00.003-05:002011-09-19T10:07:39.470-05:00Guitarman in HondurasGuitarman has been in Honduras for the past week (8 days to be exact) on a mission trip. I thought I would feel lonely while he was gone. I did miss Guitarman desperately, and I felt Taco's absence even more strongly while Guitarman was gone. But the good news? I never once felt lonely because I had Snuggles to keep me company! He seems to become more fun and entertaining everyday. <br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/IWyN9Lnf4GM" width="480"></iframe>Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-36182759937904988092011-09-13T12:17:00.000-05:002011-09-13T12:17:28.692-05:00DiscoveriesI'll start this blog by being completely honest. I'm hurting. Taco died on August 31. (For those who <strike>have been on another planet</strike> just recently found my blog, Taco was my dog, my best friend of 12 years.) I'm not ready/able to blog about her death yet, but I'll get to that eventually because I know it will be therapeutic.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I can't believe how profoundly I'm grieving. I'm heartbroken. And the fact that Guitarman is out of the country makes this week even more difficult. The good news is: God knows just what we need when we need it. While searching for a work-related file on my computer today, I discovered a folder of old videos I had downloaded when I replaced my phone. The folder contained a bunch of old videos of Snuggles, videos I hadn't seen in quite awhile. Watching those short little video clips made my heart smile.<br />
<br />
As I watched the videos of Snuggles, I realized the past year for Snuggles has not only been a time of growth physically, it's also been a year of discovery. Thankfully, his many discoveries have been too cute to resist recording. And so, I bring you a video archive of Snuggles' discoveries... <br />
<br />
Kleenex (Subtitle: How to make a mess) - recorded Aug. 29, 2010<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/TEhUvo58oK8" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
JELLO (Subtitle: Catching flies) - recorded Sept. 30, 2010<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/pIeiKNH8fGE" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
Mobility - recorded Feb. 17, 2011<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/T9uRigXwlUU" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
Words (Subtitle: The Language Explosion Begins) - recorded Feb. 20, 2011<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/B_HOm5jqWgI" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
Drinking Fountain - recorded Feb. 23, 2011<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Pw8hNx1kT6A" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
Vacuum Cleaner (Subtitle: Proof that Mommy does clean) - recorded April 6, 2011<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6NE1rwhm1Lw" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
Climbing (Subtitle: The Monkey in Action) - recorded July 2011<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ak1gAqo_Cig" width="480"></iframe>Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7134841866811767933.post-15409524079869665962011-08-18T20:04:00.015-05:002011-08-19T08:49:29.812-05:00Confessions of an ExtravertWe took the Meyer's Briggs Personality Type Indicator (personality test) at work a few weeks ago, and my results were predictable. I'm an Extravert... off-the-charts-extravert, in fact. [I know, it's a *shocker*... Not.]<br />
<br />
Basically, extraverts draw energy from action. According to <a href="http://www.myersbriggs.org/">Myers Briggs</a>, contrasting characteristics between extraverts and introverts include the following:<br />
<ul><li>Extraverts are <i>action</i> oriented, while introverts are <i>thought</i> oriented.</li>
<li>Extraverts seek <i>breadth</i> of knowledge and influence, while introverts seek <i>depth</i> of knowledge and influence.</li>
<li>Extraverts often prefer more <i>frequent</i> interaction, while introverts prefer more <i>substantial</i> interaction.</li>
<li>Extraverts recharge and get their energy from spending time with <i>people</i>, while introverts recharge and get their energy from spending time <i>alone.</i></li>
</ul><i> </i>I've taken the Meyers Briggs test several times through the years with similar results, and it's always spot-on. I definitely have an extraverted personality. But motherhood has changed one part of my extraverted personality forever...<br />
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<i>I cherish every precious second that I have alone.</i><br />
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I used to *dread* going to the grocery store. And while I don't jump for joy in the produce section, I definitely have a newfound appreciation for that sacred hour of weekly food/supply-gathering now that I'm a mom... becuase I can do it *alone* without a 2-year-old screaming at me, "Mama, I [want to] color!" or even worse, "I poop!"<br />
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I confess. This textbook off-the-charts-extravert-mom desperately craves time alone. <b>I mean, seriously. Is it too much to ask to go the bathroom by myself?!</b><br />
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It never fails that I'll sneak into the bathroom and close the door to do my business, only to have Snuggles bang on the door from the outside, crying, "Mama! Mama!" He carries on like the world is going to end if he can't watch me pee.<br />
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I've always been an extravert. And I still am. But every-once-in-awhile, even an extreme extravert needs five minutes alone to poop in peace. Melinda Wolf Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10343957609189928305noreply@blogger.com0