When I'm stuck with a day that's gray and lonely...

I try again to make a successful loaf of whole wheat bread.

I realize that my flour, which was ground with a Vita Mix and will work great in quick breads, will not rise. No matter how hard I try.

This is after two hours, two hours I tell you! But I baked them anyway, darn it.

I fight the urge to curl up on the couch with a blanket at 10:30 and actually clean my bathroom and bedroom.

I curl up on the couch with a blanket at 12:30.




And later, when it's still gray, but not quite so lonely anymore, Glenn slices one of the bricks of bread. And he actually likes it. Huh?

Never again is what you swore the time before.

Now that I won't be having to deal with the freezer for a year or so, I have a bone to pick with some other household (and personal) chores...

Kitchen floor, you promised that if I mopped and scrubbed you really well, like on my hands and knees, you would stay clean forever. Or at least longer than one meal. But already I see crumbs and spills and we haven't even eaten dinner yet.

Dishes, counter tops, and dishwasher--don't even get me started.

Big huge lawn, you promised that if we spent an hour and a half mowing you with our cruddy lawn mower, you would stop growing. Not die, just stop growing. But there you are, overgrown and weedy once again. At least we have six months off here pretty soon while you sleep under a blanket of frost and snow.

Legs, you promised that if I shaved you you would stay nice and smooth. There is a lot of surface area to cover and I waste a lot of hot water taking such a long shower. But one day later, you are stubbly and scratchy once more. Good thing you, too, will be hiding under pants for the next six months.

Treadmill, you promised that if I ran extra hard on you in the wee hours of the morning while I watched "Hoarders" on a tiny TV that I would never have to exercise again. And that I would lose weight. But here I am the next morning, still just as thick and sturdy as before.

Laundry, you promised that if we sorted you and washed you and dried you and folded you and put you away that you would always be ready for us to wear. You said you would never pile up again. But somehow six baskets full of you manage to find their way to my bedroom every Thursday night.

Sleep, you promised that if I just put my pajamas on and got into bed and snuggled up in the nice cool sleeping weather that I could have you until my body was through with you on its own. But then I heard that nastiest of all noises. The alarm clock. Why must you continue to be in cahoots with that devil?

Closet door at the foot of the stairs, you promised that if I closed you just one more time, you would stay closed for an entire day. But even when it seems like all the backpacks have been stashed inside you and there is no more reason to open you, there you are, wide and gaping. I swear I must close you every time I come down the stairs.

Who says nothing stays the same? I must be willing to play the game. Cuz you keep coming around again.

And again.

And again.

Football time again!

Andrew started his second season of flag football last week. His first game was on Saturday.

Andrew got to try his hand at quarterback a couple times. Let's just say they weren't the most successful of plays. But Andrew can take comfort in the fact that he is doing as well as Brady Quinn. Probably better.


This is Andrew playing his favorite position--defensive line. Here he is about to grab the quarterback's flag. He is very good about breaking through the offensive line and then following through to get the receiver down.
So even though the Browns stink (and Glenn has even disowned them!) we are having fun cheering on our new favorite team--the Cardinals!

Taking a break from the bon bons and soaps.

Last night Leah mentioned that her teacher kept talking to the students about how busy their parents are. And Leah was concerned because it just doesn't seem like Glenn and I are that busy. I chuckled and told her that I didn't realize how busy my parents were until I was a parent myself.

But I have to say, I did pick up a thing or two as a kid.

Because today, when I tackled this beast--I knew just what to do. My mom happened to call while I was hacking away at the ice. "Do you have pots of boiling water?" Yep. "You know you can use your hair dryer too." Got it. See, I learned from the best when it comes to defrosting freezers.

I don't expect my kids to notice that the freezer needs defrosting, or pick up on the fact that I took a garden shovel to it, or realize that it took me the better part of two and a half hours to get everything back together.

But I hope a little of whatever it is I do around here all day might rub off on my kids.

And not just the ice cream eating and TV watching either.

A 5K and a marathon.

Time for the annual Race For The Cure! Same huge crowds, same Romona Robinson ringing the starting bell, same hard course and brutal uphill on W. 3rd.

But this year there were a couple differences.

This year we were given "Miles of Men" t-shirts because they ran out of regular race t-shirts. Sure, men need a cure too, but I can't wear a gray t-shirt to run in! Hello, sweat!

This year we made it on TV! (Look for us right around the 3:00 mark)


This year we had a huge cheering section!These die hard fans got to enjoy Mitchell's ice cream before the race....
....and while I was just fine with running a 5K, it was the start of a marathon for Brooke. An ice cream marathon!

She started the day off with Mitchell's, had her little birthday celebration (finally!) with her friends at Mitchell's in the afternoon,
and then got to have a Frosty with Grandma Brooks and the rest of the girls that evening!

That's my kind of race!

Losing track of time.

The women's organization in my church hosted a dinner for women ages 18 to 118. (Those of you who happen to be 119 years old are out of luck. Sorry.) As the dinner ended I looked across the gym and noticed a gaggle of young girls walk in. Wait a minute, this isn't a youth activity. Who invited the teenagers? With another glance I saw that a couple of them were pregnant, so I am going to assume that they were indeed high school graduates. I leaned over to my thirty-something friends and sister (yes, Melissa, that means you) and said, "Why do those girls over there look like they are still in high school? Are we that old?"

It's impossible.

Aren't I the mother of little babies? The newlywed? The college co-ed? A high school student?

Really, not much has changed. Oh sure, there are a few more gray hairs (nothing a good bottle of L'Oreal Superior Preference won't handle), some wrinkles (I am not entirely opposed to Botox these days), and several extra pounds (ok maybe forty), but really, I'm pretty much the same person I was twenty years ago.

• I'm still bossy.
• I still never make my bed.
• I still want the approval of my parents.
• I still try to control my sisters' lives.
• I still think U2 rocks.
• I still go to bed way too late and get up way too early.
  
• I still think trombone players are cute.
• I still wonder how Billy Ray Cyrus became so famous.
  
• I still live with the Loud Family.
• I still make a lot of pizza.
• I still don't have much fashion sense.
  

You know this picture was taken last week, don't you?

I really don't want to relive the high school days. I'm good being a happily married mom. I am just fine with not worrying about homework, boys, and not having anything to do on Friday nights. I prefer worrying about housework, my two boys (and three girls), and whose turn it is for pizza and movie night on Friday nights.

It's just that all these long days have made the years go by really really fast.

I'm still just a Downey High, Downey High royal knight in blue. Whose body just happens to be losing the war against gravity.

Those young whippersnappers from the dinner will understand soon enough. Too soon, right?

Change my name, change my name?

No, not Callie's name.

Her name is perfect.

I'm talking the name of this blog.

Like to Callie 24/7. Or I Can't Stop Taking Pictures of My Niece. Or An Aunt's Obsession. Or Keep An Eye On Your Newborn Because Her Aunt Just Might Sneak Off With Her. Or How A Person Can Be So Totally In Love With A Baby That's Not Even Hers.

Just a thought.
The kids got to meet the baby today (finally!) and I was having a hard time sharing the baby.
I like visiting during the school day much better.

I get to be very selfish.

Just one question for you...

Does this look like a normal, loving woman holding her newborn niece?Or an obsessive, crazy woman with serious addictions her her sisters' kids?

If one day this blog pops up as Can't Get Enough Of Callie, you'll have your answer.

Callie Sue, I ♥ you!

Say my name, say my name.

Introducing....

"The Sister"
September 8, 2009
2:31 PM
7 lbs. 14 oz.
19 3/4 inches
As perfect as can be...
...yet to be named...
...with 2 aunts and 7 cousins just waiting to get their hands on her baby yumminess.

PRE-Labor Day Weekend

There was no labor around here this weekend.

There was the air show.
There was a crazy lady who forgot she wasn't holding her Shaggy Dog's leash and told us to leave him alone when he was getting all up in our bidness.

There were the Thunderbirds, one of which buzzed us so close I thought 9/11 was happening again 7 years and 359 days later. Seriously.There was the arrival of Grandma Brooks!

There was a big family dinner on Sunday.

There was a cousin sleep over Sunday night.

There was a lot of time spent with the PS3 and Wii.

There was a BBQ in which we tried to recreate the deliciousness of Brown Bag Burger turkey burgers. And came pretty close.

No, there was no labor around here this weekend.

The real labor starts tomorrow around nine, when Jill goes in to have her baby.

I need me a new Baby Barnes!

Ohm my.

I was scared and sweaty before I even started.

But I got in the car anyway and drove to my first yoga class.

I have done yoga DVD's on my own before, but never in an official, organized setting. With other people. But Emma and Leah will be starting a diving class next week and the rec center offers a yoga class that coincides, so I thought I would take the plunge.

I was late. I was nervous about my attire. I was nervous about twisting and posing and showing my--how shall I say--imperfections.

And while I didn't exactly do this:
...I did break a sweat (duh) and got an amazing workout. My legs were burning and shaking. I am pretty sure I am going to be sore tomorrow. But it just felt so good. At first when I looked at myself in the mirror I thought "Ay yi yi," but the next time I looked I smiled. I was doing something hard and kind of doing it well. I felt better about my body than I have in a long time.

So I'll go back next week.

And maybe someday I will be able to do the above. Wouldn't that be awesome?

On cloud nine.

A special girl had a special birthday today...
9 years old in the 9th month of 2009

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BROOKE!