I should be so lucky

My PopPop passed on today. While he may not have been my grandfather by blood, he was my family in all of the ways that truly matter. I remembered this quote today when I was reflecting on the light that had left us today--it seems to me to be a very fitting passage.

The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.

~ Mark Twain ~

My first memory of PopPop takes place before I ever even met him. I had just started dating Andy, and we were having dinner at his parent's house. The conversation came around to talking about PopPop's World War II days. Someone shared the story of how he had fallen asleep under a tree with his helmet pulled down low on his head. He was awakened by the sound of gunfire to find a bullet had just missed him while he slumbered. I remember sitting there in awe wondering what kind of person Andy's grandfather must be to have lived through such an event.

Whatever I had pictured in my head, it certainly was not what I encountered upon meeting PopPop. I kept looking at this quiet, deliberate man trying to match the reality with the vision that I had formed of him. Now, I've been told that he wasn't always so soft spoken, but when I knew him, PopPop was a man of few words. He was practical to a fault, but he couldn't hide the gleam of pride in his eye when he spoke of his grandchildren's successes. He was always willing to give advice, do your taxes, or take you out for a delicious meal. I don't think that I have ever been fed so well as when I was visiting PopPop and MomMom. My adopted Grandfather didn't even bat an eye when this Catholic girl asked for her ham and cheese sandwich on white bread at the Jewish deli. Down Beach Deli is still one of my favorite places to eat although I've since learned to just eat the rye.

When I thought I had him all figured out, my picture of PopPop changed again. In the early days of their marriage, PopPop and MomMom had been on a radio game show for newlyweds. They won a bunch of furniture and received a memento recording of their appearance on the show. I had heard stories about it, but since no one had a way to play the record, I had never actually heard the program. A couple of years ago, Danielle's brother Dustin made CDs of the recording, so we would be able to hear the interview for ourselves. On that Thanksgiving, we all sat in the living room and listened to a young PopPop and MomMom talk about how they met. PopPop sounded so hopeful & proud, but still with that touch of seriousness that I've always come to associate with him. I will never forget the looks on their faces as they were transported back in time to that day while surrounded by the family that they had made.

And that would have to be my most favorite memory of PopPop: the love and life that he shared with MomMom. From the outside, their relationship seemed like the classic TV sitcom filled with lots of bantering, but always with an unspoken devotion to one another. Riding in the car with them was always a hoot...MomMom would be a side seat driving telling him where to turn, how fast to drive, or where to park and PopPop would answer, "Just let me drive, Betty." To this day, Andy and I tease each other by saying that is how we'll be in 40 years..."Just let me drive, Mellon" is a phrase I hear often when I am engaging in my own brand of wifely nagging. It reminds me that we're on this journey together, forever--Just like PopPop and MomMom. I should be so lucky.

Young Lush

Not even 7 months old and she's already trying to drink far too much.



No, we didn't really let her have any juice. She's just a Grabby McGrabbyhands who clutches at anything within a foot radius of her chubby little paws. I set Chase's cup down long enough to grab his sippy to pour it into, and the little squirt quickly snagged the straw and started chewing away. She's going to be trouble.

Herb, I am

Hello people of the internet. I am Herb--friend of the little man Chase. Well, I'd like to think we're friends. There was that one time when he tried to drown me in a bowl of water, but I don't hold it against him or anything. Really, I blame his Nana. After all, she's the one that told him to do such a thing--but hey it did make my hair grow, so no worries. Anywho...I'd love a little Herbalina to spend my days with, so if you know anyone lookin--well you go ahead and send her my way. Here are my dets:

I like lounging by sunlit windows while enjoying a cold glass of Miracle Grow. I enjoy the occasional warm shower, but no more soakings please. Not big on pruning shears or insecticides, but really who is? So yea that about sums it up. I'll be waiting to hear from all of you cute little seedlings--don't lose my number now, ok?

Two Headlines on a Tuesday Morning

Chase is stinky!

He is also hungry and wants to play tractor tipping with Lightening McQueen. Or so he told me this morning while I was changing his very odorous diaper. In other Noodle related news, his new favorite phrase is "No Problem". He also tells ever person he meets, "I'm Chase". Unfortunately, very few people understand what he's trying to share with them, so he's been getting a lot of dazed nods and smiles from strangers lately.

Enamel has been spotted protruding from the gums of Amaya!

I know you can't see the little speck of a tooth in the picture, but I wanted you to know that I tried to capture the little intruder on camera.

Discovered on Sunday, a sharp little tooth made it's way to the top of the gum. It's on her bottom right side and could possibly explain her grumpiness over the last few days. We remain vigilant in our mission to scan the area for other members of the dental family. She's continuing to grow and change at an astounding rate as can be observed by her size 6-12 month pants being a bit snug. Also, her eyes look like they're getting a touch of green to them. Better have the DNA test information handy for when everyone begins to question my biological relation to the little sprite because if the blue eyes go, there won't be anything about her that resembles me at all.

Love Hurts

love scars, love wounds and mars
Any heart not tough nor strong enough

Those Everly Brothers' lyrics are oh so fitting on this the day of Saint Valentine. But first, let me just say that I really don't care all that much that today is February 14--the day of love. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the Scrooge of the red holiday. I don't mutter strings of profanities about the evilness of commercialism when I see displays of cupid and conversation hearts in the stores. I just think of this holiday more as a kids' day or even a teenagers'--but not something that really applies to me in a way that would require that Andy prove his love in the form of flowers, candies and jewelry. I certainly don't begrudge anyone who does love this day and in doing so expects trinkets and treasures, but that's just not me. Maybe I feel this way because I am blessed enough to have a husband who spoils me rotten all year long. Or maybe it's because I don't think waiting 3 hours to be seated for dinner in a restaurant full of other hungry couples sounds like a good way to spend my evening. Whatever the reason, the fact remains that this day does not necessitate that I receive any gifts, have any special plans, or even acknowledge it at all beyond what we do for the kids.

Jeanne is a different story. She's the type who gets upset when her husband's attempts at securing reservations hit a brick wall. No present for her on this day would be sure to be met with much pouting. As long as her husband agrees to observing the day in such a manner, I have no problem with her drawing big red hearts around February 14 on the calendar and dropping daily hints for desired gifts. However, when her enthusiasm for the holiday starts to affect my own joy, happiness and personal comfort level, then I have a problem. A big, big problem.

You see, she of the red hair who has been training me for years begged and pleaded with me to come to her Body Pump class this morning. For those of you who aren't familiar with Body Pump--it's an hour class that is put together by a company called Les Mills. In those sixty minutes, you do various weightlifting exercises to the beat of catchy songs. It covers all of the major muscle groups and is high repetition, so after the hour you're pretty much done for the day. Anyway, Jeanne had been working really hard on putting together a special Valentine's Day play list of all love songs. Since it was a three day weekend, she was afraid that everyone would have headed out of town--meaning that no one would be in class bright and early Saturday morning to enjoy her handiwork. She wanted me to boost her numbers to help make her efforts more worthwhile. Being the kind and devoted trainee that I am, it only took a few minutes of whining and complaining before I half-heartedly agreed.

What she failed to mention was that all of these "love" songs were actually a compilation of the most brutal, agonizing exercise sequences that Les Mills has ever dreamed up. Every track was a killer--although I especially remember the squat track that had us doing a combination of single bottom haves, full squats and then four on the bottom--repeating at least a gazillion times. My quads were screaming in pain demanding that I put an end to the nonsense. Just as I thought relief was coming in the form of the abs track--she starts doing planks with knee to elbows. The whole class was groaning, and at one point everyone just stopped the exercise and looked at her like she was completely outside her mind. She continued right on through for another 50 knee ins completely unaware of the mutiny about to form . Today, Love Hurt. Actually there was no love, there was only pain. Pain and agony.

And her concerns about no one showing up? Please. The place was past capacity. I was a couple of minutes late, so by the time I got to the weight rack, all of the big plates were gone. I was bummed at the time, but by the end of the hour, I was quite happy with my medium and small plates thankyouverymuch.

Before you think I'm some crazy person that takes pictures of gym classes, John actually took these pictures. They wanted some photos for the gym's Facebook page, but couldn't find their camera. Ever prepared as I am, I quickly scooted over and gave them mine. I just thought I'd share some visuals for the story. Let's play a game of "Where's Mellon" except there's no striped shirt.




Of course there is a different kind of love that doesn't hurt at all. It's ooey and gooey and makes you just want to cover someone with kisses. Know anyone who'd let me do such a thing??



Yes, I believe she'll do. Happy Vday ya'll!

Back that Babe up

Remember a couple of posts ago when I told you that Amaya was thiisss close to crawling? Well she's scooch-crawling now, but not with forward momentum. She slithers herself backwards all over the family room. She still rocks on her hands and knees, and you can see that she wants to go forward, but right now her body just is not cooperating with those plans.

I tried to take a video of her doing her thing, but when I got the camera, this is what I was faced with:



It's no fun to watch a video with screaming toddler as the soundtrack, so you'll just have to be happy with these still pictures of her sitting up staring at her brother's outburst. I'll try for a video again another day.

Ace has left the building

Chase has always called himself "Ace" never realizing that he wasn't saying "Chase" correctly. Perhaps the following conversation will illustrate this point better for you than any description I could provide.

Daddy: Who are you?

Chase: I'm Ace.

Daddy: You're Ace?

Chase (a little annoyed): No, Ace!

Daddy: Ace?

Chase (really annoyed): No, I'm Ace!

Daddy: Ace.

Chase ( so annoyed he's almost in tears): No. Ace.

Daddy: Oh, Chase.

Chase: Yes, I'm Ace.

See what I mean? Pretty cute right? Well, it seems that lately Chase has been working on his speech skills, because he finally realized there is a Ch at the beginning of his name. So, he no longer says "Ace". Nope, now he says, "CHase!" with a deep-voiced emphasis on the Ch part. Today at swimming, he told no less than three strangers, "I'm CHase" in a blaring self introduction. I am sure they thought he had some form of Tourettes by the way he was pushing the sound from his mouth. At least he's not shy.

His name isn't the only word that he's begun saying correctly in the last few weeks either. Ever since he'd watched his first Thomas show, that blue tank engine was always called "ess ess". Now he says "Thomas" clear as a bell. His drink of choice was always labeled, "etch", but now he enunciates every part of the word "Juice". He's intent on growing up no matter how hard I try to stop it. I guess I have no choice but to go drown my sorrows in Ace's etch and play with his ess ess.



The pictures are from our trip to the park today. Had to take advantage of the February heat wave.

Diggin the Shopping Queen...

Shopping Queen, feel the beat from the commercial scene
You can charge, you can swipe--having the time of your life...



Amaya is a little good luck charm when it comes to shopping. When we were at Nordstrom, Patricia was going to buy a couple of hair barrettes for Sofia. They were marked $14, but when the cashier scanned them, they rang up as $0.01. She called her manager who said just to charge what the computer was registering them as, so we went back and got the remaining 4 hair dohicky things. The total bill? $.07--there wasn't even tax. Crazy right? So now, Amaya has a couple of pieces of bling for her hair--when she gets some that is.

Anyday now...

Amaya will be on the move. She grunts and groans as she tries to get to toys that are just out of reach. She'll get up on all fours and sway forward and back, forward and back. It won't be long until she figures out how to make her chubby little limbs take her where she wants to go.

Before you call the mom police on me, I'd like you all to know that these pictures were taken in the evening. What's that got to do with the price of tea in China, you ask? Well, while I will normally change her into a new outfit when she so completely covers herself in spit up, it was almost time for pajamas, so I let her stay grubby for a bit. Just doing my part for the environment by saving energy by not dirtying another outfit that would need to be laundered. Always looking for ways to be more green and all. Do you think Amaya buys my excuse?


Don't laugh at your mama, Amaya!

Four Facts For February

This one:


1) Is still a Cars fanatic. This morning, I found him in his room with no pants gleefully holding up the Cars pajama set that Uncle Rob bought him for Christmas (Please see picture). He insisted on watching the movie this morning as he simultaneously read his Cars story with his TAG reader occasionally supplementing the narration by screaming, "Oh, no! It's Frank!" over and over. He has a CD player in his room with the Cars soundtrack and requests that the "Mack Song" be played several times a day. He sings "Route 66" at the top of his lungs. At his swimming lesson, he yammered about Cars crashing and Chick Hicks while I was pulling him through the water trying to get him to kick. And nearly every day, he reminds me that we have to go to Target to buy Tex. I'm not sure where he gets this obsessive nature from as I certainly have never behaved in such a manner. (no editorial remarks allowed Grandma)


2) Chase knows most of his letters by sight. He still gets K and X mixed up and thinks that all W's are M's. Sometimes, he'll let me sing the alphabet song, but mostly when I try he says, "No, Mama. No ABC's".



Now this one:


3. Says, "mmmm oooooo mmmmmmm aaaaaa" all day long. One day while she was yammering these syllables over and over, Andy asked her where her Mama was. The little imp turned right around and looked me straight in the eye. Then she smiled that great big open mouthed smile and went back to calling my name. I swear she'd have winked at me if she had that much control over her fine motor skills.

4. Naps are starting to become a regular part of her schedule-finally. I usually put her down around 10 and 1, and she'll typically sleep for at least 30 minutes. The other day, she snoozed for an hour and a half. Afterward, we had a serious, in depth conversation about how much better she felt when she let herself rest for a significant time period. She contributed many "Mmmmmm oooooo mmmmmmm aaaaaaa mmmmm's" to the dialogue, so I am sure she understood and has plans for continued cooperation in the future.

He works hard for the money

Chase helped Daddy shovel the sidewalk this afternoon. Poor little urchin had no snowsuit and mismatched mittens. Woefully unprepared were we for the appearance of the white flaky stuff. Little guy suffered through it though to carry out his snow duties with finesse.




Then after his job was complete, he was too tired to walk. So, Daddy had to give him a lift.




Amaya was not too sure about the wet, white stuff. She didn't have to work at all and she had a snowsuit, so she really has no validation for her complaints. Next year will be a different story.

Let the beat control your bunny...

Here's Ms. Sally Nouguat.

Here's Ms. Sally's new cage in the mudroom. This is a great location because we're in and out of this room all day. She's on the bench where we put all of our belongings, so there is no way we can miss saying hello to her everyday.Do you notice anything a little odd about her cage? No? Let's get a little closer then.

Do you see it? No your eyes are not deceiving you. Those are ear phones hanging next to her water bottle. Chase keeps tucking them into her cage so she can listen to some bunny tunes while we're away. Apparently, he is taking his job as bunny comforter very seriously. Any one have any suggestions for Bunny Mix '09?

Side Planks are next on the list...

Little Amaya has been sitting up on her own for a good two weeks now. However, it isn't good enough for Amaya to just have someone put her in a sitting position. Oh no, this one thinks that she needs to constantly try to pull herself up to sit straight and tall. Today, I had her in her little pink loungy chair, but she was not content to just lie back and relax while watching Mickey and friends. Nope, she had to crunch herself up until she was sitting at a perfect 90 degree angle. And then she stayed like that--for 40 minutes. Her ab muscles must be as solid as a slab of marble. Next, she will be showing mama how much better she can do the side plank exercises. To which I'll tell her the same thing I tell Jeanne when she's trying to get me to hold it ten seconds longer: Once you've had your abdominal muscles sliced open not once, but twice--you can talk to me about the weakness of my core strength. Now hand me a cookie.

I just want to point out her cute little bunny tail...

Amaya thinks it's pretty darn cute, too.

Who are you calling a witch, witch?

I got a surprise today. I love surprises in general, but this one really made me chuckle. My cousin Mandy sent me this lovely lady:




No, she wasn't making a sly reference to my personality--though it wouldn't be at all unreasonable to confuse me with a witch on certain days of the month. This is a Kitchen Witch which folk lore assures me is sent to guard my kitchen from evil spirits and burnt frozen french fries. When I was little, my mom had one in her kitchen--I think that one of my Aunt Sisser's friends made it for her. I also think that Aunt Ozzie had one too--but my memory is a little cloudy on that point. I do remember though that when Mandy and her brother Shelby would be at my house for a meal, we would always raise our forks full of food up to the Kitchen Witch and ask that she make it taste good. Picture three little dirty rug rats raising up a spoon full of tomato soup and asking the good witch to make it taste like a Hershey Bar. There was much giggling from us, and I am sure from the adults who were probably just happy that we were eating our lunch at all. I have not a clue what happened to the original Kitchen Witch, but her memory lives on--now reincarnated in a new version hanging in my own kitchen. Thanks for the laugh and the memories Manders.

Probably not a big surprise, but

I like President Bush. I am a little sad to see his term coming to an end. But I am able to separate my dislike for some of his actions from his value as a human being. I get irritated when people question his intelligence simply because he mispronounces words. I do this ALL THE TIME, and while I'll never profess to being at a genius level, I do possess intelligence enough that should exclude me from being called an idiot as many have chosen to label our former president. Further, if speech delivery were the true barometer of intelligence, then actors and actresses would be filling up science labs, college departments and courtrooms instead of Hollywood. Those who are truly educated should know that intelligence can present itself in a myriad of ways.

No, I don't agree with all of the decisions that Bush made, nor do I support all of his political views. However, the man did what he said he would do. He remained steadfast in his promise to the American people--the same promise that he made during his 2004 campaign, the promise that the majority of the American people supported enough to re-elect him. I find it very disagreeable that he is continually lambasted by the American media for simply following through on his very clear stand on the Iraq war--a war that was voted on and approved by Congress. How many other Presidents have been heckled for failing to maintain the course set forth in his campaign? Bush Senior for one endured much backlash after raising taxes after spewing repeatedly in his campaign that there would be "No new taxes". Yet, when his son maintains his position--let me just reiterate that this position was made clear and was voted in by the American majority--he gets thrown to the wolves and all memory of his leadership during 9-11 is forgotten amidst the call for his removal from office. I have no doubt that Bush was doing what he believed in his own heart to be what the American majority wanted and what would most secure the safety of the homeland. Do I necessarily agree with that decision given the changes that occurred in the four years of his final term? No. But I also voted for Kerry, so it was never my agenda that he was following. Democracy means that sometimes you get what you want, but sometimes the other guy does too.

In November, I voted for Barack Obama. This wasn't a cut and dry decision for me. There are a number of things that I question about our new President: his limited experience being the main issue. However, I agree with the majority of the things that he espouses and feel that he will make a difference even if he manages to see only a fraction of his ideas to fruition. The truth is, America needs a change--a fresh perspective. Watching the inauguration today, it was clear to see the hope that he brings for so many. To inspire so many lives is a wondrous thing, and the President seems determined to move from words and speeches to action. I am not naive enough to think that the new President will usher America into an immediate utopia of peace and unparalleled prosperity. But, he might just be the one to set us on the correct path. At the very least, he has proven that a native born American of any background, of any race, of any religion can aspire to the greatest job in the world. And that, my friends, was well worth bubbling in the oval next to his name on my ballot. God Bless President Obama and God Bless America.

Rage against the Machine

The powers that be refused to acknowledge my resignation and instead chose to add to my list of duties as punishment for trying to leave. They have decided that I am now in charge of the execution of all the children's art projects. I find this treatment to be absurd and believe that I will have to find a union representative. I am feeling over-worked and under-appreciated. Any reasonable person would agree that my demands for 2 hour work days and 275 paid vacation days are fair and just. Therefore, I am sure that a Mellon victory is nigh. In the meantime, Chase seems to be enjoying the benefits of my added duties. I am sure this pleases The Man to no end.


These are pieces that I am sure any art curator would like to have hanging in her gallery.

That's it, I quit!

As you know, Andy's on the west coast under the guise of having business meetings, but we both know he's really just lounging by a pool drinking fruity drinks. I'm a little more forgiving of this since he arranged to fly Grandma here to help me while he is gone. She is a sanity savior during the day since we tag team the children and share the daily chores. Unfortunately, Grandma doesn't do nights. I've had to get up with dear Amaya 3-4 times per night. She only needs to be fed one of those times, the rest of it is just her crying in her sleep. Which wakes me up because the monitor is by my head, and then I can't get back to sleep even though she stops after 5-10 minutes. Little turkey.

Anyway, last night I had a sudden inspiration: turn off the stupid monitor. And what do you know, it worked. I didn't hear her crying until she really meant it when she wanted a bottle at 4. I was congratulating myself on the depth of my own genius as I walked to Chase's room to get him up this morning. That gloating feeling left as soon as I opened the door and smelled an all too familiar smell. His entire bed was covered with pink, cheese-dotted puke. Ugg. And he's warm and coughing and hacking and all around cranky again. And today is a school day, damn it! He's supposed to go to school, and I am supposed to get a break by having only one kid to deal with today. I didn't sign up for any of this, so you can take this as my official resignation. I quit, effective immediately. Someone should probably tell Grandma.


PS--The pictures are just random ones from the last couple of weeks. I know I can't get away with having a picture-less post. I did consider taking a picture of Chase's bed this morning for you, but decided against it. You can thank me later. But you'll have to wait until I come back from my own vacation where I will be drinking mimosas by a shiny, turquoise ocean...of course this will just be a mental vacation, but still.

A Bun's Life

Yesterday, I had to take my bunny Sebastian to be put to sleep. He had glaucoma in his right eye, and it was causing him pain. He was nine years old, and I wanted to spare him from all of those getting old pains that animals have. I stayed with him, rubbed his head and listened as the doctor spoke to him in a soothing voice while the drug began to shut down his system. It was hard.

Miss Sally Nouguat was Sebastian's bonded mate for the last eight years. She will miss him very much. We've brought her upstairs to live in the mud room, so she won't be alone down in the basement all day. The vet told me to expect a period of mourning where she won't want to eat or drink, so we'll need to keep an eye on her. Chase has already taken it upon himself to visit "Missus Sally" every hour.

I got Sebastian when I was a senior at WVU. Given how old I am now, that feels like forever ago. I remember he used to scare the crap out of me at night when he would climb up my pajama pants like he was burrowing into his personal little rabbit hole. I think I still have a few scars from his nails scratching my leg as he tried to dig deeper into my skin.

He was a well traveled little lop-earred bun bun. He got to see the sights of Ohio State when he followed me there for Vet school, then back to Morgantown, lived with my mom for a few months, and finally came to Virginia where he moved with us from the apartment to the town house to the Ladybank house to the new house and finally to our current house. That's a lot of packing for a little lagomorph.

He was a grumpy ball of the softest black fur you've ever felt. He'd stand on his hind legs and growl at Iverson. But, sometimes when he was really happy he'd do a little hop & twist bunny dance thing with his legs flying into the air. It looked so cute considering he was a fat rabbit who spent most of his days stretched out on his belly. One of my fondest memories of him comes from a summer day at the town house when my mom and I had taken Sebastian and Sally outside to enjoy the fresh air. He was hopping around the pond when suddenly he decided to jump straight onto a lily pad thinking it could hold his chubby self up. Of course it didn't, and thus into the water he fell. Did you know rabbits can dog paddle? Hi-lar-i-ous. What's even funnier is that he did the exact same thing the following summer. Daredevil bunny.

Here's a picture from when Sebastian was just a baby bunny. Well, it's a picture of a picture because I'm too lazy to go scan it into the computer and it was taken before I owned a digital camera.



I'm sure you're wondering about the hair--well it was my last dead week as an undergraduate at WVU. I was a little crazy from all of the late nights of cramming for tests in classes that I hadn't bothered to attend. So in a moment of sheer insanity, I had Carla dye it blond for me. Not a flattering look, so I changed it back soon after. Anyway, in case you need it, here's a reason why you shouldn't drastically change your looks the week before finals. You see, we had assigned testing seats for Biochemistry that were the same for every test we had that term. When I went to take my Biochemistry final, the professor kept staring at me. It was a little creepy and nerve wracking. When I turned in my test, he really studied my student ID before he told me that he thought that I had paid someone to take my final because I looked so different with my blond hair. I guess when the guy only saw me 4 times to take the tests, it would be hard to notice much besides my hair color. So there you have it--your lesson of the day: don't go having a major makeover before finals. Or I guess you could attend class on a regular basis. That would probably work too. Either or.

It was easier with 30 kids...

I have always had fond memories of the Baltimore Aquarium. When I was teaching, that was always where we went on a Friday afternoon in early March for our big field trip of the year. This was an awesome gig for us teachers because we always made sure to have enough parent chaperones present to ensure that none of us actually had any students to watch in the exhibit. All we did was walk around chatting up the parents and students as if we were circulating a party, and then we high-tailed it to the food court to enjoy a leisurely lunch while the kids drove their parents crazy in the gift shop. I did this for four years in a row.

Funny how in all of those four years, I never noticed that there weren't any strollers in the aquarium halls. Had I noticed this small detail, we might have had a more enjoyable family trip last Friday. As it were though, upon our arrival at the aquarium, we were herded into a tiny little room to check our strollers and gather our belongings along with fifty other flustered parental types. All of that commotion caused Mr. Chase to become frazzled and cranky and forget all about how excited he was to find Tulley the Turtle. He eventually calmed down enough to stop his ear splitting screaming, but the excursion never became overly enjoyable for anyone but Amaya who was quite content to ride along in the aquarium provided baby carrier. Now, if you ask Chase about the trip today, he'll gleefully tell you all about the turtle, the divers and the owl completely leaving out the temper tantrums and refusal to walk parts. Only you and I will know the truth: Given the choice between escorting 30 third graders or one irritated two year old to the aquarium--I'll take the bus full of eight year olds. As long as those third graders come with 10 able-bodied adults that is.

2009? Really?

How'd that happen? Wasn't it just Y2K? Now here we are entering the last of the middle double zero years the likes of which we'll not see again for 900 years or so. Yes, I do plan on living that long, don't you? As for my list of resolutions, well I'm still working on it. I may have it done about this time next year. However, just like every other year, the following goals will be included in the final list:

A: I resolve to attempt to keep the clutter on my night table to a minimum. Minimum is defined as no more than three items hitting the floor when I reach over to look at the clock.

B: I resolve to eat one vegetable for every six desserts. Lofty goal, I know. But if you're going to go at all, you might as well go all the way, right?

C: I resolve to keep the unread and/or unanswered emails in my inbox to a manageable number i.e. somewhere between 0 & 125. Similarly, I will attempt to answer emails within a reasonable time frame--reasonable being within a month. (or two)

and finally

D: I resolve to update the blog frequently enough that I keep my loyal readers (that means you mom) happy. Or if not happy, at least content enough that I don't get prank calls and strongly worded emails regarding my lack of new content.

I am sure that I will be as successful with these four items as I have been in years past. I can hear you all snickering from here--but practice has to make perfect eventually. And now, on to the Hanukkah pictures.

Lighting the Menorah. Chase seemed confused when he heard everyone reciting the entire prayer since at our house we aren't so good at remembering all of the words--by we I of course mean me. Anyway, he does have the "shel Hanukkah" part down pat.

Looking at all of the characters on Aunt Jenn's menorah.

A robot of his very own--much better than a little sister any day!

Listening to the tunes his sister composes.

Laughing at PopPop. He's so funny!

As usual, we left with far more presents than we came with. The entire family was loaded down with loot. My favorite gift would have to be the CD of pictures that David took in 2008 including the much begged for Thanksgiving/Birthday pictures. See, all you have to do is publicly whine and threaten bodily harm, and then people give you what you want. Maybe that should also be one of my resolutions: I resolve to continue my griping, bellyaching ways until all of my demands are met. Or until someone shoots me, whichever comes first.