My Dream Job

 In October of 2013 - as a way to interact with people besides my precious Henry AND to bring in some extra income - I applied for a seasonal job at a homegrown jewelry company. I got the job, and after the initial weeks of learning all the ins and outs, I fell in love with it. After my seasonal stint, I was fortunate to be hired on at a different location as a "regular," and I never imagined loving a job so much.
I love people, and I enjoy being of service, so a jewelry store is right up my alley. Not only do I get to work for a great company, selling beautiful handcrafted jewelry (TBH, it totally sells itself), but I get to see people on the happiest days of their lives, and the saddest. On any given day, I might help a couple pick out their wedding rings, start a young lady with her first charm bracelet, clean or repair a widow's last gift from her husband, help a guy pick out a proposal gift for his lady's daughter, help a grieving mother order an engraving to commemorate her recent miscarriage, or put together a pair of bumblebee earrings for a recent spelling bee champion. I love to hear my customers' stories and see their gorgeous jewelry collections, and it's humbling and just a little amazing how easily and completely these people invite me into their lives.
Sometimes I'll work with a customer for over an hour, making sure she's picking out just the right chain for her new pendant or what-have-you, and she'll suddenly glance behind her at the line and say "I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time." And it delights me to say, with total honesty, "No worries; they PAY me for this!" I hear people say it all the time, but for me it's absolutely true: I am living the dream.

ANuStart*

*If I haven't mentioned it before (and I'm sure I have), do yourself and your funny bone a great big favor and rent or Netflix the genius comedy show Arrested Development. It features some of the funniest people in one of the best ensembles ever on TV. This show changed my life, and I reference it every chance I get. Seriously. Watch it, and then watch it again. I've been watching it for 12 years (OMG, I'm old) and it's still magical every single time. I could go on, but I have other (although equally important things) going on, such as ...

How is it possible that it's been two years (!!!) since I had time to blog? Oh, right. I lost the power cord to my laptop in our big move, and was too broke to buy another one. Then I finally did buy another one and my hubby's laptop bit the dust. My laptop became "temporarily" his laptop, and ... well, here we are. I guess, since it's been so long, I'll update you on exactly where "here" is:

My little sweetheart, frolicking in a field of bluebonnets
in our new hometown of New Braunfels, TX

In the summer of 2014 (after a delightful summer vacation to Wisconsin and Minnesota) we made a leap of faith. Elvis got a job at a new school, so we packed up our little family and moved to nearby New Braunfels. It's a small town a few miles north of San Antonio, and we LOVE it. It's a bigger town than San Marcos, closer to our families in San Antonio, and - best of all - not a college town! It's a nice, family-friendly place with plenty to do. His job is in Seguin, which is about 20 minutes away (half his previous commute time!) and he's been doing well there. We got library cards at our new local library, and Henry enrolled in their 1000 Books Before Kindergarten program (OMG, the New Braunfels Public Library is a hundred times better than the San Marcos Public Library was); we got memberships at the McKenna Children's Museum; we developed a taste for German food, and even got to enjoy our very first Wurstfest this past fall. So far, we have loved every moment of living in New Braunfels.

A few weeks after we moved, a permanent job opened up at a different store within the same company I'd been working for as a seasonal employee. I was hoping to stay and get hired on at "my" store, but ended up applying at the new location anyway. I got the job, and have been working there happily ever since. I'm so grateful for my job, which I love and am pretty good at. I'm sure we would have been okay, but it was getting a little worrisome there with only one income and a growing boy to feed. Now we're still not rich, but we have a little breathing room and a little money in the bank, and not a day goes by that I don't thank God for providing my little family with a safe home, good health, good jobs, and friends and family who support us and love us so much.

Speaking of family, my mom's parents both turned 80 this summer (my goodness, it's hard to believe they're 80; they seem decades younger than that!), and we had a big family reunion to celebrate. Nana & Gramps, Mom & Dad, my brother David, Elvis, Hank and myself joined Aunt Sandie (Mom's sister) & Uncle Virgil, their daughter Amberly & her husband Jordan, and their son Taylor and his girlfriend (now fiancee) Chay at a rented house on Lake Siesta in Seguin.

High school sweethearts: Over 60 years in love

Gramps hugging his favorite niece, Michelle, who came with her
family all the way from Wisconsin to surprise the birthday peeps.

 

That part was all planned, but then we surprised Nana & Gramps with some foreign visitors: Gramps' nicece Michelle, her husband Stan, and their kids Laura and Andrew joined us all the way from Wisconsin. Many hugs were shared and many tears shed when we revealed the surprise, and we spent a wonderful long weekend together, eating, playing games, swimming, dancing, eating, cooking, taking pictures, joking, fishing, eating, and cracking cascarones. It was such a fun weekend, so full of love, and Hank still talks about it all the time.

A delicious plate of fried fish.

Hank "decorated" for the photo booth

Elvis & me

A lazy afternoon of fishing ... what could be better?

Elvis takes his turn at the piñata.

My great big beautiful family: grandparents, aunt & uncle, cousins and their significant others, parents, brother, husband, and son. This is what love looks like.

My & my handsome cowboy, engaging in the Native Dance of Our People
(that's the Texas Two-Step, y'all!)

Me with my little sweetheart, not dancing.
He preferred flirting with Nana to dancing with Mama.

Hank on the Komodo Dragon statue
at the San Antonio Zoo

And, speaking of Hank, has he changed! He's 4 1/2 now, and in school. He's been working hard, and it's been paying off. It took him about 7 months of school to learn to read (he already knew all his letters and their sounds), and he knocked my socks off one night by reading his own bedtime story. He can write reasonably well (he improves every day), remembers his vocabulary words each week, and add small numbers. More important, he's learning the valuable social skills I can't teach him on my own: sharing and taking turns with his friends, communicating with his words, and regarding others' feelings. He's always been a sweet boy, but now that he's got friends to interact with, he's becoming much more mindful of how his words and actions can affect others. He's still incredibly quick with his laughter and his kisses, and sometimes he's so tender it makes me cry. He still lets me snuggle him and hold his hand almost any time I ask, and my favorite times of the week are early Saturday and Sunday mornings when he sneaks into the bed before dawn, and snuggles me quietly for a little while. His imagination is outrageous, his athletic prowess impressive, and his concentration (when he choses to concentrate) and determination are sometimes surprising for such a young boy. He wants to learn and accomplish things on his own, although he still loves to be babied sometimes. His favorite things right now are robots, sports, riding his bike, the Spurs, the Rolling Stones, shooting thugs & Nazis, The Looney Tunes Show, his girlfriend Maddie, carrots, and Minecraft. He's funny, smart, sweet, and so heartbreakingly handsome. My son takes my breath away.

Now that we're all caught up, I'll do my best to get back in the habit of sharing my little slice of heaven. Y'all come back now. ;-)

My Son Is Becoming a Person

He has opinions now, and favorites. He has memories and wants and preferences. He loves baseball, Curious George, fruit of all kinds, Lucky Charms (or just "Pucky" as he calls it), cars, planes & trains, bath time, and pushing the button to turn on the dryer. He even does bits. In fact, it seems that at least once every day, he does something so delightful and hilarious that I feel the need to write it down for posterity (yes, I'm totally That Mom). Here are a few recent stories:

When we tell him no, he flops down dejectedly and sighs, "I'm tired." It is adorable, and every time he does it, I have to stifle my laughter. The kid knows how to work a room.

A few weeks ago my best friend Kellie came over to spend the afternoon, and Henry wanted to draw. We all sat down at the dining room table with some paper and crayons, and when Kellie asked Henry his favorite animal he announced it was the noble giraffe (he did not say "noble," I added that for your benefit). She drew him a blue giraffe on the savanna, and he loved it so much he asked me to hang it on the wall near his bed. Not a day goes by that he doesn't point gleefully at that drawing and announce proudly, "Kellie drew me a blue giraffe." It is darling.

His favorite activity these days is playing Angry Birds. That used to mean the actual game, played on our Roku, but now it consists of him standing on the arm of the jumping couch, squawking loudly, and then jumping (or, more accurately, flopping) down onto the cushions with an enormous grin. My favorite activity these days is helping back up to the arm of the couch, as he will usually plant a kiss on my arm or cheek, and then hug me tight before his next flight. He's such a little snuggle bug.

A few days ago at Half Price Books, he pulled the Very Hungry Caterpillar off the shelf and read recited it to the whole children's section before putting it back where he found it.

My sweetheart is not just becoming any old person, he's becoming my favorite person.

Becoming Mama

I love fashion.  We used to have kind of a thing, me and Fashion, but then I became a busy, broke, stay-at-home mom, and Fashion broke up with me.  These days I mostly just ogle Fashion from a metaphorical tree outside its window (coughPinterest), wishing we could get back together.  I guess I'm kind of a creeper.
This week I finally came to terms with the fact that Fashion and I have actually broken up, probably for good.  On Wednesday morning we had all our windows open to enjoy the lovely autumn weather and, although Henry seemed fine, I was flat-out cold.  I kept adding layers until I finally glanced in the mirror and saw myself decked out in a pair of black and green pajama pants, a faded old flannel of Elvis' (the sleeves hang to my knees if unrolled) over a pink long-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of red-and-white striped socks adorned with Christmas ornaments.  My hair was unbrushed and coming out of its bobby pin confinement, and my toenail polish was chipped and gnarly.  Good Lord, no wonder Fashion doesn't want to be seen with me anymore.
But you know what? My son doesn't give a rat's ass if my hair looks like a rat's nest.  He doesn't care that I've worn the same oversized flannel every cold day this year, because I like smelling Elvis on it.  He doesn't seem to notice my mismatching issues (if there were any doubt that he's Elvis' kid) or even my occasionally unbrushed-until-noon teeth.  All he cares about is that Mama is playing catch with him, or watching him dance, or reading his favorite Curious George book for the 84th time that day, or zooming cars at one another as fast as possible on the dining room table for his amusement, or fetching him another cup of milk, or wiping his sticky hands and face, or kissing his neck until he squeals. 
So, while I will probably keep creepin' on Fashion for years to come, I don't really care if we ever get back together.  I may not be a fashionista anymore (or even the owner of unstained clothing), but if I may say so I am one hell of a mom.  And that's a label I'd be glad to wear, even over Chanel, any day of the year.

Daylight Savings Time

I guess I'm the only person in the world who hates DST in the fall.  When I was younger I enjoyed the extra hour of sleep, but of course extra time is simply not a benefit offered to the parents of toddlers.So now it's just a loss of precious sunlit hours which is - to me - a fate worse than gaining 5 pounds over the weekend. I mean ... I am a Texan, through and through.  My favorite vegetable is steak, I can saddle a horse, my hair is enormous, and - most of all - I thrive on sunshine.  I don't care so much about sunrise (although it is much easier to get up when it's light out), but it hurts my Southern soul when the sun sets at 5:30.  Yuck!
I do have to admit, we ended up having a pretty nice day yesterday.  We were able to get up and get moving earlier than usual, so we had aleady had breakfast and been to the grocery store by 11.  Then we pretty much sat around and were bums all day.  Elvis watched football and did some lesson planning.  Henry and I had a great time playing Wii sports and dancing to our vast Rolling Stones collection.  We even made a family trip to our local park, where the 3 of us played catch until the sun set (so ridiculously early) before returning home to enjoy a delicious spaghetti dinner.  Even though I can't wait for spring to return, it was a pretty great way to kick off the fall.

NOOOOOO!

Well, I guess I should've known.  In true toddler fashion, my precious flat-out refused to wear his Halloween costume last night.  Even Halloween-themed words (pumpkin, trick or treat, costume, candy, or monkey) sent him into fits.  I spent an hour working on my zombie hair and makeup, and when the big moment came, Henry would have nothing to do with trick-or-treating.  I don't know what happened between Sunday (when he wore it gleefully) and last night, but obviously it was something.
Now, however, he's strutting around in it like the costume company has paid him.  Oh, anything to prove Mama wrong.  :-)

Trunk or Treat!

Elvis and I took our little monkey to his first trunk or treat last night.  As a side note, I apparently live under a rock, as I'd never heard of such a thing.  Anyway, it was in the parking lot at my parents' church, and we'd been looking forward to it for weeks.  There was all sorts of fun set up before the trick-or-treating began, like a photo booth, crafts, a cake walk, and more, and we had a great time walking around, seeing friends and playing games.  For me, the best part was all the costumes.  Living in a college town, I'd almost forgotten that Halloween is supposed to be for kiddos (not cleavage), so I was absolutely delighted by all the mermaids, robots, cowboys, and bumblebees.  Adorable.
When the time came for trick or treating to begin, Elvis & I took Henry around from car to car while my parents stayed at the trunk to give out candy.  I was so proud of my little guy all night.  He loved holding out his "puckin," saying the magic words, and then seeing the candy plop in.  And he said thank you every single time, without us even having to prompt him.  Frankly, he had better manners than most of the parents, some of whom were not above cutting in line or pushing (come on, we're here for the kids.  It's not a competition).  And, best of all, he had a great time in his adorable Halloween costume.  Now we just have 3 more days til the big show, and none too soon: the pants of Henry's monkey costume are already about an inch too short!

My simian sweetheart

I Should've Known ...

I was just thinking to myself last week that it's miraculous how healthy Henry has  been.  We had a cold front roll in over the weekend, and the high winds that always send Elvis and me running for the Kleenex didn't even faze him. Elvis came home sick yesterday around noon, and even then I was thinking how lucky we are that Henry seems to have such a strong constitution.  He played and squirmed as usual, and went down for his nap without a fuss (also as usual).  After naptime, it took him about half an hour to wake up and join the world which was kind of unusual.  Most days, he's wide awake as soon as his big brown eyes pop open, although there is the occasional day when he takes 5 minutes or so.  Even after he dragged himself out to the living room, he kept yawning and trying to curl up for another nap.  It was sort of weird, but then Elvis gave the little monkey a hug and noticed he was burning up.  Sure enough, he had a fever of about 101, but what really scared me was his listlessness.  The light that usually animates his sweet face was gone, and all he wanted to do was sleep.  We hightailed it to our local Target to pick up some medicine, and were almost home when it happened: That face, and that awful noise.  I put my hand up to his mouth just in time to catch the first round of what would turn out to be everything my sweetheart had eaten that morning, and more.  Thankfully, Elvis had a big empty plastic cup on the floorboard, so when my hand overflowed, I was able to catch the rest with the cup.  It was pretty unpleasant for the rest of the (thankfully short!) ride home, but Henry clearly felt better.  He smiled a little bit, and got right to playing when we got home.  He's still running a slight fever, but he's eaten reasonable meals since then, and none of it has come back up, thank Heaven.  And his mini stomach bug must have been super-exhausting, because he slept almost twelve hours last night!
Thank goodness he's feeling better, cause guess who woke up feeling nasty this morning?  Yay, Mama's turn ...

Mama's new room

 

Elvis and I have lived in our apartment for nearly 5 years now. It's a great place in a small, quiet complex near all the neccessary amenities in town. It was almost too big when it was just the 2 of us, but when Henry was born the walls started to close in. The two most cramped places in our house are the kitchen (plenty of counter space, not nearly enough storage space) and the laundry room (I say "room" out of habit). Elvis and I have worked together to make the kitchen a functioning space for two people who enjoy cooking, but the laundry closet has been the bane of my existence, and not just because I hated doing laundry.  It's located in a hallway, so it's always dark.  It only had one small shelf, and the vast majority of the space is taken up by our water heater.

 

All that has changed now, though. I found a spare pare of brackets in our room yesterday while I was doing some cleaning, and Elvis helped me put up a shelf in my little closet. With the addition of a lamp (so I can actually see what on earth I'm doing in there), a few hangers for drying and a cheerful painting by my best friend Kellie, it's actually a place I don't mind spending time now. In fact, I did a load of laundry today (even though it's not laundry day) just to be able to see my little room. I know it's nerdy, but it makes me so happy to have an organized, mostly uncluttered  place. Hooray!

I wish I had a "Before" picture so you could see the difference.

"Sweet beans, Mama."

It broke my heart to stop breastfeeding Henry, for the sole reason that it meant no longer being able to hold him in my arms as he fell asleep. That was my favorite thing in the world for 12 whole months: nourishing my beloved son and comforting him to sleep with my love and my off-key singing. But I still had the sweet moments before settling him into his crib (and, later, toddler bed) complete with a bedtime story and a lullaby, prayers, and kisses rained between whispered wishes for sweet dreams (or "beans" as he says). Elvis began to complain that my tuck-ins took longer than any tuck-in in the history of loving mamas. And I am so glad I never hurried, because now even those days are gone.

Henry is still very loving and affectionate (especially at bedtime), but now he scampers his little buns right into bed to await his bedtime story and smooches. I'm so proud of the boy he's becoming, and obviously the part of me that wants to raise a healthy self-sufficient man knows this is totally right. But that doesn't stop the part of me for whom Henry will always be my precious baby from crying like an idiot after closing his bedroom door each night.