Talking in Our Sleep

Turns out Mateo and I have something in common. Well, other than being loud, bossy, and having an opinion on just about everything. We both talk in our sleep. I haven't in a really long time, but every couple months or so, I start jabbering away, mostly unintelligible murmuring. So a couple nights ago, I apparently said, clear as day,

Suckety suck suck suck!

Dave, who wasn't quite asleep yet, started cracking up laughing. I woke up and said, "Did I just say that out loud?" And he started laughing again. But in my head, I was saying that metaphors are a sucky way of describe a sucky situation (I have no idea why I was talking about metaphors, I swear I have the strangest dreams). So I drift back to sleep saying, "Metaphors. No, metaphors suck. I don't like them," with Dave still laughing in the background.

Apparently I hate metaphors.

But Mateo has started talking, or maybe I should say making sound effects, in his sleep. Ever since the Indiana Jones Stunt Show in Disney, he's been obsessed with things blowing up. This isn't made better by my husband who shows him hundreds of videos on youtube.com of explosions of different sorts. Now we hear him in the middle of nap or as he's falling asleep at night making all sorts of explosion sounds. On the good side, he may actually have a future in sound effects. He sounds pretty convincing to me.

Why is it Always About Potty?

After telling Mateo all morning we were going to make Easter eggs today, and after buying all the materials to do so, I asked him, "Mateo, what are we making today?"

No response. So I give him a little hint.

"We're making....Easter...."

"Potty!"

I swear this kid is obsessed with potty.

Anyway, here are some pictures of our Easter potty- I mean eggs.

He was quite proud of himself.

Another Filler Story From the Past

Since I've been spending most of my days moping around the house, trying not to be too depressed about the little information I have about the baby, I can't think clearly enough to find something funny to blog about my in my life. So I'm giving you a "filler" story of epic proportions. This is the story of how I became known as "Pyro Girl" and also am never allowed near a campfire again. I swear, I am a magnet for crazy.

In the beginning of my second (and last) year of college, my "wing" (term used for a group of girls from the same area of the dorm) and I went on a camping trip with our staff adviser and his family. Since I had just gotten back from an adventure filled summer at Glacier National Park, the group deemed me as "camp fire-maker" (Me Og. Me make fire with rock and...gas-o-line.) with another girl, Alison, who also had camping experience. Our group had two sites, one at the top of a little incline, and one at the bottom. The rest of the group was at site at the bottom of the incline setting up tents and things, while Alison and I were at the top of the incline staring at the fire pit and stack of wood.

I suppose I failed to mention I had never in my vast experience of camping (really only including that summer) had ever built a campfire, least of all, by myself. None the less, here we were. So we managed to get a small smoldering fire going that was mostly smoke, but knowing that the rest of the group expected much more, we felt a bit pressured. I can't remember which of us suggested it, probably by me, but somehow we thought it would be a good idea to pour a little gasoline on what little fire we had to help it along.

So, there Alison stood, over the fire pit pouring gasoline from the container onto the fire. Can you guess what happened next? I couldn't at the time, but now in my wise years and more extensive camping experience, I could see it coming a mile away. That's right. The gasoline container burst into flames in Alison's hand, she dropped it immediately, on the ground, outside of the fire pit. Right next to a forest of dry leaves. Suddenly we were standing in front of a huge forest fire.

You know how in movies, when something bad is about to happen, something dangerous, every single time, the characters just stand there staring at it for way longer than necessary until you want to scream at them to "RUN!"? Well, that's a bit like how it happened. We just stood there, kind of in awe, kind of in panic. I didn't know what to do. I'm not a fire fighter. But I saw a water bottle on a picnic table so I grabbed it and tossed the water onto the fire. Of course, that only made it more mad.

My friend told me what happened after that. Apparently, I walked down to the other campsite, calmly and coolly, and said, "Umm...Fire." as non-chalantly as if I were having a conversation about the weather. And I pointed. By that time, there was no mistaking that there was a fire, a big fire. It was easy to see even over the hill. Everyone went running up to help put it out. All the while, I was picturing the whole forest burning to the ground while families flee in panic screaming for their children. And it would be all my fault (and Alison. I wasn't going down alone).

But it didn't go that way. Thank God is all I can say. We (by "we" I mean everyone else) were able to put the fire out. But I was affectionately known as "Pyro" after that. And no one trusts me around fire. I think they should just get over it, don't you?

Doctor Mateo?

Doctor M at your service. As much as I love the sound of that, he's not a very friendly doctor, we found out. Or perhaps the sour face is because of the news he must deliver after taking Daddy's blood pressure at his knee. Daddy, you might be dead.

Dave was a good sport throughout this experiment. He even took his shot under his tongue and his temp. on his arm. That's why Daddy's are cool!

Disturbing, Yet So Real

Sorry My Blog's Been So Lame Lately

Seriously, I'm sorry. Even I'm depressed looking at it. I don't have much to be funny about this week. I've spent about $200 total on stuff for a baby that I don't even have proof exists. I'm starting to feel like she's my imaginary baby that my own psychosis made up. For a moment, I panicked at the thought that maybe I had dreamed the whole thing. After all, no one was here to witness the phone conversation with the social worker. But that thought passed when I realized that I do have proof I'm not crazy in the form of an email Mateo's old social worker sent me when she heard about the situation. So, I am sane again, though I don't much feel like it. Still no news about the baby. Not even a "Hello, I know you're waiting so patiently and have spent countless hours and money on a baby you haven't even seen, I appreciate that you are so willing to be flexible with this process so just hang tight cause we're still working on stuff on this end and we haven't forgot about you." That would be nice, but I suppose it's asking too much to even send a one line email. Anyway, enough cynicism about my life. I know people who are way worse off. I just needed to apologize and let my faithful readers know that I'll have more upbeat funny things to blog about soon. I promise. Maybe even tomorrow. :)

I Heart Faces - No Flash

Here's another entry for I Heart Faces. This assignment is no flash. Here are my best no flash pictures. One is from Christmas, the other from Disney. I'm sure you can figure out which is which.

Click to make larger

Don't Think I'm Ignoring You

I got several requests to see our private blog with pictures of the baby. I plan to give all of you access so thank you for leaving me a comment with your email. I don't want you to think I'm ignoring you because I haven't sent out the "invitations" yet. I am having trouble creating a private blog with blogspot so it's not really complete yet. Plus, I don't have any pictures yet. Just hang tight and I'll get there eventually. I just don't want anyone to think they aren't "cool" enough to see the other blog. You are all cool. Way cool.

P.S. if you have any advice about making a blog private, please let me know. It seems as if one must have a google account in order to see it. Does anyone know something I don't?

Oh Baby Girl, How Spoiled You Will Be!

As I've said before, we were not expecting a girl this time around, especially not a newborn girl. In fact, Dave had said, several times, the last thing he would ever want was a girl... and a newborn. Ironic, isn't it? Of course now he's thrilled. It is Mateo's sister after all. Funny how our desires can change in an instant based on just a tiny bit of information. I knew that I would get a girl eventually, but was thinking when we had a bigger house and our boys were older. And that she would be the most spoiled child in all the world, cause I, like most women, am a sucker for girly things. Headbands, barrettes, ribbons, dresses (especially summer sun dresses), SHOES!, ruffle socks, dolls, etc. And I'm posting pictures of the baby and ALL this cute stuff on my new private blog called, Maya's Spot.

BUT, because I'm not comfortable posting pictures of any child who is not legally our own, I will not be posting pictures of the baby on this blog (until we adopt her, IF we adopt her). But I will be starting a new blog that is password protected that will include pictures of her. If you've been following my blog for a while and I know/recognize you, then leave me a comment with your email (if you feel comfortable) and I'll email an invitation to view that blog and a password. When/if we adopt Maya, then I'll blend the two blogs together and make it public again. Make sense?

I Heart Faces - Green

This week's theme for I Heart Faces is "green". Both of these are old pictures. If the theme were brown, maybe I'd do well with a photo from this time of year. But there's no green here. So these are summer pictures that I think fit the "green theme". Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

Check out other Green Theme blogs by visiting here.