From the Mouths of Babes

Me: (moaning and holding head in hands)

Mackenzie: "Mommy, what's wrong?"

Me: (more moaning) "I have a bad headache."

Mackenzie: (stricken look on face) "Is it from me?"

Never Say Never

I love football.

Let me clarify. I love college football. Professional football is fine too. In fact, as I write this, I'm watching the Chicago Bears play-mainly because former Husker Zach Bowman is starting today. but give me a college game and my Nebraska Cornhuskers and I'm a happy girl.

While growing up in Omaha, Nebraska, I thought that certain members of my family were a little uhm . . . over the top when it came to "the ways of the Husker fan." Don't get me wrong. I was a fan back then too, but the passion I observed in others was lost on me. At times it even seemed a little (dare I say?) silly.

Case in point: on football Saturdays, if it was an away game and my grandparents weren't among the throngs of red people trekking to another state, we would sometimes go to their house to watch the game all together-provided, of course, it was televised.

There was NO missing any part of the game if we were at Nanny and Poppop's house. There were at least 4 televisions all tuned into the game and at least one radio. You could be in nearly any part of their house and be tuned in. When the action proved to be too much for someone to handle and pacing was necessary to withstand the agony (usually Nanny), the anguished individual (Nanny) was encouraged to get out of the current room and go to a different television. If people (Nanny) wanted to speak at an inopportune moment, they were given a finger . . . pointing straight in the direction of a different room with a different tv. Television screen too small for comfortable viewing? No problem. A quick nudge in the direction of another tv location took care of it. By the end of a game, family togetherness was laughable. And if you were a kid who wanted to talk or make any noise (like breathing) during a game, forget it.

As a kid, I knew I'd never get like that when I grew up and became an adult Husker fan.

So yesterday, my mom called me. We had about 1 1/2 hours 'til kickoff.

"Hi Honey! Do you want to come over for the game? We're not televised, but we could at least listen together."

Me: "Uhm . . . Gregg said it might be available online at ESPN360. I don't know . . . "

Mom: (excited) "Oh wow! So we could actually watch it together?"

Me: (hesitantly) "You don't have wireless do you?"

Mom: (confused) "I don't think so . . . why?"

Me: "I don't want to have to share the screen . . . if I could bring my own computer and watch it, we could each have our own screen. Hey, I'll call Papa and see if maybe there's a way we could make this work."

When I hung up, I chided myself. I've become what I swore I wouldn't. I was turning down an invitation to my parents' house all in the name of not wanting to share a monitor. Duh. Oh well. No time to dwell on the issue. I had to call Papa Dean.

Sadly, the phone call resulted in no luck. No wireless. No splitter. Nada. I was relegated to watching the game solo (if it didn't fall victim to a blackout) or having to huddle with another person in front of the screen. Hmmm. Decisions.

You'll be glad to know that I chose the family togetherness option. And ESPN360 didnt fail me! The Huskers were not only audible but visible as well AND I never had to nudge anyone out of my way. Of course, I perhaps failed to mention that Gregg and Dean were both working-leaving only two of us to compete for viewing comfort yesterday.

If it weren't for the shushing and show of "not right now" in the form of my hand waving away the likes of Thing 1 when she appeared in the middle of some nail-biting action, I have to say that I did ok yesterday. I shared. I played nice. So did my mom.

Nanny would have been proud. Mind you, she would have been in a different room, BUT she would've been proud. :-)

Extreme Room Makeover

For anyone who checks the blog regularly (all two of you), you may have noticed a lack of attention to it lately. Call it paint fumes, frustration with the wallpaper steamer or overuse of Downy Fabric Softener (which, by the way, does NOT come out of throw rugs if you happen to spill it by mistake). Or . . . you can call it:

Extreme Room Makeover 2009-the Cassidy Edition.

After a lot of talking about the possibility of doing a new color on Cassidy's walls and giving her a loft bed, Gregg and I made good on our promise to "someday" do something different in her room and so below is our "BEFORE" photo . . .



followed by the "AFTER" photos . . .



Having chosen a new brown and pink striped comforter last fall (yep-that would be twelve months ago for those of you doing the math at home), she chose to have one wall painted brown with the remaining walls painted pink. Pepto Bismol Pink. (Actually, I think it's cute.)


Gregg, bless his heart, built her a long awaited loft bed. It's been wonderful to give her some extra floor space with the newly opened up area underneath her bed for her desk and beanbag chair. The board against the wall is the new spot for tacking up all those things that kids love to TAPE to their walls.



All in all, the whole project took about a week. In all honesty, a good portion of that week was about cleaning, purging and sorting through all sorts of treasures in her room prior to Operation Demolition. It's nothing short of amazing to experience the difference of opinion as to the definition of "keepsake" and also how many items really can fit under a bed.

I need to give a huge thanks to the folks at MyBlogSpark for helping out with this makeover. While I would have loved it if one of them had shown up at my front door with a paint brush and drop cloth and insisted on painting, I still GREATLY appreciated the arrival of a brand new Swiffer Wet Jet just in time for some extra thorough cleaning in the midst of our project. Initially I had some doubts about the whole cleaning system, but I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised at how well it did on our wood floors. I was even more excited to find out that the multi-purpose cleaner also comes in some other fragrances like Open Window Fresh and Febreze Lavendar & Vanilla Comfort. (And frankly, for anyone else out there with a 10 year-old daughter, we could all use a little comfort after sorting through collections of broken necklaces, mismatched earrings, dried-up nail polish and bottles of body glitter.)

So, from me to you, the Swiffer Wet Jet gets a "two thumbs up." So does the feeling of satisfaction at being done with this project.

Now, will someone please make Mackenzie stop asking "when are you going to do my room??"

After all . . . I need to find her a new comforter first. ;-)

Happy Anniversary To My Hubby!

16 years of marriage . . .
2 beautiful daughters . . .
artwork presented to us in honor of our special day . . .
Life is good!!!

This post has been relocated to the following page:

http://awordfromkari.blogspot.com

Happy Birthday Mackenzie!

My baby turned 5 years old today.

I'm not quite sure how this happened. Surely it was just a few days ago that I held her in my arms as I got acquainted with her as a newborn baby. Somehow . . . 5 years have flown right on by us in the blink of an eye.

We celebrated in grand style this weekend. Just as we did with her older sister, we welcomed age 5 in with a tea party-complete with china cups and saucers, little treats, beautiful cakes, pretty girls in twirly dresses and Gregg reprising his role as the crazy butler!




No tea party would be complete without a manicure for the
big event . . .


. . . special moments with Daddy, Nanna and Grandma . . .

. . . giggling at that silly butler . . .


and singing and dancing with cousins.

Even Ozzie came to help celebrate the special day!

And the best part of all?

Sharing special days like this with family . . .

It just doesn't get much better than that!

Remembering Sadie . . .

She's been with us longer than The Things. Sadie came into our lives and our hearts twelve years ago this month. As the Lord would have it, she literally ran into our lives one day.

I was at work-downtown on a summer day. Our front door was propped open and customers leisurely wandered in and out of the store. Suddenly, this thin mutt ran in through the door. My boss was a dog owner herself and quickly grabbed a leash from the back office. She set out with the mutt and walked her all over downtown-in hopes that she could reunite the dog with her owner. Long story short, no owner showed up or ever claimed her. We did everything-ran ads in the paper, called the shelter, called the animal hospitals and pet stores in the area. No one ever claimed her.

In the meantime, she and I vehemently agreed that this dog should not go to the shelter during the process of searching for her owner. Instead, I offered to keep her with us-we had an enclosed porch at the time. She could stay on the porch and be safe until she was claimed.

Three weeks later, my boss asked me what we were going to do about this dog.

I guess, as "they" say . . . the rest is history.

Upon adopting her, we took her to the vet, learned that she was somewhere between 1-3 years of age and other than being thin, was relatively healthy. What we later discovered, however, was that this dog had some obvious signs of abuse from whoever had her before that summer day. We began the "deprogramming" process with her-teaching her that anything with a long handle didn't have to result in cowering, hairbrushes weren't weapons and that men weren't out to hurt her. I could only imagine what this dog might have experienced before she came to live with us.

We named her Sadie and became a family of three. A couple of years later, Sadie got her first younger sibling in the form of a small human.

As Cassidy navigated her way through crawling, pulling herself up and walking, Sadie endured days, weeks and months of fur pulling, tail grabbing and falling (from Cassidy) on top of her in the midst of peaceful naps. Just when the young human being had finally turned somewhat "civilized," another small human creature arrived and Sadie patiently endured more years of uncivilized behavior from the newest Thing in the house.

This dog put up with being dressed up in silly costumes, being held captive in bedrooms for pretend camp-outs and tea parties and attempts at ballroom dancing as the girls stood her on hind legs.


She learned how to play hide and seek, that the sight of her dog food in a plastic bag meant she was going to "camp" (Grandma and Grandpa's house for vacation), a blanket taken out to the car signaled being invited to take a ride, and that the appearance of young children at our table usually meant a special snack if she'd hang out underneath.

She loved a heavy snowfall, the sight of Gregg coming home after work or the girls after school and having friends or family arrive at our door. She hated storms, the 4th of July, getting her paws wet or muddy and having to endure paw washings for those muddy days. She "smiled" when life was good and huddle close if there were tears. Every dog owner says that their dog is the best, and I am no different. Sadie was the perfect dog for our family.

Yesterday, Gregg and I had the tough task of releasing our beloved Sadie from this side of Earth. As we huddled over her, the doctor asked us to tell him of our favorite memory with Sadie. We looked at each other and had no words. Finally, Gregg answered with "where do we even begin?" The doctor smiled. "I know what you mean," he said.

We will miss you, sweet Sadie. We thank you for an incredible twelve years of unconditional love! You may be gone from our home, but never from our hearts. We love you!