10

  Sweet P is 10 months old.  Where do I start?  Coming into her room every morning is like Christmas.  I can't wait to see what is waiting for me when I open the door.  She is usually met with two goofy parents singing, "Goooooooooooood Morrrrrnnniiiiiiiiing!"  I turn on her lamp, she squints her eyes closed and gives us a big grin.

  Sweet P started school at Miss Tammy's this month.  She loves it.  She is the youngest, but not the smallest.  :)  Since she started Miss Tammy's, she chatter's almost nonstop.  Has she said Mama yet?  Yea right.  But she will say my mother's dog's name, River.  (Viverrr)  

  Her vocabulary thus far:

  Viverrr

  Arf Arf  (This is what Viverr says)

  Moooo

  Dada

  Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii  (Only in a high pitch octive)

  vvvrrrrrrrrrrrooooooom

  Now, that last one impressed me.  Since her daddy is a pilot, I have old, decorative airplanes placed around the house.  I have never taught her that a plane makes that noise.  She pulled a wooden biplane off the coffee table, spun the prop and made the vvvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrooom engine noise.  I think she got that from the boys at Miss Tammy's.  She has been around a plane one time with her daddy, but that was forever ago!

  Oh, P.  You make us love you so much, it hurts.  But it's the best kinda hurt that anyone can ever hope for.  My heart fills so full, it aches.  I love this kind of heartache.  You are smart, curious, demanding, messy, determined, and beautiful.  You are kind to others and so good when someone wants to show you affection.  You make their day when you stretch out your arms for a hug.  Even if it's a traveler passing through Grand Debs store.

  I know it seems like all I tell you is, "No Ma'am", but I'm just trying to show you how to make your way through this world.  It's not easy, but Daddy and I will help you along your way.  We love you.

This was the daughter's reactions when we told her it was the first day of school:

Love me some Sweet P

Husband, I think this is your daughters' subtle way of telling you to lay off the Right Wing literature. 

  I should have known something was up when my husband started asking me questions about times zones, Greenwich Mean Time and Day Light Savings.  I could't properly answer his questions, but I did wonder what in the world he was up to.  Then, I saw him feverishly working away at his desk:

  I can't decided if it imploded or exploded.  What was this all about?  Why the pages upon pages of data?  Highlighted data at that.  Why on Earth does my adorable husband all the sudden have the urge to collect sun rise and set dates from the Astronomical Applications Dept. c/o U.S. Naval Observatory?

  It's simple.  My husband has declared war...on hogs.  It's true.  Wild hogs are running rampant, killing livestock and destroying fences and ranch and range lands.  My husband has made our home a command post for Operation Shock and Yeehaw.  God, I love him.  

So does this little girl

Wow.

  To say you make me proud is an understatement.  You are the man God made for me, and for that, I am eternally grateful.  I know I drive you absolutely crazy, but I am a constant work in progress.  You are so patient with me.  I don't know why on Earth you took me as your wife, but I am so thankful you did.  You are my before, now, and forever and always, Amen.

IWALYAYWABM

Seester

  See the girl in the leather motorcycle vest?  She's my sister.  Today is her birthday.  I thought I'd compile a photo essay of the items I found in her truck Sunday.  The below is totally true.  I wish I could have made this stuff up.

The Seester

The Truck

The Duck

The dirty, giant, obviously worn aTm belt buckle

van Gogh shot glass 

Photo of some sexy people circa 2000

I'm not even kidding

The boots

Before the boots?

Found in the glovebox? MY HUSBANDS' TIE.  What the hell, sister?

The Tunes

Louis Vuitton wallet and some ugly, cheap sunglasses.  (By the way, the van Gogh shot glass and the LV wallet were gifts from me from my travels abroad.  I try to keep it classy...even if it's only a shot glass.  I can only help my sister so much.)

Num Chucks

Spent bullet shot gun shells

  This concludes the photo tour of my sister's truck.  Can you believe they let this lady teach at the local elementary school?

  I love you, Seester.  Happy 26th Birthday.

  *Shalayne

Asphalt Flowers

...Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

"Where the Sidewalk Ends"

-Shel Silverstein

NINE!!!!

  Holy Cow.  The photo below sums up what it is like to live with my nine month old:

Um, yeah.

  I will not describe Sweet P to you myself at this point in her life.  I will use the words of others:

  "My, that baby is busy!"

  "She's going to be a talker."  (Heard that twice today.)

   "What a beautiful baby!"  OK, OK, shameless bragging right there.  

  My days are spent attempting to wrangle this baby and prevent her from causing self harm.  She is in to absolutely everything.  She can turn on the bathtub faucets, throw Cheerios into the bathtub, beat on the toilet like she's playing the drums for Ricky Ricardo, crawl quickly, climb small chairs, and attempts to stand all on her own.  Some call it determination, I say hellbent is more like it.  

  She touches everything.  This is wear my parenting might differ from others.  I grew up touching everything and still do, therefore, I let her explore her world by touching almost everything she comes in contact with.  This is why when I put her on my hip, she immediately points to the nearest light switches since they are now eye level.  We spend many minutes increasing our electrical energy consumption, and bill,  playing, "On, off, on, off."

  Of course, she has a few new pet tricks.  If you ask her where her nose is, she will point to the tip of her little nose.  She refuses to say "Mama", but is more than happy to say "Dada".  She will mimic words like hot, or bye, but I know she is not really saying them, just repeating the sounds we made.

  I'm afraid she will begin walking very shortly.  This is much too soon for me.  I tell her to knock it off, or I'll push her down.  (Very lovingly, might I add.)  I'm truly, truly in love.  Thanks be to God!

Yes, I cut her bangs.  No, I will not do that again.

The greatest feeling in the world:

Green Beans & AR15s

Just your average evening of cleaning your plate...and gun.