What's your name?

What's your name?

Puddingtain.

Ask me again and I'll tell you the same.

As usual, on Friday I had Maggie's girls

 but I also had Annie's kiddos

since she was in sunny California on Beachbody business.
I stayed at Annie's so the big kids could ride the bus home.

Late afternoon, the 2 bigs had gotten off the bus,

snacks were eaten and they were told to toss their trash.

I was laying on the couch with Ev and  Caroline

reading story books.

Aubrie was in the recliner coloring.

Ollie was napping.

 Penelope was playing 

in the adjacent kitchen

in the cabinet where the kids' plastic tableware is kept.

To say Penelope is busy, is an understatement.

She is a whirling dervish most of the time.

I say she is a baby terrorist...
always leaving mass destruction in her wake.

To the havoc, she constantly says "ah-oh"

So...I let her play in the cabinet.

It was making her happy and she was sitting still.

Next thing you know, Maggie walks in from work and says

"Mom! Are you kidding me?"

"Look at Elle Pea!" 

I leaned up to see this...

ah-oh.
Well, I at least I am free daycare.
I never claimed to be good. 

Perplexity

Well, I am in a 

bit of a quandary up in here.

After losing almost 45 lbs.

I am in desperate need

of some new bras.

The problem is 

the over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder

is now going to be holding pebbles.

I am in possession of a couple of

Genie Bras.

They are not doing the job.

They give me a uni-boob.

I have made one trip to the store

and I tried on lots of styles and sizes.

I measured my circumference.

I measured it under the breastuses (as I like to call them)

and over them to get the cup size.

I should be a 34B.

I went prepared.

Epic fail.

I want a wider side and a cup that fits.

My cup either runneth over

or I had back fat squishing.

It is too hard of a chore.

Undress... try on 15 fuhreaking bras,

re-dress, re-stock my options and undress

only to do it 3 more times.

This is too much of a chore.

I can't care.

I don't want a salesperson helping.

Jackie was in tow.

She failed me.

I failed her.

We both left empty handed

and uni-boobed.

If you see me out and about

just remember where my eyes are

and keep your eyes focused there.

These hoohas are going to be one.

Literally...

one long, sideways, not-so bodacious tata.

Yep, I'm bringing sexy back.

It's how I roll.

 

 

 

 

 

A child's wisdom

On Abbie's 2nd day of her hospital stay

she had a nurse who I referred to as Zilch.

It was indicative of her personality.

She had none.

Maybe she was tired, 

maybe she had something not good happening.

Either way, she was not good at her job on this day.

I tried smiling at her and being friendly.

She didn't reciprocate.

But that is okay.

Later in the day Abbie showed her the picture 

of Maggie's littlest, Penelope

sporting her new glasses.

 

The nurse said "oh, that's too bad."

Seriously?

2 of my 6 grandchildren wear glasses.

I think they are adorable.

I wish people could see the error in that kind of thinking.

Why do they think different is less than?

We are all way more alike than we are different.

We all want the same in life.

To love and be loved.

It hurt my heart.

But then Annie told me a story about Aubrie 

and my heart soared.

 

 

When she told Aubrie about baby Cliff

Aubrie asked "does he have Down Syndrome?"

Annie said "no he doesn't."

Aubrie asked "are you sure? Did they do tests?"

Annie said "yes they did and he doesn't have it."

Aubrie said "well, maybe next time Abbie

can have a baby with Down Syndrome."

Out of the mouths of babes.

(Aubrie's little sis, Ollie)

Psalm 139:13-14

 For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.

 

 

 

Little Big Head is here

Clifford Stuart made his arrival this morning.

He took his sweet time. 

Abbie blogged about it here.

I had a blog written and lost it.

I have been gone since Friday morning

and I am just too tired to re-do it.

I am thankful to be in my home.

This was an amazing weekend.

Baby Cliff weighed in at a whopping

10 lbs. 14 oz.

He is 22 inches long.

He is half grown and absolutely gorgeous.

 Caroline says

"he is the bomb-dickery"

and he truly is.

Best Grandparent's Day gift ever.

Thanks for all your prayers.

God is so good.

'Sup

We are still waiting on baby Cliff.

Or "Little Big Head" as I have taken to calling him.

Tomorrow Abbie returns to the doctor.

I reckon we will get a plan of eviction. 

She feels good and all is well.

In other news, my dad has pneumonia.

We got a late night call Saturday night

that he was on his way

to the local hospital's ER.

We met him there.

The general consensus was

 he aspirated and it led to pneumonia.

He was given 2 IV treatments and then sent

back to his facility with oral meds.

He is doing well too.

All I can say about the ER visit is 

common sense is not so common.

When someone is told they are dealing with an Alzheimer's patient

it seems to me it would be wise to leave

the said patient sleeping and just use the forehead thermometer.

It doesn't seem like a good idea to rip off their blanket

and then loudly say 

"Howard I am going to take your temperature now!"

and then use the forehead thermometer.

That tends to lead to a giant upheaval.

Also it is obviously "normal procedure"

to ask several times 

"How long has he had Alzheimer's?"

The family can answer "well he as been in the unit since March.

I guess  maybe 3-4 years."

But they continue to ask many more times.

I wanted to scream

"Why does it matter? He has it. 

Can you just focus on this problem for now?"

It gives new meaning to the term "educated idiot".

I appreciate that we were able to get medical help.

I now truly appreciate a good bedside manner.

This doctor didn't have one. 

Blessedly, Dad's pastor was there.

He does have good bedside manners

which led us to have them too. :) 

Also, I need a medal.

I have weeded flower beds after the rains.

My arms and legs look like I have fought cats.

The scratches make me look tough like a 4 year old boy.

Or stupid.

Next time I will wear pants.

Simmer down.

I wore pants...just shorts with gum boots. 

I am rural.

Get over it.

The men are picking corn so the chuck wagon is 

back in business. 

Roast and taters today.

Grocery store this afternoon.

 I'll keep ya posted on the baby.

Keep us in your prayers.

Over and out peeps.