Colorado Christmas

We spent Christmas in Colorado this year. The Whiting family has always had the tradition of getting together on Christmas Eve for dinner and to read about Christ's birth. We've dressed up in the same garbs that my own mom wore when she was young (angels with tinsel for halos, bathrobes and towels for the shepherds, and fancy jewelry boxes for the wise men to carry). This year, though, my Aunt Laura told the Nativity story and the little kids each got to unwrap a piece of the Nativity set and put it on the table as the story was told.

Backyard Sledding

I never really thought sledding would be a pastime for my boys in their own backyard, I mean, yea, 4-wheelers back and forth, but not sledding. The boys took advantage of the fresh snow two weeks ago. Matt enjoyed it. The bloom was off the rose pretty quick for Milo, though. Other than coats, hats, odd-sized mittens, and snow pants that were too small, the boys weren't really equipped to handle the cold wet stuff. After a short ride down the hill, falling into snow, and truding up the hill in his best tennis shoes (besides his legs are short, like his dad's), Milo was ready to call it quits after two times. Can't say as I blame him.

So, we couldn't find a "real" sled (not even an inner-tube), so the boys had to make due with a boogie board.

Santa doesn't come to little boys who peek...

Santa's been keeping his stash downstairs in the basement, in a room Matt has been told repeatedly to stay out of. Actually, I'm really surprised he's lasted this long. I took some wrapped presents down there tonight and Matt and Milo tagged along to "help." Matt literally pushed Milo and me out of the way so he could be the first one down the stairs because, in his words, "it's my house." OK, since when does Matt want to be the first one down the dark stairs that lead into the dark, cold basement?

I once again threatened him. This time, though, the little bugger was too fast for me and peeked through the crack where the door is hinged.

"Wow, a bike," says he.

It was hard to hold back my smile as I saw his face light up. But, 'tis the season to be the Grinchy Mom and I had to tell him not to peek. I couldn't help but remember the days long ago when my cousin Amber would search her whole house until she found the loot, then let me in the secret of her stash. Every year she did this. Aunt Donna should have known better - your closet 'tis not a good hiding place.

After this encounter, Matt proceeded to lecture me on how mean I was. Speaking of Matt, he has also said some funny things lately:

Matt: Mom, why you in the shower all day long?

(It's true.)

Matt: Stop it Milo! Mom, Milo's watching me go pooh-pooh!

Me: Milo, don't watch Matt go pooh-pooh.

Matt: Mom, who made that thing? (pointing to the zipper pull on my coat)

Me: I don't know, whoever made the coat.

Matt: I think Jesus make it. Remember, Jesus make everything.

Matt has also been saying some good prayers lately. I'm just happy he wants to say the prayers. No matter if it's the prayer over the food or bedtime prayers, he says the same things - and has to add a "P.S" to the prayer should he forget anything. Sometimes it makes for long prayers over the food when we pray for dad at work, to watch out for cars in the road, and to not say bad words (that stems from a little encounter, OK two encounters, we had with the f-bomb the other day), etc.


And lately, Matt has questions for everything. He wants to know who was on the phone and what we talked about, what I'm doing on the computer, what's in the mail, etc. I guess I've been a bad mom, though, because at times he's taken to answering his own questions because of a repeated absent-minded answer I tend to give. Case in point:


Matt: Why is that car so fast? Because it is?

oh sNOw!

Snow was an unusual sight to wake up to this morning. We live about five minutes above (elevation-wise) St. George, and even in SG it's not unusual to get a snow storm or two during winter. What is unusual is when it sticks. The snow pretty much ruined 78% of my plans for the day. Oh well, 'tis the season!

Good thing Sam finally got the boat winterized.

Not quite sure what Milo thinks of the snow.

He does like to put his shoes and "jack" on (and off, and on, and off, and on again).

There's my Dixie boy - he was complaining when his shoes and pants got wet.

Ah, a boy after my own heart!

Milo and The New Bed

I've finally been able to convince Sam that Milo, who is not quite 2 1/2, was indeed ready for a new bed. When he's able to climb in and out of the crib, I mean really, what's the point of the little cage anymore? So, like what we did with Matt, we bought him a full-size bed (in hopes that will be the only bed we'll ever have to buy for either of them).

So, when it came time for bed last night, Milo marched into his room and started crawling up the changing table to get into his bed. Milo, at this point, has had his own room, while Cooper and Matt share a room. Now, Milo and Matt share a room. I was prepared for a power of wills.

Me: "No, Milo, let's go get into your own big boy bed now."

Milo: "Oh."

And away he went. He laid down in bed and after ten minutes I went to check on him. He'd turned the light on and was laying by the door on the floor with his "bank." He looked so sad and little. I laid with him until he fell asleep.

We survived the first night in the big bed. But the following pictures tell the story of "Milo and his bed without walls."

No No Dog-Dog

So, I was inspired to write this latest post as I gazed out my kitchen window and noticed a big pile of dog crap on the walkway leading up to the front door. I do not have a dog. So, I must assume the neighbor's dog, who in between crapping on my property, wanders the neighborhood sowing his seeds and digging through my garbage, must be the culprit.

We do not own a dog, or any pet for that matter for several reasons. And now before all fellow blogging animal loving friends, and PETA member cousins...yea, you know who you are, curse me, let me first tell you that I do not condone any abuse, neglect, or hatred towards any animal. I just choose not to own any for the following reasons:

1. I spent 90% of my day cleaning up after other living creatures. Why would I want to add to the mix another creature that eats and poops?

2. I've had a puppy before. They chew on everything. The dig holes where holes aren't supposed to be. They jump and scare little kids.

3. They poop. I don't want to spend any part of my day pooper-scooping. And you have to do it because if you don't someone's bound to walk in it.

4. They pee and kill the grass.

5. They shed.

6. They bark.

7. They get out and annoy the neighbors...you know like digging through their trash and coming into open garages and peeing on valuables.

8. I don't like cats because they are so unpredictable. I don't like creatures with sharp claws and teeth so close to my face. I think that might have a beginning when I was bitten by my Aunt Joanne's cat. Granted I was petting him while he was eating...sorry Nancy Nina.

9. I've never been into the rodent pet thing. I've always had an aversion to gerbils, mice, hampsters, guinea pigs, etc.

10. Even gold fish stink up the bowl.

I don't hate dogs. I just don't want one right now. Besides, no dog could ever replace Oreo. We got him in front of City Market, he was a mutt, when I was 9 and he died shortly after I got married when I was 22. I think he knew his time was coming to an end so he left my parents' house and died somewhere in the fields or near the creek where he loved to roam. Maybe some psycho-analysis would reveal that no dog could ever take Yo-yo's place.

I know at some point we'll have to get a dog. No little boy should grow up without one. But, until Matthew can pooper-scoop, feed, and play with it everyone will just have to deal because I AM THE MOM!