Happy 4th!

We are at an outdoor concert and fireworks at a local university. Hope everyone has a wonderful day!

(Posted from my cell so excuse the quality!)

The Irishman's DIY Adventures: The Closet

Saturday started like "If you Give a Mouse a Cookie." We have these great organizers...what if we paint the closet first? Notice the paint in the hair. It was every where.

It also meant that the items stored in the closet had to find a new home. This is what the "guest room" looked like two days before my sister-in-laws arrival. Notice the items my husband cleverly stored in my Texas themed BATHROOM. Yep. Fun times. Rafa didn't mind. He slept anyway.

This would be Sunday evening. Sunday was an "Alexander and the Terrible Horrible, No Good, Really Bad Day" kind of day. It is his "I am SO over this" "Maybe I'll move to Australia" look. He is standing in front of the $2 clearance baskets I got at Target. The Irishman tried to get excited about the baskets. (Can't you tell?)

This would be the almost finished product. We still have to hang the bars for the clothes. We are sort of hoping that a certain uncle of mine might help us with that. (Hint, hint!)

Is it sad that the closet is now the most put together room in the house...

P.S. The Irishman announced his DIY retirement on Facebook on Monday night. Little does he know it is just beginning!

DIY

This weekend we worked on the closet in the guest room/nursery. ALL weekend. (The DIY project from H-E-Double Hockey Sticks) I've taken pictures throughout, but it is still a work in progress. My sister-in-law gets here on Wednesday and you cannot yet get to the bed or the bathroom in that room. I'm not sure she took us seriously when we told her on the phone that she may have to sleep on the couch for a night or two!

So, look forward to a post this week with finished results. There has been painting, building, and organizing...and the adventures that go with all that fun.

For now, I am off to bed. The Irishman has decided he is going to read "The Night Before Christmas" to my stomach. He is afraid that after this weekend his daughter will know him as "the voice that does all the swearing" and feels the need to redeem himself...

I'm a Cheerio Girl

Yesterday driving to work I was no longer in 2009 driving a black Hyundai listening to the radio.

It was 1986/7. I was in the back of my mom's red Lancer. (It was the car that talked. It would tell you, "Your fuel is low." "A Door is ajar." It was a cool car...) We were cruising through Portland, Maine listening to Mom's latest purchase: a Madonna tape.

My brother, sister, and I were in the back of the car singing along.

"I'm a Cheerio...I'm a Cheerio...I'm a Cheerio Girl!"

Yep.

We're living in a material Cheerio world...

Me Tarzan!

With our membership to the YMCA, the Irishman and I can go to either of two different locations. Last week I went to the northern location, but I decided to try the other location today for water aerobics.

I got there just a couple of minutes late...the Irishman lost his keys so I spent a little time helping him look for them. The crowd in the class was about the same as the other...although the teacher was a guy about my age.

I picked out my weights and quickly joined the others in the pool. The people around me seemed very friendly. An older lady asked if it was my first time here. She welcomed me and said she was sure I would like it.

There was an older gentleman standing next to me who smiled at me the whole time. He looked a bit like the landlord in Three's Company...only older. He made eyes at me throughout the class.

As I was getting out of the pool, this man asked me my name. I told him my name and after a long pause (trying to be nice) asked his name. He told me his name was Bob.* Then he grinned at me and said, "But you can call me Tarzan."

It seems that "Tarzan" was is little hard of hearing. He thought my name was Jane.

At 20 weeks pregnant I got a bad pick up line from an 80-year-old man with poor hearing at water aerobics class. I think I got a better workout from laughing all the way home than I did from the class itself. My friend Dawn has suggested that is one for the baby book!

*Name changed to protect the not-so-innocent!

It's NOT the Dryer

The Irishman gets back from his business trip today! He doesn't leave town often for work, so this was a big deal for him. He e-mailed several of my friends and my summer camp boss with an e-mail called "Jenny Watch" asking them to keep an eye on me and to be sure that I don't over do it. He's too much! I'm happy to report I survived without him...just barely!

One of the quirks about my husband is his view towards laundry. While I had been doing most of the laundry before I got pregnant, the Irishman has stepped it up recently to help me out. He has no problem going laundry, as long as he does not have to match the sock. While I knew of his aversion, I recently discovered that it is NOT the dryer eating my socks....

my husband hides them!

The Irishman really hates matching socks. He avoids it like the plague. His avoidance has led to the blue bag. When he folds the laundry, he leaves his socks in a pile and then adds them to a blue laundry bag. Even when I fold the laundry, he will just add the matched pairs of socks to the blue bag. Occasionally he will have a big sock match up, but more frequently he just pulls out the bag and wears whatever socks he can match that particular morning.

A couple of months ago I was out of socks. All of the laundry had been washed, but my socks were no where to be found....until I looked in his blue bag. There were 8 pairs of MY socks matched and thrown in his bag. It seemed he picked them up by mistake.

Last week I was out of clean underwear. I was frustrated because only some of my undies still fit and I was out of those pairs. Again, it seemed like all the laundry was clean...I couldn't figure it out.

This week while he was out of town I found a basket of clean clothes my husband hadn't gotten around to folding or putting away. And yep, there was a week's worth of my clean undies.

I can't complain too much because he does help with the laundry. So I've learned my lesson. Next time I am out of clothes I will go on a search and rescue mission!

Water Aerobics

At my doctor's appointment yesterday I mentioned to her that we'd joined the YMCA and I was planning to take Yoga and Water Aerobics classes. The doctor thought it was a great idea as long as I avoided the "hot" yoga. Little does she know I avoid sweating at all cost...which is not easy in South Florida!

My friend Dawn and I went to our first water aerobics class this morning. We got there about 15 minutes early and saw about what we expected.

We were about half the age of anyone in the pool.

The teacher came over to us before class started and asked if we were REALLY staying for water aerobics. Dawn was quick to point to me and say, "She's pregnant!" (I got to be the excuse.)

Throughout the class she would look over at us and chuckle. Did I mention that the rest of the class was abnormally tall for little old people their age? We had to move to the front to be in the shallow end.

Honestly, we really enjoyed it! Some of the little white haired ladies gave us some dirty looks, but we could get past that. There was a lot of focus on the arms, which I didn't expect. The Y provides the water weights and the noodles. Best of all, I feel like I got a nice workout and didn't feel sweaty and gross afterwards. That's a win-win in my book!

We'll see how I feel this afternoon, but it looks like we will head back tomorrow.

A Happy Ending?

Once upon a time there was a teacher. This teacher decided to take a summer job working at a camp run in a school. She was teaching drama she knows nothing about songs and games. After the first day the teacher was tired, but thought she could make it through the next 18 days of camp.

Then came Tuesday.

On Tuesday there was a new camper. The teacher had heard about this camper. (We'll call him Little Darling.) Little Darling has some issues. The teacher had heard about Little Darling but had never worked with him before.

Little Darling happens to be in the teacher's least favorite age group. It is the one grade level she would never teach. The teacher tried to be positive about it.

She may or may not have said a few prayers during snack time.

Then it was time for Little Darling's groups to come to drama songs and games. The teacher very enthusiastically gathered the students on the stage.

Little Darling sat on the benches in the lunch room.

The teacher enthusiastically called Little Darling over to see the "special surprise."

Little Darling started hopping along the benches.

The teacher walked over to Little Darling and he decided to hide UNDER the tables.

Little Darling was much faster than the teacher. The teacher decided to ignore the behavior and focus on the other campers.

Then Little Darling discovered the ladder the janitor left up in the cafeteria. It went all the way to the ceiling. It was calling Little Darling's name.

The teacher decided to move the whole group next to the ladder so that she could keep Little Darling away while still going on with her lesson. She gathered the students and the materials.

As she started to hand out the puppets for "There was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly," Little Darling stole the book she was planning to read.

The teacher gritted her teeth cheerfully said, "That's okay! I have it memorized!"

Little Darling was interested in the puppets. The teacher got the book back and even managed to move the group to the stage.

Then Little Darling got bored.

This time he went behind the curtains on the stage. The teacher could see his little feet climbing boxes and getting into mischief. She played chase shooed him away from danger more than once.

She called for back up more than once.

Eventually help arrived. A coworker spoke to Little Darling about the choices he was making. They left for about 20 minutes to have a talk about the choices he was making.

Little Darling returned. He apologized to the teacher and the class. He sat at a table with a marker and a "find the picture." The teacher's coworker felt things were under control and left.

Things went well for about 5 minutes. The teacher sang songs with the group and Little Darling looked for pictures.

Then he got bored. With a marker.

Once upon a time there was a teacher who had 17 days left of camp. She stopped at the store on the way home and bought an expensive pint of ice cream to recover from her day.

She is still hoping for a happy ending!