The Virginia Lambsons

Giving Thanks, Lambson-Style

2006-11-29T08:21:00.000-08:00

When the Virginia Lambsons and the Georgia Lambsons get together, laughter and silliness ensue!

Click HERE to see how we spent our Thanksgiving. We wish you all could have been there.

I mean, seriously...

2006-07-06T16:36:00.000-07:00

How cute is THAT?!

And THAT?!

So, SOOOOO cute, that's how cute.

What they do when the momma's away.

2006-06-28T13:09:00.000-07:00

Hey! What the world was TGIM thinking?! Look at these cliffs! Look at MY CHILDREN! And their COUSINS! Honestly! I CANNOT BELIEVE they did this...

...hiking in... Note use of Big Sticks to keep wild animals (and any cousins attempting to pass to the front) at bay...

...diving from big big big high rocks-- Geronimo!...

...daredeviling it up!...

(Wow. Good form, Tanner)

... and fishing (a much better use of Big Sticks I'd have to say)...

...all THIS... this... this CRAZINESS!... without ME!!!

Man. I seriously miss all the fun. And I'm the one who discovered the joys of cliff-diving at Sycamore Canyon in the first place! (except I'd actually be DIVING, but we can't all be as cool as me. I'm just saying.) Meanies.

*jealous*

Please Observe a Moment of Silence...

2006-04-21T09:53:00.000-07:00

... for my little Mack Attack's (not so) dearly departed tonsils and adenoids. May they be safely and hygienically disposed of in a proper medical waste incinerator in peace.

ETA: Wow. We're back already. I thought this would be an all-day thing, but here we are all tucked into bed watching SpongeBob. Well, she's tucked. I'm tucking. And fussing. And shoving meds down her throat. And fussing some more. Basically doing the Momma Thing. Plus, cartoons? BONUS.

SpongeBob? Funny stuff.

I was shocked-- shocked!-- to discover they can flavor the knock-you-out-in-two-seconds-FLAT gas. Of course, the obvious choice today was bubble gum. I checked it out, you know, for scientific purposes. VERY cool. I personally think adults get the shaft with the whole put-the-IV-in-before-they-knock-you-out thing.

Despite the fact that someone just cut overlarge masses of lymphoid tissue out of her throat, she's more concerned about the killer IV binding. "Hey... why is there BLOOD in the tube?!..."

This is Aaron "helping." Totally "paying attention." Really "being there" for his daughter. (Sudoku. It's a sickness, y'all.)

How to Charm the Ever-Loving Socks Off Me

2006-03-14T07:59:00.000-08:00

** Devote every waking moment that isn't spent hurrying through homework or re-reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince to practicing magic tricks, card tricks, and sleight of hand. Then, after asking (read: forcing) me, your sisters, and TGIM to sit through The Great Tanndini's Magic Show, spend the majority of the time either threatening your sisters with imminent death if they reveal your secrets or muttering, "Wait... just a sec... let me do that over" before finally astounding us with your mad magic skillz, thus assuring us that the magic set we gave you for your tenth birthday was a stroke of absolute genius (read: utter madness).

** When asked to get your stinky, smelly, eight-year-old self in the shower after an afternoon of hardcore playground, er... playing-- because I won't have you going to school smelling like butt, that's why-- you strip down to your undies and proceed to dance in the Naughty Zone (tm mrtl), shimmying and shaking your booty all the way to the bathroom while shouting "Momma, lookit! Momma, look at me! Look!" between giggles. (What?! I sure didn't teach her that...)

** After running circles around the basketball courts like a cute little six-year-old Energizer bunny hopped up on sugar and caffeine-- eyes glued to the sky, golden-blonde curls bouncing, upper lip buttoned firmly by your lower in concentration as you maneuver your $3.99 dragon kite to find the best wind on the playground-- approach me, pink cheeked and breathing hard, dragging your kite by two yards of string strung out behind you, and beg for a "small sip" from my water bottle. After taking three greedy, unladylike gulps and exhaling loudly with satisfaction, carelessly wipe the back of your hand across your mouth, hand back the bottle, and say with a reassuring grin, "Don't worry, Momma. I didn't mouthwash."

That, coupled with your earnest belief that you will absolutely never ever be able to get that "sticky tree zap" off the bottom of your foot and-- grr! argh!-- will I please just get off the computer and help you, compels me ask myself, "Self? Can't she stay this adorable forever?"

"Why don't you just call it ice-ket-ball?"

2006-02-28T03:25:00.000-08:00

Man. Don't you just love it when TV and reality come together?

I mean, seriously... how cool is that?! Turning on the television and seeing your life played out right on screen?! In front of God and everybody?! And you're all, "What the freak?!" And jumping up and down with excitement? But also feeling a little scared? Like Twighlight Zone scared? Because of the freakiness? But still totally excited?

Good times.

Last week, thanks to my mad TiFauxing abilities, I watched How I Met Your Mother for the first time (because... Willow?!) and experienced just such an extraordinary melding together of life and entertainment.

Okay, so I saw an episode in which Lily (Willow!) goes to her fiance Marshall's hometown of St. Cloud to meet her future in-laws and it turns out he has five or six brothers and they are practically giants! With the tallness? And the aggressiveness? And the eating of fat-laden food in mass quantities? Seriously. The family consists of several huge men who eat seven-layer salad full of gummi bears, potato chips, sixteen cups of mayo, and funyons, and who play bas-ice-ball, a dangerous combination of basketball and hockey. ("What are the rules?" "There are no rules! We just wale on each other!") Honestly. Lily looks like a Hobbit person next to these people. And of course everyone in town seems to know "those Erickson boys."

Okay, creepy. I about peed my pants laughing, I kid you not, because that? Yeah, that would Aaron's family. Exactly. Well, except the seven-layer salad thing for which I am thankful because there is just not enough ew. Biscuits with sausage gravy would be Aaron's family's poison.

To illustrate:

Live in a small, close-knit town? Check.

Eat mass quantities of fat-laden food, slapping like a red-headed stepchild anyone who dares get in the way? Check.

There are, like, a gazillion of them? Check!

Everyone in their home town knows them AND gets all up in their (and my) bidness? O. M. G. There is not enough check.

Shoot each other with paintball guns at point-blank range causing huge welts and bloody wounds, wrestle around on the floor until someone screams like a girly-girl begging for mercy, and play vicious games of tackle football on the front lawn? Ch-ch-ch-check.

Dwarf me like a little Hobbit person, even the girls? You better believe it. And check.

Just look at 'em, all big and stuff:

Keep in mind that Aaron (see his hair, in back there?) is 6'1"... and a half. Also keep in mind my youngest sister-in-law is scrunching down in front. Yeah. (I have no idea who the kid in front is. Probably a cousin who will one day be huge.)

And that is not even all of the boys! There are seven total. Yes, SEVEN.

At least my mother-in-law is not so much with the largeness. I don't feel so alone. So very, very alone... you know, what with the shortness and all? Okay, fine, in my in-laws' defense I should disclose that I am only 5'3", but still! Giants. All of them.

However, since it is apparent to me even now that in a few years my Mack and TD are going to look almost exactly like the cuties in the pictures below, I suppose I can forgive Aaron's family their freaky bigness.

(Did you know that in small towns you can carry around large shotguns while wearing an excess of camouflage-- which pretty much flatters any figure, by the way-- without anyone looking twice? It's true! I am so serious.)

PRETTY.

But I digress. The show ended with Willow-- I mean LILY-- getting arrested for public urination after going to the store to buy a pregnancy test. Honestly. How surreal is that?! Oh, not that I've ever been arrested for public urination, but it could have happened! You don't know!

I'm totally watching again this week, I tell you what, just to see if anything else resembles my life. Ooh! Maybe someone will be arrested after she finds a hotel room key (while drying off with a towel she found on a deck chair after being thrown into a fancy shmancy hotel pool fully clothed), decides to take just a quick little peek at one of the fancy rooms, gets caught "breaking and entering" by the Chief of Police whose key she happened to swipe and whose room she happened to take a peek at while he was innocently chillin' in the jacuzzi (even though he was totally drunk off his butt and confused, and she didn't even go into his room at all, and she certainly didn't steal his keg because, I mean, where would she have PUT it, right?!), then subsequently gets cuffed, escorted through a lobby of curious onlookers, and hauled off to jail! Hoo! FUH-NEE!

Not that I've ever done that either. As if.

Open Letter to UNICEF

2006-01-13T11:38:00.000-08:00

A little background courtesy of the AP, in case you missed it:

CARACAS, Venezuela Jan 8, 2006 -- The American singer and activist Harry Belafonte called President Bush "the greatest terrorist in the world" on Sunday and said millions of Americans support the socialist revolution of Venezuelan leader Hugo Chavez.

Belafonte led a delegation of Americans including the actor Danny Glover and the Princeton University scholar Cornel West that met the Venezuelan president for more than six hours late Saturday and attended his television and radio broadcast on Sunday.

"No matter what the greatest tyrant in the world, the greatest terrorist in the world, George W. Bush says, we're here to tell you: Not hundreds, not thousands, but millions of the American people ... support your revolution," Belafonte told Chavez during the broadcast.

Oh no he DI'NT!

UNICEF was quick to distance themselves, naturally.

Fired up, I sent several executives at UNICEF the following e-mail:

On January 9, 2006, you stated in a press release that "Comments over the weekend by Harry Belafonte in Venezuela were made as a private citizen." However, I have to wonder why UNICEF does not find a more diplomatic goodwill ambassador, one who does not require the organization's disavowal of his public statements. I am sure there are many more temperate candidates available. When your organization lets comments like Belafonte's slip by unchallenged you lend those comments credence by default. His comments have had a negative impact on UNICEF, whether he stated them as a private citizen or UNICEF goodwill ambassador.

UNICEF is a wonderful charity. I would hate to see this organization lose donations due to the outrageously stupid statements of Harry Belafonte.

That's all I have to say about that.

"You should have seen the one that got away!"

2006-01-12T11:57:00.000-08:00

OH. MAH. GOODNESS.

Remember this kitchen? Remember these crazy kids?!

Loving the feather in my hair, and Aaron's crazy curls.

*sigh*

Remember?

Gimme a DOLLAR!

2006-01-11T16:09:00.000-08:00

Hannah would like to share a story with her friends and family:

Share Video at DropShots.com

It was a thing of beauty. Aaron totally cried.

A Day in the Life of a Six-Year-Old Drama Queen

2006-01-11T15:55:00.000-08:00

Share Video at DropShots.com

(I ask you: Is it possible for a momma's heart to burst with pride? In the good, metaphorical way, not the bad, "Someone Call An Ambulance!" way? Because aaaaw... CUTE. That's my baby girl.)

Little things I love about you (Anniversary Edition)

2005-12-30T03:35:00.000-08:00

(Note to Aaron: Hey! I didn't forget, I just thought it was still WEDNESDAY, I swear!)

That after thirteen years and three children, you still gawk like a horny teenager and whistle appreciatively as I strut my stuff around the bedroom en deshabille.

That you have almost learned that I am SUCH a poor sport and absolutely cannot stand to be the butt of practical jokes: like the time soon after we were married when you thought it would be oh-so-hilarious to pour ice water on me while I was in the shower, then jump in with me pointing and jeering, "Woo-hoo-hoo! Ha, ha, HA!" (I still feel just awful about the handprint welt I made when I slapped you in the chest... no, really); or the time you played that dandelion trick on me and I yelled and punched you so hard in the chest your little sister thought we would be getting a divorce before the week was over (I still maintain shoving a dandelion in my mouth is not in any way amusing); or that New Year's Eve when we were playing Monopoly with your brothers and you freaking bankrupted me within the first ten minutes, causing me to burst into tears, throw my game piece at you, and stomp out of the room in a huff (okay, in my defense? I was EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT with our first child and WAAAY hormonal). Consequently you have been forced to direct all your prankish ways toward the children, who, incidentally, will totally be needing therapy when they grow up.

That you give me almost exclusive control of the remote control. Of course, this is mostly just to avoid hearing me whine and kvetch, but still! And you don't even complain TOO much about my compulsive need to adjust the volume, my incessant commentating, and a sad tendency to rewind. Um, a LOT.

That even though you claim never to meddle in anyone's bidness (because RUDE, right?), every time you get on the phone with one of your six brothers, the words, "What you oughta do..." pop out of your mouth, accompanied by a lengthy discourse on just what YOU would do if you were in his situation. Time and again, as you well know. Of course, this is pandemic in your family-- that's why one of your sisters-in-law calls all y'all The What You Oughta Tribe-- so it is more endearing than annoying, due to the whole genetic aspect. But still? Kind of annoying. But mostly endearing!

That you totally support my American Idol obsession, even going so far as to attend the American Idols LIVE concert at the MCI Center in DC on my birthday. Even though I was totally decked out in my Constantine t-shirt. Even though when Constantine burst onto the stage belting out Hard to Handle I was all, "Oh, yes you ARE hard to handle, you hawt little Secret Greek Idol Luvah, you! Rawr!" Even though I kept making a break for it down the aisle trying to capture on video his Bohemian Rhapsody. Even though the stupid, hatin' security guard repeatedly chased me back to my seat yelling, "Stop running in the aisles! It's against fire code! Hey! Get down off that chair! It's a safety hazard! Blah blah blah!" to which I cried out, "BUT I'M SHORT!" Even when Carrie came out singing Inside Your Heaven and all the Idols came back out and joined in at the second verse, and I teared up as I swayed and waved my glowstick. You just smiled understandingly at me and said evenly, "I will stand, but I am NOT waving the glowstick."

That you still willingly attend movies with me despite the sad fact that I am a unrepentant Movie Talker and there is just no reforming me.

That, although you are freakishly strong (right Kalki?), ruggedly sexy, and would rather drive a nail through your thumb with a nailgun (remember when you actually did that?! OUCH.) than have to hit the mall and shop the sale with me, you totally recognize there is no shame in getting in touch with your feminine side and will unabashedly enjoy watching arguably "girly" shows such as Gilmore Girls and Veronica Mars with me, as well as old reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And although we used to squabble over the Oil of Olay face lotion (until I finally bought you your own bottle, you big baby) and you often sneak my "special" (read: "pricey") Aeto Bamboo & Wild Mango Fortifying Hair Mask, I can honestly say I would not want you any other way.

That even though we found ourselves engaged after knowing each other only six weeks, and we almost gave my mother a heart attack when we insisted on being married a mere six weeks after that, I could not have picked a more perfect husband. Luckily! Because good LORD, man! How crazy was THAT?!

That you are an extraordinarily loving and involved father to three of the most precious people in my life. They (and I) are lucky to have you.

I love you, Aaron.
Happy 13th anniversary.

Hitting the Sights

2005-12-14T03:39:00.000-08:00

Seriously. How cute are we?! Huh?! I mean, could we be any cuter?! I just don't think so.

Look! My handsome boys! At the National Christmas Tree! LOOK! Oh, I kid. Totally kidding. I'm a kidder. That's what I do. Kid, kid, KID! The National Christmas Tree was WAY too ginormous to fit in a close-up picture...

I think this is one of my most favoritest pictures. Like, EVAH! Aaron took it as Alli and I were admiring the view at Federal Triangle, an area just north of the National Mall that stretches from the White House to the Capitol Building. We had just passed a teensy, makeshift, open-air ice skating rink. The kids fell in love with the Zamboni.

Oh, here's one that is a bit older (last month), but I just had the roll developed and there it was in all it's ADORABLENESS.

Don't you just want to put them in your pocket so you can take them out and hug and squeeze them whenever you want?! Because aaaaaw!

Just because.

2005-12-09T15:50:00.000-08:00

Day is done, gone the sun, from the lakes, from the hills, from the sky...

2005-11-11T19:43:00.000-08:00

I am a big bawl baby.

During my children's Patriots' Day program this morning, when my 4th grade son's class stood and sang in tribute to MLK Jr: "There was a man in America who had a dream they say... that all the people of the earth could live in peace one day!" I admit it. I teared up.

When the children stood and sang the Armed Forces Medley - The Caissons Go Rolling Along, Anchors Aweigh, Semper Paratus, The Wild Blue Yonder, and From The Halls Of Montezuma - and all the military parents in the auditorium stood up proudly - some in uniform, some not - as their individual branches of the armed forces were honored through youthful voices lifted in song, I may have busted a tear. Maybe two.

You see, both of my grandfathers fought in World War II against the terrorists of their day.

Major Lyle Heedum, my mother's dad, was an infantryman in the Pacific during the war. He also served two tours of duty in Germany and fought in the Korean War.

Lieutenant Orville Shelton, my dad's father, was awarded two purple hearts during his military career. The first time he was injured was when he stepped on a land mine somewhere in North Africa. He was blown through the air into some bushes and knocked unconscious, and since no one could find him he was reported dead. I tell you what, he sure raised a stir when he woke up three days later and staggered back to headquarters covered in blood. He always joked that everyone in headquarters turned absolutely white when he walked in the door. The second time he was injured was 100 miles north of Rome when his troop ran under a bridge to escape an aerial bombing attack. Everyone in his troop died that night. Everyone but my Grandpa. He lived, but suffered significant health problems for the rest of his life.

Aaron's grandfather Delbert was a ball turret gunner who was captured by German soldiers after they shot down his crippled B17. After free-falling from over 30,000 feet in the air (resulting in frostbite), he was captured and held in a POW camp for more than a year before liberation. He lost his eye to shrapnel and ate rats to stay alive, but he came home a hero, by damn. He also earned a Purple Heart.

Even Aaron's great-grandfather was a naval officer in World War I.

So, although both of my grandfathers have passed away, one fairly recently, today we honor them anyway.

Aaron's grandfather is alive and kicking, and a fairly well-known cowboy poet, and today we honor him, too.

We owe them, and others like them, the life we know today. They should have our respect and lasting gratitude. I know they have mine.

So God bless the troops who have fought for America in the past. And God bless the soldiers who are fighting for this country today, as well as those who will in the future. This country and nations all over the world owe our troops, past and present, a debt which can never truly be repaid.

So yes. I cried today. I did. And I don't care.
I don't.

For the heroes
For the patriots
For the soldiers
For all the pioneers
I'll always be an American
And I'll always cry American tears.

Halloween Spoooooooks!

2005-10-15T10:30:00.000-07:00

Well, the kids decided to use their allowance money to go all out on costumes this year, so we went to Party City and got CRAZY! And let's just say I'm not complaining about buying ready-made costumes which are made already saving me from having to make them. Because they are already MADE! And ready. YES!

Tanner decided to dress as an eeeeevil DEMENTOR (wooooooo), escaped from the bowels of the wizard prison, Azkaban. The mask looks stupid. He will just pull the hood over his face and make kissy faces. If you don't know what I'm talking about then you should READ THE HARRY POTTER BOOKS.

Hannah told me she is sick and tired of being a heavenly fairy princess because she has been a fairy princess for as long as she can remember, you know, for, like, the past four years or something! So she decided to go in an entirely different direction, the Little Devil...

Allison. In a surprising turn of events, she decided to dress as a big ol' ugly TROLL this year! Oh, I kid. As if. Allison must be LOVELY, y'all! After much deliberation on the pros and cons of all the Disney Princess characters, she settled on dressing as Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Aaaaaw! CUTE.

My little cutie pies. Totally too cute to spook.

Our New House: Part III

2005-09-25T14:32:00.000-07:00

WAIT! Start here for full tour.
Then go here for Part II.

Downstairs half-bath AFTER (sorry no BEFORE pix, but trust me... YUCK!):

Awesome wainscoting!
Kiddos' bath AFTER (sorry, same as above; but feel free to ooh and aah over the cute li'l flower stencils!)

Phew! We hope you enjoyed your tour! Now please, family and friends, feel free to come visit ANY TIME! We will make room for you and show you a GOOD time in Our Nation's Capital.

P.S. Our room is not yet finished, for those who noticed its conspicuous absence from the pictorial essay. To be continued at a later date.
:)

Our New Home: Part II

2005-09-25T14:13:00.000-07:00

WAIT! Start here for the full tour.

Kitchen BEFORE:

Kitchen AFTER (Please note the Euro-chic laundry center right in our kitchen! All the flats in London and Paris have them... Hee. It means our place is wicked small, yo?):

Notice the kiddos' Chore Charts on the bottom half of the refrigerator? Those are working swell, I tell you. SWELL!

TO BE CONTINUED...

Our New Home

2005-09-25T12:31:00.000-07:00

Hey, y'all! As Aaron says, our new place wasn't a fixer-upper until he got through with it. Ain't it the truth? We knocked down a few walls, then a built a few, renovated the downstairs half bath by installing wainscoting and a new pedestal sink, pulled up carpeting and chipped out ceramic tiles to lay some gorgeous bamboo flooring in the the living room and hall, replaced a banister with a half-wall, put up baseboards, built a HA-YUGE Ikea loft bed for T.D, tore down FUGLY wall paper borders in the kitchen and ALL bathrooms, and then repainted the entire place! Because we are CRAZY.

Anyhoos, we thought you might want to see what we've been working on the past few months, so here is a pictorial essay of our efforts. Keep in mind, we have not yet finished hanging pictures, curtains, etc. All righty then. Away we go!

Welcome to our home:

Here's the living room BEFORE:
Now AFTER:

My sad little window seat BEFORE:
Happy little window seat AFTER:

Kiddos' room BEFORE:

Kiddos' room AFTER:
(Girls' side)

(TD's side)

This is a FULL- (not TWIN-) sized loft... HA-YUGE.

We built TD's desk out of a door (from a wall we tore down). I just had one of my BRILLIANT ideas, is all.

TO BE CONTINED...

The rhythm IS gonna get you. Eventually.

2005-09-20T11:30:00.000-07:00

Oh GOODY! Lookit, guys! It's Karaoke Night at the Lambson house!

You know what I freaking LOVE about this picture? No, not that my girls have the cutest dang matching pj's, or that one can see the bad-A cable lights Aaron installed, or that one can't help but appreciate the SWEET carbonized bamboo flooring he laid which is utterly dazzling in its bambooiness. No, not even that upon closer inspection one can see my little Mack's televised face reflected in the mirror behind Little Miss Drama Queen there on the couch. It's not even the books! Library books! Full of information! Strewn everywhere! All willy-nilly-like! Nope. None of these.

What I love about this picture is the oblivious look on TD's face as he concentrates on the string magic he's teaching himself, utterly ignoring, nay, blatantly disregarding, the karaoke moment going on around him. Because he is 9 years old and apparently WAY too cool for Karaoke Night. To which I say, good heavens! How is he my child?! Is it possible he is a changeling? Switched at birth? The child of a woman with no dramatic or karaoke-loving tendencies whatsoever?! Because WEIRD!

Then? Then, guys? THEN?! TD was made to realize the impossible-to-ignore hypnotic pull of The Phantom of The Opera. You see, Mack and Alli were just about to the part in the song when the Phantom commands Christine, "Sing my Angel of Music!" and she begins those opera chords which grow higher and higher and HIGHER until she is singing so high and so beautifully that you can barely STAND IT? And glass trembles, but doesn't quite shatter? And just as they hit THAT note, you know, the note which pierces your very SOUL? It was at that point that TD suddenly succumbed to his roots.

This here's what you call "Bringing It On Home." And my faith in genetics? Restored.

For this shot alone...

2005-09-17T16:59:00.000-07:00

...the weekend trip to the lake (or "Loch," in this case-- how very Scottish, aye?!) was TOTALLY worth it.

Summer lovin', had me a blast...

2005-07-03T06:32:00.000-07:00

Grandpa sent some pictures, and boy! Does this look like good times or what?!

I say "air quotes" because "finger quotes" sounds pornographic.

2005-06-23T08:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, during my WAH day (the day in which I work at my home), I decided to play Supermom and walk my li'l kiddos to school. Because I was home yesterday. You know, working? While at home? La la la la! I get to work at home! Only on Wednesdays! But still! Mwah ha ha!

So, anyhoosy, as we were walking along, Allison skipped up beside me and cheerfully shouted out, "Only three more days left of school!"

Okay. Here is where things get embarrassing. Not for the first time, mind you, I was slapped in the face with my very own self reflected in the form of my six-year-old daughter. Alli smiled saucily at me (imagine!) and stated in her best-- no, my best-- Lady Disdain voice, "Then I won't be in kindergarten anymore!" And, I kid you not, darned if she didn't throw the ol' air quotes around the word "kindergarten."

That's right... the cutest little upright Bunny Foo-Foo air quotes you ever did see! It was two little bunny-ear twitches, in rapid-fire succession, like, "kinder" (twitch), "garten" (twitch!). Okay, sure, she only used one hand, with no regard for proper air-quote form whatsoever (unlike me, an air quote purist, who uses both hands in a more angled, peace-sign approach, and wraps those suckers by the syllable, if you know what I'm saying), but her intentions? Pure.

Of course, after the initial incredulous stare (Oh, no she didn't... did she?... did my baby just use air quotes?! Nuh-uh! NUH-UH!), I burst out laughing. I know, I know! But, honestly, all y'all. I couldn't help myself!

Alli just stared at me, puzzled, because of course "kindergarten" is totally air-quote worthy, right? I mean, obviously.

So, ever the educator, I took a moment and tried to explain it, tried to impress upon her the vital importance of irony and humor in this oh-so-clever form of verbal punctuation, and the subtle innuendo involved in wielding the air quote effectively, but her gorgeous baby blue eyes, they just glazed over, and she began to hum this super annoying song from Barbie in the Nutcracker (oh, THANKS, MOM, by the way!), which clued me in to the realization that I had completely lost her, and then I thought, "Oh no!" as I wondered whether or not she would be doing that air quote thingy again or did I totally ruin everything with my impromptu pop culture-slash-literary terms mini-lesson because holy cow I totally want her to do it again because that was the CUTEST! THING! EVAH!

So, yeah, Aaron has officially added Excessive Use of the Air Quotes to the list of things I should refrain from doing in front of the children. Because, apparently, it is "annoying."

Rude.

Dad Update

2005-06-16T08:32:00.000-07:00

Dad called me last night. He had another heart attack, a mild one, while partying it up in Laughlin, but he says the doctors at the hospital are "taking good care" of him. I am still trying to get a hold of Mom. TURN ON YOUR FREAKING CELL PHONE, MAMACITA!

Sheesh.

I'll keep y'all posted...

Summer Cuts!

2005-06-16T07:37:00.000-07:00

In order to make life much more bearable for the Grandmas this summer-- what with the swimming all day and the playing out in the wind and sun and and the sweating and the tendency their hair has to get all tangly and such, and the girls' subsequent proclivity towards shrieking and crying and utterly refusing to let me comb out said hair to get it under some semblance of freaking control-- Mack and Tater grudgingly agreed to the dreaded "Summer Cut."

In the chairs:

Aaaaaw! Cuties!:

Confession: I actually took a pair of scissors to Alli's head when we got home and attempted to cut it a TAD shorter. I don't know why. I may have been a bit overzealous in my attempt, as I slipped and sliced open my hand pretty early on (freakin' SUPER sharp haircutting scissors!) and had to cut things short (woo! crazy pun lady! making funny puns! or not so funny! but clever! or not so clever! whatever!). So, um, curly hair = good, if you have zero experience layering and cutting. Just so you know.

Regardless, we are all pretty pleased with the end results.

The Mack strutted around a bit and told me she thinks her hair is "super cute!" (Aaron has since asked me to stop using the word "Super!" around the children.) Alli thinks she looks like a boy. I assured her with a heartfelt, "But a CUTE little boy!"

After some posing and preening in front of the mirror, they had a joint epiphany and ran over to beg me to buy them some super cute matching clothes so they could be identical twins and confound all their friends and schoolmates. I freely admit that I vetoed this idea, much to their dismay. I mean, come on. We all know they were just fishing for new clothes. And matching pink flip-flops. Nice try, girlies. Nice try.

In related news, TD got a buzz cut. We like to rub his head and coo, "Fuuuuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzy!" Apparently, so do many of the girls in his class at school. So, as far as summer-cut satisfaction goes, it's all good in the TDosphere. Oh, yes.

Long live the summer cuts, y'all!

How to Win Friends and Influence People...

2005-06-14T08:53:00.000-07:00

Insist on accompanying your Momma to the doctor, and once there embark wholeheartedly-- no, seriously, with ABANDON-- into a varied and seemingly endless repertoire of rooster calls, for some reason learned that very day in kindergarten, while announcing to the waiting room full of bored and/or sick people an engaging and insightful delineation of each individual call.

"...and this one? Is a SCARED rooster!"

Momma! Call it, "Allison's BEAUTIFUL dancing!"

2005-06-11T07:05:00.000-07:00

Alli recorded this a month ago during the "Mia ha ha!" craze, and has been harrassing me to post it ever since, so here you go, Tater! Now you're FAMOUS!

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Just think! You'll be enjoying this cutie-pie's energy for the WHOLE summer!

My baby girl is SIX! YEARS! OLD!

2005-06-08T11:38:00.000-07:00

Remember when?

Just look at her now!

Behold.
I present Ten Absolutely Fabulous Reasons to Love Alli Tate. (<-- click)

The Scrumptrillescently Fabulous Mystery Readers!

2005-06-01T11:10:00.000-07:00

Ooooooh, y'all? 'Member when your parents visited your classroom and you were all proud and excited and shizz? Before you realized your parents were an absolute embarrassment to you? And seriously weird? And out-of-touch with all things cool? Complete losers? 'Member? Do ya?

Thankfully, little Mack was absofreakinglutely THRILLED to have both her parents attend as the illustrious "Mystery Readers" in her 1st grade class. Honestly. Can you blame her? I mean, we ARE pretty awesome. I'm just sayin'.

Anywhos, Aaron captivated the wee children with his heartfelt reading of Pippi Longstocking, while the Momma worked it behind the scenes, taking pictures.

Okay, admittedly, not the greatest pictures, mind you, but pictures nonetheless. Freak. I need that new Nikon D-70 camera, I'm telling you. Like, NOW. There were some technical difficulties, y'all. It's not my fault! But I persevered.

So here is the pictorial essay of our trip to Mack's classroom. Oh, and our subsequent trip to the school cafeteria for lunch. Oh, yes. Yum. RAVIOLI. The pictures may not have turned out as scrumptrillescently fabulous as I wanted them to, but the look of utter joy and adoration on my daughter's face as her daddy read to the class? Priceless.

Impromptu Life Lesson

2005-05-22T13:03:00.000-07:00

Every so often a parent is lucky enough to have the opportunity to impart world-wise pearls of wisdom to his or her children. Especially when said parent has a captive audience. Say, in the car, for instance. Totally. Today was just such an opportunity. It went a little something like this...

Momma: You are all smart kiddos. And you can be anything you want to be, you know that, right?

Hannah: Yeah!... Oh. Except circus people. I don't care for circus people.

*Awkward pause* (I mean, honestly. Who can argue with that?!)

Hannah: I want to be a mouth doctor!

Dad: You could do that. Wait, do you mean a dentist or an orthodontist?

Momma: Ooooooh, orthodontists make good money. People pay a whole lot of cash for orthodontia.

Tanner: Orthodontia? Orthodontia?! That's weird. Shouldn't it be, like, orthodonticism? Yeah, definitely orthodonticism.

(Oh, ho ho! Someone's a word geek like his momma! Smart-aleck.)

Momma: What about you, Alli?

Allison: Oh, I want to be a dentist. Wait. Or an astronaut ballerina. Actually, yeah, I want to be an astronaut ballerina!

Momma: What exactly does an astronaut ballerina do?

Allison: Um, they dance in outer space.

Tanner: Well, what's the point of getting paid for that?! I mean, will people come and watch them?

Alli: Sure. Yeah! Of course!

Tanner: No! No! People can't just go into outer space to watch ballet! Only astronauts can do that.

Allison: Well, I will dance for them.

(Hey. You go, girl. You go.)

Hannah joins in the "Dragostea din tei" FUN!

2005-05-18T16:42:00.000-07:00

Hannah loved this so much, she decided to make her own music video! Enjoy!

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Houston, we have a problem...

2005-05-18T14:45:00.000-07:00

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Now if she could just stop...

An evening of "Firsts" for the ladies of the fam-damily.

2005-05-16T16:37:00.000-07:00

Guess who made her very first granny-shot basket?! Into a regulation height basket, I might add! Just guess! Okay, here is a hint:

I captured her sporty granny form and mad b-balling skillz with this money shot:

Way to go, Mack!

And for the very first time, after a slight adjustment to the height of her bike seat, Alli pedaled solo! Our BABY! As soon as I figure out how to post the digital stream recording, I'm all over it.

Student of the Week

2005-05-08T17:16:00.000-07:00

Lookee!
Lookee who was picked to be Student of the Week! Lookee who gets to bring to school a poster All About Hannah! With cool pictures! And fancy stickers! A poster which she says looks "VERY good!"
That's right, it's Hannah!
Hooray for Yay!
Congrats, little Mack.

Hannah: I get to be second in line!
Momma: Not first?
Hannah: Um, Mrs. Ennis chooses another person for first. I don't know why.
Momma: What a gyp.

We got caught in a thunderstorm, but it was worth it.

2005-04-23T18:43:00.000-07:00

(CAUTION: Alert! Alert! Freakishly white legs may blind you! People who work in Cubicle Land rarely see the sun! Repeat! Freakishly white legs ahead if you chose to view the slideshow! You have been warned!)

This afternoon we decided to go on an adventure and explore the Washington and Old Dominion bike trail which runs through Vienna. Unfortunately, all of our bikes (along with most of our belongings) are still in storage back in Arizona. Yeah, it's a long story. Anyhoos, let me just say, we cannot WAIT to get our bikes and explore it the way God intended, because the little bit we saw while on foot was sure beautiful. There were DEER, I say! And purty FLOWERS!

Oooooh, we even did some impromptu teambuilding exercises in the form of helping each other cross a babbling creek bed over a sufficiently sturdy fallen tree trunk. WAY reminiscent of Dirty Dancing, y'all. (Candice, you hear me, right? Uh-HUH!) WAY. But, you know, without the dancing. Um, and no Patrick Swayze. Just children shrieking hysterically and TGIM yelling, "Don't look down! DON'T LOOK DOWN!!" But still, I was thinking about Patrick Swayze the whole time. And humming "Hey! Baby!" by Bruce Channel. Good times.

Well, I suppose I will let the pictures talk for themselves. (There are actually about 12 more pictures, but dangit, I am fresh out of bandwidth for the month on my Flickr online photo account. I'll add more pictures and update the set next month. *heavy sigh*)

Click here for the slide show. You know the drill. Enjoy.

And yes, Arizona, it really IS that green out here!

To Shuffle Off This Mortal Coil

2005-04-18T14:17:00.000-07:00

My life is a tapestry characterized by elaborate pictorial designs. My childhood, though only comprising a small portion of my life so far, makes up a large, colorful corner section. Occasionally, I have been known to bask in the memories of a few of its more colorful parts. Lately, I find myself more and more often taking the tapestry out of its storage place in the attic of my mind, and airing it out.

The images are all there. I grew up in Phoenix, Arizona, where the sweltering summer sun baked the days so fiery hot that the tarry goo in the asphalt literally bubbled in the streets; where sunburned, barefooted children in tank tops and Dove short-shorts rode their banana-seat bikes to the crispy, brownish-green lawn at the Digital; where hot air balloons occasionally and thrillingly made emergency landings on sprawling industrial park lawns; where dirty, stinky, disheveled kids played Keep Away or a loose game of kickball until dusk when Dad pulled the old aqua-blue Chevy into the cul-de-sac, threw one of them on his lap, and let the chosen one drive the car all the way into the driveway; and where Grandma and Grandpa’s Heedum’s backyard swimming pool, complete with diving board, water snakes, and pool sprinklers, was the oasis playground for me, my five siblings, and all the Heedum cousins.

You know, a large portion of the tapestry of my childhood is comprised of that pool scene.

Childhood Scene 1:
I see Grandma and Grandpa Heedum’s house, air-popped buttery popcorn in enormous Tupperware bowls; the boisterous laughter of women playing cards; a crowded pool complete with inflatable rafts, orange floaties, and rousing games of Shark and Marco Polo; water snakes slithering and snaking across the bottom of the pool, stirring up the desert dust instead of cleaning it; peeling, sun-burned noses and green-tinted chlorine-hair; and too many wet kids in bathing suits slipping and sliding through Grandma’s kitchen.

I see my 7-year-old, wet, bathing suited self dancing around at the arcadia door, pounding on the glass, leaving behind oozing wet scrinchy marks as I cupped my hands to look in at the ladies sitting at the dining room table playing cards, trying to get my mommy’s attention. Shoot. Anyone’s attention, really.

"Mommy! Lookit! Mommy! Grandma! LOOKIT! Lookit me!"

When I could finally get someone to watch I would race to the diving board and execute some elaborate cherry bomb, or back flip, or twisty dive through an inner tube. When I would emerge from the depths of the pool, proud and spluttering, I would race back to the arcadia door and smash my face up against it, water dripping in my eyes, until I could see my mommy turn away from her cards for a moment to shout from inside, "Uh-huh! Good one, Cathy!" Then she would turn back to her game, laughing and joking, and I would return to the pool, satisfied.

I remember the feeling of walking into the cool, air-conditioned house from the sweltering Arizona desert heat outside, and how it would immediately chill the pool water in my hair and the damp swimsuit against my skin. I would literally freeze in the doorway before the grown-up chorus of "SHUT THE DOOR!" would spur me into action.

Honestly. I still love swimming, but somehow, the Olympic-sized indoor pool at our Rec Center doesn't bring me the sublime satisfaction of hot-footing it across the foot-searing cooldecking surrounding Grandma and Grandpa's pool and jumping into the cool, sun-heated water.

Childhood Scene 2:
Another large chunk of the childhood tapestry is in the section devoted to the awe the Heedum grandkids felt toward Grandpa Heedum. Seriously. He scared the bejeebies out of us.

When I think of my grandparents’ house I always see a stifling tobacco-smoke haze hanging in the air, as Grandpa, apart from his card-playing wife and daughters, would sit guarding the back door to the pool, watching television and smoking cigarette after cigarette. Now, in my mind I know that Grandpa quit smoking years ago, when I was in my late teens, but I still see him like that, smoking a cigarette, watching television, snacking on and presiding over the elaborate spread my food-loving mom, aunts, and grandmother laid out for their weekly card-playing get-togethers. To our dismay, his probing eyes, although seemingly riveted to Hee Haw or Lawrence Welk, never missed small hands trying to sneak more popcorn or another powdered-sugary lemon square or a Cuckoo Cookie, maybe even some M & M’s if we were... just... super-duper... sneaky...

He observed everything: the card game, the food-sneaking, the swimming, the joking, but he rarely joined in. He listened to his family’s laughter, his daughters’ silly stories, and their hilariously obvious cheating tactics. Occasionally he barked out a comment (often sarcastic), or laughed at a joke, or told us "Go ask your mother!" when we tried to grab food, but he sat apart, and that is just the way it was. We didn’t question it. Still don’t. He loved us, and we loved him. But he was apart.

I remember once when I was very young, on a Memorial Day, Grandpa went out and fired up the BBQ grill. He joked around with my Uncle Lyle while they drank beer and he cooked the hot dogs and hamburgers, and we were all so surprised because it seemed like Mommy and Grandma and the Aunts always cooked. But Grandpa apparently felt that grilling was a man’s duty, so there you go. Then, after dinner, he got in a bathing suit, pulled the special, extra-large, Do Not Touch inner tube out of the heretofore unplumbed depths of the hall swimming closet, and HE GOT IN THE POOL. He floated around, a wet, floating Jonathan Winters (he is the spitting image, I kid you not), beer in hand, cigarette held carefully aloft, and you can bet none of us dared to splash or yell or pick up the water snakes or make waves of any kind. Because, dear lord, the world had gone insane and Grandpa was IN THE POOL.

Sometimes, when the tapestry gets cloudy, I think maybe it’s just the cigarette smoke.

Childhood Scene 3:
The last picture that captures my attention is the pinochle game. My mom and her sisters and her mother love to play cards. As far back as I can remember, when the Heedum women got together, they gathered around the dining room table, where cards were played and food was eaten. And, it goes without saying, there was the laughter. The Heedum women? Are Laughers. Loud Laughers. And Loud Talkers, as a matter of fact. Oh, ho, ho, yes they are. You know the type. So if you know me personally, you must understand: it is genetic! I had absolutely no say in the matter! Because, yes, you see, I have inherited the Loud Laugher/Loud Talker gene, which makes for good times in cubicle-land, let me tell you. Especially when I get phone calls. Or an especially funny email. I get shushed, y’all!

But the pinochle game and the laughter of the women in my family– the Aunts, Grandma, Mom– it is IN me, and a part of me, woven into my tapestry like black thread, bringing it all together. And though it can (and has) cause people to misunderstand what I am feeling, to doubt my sincerity, to think I am stronger or more resilient than I really am, I am thankful it is in me.

Because when I break my stupid ankle doing a simple cartwheel, I laugh. When I get viral gastroenteritis and hurl so hard I get blood-red bruising around my eyes, I laugh. When my husband hits me in the head with a racquetball going mach 7, after I cry like a baby and cuss him to bits, I laugh. When we get a lousy louse in the house, after I clean and clean and nitpick and scratch and clean and clean and CLEAN, I laugh. When I joke about someone hurting my feelings or breaking my heart, I laugh. When somebody close to me dies, I dig desperately into my mind and dredge up the funny memories about that person, and I laugh. I do. I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s a part of my tapestry.

New Scene:
Now, as a grown woman, I have yet another scene to add to my tapestry. Amongst the wedding day, and the births of my children, and the deaths of loved ones, there is this:

It is the image of the Heedum sisters and their mother sitting in a hospital room in the ICU of a Phoenix hospital, waiting for Grandpa to return from dialysis. Exhausted from the worry of the feeding tubes and ventilators and Do Not Resuscitate orders and Medical Power of Attorney decisions to be made, yet there they sit, the Heedum women, crossword puzzles, novels, and TV remote thrown aside, brand-new gift shop cards dealt across an unused bed-table, and a high-spirited game of pinochle in progress.

Loud laughter. Silly stories. Blatant cheating. More than once a curious face peeks into the room, the face of another person sitting vigil in the ICU, fearing the worst and hoping for the best.

"Hey! You ladies are having way too much fun in here!... Can I play?"

They smile and scratch their heads at the women who can laugh when there are hard times ahead. Because Grandpa will not be doing dialysis anymore. And Mom and Grandma and my aunts? They know it. And they are dealing with it the only way they know how.

My life. This tapestry. As new sections of pictorial designs are created, I am thankful for the scenes that have come before, adding to the whole, bringing it all into perspective. Because even when someone leaves me behind, maybe shuffling off this mortal coil (if you will allow me to wax Shakespearean for a moment), they are always there, woven into my tapestry. In my mind and heart.

Forever.

That's what I thought.

2005-04-18T06:54:00.000-07:00

Hmmmm... Imagination killing devices or wicked smart sanity savers?
You decide.

Maryland shore excursion pictures coming soon to a computer near you.

Virgina Lambsons' Cherry Blossom Adventure

2005-04-10T11:20:00.000-07:00

For a picture essay on our family trip into DC for the annual Cherry Blossoms Festival, 2005, just go on ahead and click RIGHT HERE.

Wait! Before you go ahead and click right there, I recommend viewing the pictures in slideshow format. This is quite easy. Once you have been redirected to the photos via the link above, simply click on "View as Slideshow" in the upper right-hand corner of the screen.

Unfortunately, I forgot to change the digital camera settings to a higher resolution picture, so they're a TAD grainy. Grrrrr!

Right, then. Carry on.

Cherry Blossom Festival

2005-04-10T06:50:00.000-07:00

We attended the DC Cherry Blossom Festival yesterday, April 9, 2005. (Which was also Mom and Dad Shelton's 40th anniversary, by the way! Congrats!) I am busy right now, but I took TONS of pictures, and will write about it this afternoon. For now, I've got these little gems to hold you over:

Aren't they pretty? The kids were busy picking blossoms when a conscientious passerbyer saw fit to warn us that it was illegal to pick cherry blossoms off trees in the Jefferson Memorial Basin. Oops! We thanked him and quit forthwith, as we all know MY track record with the law!

Here are the kids today, ready for church:

SOMEBODY has a HANS face going on! Freaky resemblance, y'all. FREAKY.

Okay, guys, feel free to say it with me: "Aaaw..."

I am an April Fool. But doggone it! that’s OKAY.

2005-04-04T08:16:00.000-07:00

April Fool’s Day, origin of the "Kick Me!" sign, is a holiday that evolved simultaneously in several cultures at the same time, from celebrations involving– among other things– the first day of spring. April Fool's Day has developed into an international prank fest, with different nationalities specializing in their own brand of humor at the expense of their friends and families. And this year, several friends and family could legitimately call me an April Fool, dangit!

Aaron, quite frankly, knows better. That is all I have to say about that.

Alli, on the other hand, called me at work just to say, "Hi, Mom. Um, Mom? There’s a spider on your phone!" Oh, what a kidder that child is! I mean, honestly. How cute is that?

TD put sugar in the salt shaker and SO got us all. I was WONDERING why he refused to salt his green beans! The boy loves his salt. Sweet sugary green beans are NOT tasty, by the way. Stinker!

Mack just sat back and enjoyed the ride. Um, I think. Uh-oh, now I’m worried, y’all! She’s sneaky, that one.

Anyway, we hope you guys are enjoying the first days of spring! We sure are. Because, the sun? It’s heavenly. And, yes, I am aware of the duality of that statement. Totally intended.

Pictures of the kiddos soon! (And us, maybe...) Pinky promise!

As Promised...

2005-03-26T19:20:00.000-08:00

My children take top honors in getting more dye on their fingers than the actual eggs for which the dye was intended.

See the happy, egg dyeing kiddos:

See the (kinda creepy) happy, dyed eggs:

See the horrific mess left behind by said kiddos and eggs:

Stay Tuned!

2005-03-25T16:46:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow, we decorate EASTER EGGS! Huzzah!

How to Etch a Place in My Heart

2005-03-25T16:41:00.000-08:00

Clean the entire house with actual disinfectant rather than with the usual haphazard swiping at things with dry cloths and shoving stuff under and behind the couch and/or beds, so when I get home from work (where I SO did not want to be because I still feel like bleeeccccchhhhh and absolutely HATE blowing my nose in public), my house smells pine fresh and bleachy clean. Mmmmm-mmmmm.

When I am sick and fast asleep in bed, quietly sneak into my bedroom and leave little pictures you have drawn of me and you with gossamer wings, in pink ruffled fairy princess dresses and jeweled crowns, flying through an enchanted forest, with bouquets of flowers in our hands, and the words, “i lik mi mom” printed across the bottom in beautiful, painstaking, five-year-old scrawl.

Continue to claim me as your wife and best friend, even when you discover my unnatural obsession with all things show tuney, and the frighteningly selective cognitive recall I possess exhibited in my irritating ability to sing every single stinking song in such varied musicals as Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Bye Bye Birdie, The King and I, and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, but no freaking clue what I was supposed to buy at the supermarket.

Refrain from mocking me when you catch me in the bathroom practicing (with theatrical abandon!) my classical monologue audition piece from Much Ado About Nothing, even though I have never auditioned for a Shakespeare production and probably never will. Um, because I am a wussy.

Give me THAT LOOK when I finally get my voice back after a severe sore throat and I can finally ask you in my hoarse, cracked voice to clean your stinking room, by golly, or so help me you’ll be sleeping in a cardboard box, and say in a sad, disappointed, seven-year-old, woman-of-the-world voice, “Oh, Mom. Your voice is… loud again.”

CABIN FEVER!

2005-03-20T18:24:00.000-08:00

Ooooooooooh, we're all sick, y'all! Sick, sick, SICK! Every last one of us! Well, Alli's feeling pretty perky lately, but she's still got the cough...

We are cooped up in our house which is, by the way, WAY too small for five hacking, sneezing, watering, feverish people, you know what I'm saying? Oh, I think you DO.

I'm doing my best, dragging my sick butt around the house handing out tissues and spraying great gusts of Lysol Disinfectant Spray (with Antibacterial Action!) everytime someone sneezes or coughs and whipping out the instant antibacterial hand sanitizing gel, but those germs? Those germs are tricksy.

Current Stats:

Cat = temp:101.5; sneezing: check!; coughing: only occasionally; sore throat: oh, ho, ho, yes indeedy!; oozing and/or stuffed orifices: check and check!

Aaron = temp:99.5; sneezing: nope; coughing: heck yes!, the icky, horrible wet one he gets, you know!; sore throat: yep; oozing and/or stuffed orifices: blech! I mean, yes.

TD = temp: 102.5; sneezing: check, check!; coughing: YES!; sore throat: yeah, "kind of" (which is "dang straight!" in TD-speak); oozing and/or stuffed orifices: yup.

Hannah = temp: 100; sneezing: no; coughing: yes, poor dear; sore throat: "I don't know..." (but she isn't eating much, so I'm thinking "yes"); oozing and/or stuffed orifices: um, she's used up an entire roll of toilet paper, does that tell you anything?

Alli = temp: normal, but was around 102 a few days ago; sneezing: no, thank goodness!; coughing: only when you ask her how she's feeling; sore throat: no, no, and no! Hurray!; oozing and/or stuffed orifices: all clear! (sadly, however, she caught the icky lice)

I know I'm stating the obvious here, but this is not QUITE the way we had planned to spend our Spring Break. Boo!

There’s a louse in our house!

2005-03-15T07:51:00.000-08:00

No, not Aaron. Hee. I had to leave work yesterday after I received a call from the kiddos' elementary school nurse. The conversation went something like this:

::Ring::Ring::

Momma: Hello?

School Nurse: Hi. This is the nurse from your children’s school. I have Hannah in my office. Um, we found a louse so someone needs to come pick her up.

Momma: What?

School Nurse: A louse. In her hair. Someone needs to pick her up.

Momma: I don’t understand.

School Nurse: You daughter has lice.

Momma: No she doesn’t.

School Nurse: I’m afraid she does.

Momma: Nope.

School Nurse: Yes!

Momma: Nu-uh.

School Nurse: Now, listen!

Momma: You are mistaken.

It went like that for a good while, until my scalp started to itch. Then my eyebrows. In a matter of minutes, after suddenly imagining other places those tricky cooties can take up residence (if you know what I mean), I went from normal Momma Mode to Full-on Panicked Momma with a FREAKING LOUSE IN THE HOUSE Hyper-mode! You know! I thought about snuggling in bed with Hannah the night before as I put her to sleep. I thought of letting her crawl into bed with me in the middle of the night because she had a scary dream. Scary dream, nothing! I could NOT stop scratching. GAH! They were everywhere!

The nurse kindly assured me that several children in Hannah's class had lice, and that getting lice has NOTHING WHATSOEVER to do with cleanliness, but I could tell. She was JUDGING me.

I ran to my boss’ office to let her know I had to leave early to pick up my daughter.

"She’s got lice!" I shouted, ripping out my ponytail to get better access to my scalp.

My boss eyed me warily. "Please... go," she said with a tight smile, her hand absently scratching her head.

So I rushed to the elementary school, ran into the nurse’s office, and yelled, "Check me! Check me!" I pushed some random little kid out of the way and squeezed into the itty-bitty, kid-sized cootie chair. The kid nurse obliged me and informed me I was bug free.

Huh. Sympathy itch.

Hannah proudly showed me her louse, which the nurse had so thoughtfully placed in a Ziploc bag for her. Of course, I took a moment to admire it before I squished it mercilessly and threw it in the nearest trash can.

"Mom!"

I assured her there would be plenty more where that came from, and by golly!, if I wasn’t right! You should see those things scamper to the surface when you put on the RID shampoo! It’s just like an arcade game, I tell you! Squish the Louse! 20 points! Pick the Nit! 50 points!

Hannah has long hair. Honestly, I literally nit-picked for hours! Legitimately! Overall, I’d say I probably racked up well over 2000 points.

Unfortunately, the harsh chemicals in RID are more irritating to the skin than the bugs, so tonight we’re going to try slathering her hair in olive oil, which I have since learned kills the lice more effectively. Then I’ll nit-pick some more. Because I’m the momma. That’s what I DO.

Old Towne Alexandria

2005-03-05T17:30:00.000-08:00

Darn tired of horses and carriages riding through their narrow alleyway, causing a ruckus while decent, hardworking people were trying to sleep, for Pete's sake, two homeowners took matters into their own hands. Thus, the Spite House was born. Or built. Whatev.

It's seven (7) feet wide! Someone actually lives there. I'd LOVE to see inside, wouldn't you? I believe it's in the Guiness Book for Narrowest House. D'oh!

Tanner was properly impressed.
(The girls and I didn't get to go on the adventure into Old Town today- they are sick- so we didn't actually see it. Just these pictures. BUMMER. Maybe next time.)

My Baby Is Reading!!

2005-03-05T16:48:00.000-08:00

Honest-to-goodness reading, ya'll!

::sniff::

Honestly. They grow up SO fast.

Next, there will be BOYS. And DATING!
::shudder::

Heh. Alli's leotard is on backwards. At least she still needs me to help her dress. Right? RIGHT?!

Grandma Sue's Visit and TD's Mad Magic Skillz

2005-03-03T17:30:00.000-08:00

Grandma Sue: What are you showing me today, Tanner?
Tanner: Whatever I feel like I wanna show you, gosh!

Oh, I kid. Actually, Tanner is showing off his mad skillz with sleight of hand. Um, and cat's cradle. You go, Tanner! You better work it out!

Grandma Sue has seen sooooo many things in her short time visiting: all of the monuments at the National Mall in D.C. (G. Sue: I liked the Lincoln Memorial... that was cool); Costco; the White House (Cat: with secret service men standing on top watching a protest march going on outside-- they had signs that said things like "Abstinence is Not Effective!", "Medication for Every Nation!" and "Condoms Save Lives!"... apparently we had stumbled upon the first ever "Students March Against AIDS!"); the Washington D.C. LDS Temple; Fair Oaks Mall; Costco; Pentagon City Mall; the Potomac River; Costco; oh, and Costco.

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish...

2005-03-03T17:18:00.000-08:00

In celebration of Dr. Seuss' 101 birthday, Hannah made these creative, intricate, thematic crowns (for herself, TD, and Alli) for the school Seussapalooza Parade. It's difficult to see, but they are quite detailed. The chillins marched through the corridors of their elementary school in those suckers, proud as could be.

Hannah: ALLI! YOU RUINED THE PICTURE!!! MOOOOOOOOM!

*sigh* Doesn't she look sweet?

Why-Yah!

2005-02-24T07:28:00.000-08:00

Alli: (running into house, out of breath) Hannah talked to a Stranger Danger!
Momma: She did wha'?
Alli: She told him where we lived! He can probably kidnap us now, huh?
Momma: Well... I don’t think–
Alli: But don’t worry, Momma, ‘cause I will do karate on him! Like this! Why-yah! WHY-YAH! (proceeds to demonstrate that she really DOES pay attention when Momma does Tae Bo, "why-yah!" notwithstanding.)

Despite the frightening lapse in city safety on my Hannah's part (which was discussed at length, I assure you, so we will move on), it is slightly comforting to know that my youngest little spitfire is determined to give any would-be attacker-slash-kidnapper a run for his money.

Why-yah, indeed.

We Miss Grandma Claire, Ya'll...

2005-02-22T07:09:00.000-08:00

Thanks for letting us borrow her for a little bit.

We love you, Claire.

This One's For Ammon

2005-02-20T05:23:00.000-08:00

Happy? Hee. :)

How Many More Miles to GO? HUH?! HOW MANY?! (*NEW: pictures added)

2005-02-17T12:07:00.000-08:00

One mad 75-mile dash from Mesquite to Las Vegas, three quick laps around the maternity ward to get things going and prove I was in labor so those crazy people wouldn't send me home, a few embarrassing fluid release and hyperventilation moments while in transition, one BIG, eye-popping push, and BAM!

Tanner Dean. 11:28 a.m. 7 pounds, 2 ounces. Not much in the way of hair. The kid that changed my life; no more just "wife," but "MOTHER," too. My buddy.

Happy 9th birthday, Tanner. We love you.

No, Really, Officer... I'm NOT Casing the Joint!

2005-02-16T00:28:00.000-08:00

Lest any of you think Claire is not having a fun, productive visit out here in Our Nation’s Capital, let me tell you a little story. It’s the story of a woman with a dream. Yes, a dream to sketch that quaint green house down the street, set back a bit from the main drag, just past the Nail, Nails, Nails shop.

Sketch pad in hand, this woman with a dream went to sketch this quaint green house. And if you know this woman, you also know she tends to lose herself in the moment, especially when that moment involves a sketch pad, a comfy perch, and a rambling, picturesque, gabled and turreted, Victorian-era home, complete with rotunda. Or is it a gazebo? Ooooh, a conundrum. Regardless, my point is, she may have been so absorbed in her work– nay, her craft– that she lost track of the time.

I know. Shocker.

After "a few hours" (!) this woman tells it, a man tentatively approached her.

“Um, whatcha doing?” he is reported to have asked.

Folks, we ain’t in St. Johns anymore, you know? I'm just sayin'.

Anyhoos, this friendly, trusting woman showed the man her drawings and they became bestest friends and went out and stole from the homeless and got their belly buttons pierced... Wait. That was Joan and Judith on Joan of Arcadia. But Judith is dead now, so we won’t dwell on it. My bad.

Where was I? Oh yes, the man invited this woman to the Art Center from whence he came, which happened to be situated a few doors down from the quaint green house, and he introduced her to many “nice, friendly people.” Soulmates in Art, if you will.

Here she learned that the picturesque Victorian-era home was not old at all, actually. It was built just a few years ago by a nice young couple.

“Which surprised me,” this woman relayed, “because it looks old.”

Of course, this woman with a dream is Claire. And, guys, she lived her dream and some. So you see? We Virginia Lambsons? We make dreams come true.

The Bad Way

2005-02-14T16:22:00.000-08:00

Okay. My children are currently climbing the walls-- CLIMBING THE WALLS, I say!-- in a veritable sugar frenzy, if you will. Climbing the walls, I tell you, and NOT in The Good Way (see "That AIN'T No Trick Photography"). No. In The Bad Way. The Crying-Screaming-Whining-Giggling-Swinging-from-the-Chandelier-because-I-Ate-TOO-MUCH-CANDY kind of way.

Stupid Valentine's Day.

Green Oliver the Parakeet... That's MISTER Oli to You!

2005-02-13T19:34:00.000-08:00

(Hannah bought a parakeet with her birthday money! Oli is a mellow, tame bird and we love him already.)

Hannah: My bird went under our dresser when I was holding him.

See close-up below:

Hannah: Look at him under there. He must have liked me so much he found a picture of me. And he really didn't want to come out.
(Allison: HEY! THAT'S where my picture went!)

Hannah: We finally got Oli out and I'm holding him. He is a nice bird and he doesn't bite us very much. He is blue, green and black, I think. And today Dad clipped his wings.

Lighten the Darkness

2005-02-13T19:18:00.000-08:00

See Claire.

See Claire do the laundry.
Launder, Claire! Launder!

See Claire sort.
Sort, Claire! Sor-- oops. Wait. Sort?
What's that you say? Colors shouldn't go in with the whites and a gallon of bleach and hot, hot, HOT water? Oops.

(I USED to be impressed that the Lambson children did their own laundry. HA. Now I see they were only looking out for themselves. In fact, I'll hazard a guess that most of them are probably not at all fond of tie-dye. Well, my kids are NOW. Hee.)

Yep. We're having fun giving Claire grief over that one. Allison assures Grandma Claire that pink is now her favorite color, as that is the new hue of all her favorite purple clothes.

That AIN'T No Trick Photography...

2005-02-11T23:21:00.000-08:00

We call her "She-Ra"!

Do any of you have one of these monkeys, too?

Having Fun With Grandma Claire

2005-02-07T14:44:00.000-08:00

Grandma Claire: Cool.

Claire has been busy! (And Tanner has funny feet which are--HEY!--standing on my table! Tanner!!)

Hannah is in awe of Grandma Claire's puzzling skills.
Actually, she is playing her 115th game of Rummikub with Grandma Claire and I have NO IDEA why she is making this face. But I do believe I can see right... up... her... nose...

Hannah: I was goofing around.

REALLY. I wouldn't have guessed this. You?

Grandma Claire: I look like a raisin.
Alli: We are reading The Missing Boxcar.

Actually, I believe Claire read the entire book to the girls at ONE SITTING. GOSH! (Please see post about Grandma Claire being bad for the Momma).

Ode to Joy--Continued, OR Why Grandma Claire is Bad for the Momma

2005-02-07T09:46:00.000-08:00

*Caution: AARON, this post could be construed as long(ish). You may lose interest, due to this post's innate longness. You may have ALREADY lost interest. Because it's long. You have been warned. Continue at your own risk. I'm just sayin'.

I love company. Really, I do. I am a naturally vivacious person, a veritable social butterfly, and nothing thrills me more than someone coming to visit. I break out the good sheets, I buy guest-sized toiletries for the bathrooms, I plan elaborate menus, I even clean the toilets! And I tell you honestly that nobody was more onboard than I was for Grandma Claire to fly out from Arizona for a three-week visit to help out with the kids while Aaron was away on business.

"How nice!" you say? You would think so, wouldn’t you?

I mean, sure. Sometimes I am astounded by my brilliant mothering skills. Astounded! I mean, I can pick outfits for my girls and T.D. that are both cute AND color-coordinated while still allowing maximum flexibility for playground acrobatics. And I can french-braid like nobody’s business, let me tell you. And T.D’s hair? Well, let’s just say that a buzz cut always looks nice.

With motherly wisdom, I shop the sales, I bake the treats, I plan the parties, I wash the sheets, I even sew the occasional Easter dresses (and once, a wickedly cute matching vest for T.D., but he doesn’t like me to talk about that)...

But Grandma Claire? That woman has it out for me.

Yesterday I came home from work, rarin’ to get started on my motherly evening duties which consist of simultaneously nagging my children to do their homework while checking out who is on a previously recorded episode of Ellen and making sure the almonds and chocolate chips haven’t gone bad. But yesterday, my well-laid plans were shot to hell, all because of my mother-in-law.

As I walked through the door, I ran into my three children, who were clutching a suspicious-looking piece of paper and peering curiously into the coat closet. Before I could ask the obvious question– "Okay, who did you hog-tie and throw in there?"– they cried out, "We’re on a treasure hunt!"

"A treasure hunt?" you ask? Oh yes, a treasure hunt. With actual treasures! Hidden throughout the house! Treasures they could eat!

My children dragged themselves away from the fun for a few valuable seconds to show me the hand-sketched map of our home, with several X’s marking the spots where they could conceivably find some sort of surprise. Yes, I did say "hand-sketched," in case you missed it. Or thought you heard incorrectly. Hand-sketched. In minute detail. Did I not mention that Grandma Claire is an amazing artist? Of course, you know that already...

They proudly showed me a few treasures they had already discovered, consisting of such goodies as a tin container filled with tortilla chips, a sandwich bag swarming with Goldfish (of the snack variety, naturally), even some almonds and chocolate chips in a Tupperware container.

Oh no she DIDN’T!

"I thought it would be a fun way to give them a snack," she explained to me, in her sweet, sincere voice, when I gazed at her with wide-eyed, unqualified horror.

A fun way to give them a snack?! What’s wrong with slapping a bag of Goldfish on the kitchen table and reminding them to be sure to use a napkin, not their shirts? Huh? HUH? But NO, she had to go and whip out the Treasure Hunt O’ Fun. A treasure hunt which, did I mention, culminated with the discovery of artfully layered lime Jell-O and whipped cream in the Only For Special Occasions Because They Shatter When Small Children Squeeze Them Glass Cups, hidden cunningly in the back of the oven? No? Well, it did.

But the treasure hunt wasn’t all. Oh no, no, no. In order to render me completely obsolete, my children had cleaned their rooms, completed their chores, and had gone and finished their homework. Without my help. Or tears. Or threats of eternal doom and a career at McDonalds.

That is correct.

Grandma Claire had brought about in a mere forty-five minutes what usually took me AT LEAST an episode of Ellen, a covert handful of almonds and chocolate chips, at least one outburst of stormy tears (sometimes my kids cried, too), and a good thirty-six-and-a-half minutes of threats, whining, and nagging to accomplish.

What is this woman trying to do to me?! Does she hate me? She goes home in less than three weeks and where does that leave me?!

The bar, people. The BAR! You see, don’t you? It has been RAISED.

Ode To Joy-- Lambson Style

2005-01-28T08:07:00.000-08:00

Grandma Claire is coming, Grandma Claire is coming, Grandma Claire is coming this wee-eekend! For a visit, a long, long visit, a long, long visit, this wee-eekend! Joy joy joy joy joy joy...

Punk'd Sabbath

2005-01-26T09:29:00.000-08:00

First of all, Mister Second Counselor told us CTR 5. I’m not lying. We both heard him. CTR 5. So Aaron and I reported for Primary duty expecting a class of sweet little four-year-olds who were already familiar with and acclimatized to the Primary drill.

But he lied. Mister Second Counselor LIED! What we found was a class full of the teensiest little Sunbeams you ever did see. I cannot stress enough their minuteness. Their utter itty-bittiness. And need I even mention that we did not have the Proper Sunbeam Supplies? No crayons, no paper... no snacks.

What was going on here? Had there been a mix-up? We looked around the room to see if maybe someone had switched classes on us– a little Sabbath episode of Punk’d, if you will– but no, there were our names, right there in all their laminated glory, taped to the two lone big-kid chairs in a sea of lilliputian ones: “Bro. and Sis. Lambson: Sunbeams.”

Horror-struck, Aaron’s eyes said to me, Oh no, no, no! I cannot honestly say my eyes disagreed.

Fresh from the nursery our wee three-year-olds came.

Adorable little Jake, with his buzz cut, sweater vest, and huge brown eyes, brought to us in the arms of his daddy. Separation anxiety ensued.

Two little honey-blondes, alike enough to be sisters, holding hands and gazing silently at me with their curious, wide, greenish eyes before taking their seats. Whispering ensued.

We can handle this, Aaron and I silently communicated to each other, through complicated eyebrow wriggling and vague nodding. No problem. We began to relax, breathe normally.

Then came Stephanie, her black, scuffed Mary Janes unstrapped and flopping around on her brightly stockinged feet, her light blonde hair escaping in unrighteous disarray from her jaunty little ponytail.

She gazed shrewdly at Aaron and summarily dismissed him. Then she turned her piercing little blue eyes toward me.

Our eyes met and locked. I smiled invitingly at her. Her eyes narrowed for a moment (You know that whistling score they always play in westerns during the gunfight at high noon in the deserted streets of Laredo? Yes? Okay, insert that music here), then cleared. She sauntered over and crawled onto my lap as the Primary pianist wrapped up the interlude music.

“When do we eat?” she asked plaintively, her small, yet shrill voice carrying above the prelude to I Will Follow God’s Plan.

No food! I thought desperately. No food!

“WHEN. DO. WE. EAT?!”

Panic ensued.

*sigh*

It’s going to be a long year.

Don't Hate... Appreciate!

2005-01-25T19:04:00.000-08:00

The Virginia Lambsons are a laugh a minute, I tell you what. Check it.

Tanner: My colors don't match blah blah blah something about the computer game blah blah.*

Allison: I like to help my mom. I help her stir noodles and I don't get burned. I don't know why.
Hannah: I'm reading a book for blah blah blah something about homework blah blah.*

(GAH! My eyes! MY EYES!! Could I be any whiter?!)

Momma:
What's-a matter you? Hey! Gotta no respect.
What-a you t'ink you do? Why you look-a so sad?
It's-a not so bad, it's-a nice-a place.
(Ah, shaddap-a you face)

Um, that just came out of no where, didn't it? Stupid song. Thanks a BUNCH, Dad!

*Disclaimer: Before I am branded with an R on my forehead for "Rude, Insensitive Mother," let me just say: my kids really WERE saying, "blah blah blah."

Hannah's Build-A-Bear Birthday Bonanza!

2005-01-21T14:04:00.000-08:00

Of course, Hannah picked the foofy pink sparkly unicorn. She's such a girl.

Everybody clean up, clean up, clean up...

We have built our bears, and we will call them good. And cuddly, too!

Tea lights make GREAT birthday candles. I'm so not kidding.
(Aaron picked this cake, with no help from me. None. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Please note.)

Aaaaaand-- good times were had by all.

Happy 7th birthday, Hannah Banana! We love you!

If You Build It, We Will Come...

2005-01-20T08:57:00.000-08:00

Check out my brand-spankin'-new "Lambson Links" section on the right-hand side of this page. Right under "Archives." Check it carefully, now...

Hey. What are you waiting for? I said "now," didn't I? Geez. Go ahead, I'll wait...

Did you see it?! Yes! Kevn has indeed created his very own weblog! Woot woot! Our numbers, they are a-growing... When will the madness end?! Har. I jest.

Anyhoos, check it out. That's all I'm sayin'.

Shout Out to the Shelton Clan

2005-01-18T11:41:00.000-08:00

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.
–Mark Twain

*sigh*

I wish someone would have mentioned this to Grandma and Grandpa.

You Know Dasher, and Dancer, and Prancer, and Vixen...

2005-01-18T06:52:00.000-08:00

Okay, Lambsons. If you aren't having flashbacks of Candice at this point, well, take a look at the next shot:

Um, yah. They needed scarves. Scarves! For reindeer! (oops, I cut them out of the picture a bit... but I promise, these little guys are sporting teensy little red reindeer scarves)

I haven't bought her a hot-glue gun yet, but you'd be amazed-- AMAZED, I tell you!--at what the girl can do with masking tape and Elmer's glue.

In fact, a winter wonderland shadow box is in the works as I type this, chock full of scarved reindeer, snow flowers (?) and assorted free-standing pipe-cleaner hearts. There will probably be a mural involved. Say it with me now: aaaaaaw!

America's Next Top Models 2018

2005-01-18T06:41:00.000-08:00

Oh. My. Goodness.
Seriously, with the way this one flirts with the boys, could I be any more worried?

Hannah, not to be outdone:

More runway pictures to come...

(And lest T.D. feel left out:)

Li'l Swimmers

2005-01-12T06:58:00.000-08:00

Tanner: Ha ha ha ha! I've got the ball! Woo-hoo!
Hannah: Not for long, sucker!
Allison: Don't take my pict... Mooooooom!

Look at these faces. It's almost worth the white-knuckle drive in bumper-to-bumper traffic, the exorbitant price of admission, and the icy cold wind blowing on our wet hair as we make the mad dash for the car afterwards.
*sigh*
Almost.

(Just kidding, guys. We love it.)

Two Gumballs

2005-01-10T07:45:00.000-08:00

It started in the backseat of the Accord. Three bored, hyper children and one small, yellow(ish) gumball, molded out of chewed-up yellow and white Chiclets and old-fashioned ingenuity.

"It’s a hard-knock gumball for us, it’s a hard-knock GUMBALL for us! No one cares for you a gumball, when you’re in a guh-um-ball... It’s a hard-knock gumball..."

Honestly. At this point I’m regretting my decision to let these weirdos watch Annie, the special edition DVD of the musical my mother sent me for Christmas. Which, thinking about it, is funny in itself, her sending the DVD, that is.

When I was a young, theatrically-minded child I used to listen to my Annie 8-track, Sony noise-cancelling headphones firmly in place (all right, it was the 70's, they were just honkin’ big headphones, you remember, the ones with the self-adjusting headband and those squashy earpads as big as saucers that made your ears sweat and your head ache but you didn’t care, by golly, ‘cuz you had the music cranked so loud you could feel it in your soul), belting out such classics as "Maybe," "Little Girls," and– of course– "Tomorrow."

Let me just say, not so much encouragement from the parental units, folks, nor from the sibs. Quite a bit, however, of "Mom, make her stooooooooop!" and "Will you go outside and play now, please!" Oh, and "Shut UUUUUUP!" I guess Mom felt it was safe, you know, now that I live 2500 miles away from her. But this is beside the point and I’m totally not scarred from the experience and have absolutely no remnants of stage fright or performance anxiety whatsoever. Or repressed feelings of inadequacy. Or self-loathing.

Anyhoosy, as I was saying, at this point I’m regretting my decision to let my children watch Annie, and also, I’m regretting the copious amounts of Hi-C fruit punch I allowed them to consume at Chik-A-Filet. Because, goooooosh (said with Napoleonic Dynamite fervor). These kids are loud. And there’s traffic to deal with. And maneuvering.

So, just as I’m this close to squashing their inventiveness (did I mention how loud they were?) they brought it home with a rousing rendition of "The sun’ll come out, two gumballs! Bet your bottom gumball, there’ll be gumballs, come what may!"

A medley! I think to myself.

Suddenly, a giggle escapes me, erupting from some hitherto deep-rooted, faraway place. A place where the pure joy of musical expression outweighs the heckling and abuse. A place where the sun will come out tomorrow, you can bet your bottom dollar. A shadowy glimpse of my chi, perhaps?

Because, come on. Three sugared-up kids, in the back of my car, in rush-hour traffic, singing an ode to the slimy, saliva-covered, yellow-with-random-chunks-of-white, misshapen gumball painstakingly wrought, and lovingly held aloft, by my six-year-old daughter? I am aware of the irony here. Fate’s little pay-back, if you will. Oh, and a culmination of that curse my mother invoked upon my head of me having children just like me someday, so help her God.

Then Hannah bursts out, her penetrating voice soaring above and beyond those of her brother and sister, louder than you would think possible from such a teeny person, "Two GUMBALLS! Two GUMBALLS! I LOVE ya! Two GUMBALLS! You’re only a GUMBALL!... A!... WAAAAY!!"

I laughed so hard I got the hiccups. And that, my friends, is what you call pay-back.

Are you happy now, Mom?

Play-Date-O-Rama-Lama-Bing-Bang

2005-01-08T15:14:00.000-08:00

This is one of Hannah's new friends, Sydney. Sydney has a seriously awesome bass voice. Now, if we could just break her of her habit of saying, "Oh, Gooooood!" in that scary, deep, raspy way. Honestly. It's startling. I mean, we're like, "Nuh-uh! Where?!"

Please note Allison in the background; Sydney made her a "fundana" to wear. Heh. Fundana. Where does she get this stuff?

(Oh. Sorry about the bad (i.e. lack of) cropping skillz. I'm too lazy to fix it. Goooooosh!)

Joy.

2005-01-03T06:41:00.000-08:00

Aaaw.

New Year's Eve--Virginia Lambsons'-Style!

2005-01-01T16:33:00.000-08:00

Dad: We are too cool.
Mom: Whatever.
(New Year's Eve--2004--Please note Tanner dodging a low-flying, kamikaze-like pigeon. Dumb pigeons.)

Happy New Year! Wow. 2005. Hopefully this will be a year of peace, love, and good choices.

Um, unlike the choices we made yesterday.

Okay, we didn't necessarily make bad choices, but we certainly weren't thinking when we, like crazy people, decided to take our children on a little jaunt into the city, via the Metro, and check out the sights. This, of course, all the while knowing we would all be attending a New Year's Eve party at the Browns' residence later that evening. You know, 'til midnight. With the kids. Late, late at night. Yep. We're brilliant, we know.

Anyhoos, we heard there was an outdoor skating rink--à la Rockefeller Center, NYC--near the Smithsonian National Gallery of Art, so we were off on an adventure. And what an adventure it was! There is, in fact, a small outdoor skating rink, but it was sardine-packed, so we moved on to the Capitol, where the kids discovered a beautiful dry fountain and a really cool wall, and they walked on that wall, by golly. We've recorded the walk for posterity. Oh, and the pretty fountain, too, never fear.

Let me just say, there are a rather large number of seagulls at the Capitol. And seagull poop. Very nasty. The guidebooks don't mention this, but it's true. Just so you know. BIG LOTS of seagull poop. Oh, and there are the thick-witted little pigeons that don't move until you are just about to trip over them and have to kick at them. (Did you ever see that "Seinfeld"? Har.) Dumb pigeons.

Then we moved on to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum where there were numerous airplanes, rocket ships, and space stations to explore. Did you know that astronauts sleep standing up in a "sleeping restraint"? Well, they do! We saw! And the whole toilet situation looks pretty dicey, if you ask me. Oh! And please note the way-cool picture I took while sprawled on the ground of the museum, much to the abject horror of my germaphobic children. Honestly.

We hopped back on the Metro and hit Union Station next, but forgot to take pictures, which is really too bad, as it looks bee-oooo-tiful right now, all decorated for the holidays and such. The children were most impressed with the "real" wreaths the size of small Volkswagens suspended outside the building. They were a'ight, but I liked the food court best (hey, it was WAY past lunch at this point!).

On the way home, Aaron dazzled Metro riders with his Aristotlian parenting skills. This involved asking the children random "thought-provoking" questions and giving out his spare change as a reward. The following is an excerpt of this shining moment of parenting:

Aaron: Tanner, what are the oceans of the world?
(Tanner lists them, a dime changes hands)
Aaron: Hannah, what is the capital of Virgina?
(Hannah yells "Richmond!", a nickel changes hands)
Aaron: Allison, how do you spell "Dad"?
(unbelievably, Allison pulls through on this one and a dime changes hands)

At one point Hannah rattled off the seven continents of the world, Tanner named a big wave caused by an earthquake under the ocean, and Allison spelled "pop." There was a race to see who could sing the backwards ABC's the quickest, but I won that one easily. Disappointingly, I did not receive even a red cent for the feat. Rude.

By the time we got home, there were only a few hours left before the party. And I didn't even mention that quick trip to Costco for party appetizers, did I?

Needless to say, we are all a little grumpy today. A tad. But we all agree that yesterday was awesome fun, and the New Year's Eve party was a wicked success. (Remind me to write about the "Bouncy Bounce" in the Browns' basement. And "Deraoke." Emilie is hilarious. Seriously.)

So here's to a new year. 2005. May this year be full of peace, love, and good choices, for all of us.

Hannah: Pretty wall!
Tanner: It's an old fountain.
Allison: I just said "Booger"!
Mom: Yep, Allison just said "Booger."
(Outside the Capitol Building--New Year's Eve--2004)

Fountains, Fountains, oh, and a Rocket...

2005-01-01T09:38:00.000-08:00

Tanner: This fountain was really cool!
Allison: I liked the way it looked because it's pretty.
Hannah: I wanted to go in the place because I wanted to see the very bottom of the fountain.

Dad: Note the photography skills. See the sun streaks...
Mom: "Sun streaks"? Is that the technical term?
Tanner: The water is acting as a prism, so there's rainbows.
Allison: Pretty!

Tanner: There were people inside those, under us!
(Mom: They are actually skylights into the Smithsonian National Gallery of Art.)

Mom: And then we saw rocket ships! (Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.) I was sprawled out on the floor and the kids were all, "Hey! MOM! Get off the floor! There are germs down there!"
(New Year's Eve--2004)

Navigating the Capitol Wall...

2005-01-01T09:24:00.000-08:00

Allison: I can do it, I can do it...

Allison: Phew! I did it!

Mom: If you look closely--behind Alli--you can see the preparations being made for W's inauguration...

Tanner: Check me out. Seriously.

Kids: Mom! Look! Mom! Look! MOM!
(New Year's Eve--2004)

Night Party with Small Children Playing with Extremely Dangerous Burning Candles

2004-12-31T07:46:00.000-08:00

Look! It's a Night Party! And there are Small Children! And candles! Extremely Dangerous Candles! Burning! At the Night Party! The Late Late at Night Party!
(You can't see it, but they are all holding small sewing needles, also. Because that's Extremely Dangerous, too.)
Alas, there is no Green Bean. Or exceptionally hot steaming irons.
(Hannah wants me to call this a Day Party. Uh, because this was actually shot in the daytime. Huh. She's very literal that way. I cite poetic license and ask for a willing suspension of disbelief--Cat.)

The Only Way to Travel

2004-12-30T06:29:00.000-08:00

Heaven.

I Love to See the Temple

2004-12-30T06:26:00.000-08:00

All right, not technically a picture of the Virginia Lambsons, but I thought it was so cute... Looky at Mamacita and Papito all cute outside the Snowflake, Arizona Temple!

C'mon, say it with me now... "Aaaaaw!"

Here Comes Santa Claus...

2004-12-26T06:54:00.000-08:00

Biscuits and gravy, naturally...

Stockings...

Oh my... Whose idea was the makeup?! Pretty!

Puzzles!

Tra la la la la la!

Clear As Mud

2004-12-25T16:38:00.000-08:00

Tanner: This is my Aqua Pet. It's funny because it cries like a baby if I don't feed it anything.
Mom: I thought it was crying because you were feeding it too much?
Tanner: That's what I said.
Mom: (????)

Who ARE These Kids?

2004-12-24T15:47:00.000-08:00

What the...? Had they been sneaking Great-Grandma's eggnog?

There are 20 more just like this. Thank goodness for digital cameras! Otherwise, these goofy kids would not have survived the photo shoot.

Honestly.

Original Puppet Show: "The Nice Nice Bettas" written and performed by Hannah M. Lambson

2004-12-24T13:04:00.000-08:00

Hannah: This is me in my puppet theater. I made it ALL by myself.
Tanner: Hey!
Hannah: Okay, okay, Tanner helped.

Hannah: I think this is my shark and some jellyfish...

Hannah: These are great bettas! Um, that's all. (exasperated) Mom!

Hannah: Oh, this is my story that I wrote, Lovey, the Lonely Fish. My teacher wrote to me, "Dear Hannah, I really like your story about Lovey. Your illustrations are very nice, too. Keep up the good work."

Guinea Girls!

2004-12-24T02:39:00.000-08:00

(Hannah "got" to bring home Lucy and Nutmeg, AKA: the Guinea Girls, from her first grade clasroom)

Hannah: Me and Allison are feeding the Guinea Girls.
Oh great. Look at my bruise. Mom, don't write that! HEY!

Good Times, Good Times...

2004-12-23T08:08:00.000-08:00

(Tanner and Hannah riding the DC Metro to the Smithsonian National Zoological Park with new friends Erin and Pete--Fall 2004)

Mad Momma

2004-12-23T07:57:00.000-08:00

(Heh. Look at that crazed, angry mother!)
Mom: Tanner! Stop acting the fool!
Tanner: Who? Innocent little old me?
Hannah: I look bea-ooootiful.
Allison: Cheeeeeeeese!
Dad: La la la la la la la...
(Attempting to take a family photo in Newnan, Georgia--Thanksgiving 2004)

Beautiful Ball

2004-12-22T17:02:00.000-08:00

Allison: I like the way I had the ball in my hand in this picture. It's a beautiful ball.
Mom: Hey! Where are your glasses in this picture?
Allison: I weren't wearing them?

GameBoy Fever!

2004-12-22T16:53:00.000-08:00

Tanner: I'm obsessed with GameBoy. And you can tell in this picture!
Mom: Apparently, so is Riley...
(Tanner and Riley--Thanksgiving 2004--in Newnan, Georgia.)

Crazy Candids

2004-12-22T16:07:00.000-08:00

For obvious reasons, this shot did not make the annual Christmas card...