Ever since my brother David and his amazing wife Andee visited us for Thanksgiving, our home hasn’t been the same.  And not just because David pretty much spent his entire vacation fixing stuff around our house . . . Stuff like stopping and preventing leaks by tightening the pipes under EVERY sink, replacing the tank fill valves on all of our toilets and the bubble-thingie in the upstairs toilet, sealing the granite in our kitchen, hanging curtains in the girls’ room, installing a new ceiling fan in the girls’ room, replacing the fan blades and bulbs on the ceiling fan in the family room, trimming the trees in the girls’ secret backyard hideout, changing the brakes on BT’s truck, replacing the belts on my Mazda, installing a timer and replacing the light sockets on the front architectural lights, installing a motion-sensor floodlight by the back door, fixing the bottom drawer in the refrigerator, helping me sell spare tools on Craigslist . . . and I’m SURE that I’ve left something off the list.

No.  David’s legacy is more than that.  Whenever something breaks or we can’t figure out how to do something around here, more than one of us is prone to utter, “If Uncle David were here, he’d know how to fix this.”

And yet this is the brother who used to set my alarm clock to go off in the middle of the night . . . and would close the AC/heat vent to my room so that he’d get all the cool/warm air . . . and would put his false teeth by MY plate at the dinner table.

I miss David and Andee.  And not just because our toilets now flush properly and our sinks don’t leak.  I miss them, and all my siblings and their spouses, because we have so much fun when we are together.  BEAR LAKE July 2009 or BUST!!!  Be there.

“Can I help?”  

Almost every time I am in the kitchen preparing a meal, Vivi rushes in and asks that sweet question.  This morning I was simply heating up a can of split pea & ham soup in the microwave for breakfast (yes, breakfast), so there really wasn’t much she could do to help.  Instead, I promised her that we’d make a treat together later.

When I said, “later,” I was thinking maybe 5 hours later.  Well, 5 hours must seem like an eternity to a 2 3/4 year old.  

SIDE NOTE: The sentence above got me curious, so I did a little math to put things in perspective.  According to my calculations, 5 hours to 2 3/4 year-old Vivi is actually a whopping .02% of her life thus far.  That’s 1000% more than what the same 5 hours represents for me.  So, it’s reasonable to assume that 5 hours “feels” 1000% longer to her than to me.  Hmm . . . 

Anyway, back to the story.  Even though it was 8 in the morning and only 10 minutes since I promised Vivi that we would bake something “later,” her little internal clock chimed that later had long since come and gone, and she was getting agitated.

Setting my uneaten pea soup aside, I hoisted Vivi up on the counter, and we proceeded to spend the most delightful thirty minutes together making ‘ooey gooey cake.”  And as absolutely wonderful as the time was for me, I have a sneaking suspicion that it was 1000% more enjoyable for her.

Ooey Gooey Cake (Eva Tolbert)

1 yellow cake mix

1 stick butter, melted

1 egg

1 cup chopped pecans

MIX ingredients until moist and press into a greased 9 x 13 pan.

1 block cream cheese, softened

2 eggs

1 box powdered sugar

Cream together until smooth and pour over crust.  Bake for 35 minutes at 325 degrees.  The cream cheese layer will still be gooey (not brown), but the cake is done.

What happens when two individuals with compulsive tendencies become obsessed with prior seasons of the best television series ever?

24 x 6!

BT and I polished off 24 episodes of Season Two in six days!  Seasons Three and Four took us a few more days than that . . . but we really do hunker down nearly every evening (except Sunday) and watch a few more episodes.  And believe me, if I had my way, we’d have 24 x 7, but BT won’t let us.

Unlike Jack Bauer, our three DVD players have not survived the terrorist attacks inflicted upon them; our bedroom is a graveyard of malfunctioning electronics. So, as we dug out the 7″ portable DVD player and huddled around the tiny screen, we chuckled at our Tolbert “frugality” and “envied” some of our friends with their decked out media rooms.

A waste of time?  You know, I don’t even feel a bit guilty, which is simply not like me–I can usually find a way to feel guilty about just about everything.  24 x 6 is pure BLT (Bryan Lori TIme) which, in my book, is time well spent.

The stomach flu followed by a nasty bout of mastitis had me thinking about this adage I learned from my Grandma Hess many years ago.  Oh, how I miss her!  And oh, how I’m thankful to be feeling quite a bit better this morning!

One morning last week as I lay in bed, half conscious, Vivi bounced in at her usual EARLY hour to greet me.  Trying to clear the sleep from my eyes, I blinked once.  I blinked twice.  Did BT REALLY dress her in those pj’s the night before, or am I just having a bad dream?

 

1. Determined to do what is right
2. Patient
3. Beautiful blue eyes
4. Gentle
5. Low maintenance
6. Genealogist
7. Selfless
8. Quick wit
9. Resourceful
10. Eats leftovers w/o complaint
11. Playful
12. Helps fold the laundry
13. Responsible
14. Thoughtful
15. Creative
16. Mops the floor
17. Trustworthy
18. Kind & thoughtful to my family
19. A fabulous father
20. Hard worker
21. Smart
22. Takes our family on fun road trips
23. Frugal
24. Fun-loving
25. Infectious smile
26. Persistent gardner
27. Changes poopy diapers
28. Steady
29. Doesn’t criticize
30. Encourages me in my hobbies and interests
31. A good listener
32. Simple
33. Trusting
34. Humble
35. Loves to antique w/ me
36. Formidable Quiddler opponent
37. Kind
38. Helps put the kids to bed
39. Doesn’t complain if the house is a mess
40. My best friend!

. . .  wouldn’t you like to be a Pepper, too?

If you recognize that advertising Jingle for Dr. Pepper, you’re a child of the 70’s.  But even if you’re not as OLD as I am, the ORIGINAL Dr. Pepper bottling plant in Dublin, TX gets two thumbs up from our family.

Yes.  You read that correctly.  Despite the fact that we had just gone to Oklahoma the previous Saturday, we packed up and headed west on Friday night.  How’s that for spontaneous?

Speaking of spontaneous, BT prefers to just head out without making hotel reservations for the night.  He loves the excitement of the unknown.  I, on the other hand, am a bundle of nerves the entire drive, wondering if we’re going to find a place to say, worrying that it will be clean, hoping that we don’t get ripped off because I didn’t complete the exhaustive on-line research that I am infamous for.  So, I took matters into my own hands and booked us a room in the Granbury, TX La Quinta HOURS before we left.  It was such a relief to know that we had clean sheets to snuggle up in for the night . . . or at least that’s what the on-line reviews promised.  Upon arriving, it was a different story.  It took 15 minutes to find the only employee on duty because she was hiding in a corner of the back office eating pizza.  After check-in and hauling three kids and all of our stuff up to the third floor, BT pulled back the covers to lay baby Tad down.  The sheets and pillowcases were covered with NASTY, BLACK DOG HAIR!!!  Pizza girl (Kristina) explained that they had a dog show there a few days ago and the housekeeping staff must not have changed the sheets.  AAGGH!  Here I am with my 3-month old baby staying in a hotel where dogs have been allowed to snuggle up in the beds and no one bothered to CHANGE THE SHEETS????  Even after we were relocated to another room, I asked for clean sheets and then proceeded to strip down the beds and change the linens to ensure that I wasn’t sleeping in doggy slobber (or worse).  So much for my vacation.  I could have stayed home and done all that.  Kristina tried, unsuccessfully, to reach her manager (Cyndi) to see what sort of compensation they could offer.  I found out the next morning from another employee that the unresponsive manager had been home all evening because her dog was giving birth to seven puppies.  Figures.

Saturday morning, after a sub-par hotel breakfast of slightly fermented apple juice, greyish greasy sausage patties, and egg-like yellow foam sponges, my sister Lisa joined us and we piled into Fern (my Honda Pilot) and headed to Dublin.  Thankfully, our experience there was delightful.  We went on a cool tour of the old Dr. Pepper bottling plant after which we sipped on ice cold original formula Dr. Pepper and ate a delicious, reasonably priced sandwich from the quaint soda fountain.  They make their own pimiento cheese and chicken salad, and their sweet sour dough bread is SUPER good.  My only regret is that I didn’t splurge (calorically speaking) on a Dr. Pepper float.

. . . where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain
And the wavin’ wheat can sure smell sweet
When the wind comes right behind the rain.
Oklahoma, Ev’ry night my honey lamb and I
Sit alone and talk and watch a hawk
Makin’ lazy circles in the sky.

OK, so maybe my “honey lamb” and I haven’t had much chance these days to “sit alone and talk,” let alone “watch a hawk makin’ lazy circles in the sky.”  But we did load the kiddos up yesterday and head to OK on our first official family trip of 2009.  My honey lamb did a great job of planning a wonderful day of really fun activities for us.  (ok . . . I’ll stop with the ‘honey lamb’ talk for those readers who are finding themselves completely nauseous at this point).

Our first stop was the town of Ardmore where we browsed through a couple of fun antique stores and, speaking of nauseous, ate a nasty pimiento and cheese sandwich at the old fashioned drug store.  

We then headed to the nearby Arbuckle Wild Animal Park.  Upon hearing about the plan, I really wasn’t particularly excited about this adventure, but it actually turned out to be a blast.  We fed ostrich, emu, llamas, camels and even a giraff from the comforts of our vehicle.  Well, let me clarify that.  Vivi, BT and I fed them.  Ariana sat in the back seat SCREAMING at the top of her lungs, totally freaked out.

Next up was a nearby state park.  The weather couldn’t have been more perfect (80 degrees) for walking and hiking around the serene Turner Falls.  As the girls took their shoes off and waded through a small stream, I was reminded of how much I LOVE the winter weather in this part of the country.

On our way home, we happened upon a fabulous little restaurant in Gainsville, TX–Sarah’s on the Square.  It’s definitely a place we’ll return to, especially since the antique stores lining the quaint street were closed by the time we arrived. The food was yummy, and the service was excellent.  

BT, thanks for treating us to an A-OK day!

Ever since Frisco Aquatics announced their new 2009 practice schedule which, unfortunately, messed up carefully coordinated carpool arrangements, I’ve been trying to convince myself that I truly could be like other moms and be a taxi driver every single day after school.  But every time I thought about it, my stomach would knot up and I’d feel like I had a huge weight pressing down on my chest.  Aagh!  Why is it so hard from me to load my kids up and run hither and yon?  What is it is so overwhelming for me to cart them with me to and fro? Why can’t I seem to get my act together?  Why can’t I tune out temper tantrums and a screaming baby while cruising the streets of Frisco?  Why do I have a panic attack at the thought of a M/T/TH/F routine of lugging baby Tad in and out of Frisco Natatorium while making sure that Miss Vivi doesn’t get run over, not to mention the whole piano lesson trek to Carrollton each Wednesday?  Why do I have to be so insanely stubborn and feel so incredibly guilty when I think about scaling back after-school activities???

Today during church, I realized that it was ok to cry “UNCLE.”  Even though OTHER moms seem to be able to be able to manage these seemlingly simple tasks, I simply cannot right now.  And you know what.  I’m ok with that.  I think that means I’ve made the right choice.

Last night while BT was changing Vivi’s diaper, we noticed her chewing on something.  When we asked her what was in her mouth, she answered, “pea.”

EEEW!

I thought that a pea from dinner must have fallen into the waistband of her diaper during dinner.  But then as she sat on the couch with me while BT went to get her jammies, I discovered that Vivi had completely loaded up the pockets of her sweatshirt with peas from dinner and was thoroughly enjoying her nightime snack.  Even though it may make for a nasty laundry experience, I’m thankful that she’s resourceful.  It will serve her well throughout her life.