My dreams are crushed (or something like that)

Until very recently Wyoming license plates looked like this:

That first zero before the cowboy was for the county number, so your license plate number was just four characters long.

Ever since high school, I have wanted to have a license plate that looks like this: (I have mad "paint" skills, I know)

My parents wouldn't let me get it--since I didn't technically own my car and Ronnie wouldn't let me get it for safety reasons (which I totally understand).

In my dream world, I knew that if Ronnie ever wanted to throw my safety to the wind, I could march down to the county office and get a license plate with my name on it.

Until yesterday.

As I was walking the 3.5 miles (approximately) from the parking lot I am allowed to park in (even though there are 100 empty spots in the parking lot right next to my building--a rant for another day) I saw it.

A car with my license plate.

MY LICENSE PLATE (imagine that sentence said in the way that Ross says "My Sandwich" on Friends).

It will never, ever be mine. (sob)

One of my favorite sounds in the world...

is the sound of rolling thunder.

When I am safe, inside, and warm.

I haven't yet figured out if it has to do with the connection to spring (which is not here at all by the way), memories of watching rain and thunder out the window, or some other unknown reason.

And it doesn't matter. I'll just sit and listen.

St. Patty's (a day late)

Easton and I hung out at Grandma and Grandpa's house while the cars were being worked on. He built towers and I tried to sneakily get a picture of his St. Patrick's Day shirt that Grandma Cali brought.

At first I was doing pretty well. Very sneaky.
Then he caught me.

And then I got the money shot. Cute smile, full shirt (so what if it is a little blurry).
But then he started to come in for the kill.

Action was taken (but not too much defensive action on my part, I wasn't leaving the floor).

He knocked me over and thought he had me.

So he got closer.

And closer.

And closer.

And then I admitted defeat.

Easton: 1 Mommy: 0

I guess I'll keep him

When my dad found out the ring was lost, he asked me if a new ring came with a new husband.

We had a good laugh over that suggestion.

But it looks like I won't have to worry about getting out into the dating world just yet...

We found my ring! And when I say we, I mean my father-in-law. All by himself.

Whew!

I hope it's in there somewhere

Ronnie's parents are visiting! (We LOVE visitors!)

So, Saturday morning we loaded up in the car to drive to the airport and pick them up (we couldn't very well have them miss out on an additional 2 hours with Easton).

Unfortunately the sun was bright that day--and in Easton's eyes. While adjusting my wedding ring on my finger (a very bad habit, I know), the sun became very bright and Easton screamed. I quickly brought a sweatshirt up to block his eyes and in the process, two parts of my ring went flying.

It happened in slow motion. I saw them in the air. Saw them hit the middle console. Saw them drop between my seat and the console.

And then I groaned.

We were on the freeway, so I decided that we could look for the rings later on. After all, they were just underneath the seat.

At this point Ronnie says, "Well, those might be gone forever" and I harrumphed. Yeah right.

We picked up our guests, ran errands, ate dinner and came home.

I went out to the car to search. Within one second of looking under the seat, I spotted my anniversary band. "See, this will be easy!" I thought.

Wrong.

Karen (my mother-in-law) and I proceeded to look EVERYWHERE for my engagement ring. Seats were moved, carpet moved and searched underneath. No sign of the ring.

Ronnie went out later, convinced that I had not searched thoroughly enough. (Just like I search cabinets inside when he says something is not there).

He didn't find anything either.

Sigh.

Next step? Ronnie and his dad will take out the seat and go from there. My fear is that it has now worked its way down into some unreachable place.

Only I could lose a ring while knowing exactly where it is.

Sick

The only thing worse than having the flu yourself...

...is watching your 15 month old go through it two days later.

Please excuse my blogging absence while I cuddle my normally-uncuddle-able child.

And I get a little bit weirder

...if that is possible.

We all know my issue with lists. I love my lists.

In the last few days, I've realized that I have a list that I was unaware of previously.

My DVR.

I love it, I really do, it's just that I can barely stand to push the "list" button on my remote because I see the gigantic list of all of the episodes we have yet to watch and I feel overwhelmed.

In the afternoon, when Ronnie isn't home, I don't push it at all, because I just have to stare at all of the shows that I can't delete because we have to watch them together.

Curse you the-entire-season-of-LOST and the-last-four-episodes-of-24.

I want you gone.

Soon.

Let it be known...

...that Easton FINALLY broke his third tooth!*

Yes, when most babies are working on their molars, my sweet boy just got his #3.

Possibly the best part is that it is the tooth next to the front two teeth (does that make sense?) so he is totally rocking a vampire look.

No pics, so sorry.

*and technically it broke through Friday, March 6th--for my records.

Where I show some crafty

Because I don't want you to think that I just sit around every day (as if that would actually be a bad thing!), I thought I would share some of my latest crafts.

You remember Easton's blankie right? Well, here is the "in the wash" back up. It is not nearly big enough to really cover him at night, but works great for car trips, etc. and we just put another blanket on top so he still has the feel of the minky fabric.
My sister Sassy is going on a trip for band this year--to Disneyland. They are having a silent auction this week, so I put together this baby gift set. It includes a crocheted blanket and burp cloth, tag blanket, eight thank you cards for the mom-to-be and a congratulations card for the gift giver.

And here we see the girl version.

Thanks for indulging me! Now if I could just stop reading in my spare time, I might have more things to show you later on!

15 months

I know I am technically a day early with this post, but when you have time--you just post.

Easton is starting to be a little boy and no longer a baby. So sad for mommy. He has lots of new vocabulary including: grandma (MAMA), cracker, star, bubble, birdy, baby, hi, and thank you (every once in a while). He has learned so many new signs this month that I don't think I can list them all and even has a few consistent "made up" signs that I have yet to interpret.

He continues to babble all of the time. Because of his facial expressions and voice inflections, most people assume that they should understand what he is saying--which leads to some funny conversations when they ask me what he just said. I have to honestly answer "I have no idea."

Since he has grown so much this last month(vertically), more of the house is in his reach--not fun for me. We went to the doctor today and the nurse loved him. He screamed bloody murder the entire time we were doing his measurements and as soon as I set him down on the floor (which is where he wanted to be the entire time) he looked at the nurse and I and giggled. Little stinker.

Easton is still a very skinny child. He is 19 lbs. 5 oz. and is not even on the charts for weight. Luckily, they do not seem too concerned about it, I just have to start adding carnation instant breakfast to his milk to pack on some extra calories. He is 31.5 inches high and has moved up to the 65 percentile for height, which explains his new reaching abilities.

He loves reading daddy's paper although his reading turns out to be more like swing the paper around the room.

Last week our household was not feeling 100% and my two boys took advantage of a little cuddle time.

Recently, it was extremely warm in Laramie for March, so warm that we let Easton help Daddy BBQ outside. I missed the spontaneous fake laughing the entire time before I got outside with the camera--so you will hear Ronnie trying to initiate one. Coming inside after this little adventure led to a gigantic tantrum. Not fun. Hurry spring, please hurry!

Oh, the things we say...

Normally people do posts about funny things their kids say, but with Ronnie and I in the same house, kids are not necessary.

Scene: While watching Jon & Kate Plus Eight.

R: They got dogs?
K: Yeah, two German Shepherds.
R: I don't think they are German Shepherds.
K: They will be.

{Don't you love it when things grow up to be different things?}

Scene: Ronnie had just teased me about something, so I proceeded to chase him and then tackle him on the couch.

R: What are you trying to do [insert 10 second pause] lay on top of me?
K: You were going to say "squish me," weren't you?
R: No.....crush me.

{No offense was taken from this comment. It was too funny to do anything but laugh}

Representing

Because we are lucky enough to be friends with Lindsey and Steve, we scored tickets(through them) to the BYU vs. Wyoming game that were on the second row behind the BYU bench.

Despite his face here, Easton did really enjoy the game. I always worry that the noise will be too much for him (especially since football games were not fun for him), but he loved it! You will notice that he is sporting Wyoming gear. He was born in Wyoming, so while we live here, he is a Wyoming fan*.

See how happy he really was? And no we are not wearing BYU apparel. We value our lives too much to do that. We wore neutral colors (which confused all of the BYU fans around us, I am sure). BYU winning always makes it a good day.

*We are Wyoming fans all of the time, except when they play BYU. There is just something to be said for the loyalty you develop for your undergraduate school.

And I was glad he didn't wear his jersey

For Christmas I gave Ronnie tickets to the Lakers vs. Nuggets game in Denver.

He loves those Lakers!

Last weekend was the big game. We handed Easton over into the capable hands of my family and drove down to Denver. (I won't tell you the number of times I looked in the backseat to check on Easton only to discover he wasn't there).

We met up with our friends Ashley and Jared at the game. Sadly, I forgot my camera in the trunk of the car, and while Ashley remembered hers--she forgot her memory card. Pictures were just not meant to be.

I loved the atmosphere of the game--the "show" of it all. There was just one little problem.

I barely, just barely fit in the seat.

I like to think that I am "average" sized. Not skinny by any means, but kind of in the middle. Every time I sat down, my hips got caught on the arm rests of the chair and then I had to put a little extra effort into getting into the seat. (The positive of this, was that once I was in, I fit fine, and the seats were even padded).

But honestly.

What do people do who are larger? Do they get to their seats, realize they can't fit and then get upgraded? Go without eating for days prior to any Pepsi Center event? Shell out the extra money for close seats (which I was convinced looked bigger, although I was not close enough to be sure)? Does the Pepsi Center have an abundance of the handicapped seating for such circumstances?

I know that every additional body in that place means $ for the franchise. I get it.

I just think they need to think about me, the little (I use that term loosely here) man.