Alien Names

****If you weren't aware, Hubbs originates from the land of Brazil.
He came to the United States just shy of age 18.
This is important information to have upon reading this post.
Enjoy.***

A few weeks back, we were all driving in the car as a family.

We are conversing about names and whose dad is "Grandpa Fur-Face", and what is
his REAL name, and what is Grandma's name, etc...etc.

So I begin to tell J-dawg and Memms:

"Well, my mom's name is Mary.
her Husband is Joseph.

My dad's name is Don.
his wife's name is Tisha.

Grandma Lorraine's name is Lorraine.

Get it?"

To which J-Man promptly replies:

"Wow! At least they aren't alien names."

Me: "Alien Names?! What do you mean?"

J-Man: "You know Alien Names like: Flavio, Zuleide and Claudio."

The names of his dad, grandma and grandpa.

What I will or will not admit is that maybe just maybe I think they sound a bit alien too.
Hubbs just broke out into sheer laughter.

Needless to say upon further discussion,
(according to him mind you)
J-Man will under
no circumstances
be passing
along ANY of these family names to his children.

Black Friday Deals in the Et-say!

custom initial necklace.
email me if you are interested in customization.

custom three name bar necklace with birthstones.

custom grandma brag bracelet.

from 12:01 am on friday, november 27th through 11:59 pm on saturday, december 5th we will be offering FREE SHIPPING to anyone living in the united states or canada.

consider it r holiday treat to you.

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"Mom?"

"Did you just give Millz a bath?"

Me: "Ya sweetie, why?"

"'Cuz she smells like donuts."

Squish, squish, squish. I love him.

BTW Memms is guest posting today at the r house.

GO READ!

I ask a lot of you...

...but thanks to your help my friend 'Bec' made it through to the final round on the Good MOod Blog Contest!

PLEASE...take a few minutes to go and vote for her.

Vote here!

And if you have more than one browser, you can vote for her on all of them.

Thanks, you guys totally rawk!

I can be perfect at some things.

Hubbs and I often joke about perfection.

In our religion we believe we can be perfected and exalted in time.

A process that takes a really really long time
and a process that definitely won't happen here on Earth.

Part of this process is the Word of Wisdom...maybe you have heard of it.
Basically we don't smoke or drink alcohol, that kind of stuff.

Other things we have been asked to do, is not look at pornography, or watch R rated movies.

Also, keeping the sabbath day holy.

All of these things help us to grow closer to our Father in Heaven and leave behind the things of the world, that would take us away from our family.

So, as the joke goes with Hubbs and I,
ESPECIALLY when it comes to the R rated movie thing...is that:

"We can't be perfect at ALL things,
but we can be perfect at SOME things."

So when the temptation comes to watch that movie that looks just too good to pass up...we remember our small area of perfection.

One area we are striving to perfect is our
Family Home Evening.

Family Home Evening, or "FHE" as we call it, occurs on Monday nights in our house, and is basically what it sounds like, we spend the evening as a family. The Church suggests doing spiritual activities or creating family memories.

Let me preface by saying the last year has been full of ups and downs and I am not always perfect at planning FHE in advance. Oftentimes it really is planned 5 minutes before we are suppose to start it. Tee hee.

See...NOT perfect, but WORKING on being perfect.

So, last night was FHE. I had these little foam turkey kits that I had purchased awhile back...and so I decided that for Family Home Evening we would talk about Thanksgiving and why we celebrate it.

So I read a book, we talk, we ask questions, all the while making six little turkeys to give away to people the kids were thankful for.

So we jump in the car and proceed to drop off all of our little turkeys.

On the way home, little Memms says:

"Mom! I really like this Family Home Evening,
it is a FUN one, and not a BORING one."

My kids are hilarious, and oh so brutally honest.

A friend in need:

...the holidays are hard enough, and especially difficult when someone

you love is facing a very costly surgery.

My good friend Nakia is raising money for
her son's upcoming surgery.

Please visit her fundraising site to see if there is a
way you can help her.

She is making pies for Thanksgiving...nothing more delicious than Nakia's pies I tell you what!

The Rubied Apple

If you aren't into pies, she has lots of other beautiful things, like
this piece of art
from yours truly.

I Apologize

To my Hubbs.


I came across this orange gift bag a few weeks ago. It was in the Halloween decoration box, and I found it as I was trying to get my kids ready for the ward Halloween extravaganza.

At this same time I was just a week out of my surgery and feeling very emotional and drugged, so perhaps it all has something to do with it...

...but mostly I have finally grown up,
and I need to tell my sweet, sweet husband how sorry I am for so very many things.



I know you don't think that I care about the "little" things you do...or used to do or did or still do.

When I saw this bag I recalled with perfect clarity the day you brought it to me over nine years ago. It was filled with some of my favorite treats from that time period.

Nestle Treasures.
(Which is no longer around, they go by another weird and random name now.)

I recall oftentimes receiving gifts such as these, or notes, or flowers, and at the time I didn't appreciate them as much as I should have.

Part of me was embarrassed, or part of me felt extremely unworthy of love or adoration from anyone,
especially from you.

I loved every moment of these thoughtful things, and looking back I really wish I would have done more to let you know how much I loved and appreciated them, how much I wish I would have showed you that I deserved them.



This one especially chokes me up when I read it:





'Cuz I didn't, and I haven't...not until now...almost ten years later.
I finally see it.

I can finally feel comfortable enough with myself
to realize how lucky and blessed and deserving I am of such a
wonderful and loving husband.

I kept waiting for you to go away
like so many things in my life did while I was growing up...
I did what I always did to the good things
in my life that didn't last.

I pushed them away.

Thank you for not leaving.

Thank you for not giving up on me.

I am sorry.

Sorry for being a spoiled brat at times,
and a beastly 'b' at others.
(WAY, way, way! more often than not.)



Thanks for loving me enough to buy me this black coat a year after we got married.
I love it so much and still have it, I can't part with it.
I just remember how excited we were to buy it...and how shocked I was that you did buy it.

And it was to make ME look good.
I am selfish like that.

I am a lucky girl.

So sad I haven't fully realized it...until now.



Thanks for taking me on horrid four hour 'whale watching' extravaganzas in Rhode Island.
Thank you for letting me see Autumn back east.
I still dream of it often and want to run back there with you someday.



Thank you for letting me start fights at someone's wedding service when I hear them talking trash about my husband's culture.



Thank you for loving me through horrible flat hair and too much makeup,
even when I thought I looked fabulous.

You are right, I look pretty no matter what,
and really I am not all that much fatter than when we got married.

I am sorry I haven't realized this until now.

I am sorry I haven't taken the time to appreciate who I was inside,
thank you for appreciating who I was regardless.



Thank you for loving me enough to let me fly.
For letting me have my many hobbies and crazy times to remain sane...
even when it costs you lots and lots of money in the process.

Each thing has allowed me to grow and develop as a person, physically, and spiritually.
You are always there for me.
Every. Day.

I am sorry I complained for so long and only
focused on the times
you weren't there
because you couldn't be.
(Because you were usually working to pay off the debt I got us into.)



I am especially sorry that I taught you too much English.

I miss your accent and your misspelling of words.

I miss making these little cards for you.



Thank you for this.

Thank you for helping me to become who I am today.
I love you more each and every day.

You are my everything.

Love you forever.

I mean that.

They're done! Go and see and buy! Toooooo Cute!

we finally have all our childrens clothing available in the shop.

Come see me IRL...and get some Christmas shopping done!

click to enlarge.

we will be at pistol pete's mexican grill on saturday ready to handstamp whatever you would like. come and grab a quisadilla (random that it's at a mexican grill, right? lol!) and bring your christmas shopping list. we are all stocked up and ready to create.

p.s. the kiddie shirts and running shirts will be there too.

see you there ...right?

Death. Bed. (Surgery blows and other such nonsense.)

Hi.

Sorry I have been gone.
Mostly I have been sleeping, interspersed occasionally with bouts of work
I probably shouldn't have been doing.
(Got reprimanded on Friday. Awesome.)

I am on the mend.
It will be three weeks tomorrow, and all being told, I am feeling better day by day.

The lovely Leisha came with mrs. r to comfort me and to bring me goodies that I couldn't eat. (bless them) Leisha also brought with her a camera. Gotta love that camera.
Proof of my awesomeness.

Here is a picture of me after puking my brains out in front of another human being
(something I try to avoid).

The IV which inevitably turns into a bruise the size of Rhode Island (I still have one from when I had Millz.)

I like to call this one, "To avoid blood clots".
Which won out highly over, "I feel like my grandmother."



mrs. r gives me an arm massage as I drift in and out of dilirium.



So, anyway, back to the surgery. I was in the hospital for about two days, I went home early because I wanted the catheter out and to be off of the O2 and to eat human food.
(a decision I kind of regretted later...)

We got to the hospital at 8.

I signed in on a little kiosk just like at the airport self check-in. Then they gave me a pager like you get at restaurants. You know the kind that buzz when your table is ready.

I wasn't sure what to think.
As mrs. r put it, it was like battle of the 80's awesomeness between pagers and hairnets.

Not sure which was the cooler part of the day.

It seems on days I look my ugliest, I get the cutest of nurses and or doctors caring for me. There was a pretty cute nurse-in-training tagging along before the surgery...
eye candy is always nice when you are about to go under.

(Don't worry Hubbs was there with me, and I inform him when I find someone attractive.)
Please note I find Hubbs very attractive.
A post for another day.

As they wheeled me into surgery the last thing I remember was some old male nurse asking to
"trade your pants for a warm blanket."
Hmm.

That was around 9:00 a.m. The next time I can adequately recall remembering my eyes functioning and working with my brain was around 2:00 p.m.

I was so worried I wouldn't be able to see any of my kids for three days...especially little Millz who is still breastfeeding.

My doctor is awesome.

After much persuasion and going up the chain of authority, he claims he finally talked to Obama and he gave the okay to have Millz come into the hospital.

He said it had something to do with health care reform and trying to get a higher rating as prez.
(Meh.)

It was nice however to have her come in later that night to be with me for awhile, it wasn't without a fight. In my drunken state of anesthesia and morphine to the spine I can recall some hobbit type looking nurse with really short arms trying to convince me that my baby would die of "Swine Flu" if we brought her in...lol.

Then the really cool OBGYN...who is almost ready to have her own practice (love her if ya'll need a referral in a few years) came in and I told her how un-accomodating everyone was being...and she put the smack down, saying "Your doctor has it HUGE on your chart that you are a new mom and that your baby has the okay to be here!"
(empowered...I obliged and loved and cuddled my baby.)

The surgery went well. I had my post op last week and things are looking good.

Benign.

That is ALWAYS a good word in my opinion.

The surgery went really well, they were able to keep most of my ovary.

So another four weeks of recovery before I am released back to my full schedule of motherly, wifely, and photographer duties...and all will be well.

How am I feeling?

TIRED

What was it like?

Like having a c-section three months after having a baby.
(or so I am told by my doctor)

Thank you so much for all of your thoughts, prayers, flowers, cards, food and love sent our way.

We needed it.

I needed it.

(Hopefully my posts will make more sense after my recovery...still feeling grade-a dopey!)

Baby 'Grande' and Toes are WAY more exciting than me.

When J-dawg was a little tiny man, he got this baby doll for Christmas.
(Incidentally she is like half the price now...geez.)

My hope in getting him his own little doll (and I am obviously using that term loosely) was to prepare him for the eventuality of a little brother or sister one day, hoping that it would ease the transition.

The problem? The first words out of his mouth the instant he held it were, and I quote:

"Ooooooh! Bebe muito grande!"

(said like gah-ran-jee)

Basically my tiny boy was telling me that this doll was TOO freaking huge for him to handle,
it was seriously SOOOO big!

So, the name stuck.
To this very day, having been played with by J-dawg, and Memms, and one day soon, Millz...this doll is still called,

"Baby Grande".

Meet Baby Grande...
who may or may not have once been a "boy" to ease Hubbs into the idea of his son having a doll...and who somehow has blossomed into a yellow polka dot wearing baby girl.
Who knew?

Note Millz with Baby Grande just this week.
Please consider that Millz is now three months old:

Hilariousness.

Do you see Millie in that last picture?
My other dilemma.

She is in LOVE with her feet.

She just discovered them.

While I dearly love her in every way possible,
as a mother, it is hard for me to accept that she no longer wants to look at my face,
and as a photographer she no longer eagerly looks at my camera either.

Instead she would rather look at her toes.
Another sign that she is getting bigger.
Pause while I shed a tear.

Just don't tell her that I love her toes as much as she does,
if. not. more.

Guess who was on the front page of etsy?

(I am really glad Millz loves her birth mother)

We totally were this morning! Holla!

Go see our new goodies. Mmmm.