Halloween

The kids with their carvings

Usually I enjoy this time of year. I like sewing costumes even if I do wait until the absolute last minute. I just wasn't feeling it this year, but I managed to muster up the strength to sew, sew, sew.

Ward trunk-or-treat

Adam and Zach couldn't make up their minds this year. At first it was all about being an astronaut. It went from astronaut to ghost. Too easy, I thought. I already have the white fabric. Then it went from ghost to Ironman. The conversation went something like this.
Adam: We want to be Ironman
Mom: I thought you wanted to be a ghost
Zach: No, we want to be Ironman now
Mom: But I already have the stuff to make you a ghost
Adam: (pout)
Zach: (tantrum)
Mom: I'm not going to make you Ironman because I have started to make you a ghost
Zach: Then can we be the ghost of Ironman?
Mom: No, just a ghost, but how about a scary ghost.
Adam/Zach: That sounds like a plan

(That is their new phrase for just about everything, "That sounds like a plan." )

They weren't too thrilled about the idea of wearing a mask or anything over their heads, so we opted for white paint. Yeah, the do look a little like Michael Keaton in Beetlejuice, but they were happy.

Adam's scary face

Zach's scary face

Maren said she wanted to be an Egyptian Princess. So call the costume an Egyptian Princess or Cleopatra or whatever. I call it NEVER AGAIN. This costume was a royal pain in the.....


So here it is. The original Diva Dress. Hopefully she won't grow any over the next 10 years so I can get my time and monies worth out of this gown. If by chance she does, it'll be available for rent next Halloween.

You have to check out the back of this too. Man, I totally outdid myself.

Some people call me the Space Cowboy

Ft. Hood is the Great Place.... or at least the sign above the gate says so.

"Welcome to the Great Place"

I honestly have to wonder who coined that phrase. Ft. Hood and/or Texas and "great" are not words I tend to use in the same sentence.

We have been here about 2 1/2 years now. I've been a good Army wife (not like the ones you see on TV - that is a far cry from reality). I have done my best to make the best of the Lone Star State, but I really feel like Gene Autry lied to me.

The stars at night are not that big and bright....

And I have yet to hear anyone say ki-yippee-yippe-yi

I know it's considered poor etiquette to openly dislike Texas while within her boarders.

Etiquette is a bit of stretch too. There is actually a dress protocol of Texas Casual (i.e. boots and Wranglers). Emily Post would not condone this.

Anyway, an open negative comments about the People's Republic of Texas is like Spongebob taking on Sandy Cheeks. You might very well get karate chopped for it.

I have, however, become acclimatized to the harsh Texas conditions (yes, I shiver when the mercury dips below 93) and urbanized - which is ironic considering we literally are in Cowboy country; the most country thing we have done since living here is go to the Dairy Queen. My children have developed southern accents. Not to mention my country drawl is getting might thick as well. That is going above and beyond in making the most of 'where the Army sends you'. All that said, I just don't think I'll be embracing a longhorn any time soon.

~*~

Adam and Zach (who now insists his name is Zach E. Zach - future rapper?) have had a recent fascination with astronauts. Not necessarily stars and planets, just men in oversized white snow suits.

I blame Dwayne Johnson.

I really do love their imaginations, and most of the time I'm happy to play Spaceman and the Martian Mom with them. Maybe I shouldn't encourage all their misconceptions about the science - they believe space exploration to be a combination of Planet 51 and Toy Story - but to my own amusement I do.

The other day Adam told me that astronauts don't sleep. He elaborated by telling me all about how the live in spaceshits (no, not a typo) and they work in the stars. Zach added to the debate by explaining that astronauts always work at night; therefore, because he and Adam were astronauts (or Buzz Lightyear, I forget) they shouldn't have to go to bed. It was late. I was tired. They won, but they had to look at the stars on their ceiling and the light had to be turned out.

I suppose they really did have a compelling argument. If you think about it, it is always night in space. But spaceshits sounds like something contagious floating around NASA....

Uh, Houston. We have a problem.

Boys are just different

Raising little boys is far different than raising little girls - much different than I could have ever imagined. I thought kids were kids and they were all pretty much the same until they were old enough to know otherwise.

Maren was never a girly-girl, but compare to the twins she was valedictorian of the Pretty Princess Academy for Social Refinement. The boys are destructive, loud, and messy. I did not know spitting and hitting came naturally. As does interest in all things gross from bugs to boogers. Lately it has been their fascination with everything poop that has my rolling my eyes.

The other day I came home to find my husband - my 40 year old husband - sitting at the computer with a child on each knee. "What 'cha doin'," I asked. To my horror Adam replied, "We're finding elephants pooping."

Maybe "horror" is a bit of an embelishment, but I have creative license here. It's my blog.

I shot Cooper a look. I know I did. A look that shouted what-the-hell! (Another expletive should probably be inserted here, but I'm keeping it rated PG.)

He said, "Well, they wanted to see elephants pooping." Which was followed by giggles and other affirmation that Dad is awesome!

And as it turns out, you can find video of elephants taking a dump on YouTube. (I was going to post the video, but I couldn't find the one they were watching. You're welcome to search for yourselves. You know you want to.)

Dad is awesome. What can I say? I would have never thought to search YouTube for wildlife relieving themselves as an entertainment source for three year old boys.

I swear I didn't teach them these things. I don't even recall making vroom, vroom noises while playing cars let alone tee-heeing about pachyderm poop.

By the way, did you know that when playing matchbox cars; trucks, motorcycles, and tractors make different noises? If you're playing with little boys it's very important to get that right. You will be corrected!

I know, I know, boys will be boys, but when I tell people the twins were wrestling before they could crawl I get looks that say, "Exaggerating a little aren't ya?" Now I'm not talking Caine and Able. One was pulling the other back in during the delivery. Let's face it, the only birthright they were born into is about three-fitty and a collection of really bad jazz. Sorry, Coop. But it's true, there were several cage matches in their crib.

I always attributed other little boys naughty behavior and bad habits to daycare or older brothers that teach them bad things. I'm more and more convinced now wrestling and bath aversion is innate.

Help me!

ReDeployment, Christmas, and We're Three!!!

(Coop somewhere in Iraq)

Finally, I can talk about it - or rather blog about it. Not that I really couldn't before, it was more that I wasn't sure it was a good idea to announce we were home alone for a year because Dad was in Iraq. But all that is in the past now. He's home! Praises, hallelujah, 10 fingers, 10 toes (although I joke and tell him he'd be worth more if he came back with only 9), no major scars, etc, etc. He's home!

I was notified that he was coming home with the advance party and we decided not to tell the kids. Why? Well, the Army has a funny way of changing our plans and we also thought it would be pretty fun to surprise them.

The day he arrived I got the kids up at 0'dark thirty (or around 05:00). The boys weren't too thrilled about getting out of bed that early. Maren didn't fight me. I told her the night before we had an early appointment and I needed her help with the boys. Anyway, we drove to the parade field and waited....and waited...AND waited. We got there around 06:00. Finally around 6:40 we saw the convoy of flashing lights and buses. By this time Maren had figured it out. I asked her how she knew. She told me, "Well, when he left it was dark too and you're wearing makeup." What a smartypants. I asked the boys who was on the bus. Zach, serious as could be said, "Santa Clause?" I said, "No. Daddy is on the bus." Adam argued, "No. Daddy's workin in 'raq." I said, "No. Daddy's coming home." At this point I was in tears and the soldiers were in a HUGE formation on the field. Like all the other wives, I was freezing and desperately trying to search out my soldier. When the command of "CHARGE!" was given he made a bee-line right for us. Whew!

So glad to have him home!!!

We had an awesome Christmas, but the only thing that really mattered was that daddy was home. I got exactly what I wanted!!! And the kids did too - spoiled.



Maren got a pogo-stick (she's actually pretty good on it) and a Karaoke machine for her bedroom.


The boys wanted DSes. Santa said no, but did get them Leapsters. They call them "my DS" and have almost gotten the hang of it. And of course they got cars. More and more cars for me to trip over. Have you ever stepped on a matchbox car barefoot? It hurts!

It was the best Christmas ever. The only thing that could have made it just a little bit better would be to have family closer. I guess that's just one part of being a Military Family I will never quite get use to. There is always next year....


HAPPY NEW YEAR & HAPPY BIRTHDAY

We must be getting too old to really care much about ringing in the new year. Coop and I are generally asleep by 11:00. In fact, I cannot think of a single New Year's Eve that he and I have "partied". We're not much of the partying type I suppose.

New Year's Day really doesn't have any special significance at our house for being resolution season. New Year's Day isn't really anything at our house because January 1st in Adam and Zach's Birthday. Hard to believe my handsome two-some are three-years-old.

I just love these little guys. They keep me laughing and keep my busy. But why I do fear 2010 going to be a year of mischief and mayhem at the Cooper home?