Reason #19 Why My Husband Is A Lucky Man

(Okay, so I randomly made up that number, but I'm sure there have to be at least 20 reasons, right?)

But seriously, Superman is a lucky man because I don't really care about Valentine's Day. Wait, back up, I said that wrong. I love Valentine's Day. I love all the pink and red, and hearts, and candy, and cards. It's just a pretty, superfluous just-because holiday, and there is something I like about that.  But I don't care about the big deal. You know what I mean...the flowers, the jewelry, the reservations, and $40 bottle of wine.

I handmade 48 Valentine's Day cards for Thing 1 and Thing 2's classmates and teachers and helped them give them out at school. I made 24 cupcakes, bought candy, and then arranged this surprise treat for the teachers and staff at their school:

Then I handmade Valentine's Day cards for Thing 1 and Thing 2 from Superman and me.

I found the perfect Valentine's Day card for Superman (It is funny, not romantic. And it talks about my boobs.) and a box of candy that looks like a giant baseball heart.

Tonight, I'll make him one of his favorite dinners: fish tacos.

At bedtime I'll read the kids several books that have love themes, like All the Ways I Love You, and I Will Love You Forever.  Then I'll kiss them goodnight and head off for my shift at the local homeless shelter, like I do every Tuesday.

For me, Valentine's Day truly is just about giving and focusing on how good I feel when I show my love to others.  And I mean it when I say that I don't expect anything in return.

I won't pout it he doesn't send me flowers.  Or buy me gifts. Or take me out for a fine dining experience.  I've assured him over and over that I don't want him to buy me jewelry. Ever. For any holiday or anniversary or occasion.  (Except for earrings.  He can buy me cheap costume jewelry earrings anytime he wants.)  I don't even care if he doesn't buy me one piece of candy (because I have a debit card and two legs, and I will hit up CVS tomorrow and pick up my favorite candy wrapped in red at 50% off!).

But if he doesn't get me a card (and I mean a good card, not a 2 for $1 dollar store card), then so help me I might have to spit in his fish tacos.

Jinya Beach

When Thing 1 and Thing 2 were just little bean sprouts in my belly, Superman and I had to decide where we were going to raise these little beings.  At the time, we were living in Buckeye Country, not anywhere near either of our families, and we knew that we didn't want to stay there.  But the question was, would we go back to the Hoosier state to be closer to his family, or back to the Old Dominion to be near mine?

I was raised a military brat, so I never lived near any of my grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins.  In fact, being that my dad was in the Navy (meaning we were always stationed in a coastal city), and my parents were both born and raised in the midwest, we were lucky when we got to see those relatives more than once a year.  We usually did a summer trip out, and occasionally got to go during the winter holidays.  Growing up, I desperately envied my friends who were close (geographically and emotionally) with their extended relatives, and that is always something I wanted for my kids.

So, in the end, we decided to move back to the Hoosier state for a few reasons:

• Superman's parents are retired.  Mine still work full time
• Superman has a huge extended family (his dad is one of 9 and his mom is one of 8), with lots of cousins.  And his two brothers, who both have kids around Thing 1 and Thing 2's age, also live here.  My sister has two kids, but they are in their late teens (and she lives 600 miles from my parents anyway) and my brother doesn't have any kids (or is even married yet).  And obviously I have no cousins or extended family there.
• Where he is from in the midwest is MUCH cheaper to live than where I'm from on the east coast.  We were able to buy a 4 bedroom house with a full basement for what we would have gotten a two bedroom condo for where I grew up.

But, life isn't black and white, and our choice is still sometimes hard to deal with.

I miss my friends and their kids terribly.  And they are all so close in age to my boys...they'd be perfect to grow up with.  Their un-cousins.  Superman only has one friend here that even has kids.

Their first year we made it home four times.  But since then, we are finding ourselves only able to visit about twice a year, because of time, work, money, etc.  My kids started referring to my parents as the "other grandma" and the "other grandpa".

This past Thanksgiving, after an 11 month absence, we were able to take a short visit back and see the other grandparents, my brother, my sister and her family, and most of my friends and their kids.  But the visit, like always, felt so rushed.  I felt like I had 100 people to visit in 72 hours.  I felt pulled in so many different directions, and felt like I was disappointing everyone and wasn't spending quality time with anyone.

After being guilted by one of my good friends, who bless her heart just wanted some time with me, I turned to Superman in tears and told him that I hated the emotional blackmail part of the trip so much that it makes me never want to come back for visits.  Since I know I'm invariable going to let someone (often multiple someones) down by not giving them the time they feel they deserve.  I left that trip relieved to be heading home and seriously dreading going back.

But Thing 1 and Thing 2 don't know about all of that.  They just knew that they loved being with their other grandma and grandpa, and taking their pack of dogs on long walks.  They loved playing with their aunt and uncles and cousins.  And loved playing with mommy's friends' kids.  They loved going to the beach.  Almost weekly since Thanksgiving, they have asked when we were going to "go far away again to Jinya Beach."  They have stopped calling my parents the other grandma and grandpa.  And I often overhear them playing with stuffed doggies, calling them my parents' dogs names.

On Sunday, I decided to surprise the boys by taking them to visit the dog shelter.  When they asked where we were going and I said it was a surprise, they asked "Are we going far away to Jinya Beach?"  When I said no, Thing 2 bursted into tears asking me why we couldn't go.  And it reminded me of those times as a child when I would literally cry from missing my midwest grandparents so much.  And it was almost as if I could feel all of those bitter and anxious feelings melting away from Thanksgiving, as I comforted my little boy and heard myself saying that maybe we can plan a trip to Jinya Beach for Spring Break.

Christmas Under Attack

So, apparently GOP nominee-wannabe Rick Perry says that “our kids can’t openly celebrate Christmas or pray in school.”

I agree that political correctness can sometimes be taken ridiculously far.  But, c'mon people, do you really believe the "majority" of Americans really feeling persecuted on this one?  I was a student too long ago to give my personal experience as a student, but I was just a teacher in public schools a few years ago, and we still had Christmas in school (I loved our ugly Christmas sweater contests!)

Heck, I was visiting an elementary school earlier this week and they had a write a "letter to Santa" bulletin board. And I live in a very liberal college town with a lot of international students. If Christmas is still in OUR schools...I have a feeling it's not the epidemic Rick Perry wants you to think it is.

"No prayer in school" does not mean prayer in school is illegal (you will not get sent to jail, or even detention for praying in school), it just means no organized prayer in school.  No mandated prayer in  school. No one (teacher, principal, coach, etc) can force anyone to pray, thereby also pressing their personal religious beliefs on a child. Your child.  Think about it...I have a colleague who is Muslim and is a social studies teacher at a local middle school. What do you think most Christians would do if SHE led a prayer in her class?! They'd freak the fuck out! Freak. The. FUCK. Out. They'd be picketing. Rioting. No, burning the freaking school down.

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating.  A little.

But most Christians I know would be really upset about that. To say the least.

Every school, every morning during announcements (at least every school I've ever attended or taught at or visited for any other reason) observes a moment of silence. This is a moment (about a minute or so) set aside for both the students and staff to take a moment to relax, be calm, and reflect on their coming day. An opportunity for those who feel so inclined to say a prayer. And they can start it for themselves as "Dear God" "Our Heavenly Father" "My Creator" or "Dear Lord baby Jesus", or however else they personally feel compelled to pray. Because religion is, and should always be, a personal choice. A BELIEF if you will.

I attend and am a member of a Christian church. But occasionally, we attend other churches, most commonly my in-law's church. And even though both of our churches are Christian, I get uncomfortable during parts of their service and many of their prayers, because our churches just have such different interpretations of things. I often will block out what is being prayed and say my own, different, silent prayer in my head. One that fits my beliefs.

I can almost hear it now "well, children who believe differently or don't want to pray could do the same thing." But here is a huge difference: #1 I am choosing to be sitting in that church. No one forces me to go, not even my in-laws. Children do not have a choice to go to school. #2 I am a grown adult with formed beliefs, and those people in the pulpit of my in-laws church are not my role models or mentors or authority figures.  I can easily distinguish between what they tell me and what I personally believe.  Children are typically much more easily influenced than that.  And bottom line is, if my children are praying, I want them to pray prayers that are meaningful to them and their beliefs, not their teachers, or classmates, or some government official somewhere hundreds of miles from their classroom.

Dear Santa

After almost every trip home I fall into a mild depression (not the clinically diagnosed kind). Because during those few days back in my hometown, I get to spend short but valuable quality time with my best friends. These are woman who I have known for years. Before babies. Before husbands. Heck, most of them before I could drink, or vote, or drive! 17 years and more. I love them so much. And miss them every day.

Sure, thanks to cell phones, emails, and Facebook, I don’t miss them nearly as much as I would have a 100 years ago when we could have only sent written correspondence that would take a week or more to deliver. Keeping in touch now is much more convenient and economical. But still, Skyping doesn’t replace sitting next to them on the couch, sipping a glass of wine, and laughing together. Or crying together. And I can’t do that from 800 miles away.

And I miss that they know me. Really know me. Know that I’m sarcastic, opinionated, and bawdy. Now that I am passionate about important things and irrelevant things like which peanut butter is the best. That I have the best intentions despite having a propensity for putting my foot in my mouth. That I love gossip, but not in a mean spirited way. That I often need to bitch and complain, just to get things off my chest before I can get any clarity on the situation. That I’m a loyal friend, but I also believe in being honest even though I know it’d be easier to just tell you what you want to hear. They know that I can be unintentionally judgmental, and they help me work on changing that about myself.

With them, I don’t have to act smarter than I am. Or to censor myself. Act more pious. Or polite. Or wittier. Or more informed. I can be exactly who I am, and they love me and accept me just for that. I feel safe and unjudged.

As a married mother/adult living in a university town, I have found it very hard to make friends. Sure, I have some wonderful acquaintances, but that is all they are. Nice people that I exchange pleasantries with in social situations.

How are you?

I’m great. How are you?

Wonderful.

How is the family? Good?

That’s terrific! Man this weather is beautiful/terrible/crazy/unexpected.

Yes, isn’t it? But that is Indiana for you.

True. Well, it was good to see you.

Awesome, it was good to see you, too.

But for one reason or another it never seems to go past this very superficial level into any more meaningful relationships.

Part of the problem is that because this is a university town, most people I meet seem to see their time here as temporary. Just a bookmark in their life until they move on to their real jobs, their real homes, their real lives. They don’t seem interested in putting much effort into making good friends here, since they themselves are only here on loan until they finish their degrees or find permanent positions elsewhere. And I will admit, back when I lived here as a graduate student in the early 2000s, I was the same way.

The other problem is that when you were young, it didn’t take much to establish a connection. You thought they were fun and funny and they thought the same about you.  But now, you might like her but your husband doesn’t care for him. Or your husbands get along but you and she have nothing to talk about. Or you both like the couple, but you can’t stand their kid and don’t really want them around your kids. Or worse…they don’t have kids, so they just can’t understand your schedule and why you always turn down their invitations to go meet for drinks at 9:00 pm on a school night.

Superman doesn’t seem as phased about not having friends as I am. Honestly, between having me and his parents nearby…he seems quite content with all of his acquaintances. But I want, no, I NEED some girlfriends! And not the kind I can only reach out and touch through a keyboard, but the fleshy kind. The kind that will show up at my house unannounced on a Saturday and sit and drink a cup of hot chocolate with me while we watch the kids play in the snow in the backyard. The kind that we have a monthly game night with, when you bring the kids’ pajamas, because you know the fun will go way past their bedtime.

Oh, and not to be too picky, but I want one that mothers similar to me. Someone that doesn’t feed their kids McDonald’s at every meal, but doesn’t think Ronald McDonald is the devil either. Someone who doesn’t put coke in their one year old’s sippy cup, but doesn’t feed them only organic seaweed juice. Someone who believes in discipline, but also believes that children are children and that 4 year olds shouldn’t be expected to conform to adult standards of politeness and properness. Someone who doesn't chronically read parenting advice books. Someone who I can ask parenting advise from, but isn’t offended if I don’t take it. A mother who is realistic about their love for their child, and doesn’t insist that they are god’s gift to the world and they poop skittles and rainbows. A mother who likes spending time with her children, not one who always wants to do “just girls” things because she is desperate to get away from them at every opportunity.

I know my list is not unreasonable. I know this, because I know these women. And if this were a perfect world, I’d live next door to them in Virginia Beach and still have my amazing in-laws living just 45 minutes away.

But until then, I can just say:

Dear Santa Claus,

Please, please, please bring me a friend this year.  I’ve been very good all year and I think I deserve it.

Love,

Me

P.S. She must believe in Santa Claus.

Almost done

Halloween is almost upon us.  Time to get together the finish pieces of the boys' costume.

We liked having the wagon with us so much last year that we decided to refashion the Thomas the tank engine into a hot dog cart.

Because I'd been using the wagon as a garden cart, and it'd been left out in the backyard all summer, and was completely waterlogged (yea, we didn't make it with very good wood), we had to rebuild the bottom and sides.

Then we spray painted it a shiny metallic silver and resprayed the wheels and handles black.

Finally we painted the sides.  And what hot dog cart is complete without an umbrella?

We are finally all ready for Halloween.  And not a moment too soon, because tomorrow there is a Trick or Treating event in town along fraternity/sorority row that we plan on hitting up!  First time with all of the costumes together!  Can't wait to take some pictures.

My Back Up Plan

My back up plan, for if/when Thing 1 and Thing 2 decide they don't want to wear their costumes for very long.

They'll also be great just-because tees, dontcha think?

Cut the mustard

As a reminder, my 4 year old twin sons wanted to be ketchup and mustard for Halloween this year.

Thing 1 is my mustard eater and Thing 2 can't get enough of his ketchup. So, in my mind that is how I would dress them. But over the past week and a half, they have each been telling me that they are dressing as the other condiment. I have no idea how this will shake out on Halloween night.

But for now, I finished the Ketchup costume last weekend.

And spent this morning finishing the Mustard costume.

I used the ketchup costume as a base for size and height. Then made the slightly more bell-bottomed shape and narrow squirter top. It fits Thing 1 great so far.

Then I hot glued the labels I'd already made, and I added his weight in ounces to the bottom. Then used yellow puffy paint to make lines on the squirter to look like ridges.

Finally, I had to bribe Thing 1 to try it on for me. But once he had it on, he really had some fun with it pretending to soak Superman with mustard.

Next step: the hotdog cart!

Ketchup catch-up

Thing 2's ketchup costume is finished!

One I finished making the labels (materials: felt, hot glue gun, and puffy paint), I just had to make the actual bottle shape.

I didn't have a pattern, so I literally laid my little ketchup kid down on the felt and did a police outline of his body.

Unfortunately, my ketchup kid (Thing 2) wasn't being very cooperative after the initial measurements, so luckily I had a clone happy to step in for the "fittings".

Finished product.

I plan on having Thing 2 wear a red shirt under the costume.  I'll have to have a long sleeve one on stand-by in case it gets cold.  No jacket is going on over this costume!

And, I've already finished the labels for Thing 1's mustard costume.

Seriously, I love Halloween!  When Steve Jobs tells the world to follow your passions, I think to myself "Self, why can't you find a job where you get paid to make Halloween costumes all year long?" :)

Halloween is coming!

Halloween is just 26 days away! Which, seems like a lot of time, but if you saw our family's calendar for this month, you'd understand why I already feel like I'm running behind making Thing 1 and Thing 2's Halloween costumes.

As I've discussed before, I come from the school of make-your-own-costumes. And as a mother of twins, I like to dress my boys in coordinating themes. So this year, we decided to do Ketchup and Mustard. Superman actually came up with the original idea, after seeing ketchup and mustard costumes at Menards. It seemed like a perfect fit for them because we are going through a phase right now where they want "sauce" on everything. And wouldn't you know it, Thing 1 only wants mustard. Lots and lots of mustard: on hotdogs, on french fries, on chicken nuggets, on Ritz crackers. You name it. Thing 2, the same thing except he wants ketchup on everything. I even saw him dipping his apples and grapes in ketchup. And he ate them!!

Of course my boys can't wear any regular old generic ketchup and mustard costume :), so I hit the internet and searched for inspiration.  Basically, I decided to model their costumes after the old fashioned Heinz ketchup bottle and French's mustard bottle.

Last night I measured the boys and then drafted a costume based on their proportions. Then, using felt, I designed the Heinz ketchup label. I used my spring loaded snippers to cut out the intricate letters out of adhesive backed black felt.  I started cutting out the red lettering too, but it came out too fat, so I settled on using red fabric paint instead.

I replaced the original "Est" date with 2007, since that is the year Thing 1 and Thing 2 were born.  And I changed the "Net Wt" to their weight in ounces.  For the label under the cap (not shown) I used 04 instead of 57, since the boys are 4 years old.

Now, I just need to figure out how I'm going to create the bottle itself. I can't decide if I should do all one piece with a face hole cut out or break it into two parts, with the neck as a hat.

Oh, and remember the Thomas the Tank engine we made from a wagon last year? We liked having the wagon so much for practical and logistical purposes that this year we are repurposing it as a hot dog stand.

Now if only we had a dog to stick in a hot dog costume.

I love fall

School started this week, which can only mean one thing: Fall is on its way!

I love fall!

I love the light jacket weather, the falling leaves, the cool nights, wearing scarfs, drinking hot chocolate...and I LOVE Halloween.

Right about this time every year, my mind starts racing with possibilities of how to dress up Thing 1 and Thing 2 that will make them even cuter than they are everyday (if that is possible, right?!).

For their first Halloween, they were, what else...Thing 1 and Thing 2.

For their second Halloween, they were Bert & Ernie.

For their third, they were rock stars.

And last Halloween, they were train engineers (complete with their very own ride in Thomas the tank engine).

What will they be this year?  Hmmm....  the possibilities are endless!

They like firetrucks.  And dogs.  Maybe I can make them a fireman and dalmatian.

They love acting like animals.  Maybe I could make them a puppy and a kitten.

They are really in to space and astronauts.  Maybe I could make them an astronaut and an alien.

But then again... a lot can change in two months, and by then, the boys may have all new favorite things!  So unlike last year, I resolve not to begin buying costume parts off of ebay in August!  (Although, those purchases will come in handy if the boys do decide to be firemen this year!)

Patience never was my strong suit.

Happy Father's Day Superman

I recently posted this article about Fathers on my facebook page, commenting how I'm so glad that both Superman and my own father are the good kind of fathers.  The kind that have made being active with their kids a priority in their lives.  A father who is actually an equal parent and an equal spouse, doing housework and laundry because it is a household responsibility, not claiming it's woman's work.  (On the same token, I have been known to roll up my sleeves and mow the lawn and take out the trash and grab my tool box to fix a faulty light switch or replace a toilet, because it's not men's work.)

I thought: How sad that this needs to be written in 2011.  It seems like such a 1950s idea of woman as caretaker and man as standoffish provider.  But sadly, I do personally know couples where the mother does do it all while the father works.  And when he comes home he needs his "me time" to unwind from working.  And then spends hours and hours of golfing on the weekends.  For some of them it works (and good for them, who am I to judge), but for most of them...it doesn't.  The women feel over burdened and unappreciated.  And they are sad to see their children who idolize their daddies, getting so little of his time or attention.  And they fume when the absentee fathers suggest having "just one more" baby.  One of my friends even secretly had her tubes tied during her c-section, and as far as I know STILL hasn't told her husband, because he wanted more kids and she didn't.  And some of these women eventually became so tired of being single mothers that they eventually left their husbands to be actual single mothers.

I wouldn't say that I'm lucky Superman turned out to be a good dad, because I always knew he would be.  In fact, that is part of why I fell in love with him.  Part of why I knew I wanted to marry him. We met when we were both working for a non-profit organization that provided care and job opportunities for adults with physical and mental disabilities.  Watching the care, patience, and compassion he had for a population most people are afraid of, I could see the kind of father he would one day be.  And throughout our dating, as I got to know him better and better, I just became more sure of this.

Because remember ladies, we don't live in a patriarchal society with archaic arranged marriages.  We CHOOSE our mates.  We CHOOSE who we want to procreate with.  Who we want to share our genes with and our lives.

In fact, when I first met Superman, I was actually dating someone else.  This guy was fun, funny, interesting, and he adored me (who wouldn't love that?).  I knew he wanted to marry me.  I knew he wanted to have kids with me.  But the thing was, as fun as he was to date...I knew he was not the guy I wanted to be the father of my children.  First of all, he had a son.  And honestly, as much as I liked the guy, I thought he was a pretty lousy father.  True, there are some other factors why I knew he wasn't the one that I won't go into here, but the bottom line was even without any of those other factors, seeing him father his son, I knew I would not be having kids with him.

But I guess maybe I was lucky.

Lucky that Superman didn't change. Some women I know have married men who maybe they thought would be great dads, but somewhere along the line they made their careers a priority over parenting.

Lucky that he turned out to be an even better dad than I ever hope or imagined.

When I found out I was pregnant, we immediately started discussing whether or not we could afford for one of us to stay home.  Even from the beginning, it wasn't how I would stay home.  It was which one of us.  Prior to getting pregnant, we had never discussed how to handle child care.  Which in hindsight was a mistake.  However, as luck would have it we both were in 100% agreeance that we didn't want to put a baby in daycare, and that we would find a way to make sure that, at least for the first year, one of us would stay home to raise it.

Because we had just moved to a new state for my job, and Superman didn't even have a full time job yet (did I mention the pregnancy was unplanned?), he volunteered to stay home.

Then we found out we were having twins.

He didn't bat an eye.  In fact, once he found out we were having twin boys, he seemed pretty excited for his "guy time".

After one year, we both agreed that the arrangement was working so well that he would go ahead and stay home another year.  At the end of year two, we decided to go for another!  For three years, he was the primary caregiver, before we decided it was time for the boys to head to pre-school, and for Superman to re-enter the outside-of-home-workforce again.  I was both happy (for the boys starting a new chapter of their lives and for Superman getting a chance to work among peers again) and sad (because for three years I never had to worry about my children's care and happiness).

But you would not believe how many comments I heard from other women (mothers and non-mothers) saying "I would never let anyone else raise my children".  Excuse me?  I didn't drop them off with some stranger, they were at home with their father.  What makes you think that you have more of a right to raise your children than he does?  What makes you think you'd even be better at it?

Honestly, are there things I probably would have done differently (like more scheduled activities and taking the kids on playdates), but I say probably because I realize some things are easier said than done.  What I think I would have done and what I actually would have done might be two wholly different things...

But I can tell you what they did learn from their daddy that they most likely wouldn't have learned from me (at least not as well):

Patience.  I am much more hot-headed and quick to temper than my calm-demeanored husband; I love that they seem to have acquired his personality.  After all, if I hadn't thought he was pretty great, I wouldn't have married him.

A love for music.  Sure, I love to sing along with the radio, but by three years old, my boys already knew how to keep a beat on drums and hold a guitar the right way as they lip synced to old school 80s rock songs, thanks to hours and hours of home jam sessions.  I swear to you they can tell the difference between Girls, Girls, Girls, Crazy Train, I Love Rock n' Roll, and Jump by just the first two bars of the song.

A love for the outdoors.  Even on the hottest of days, when I would have hidden away in the security of the air conditioning, Superman would venture outside with the boys and find something fun to do.  Whether it was splashing around in the wading pool, looking for bugs, or just taking a short walk.

How to be active.  Superman is an avid runner, and loves being active.  He would take the boys on really long walks, all around our little town.  Often walking them up to my work to visit me during the day.  Now 4 years old, Thing 1 and Thing 2 really show the benefits of being raised by someone so active.  (Not to say that I'm a lazy-ass, but let's just say I find doing a craft project more fun than taking a 5 mile walk pushing a double stroller.)

I could go on.  But, my point is...yes, we are different parents.  But neither one of us is the inherently better parent based on whether we sit or stand when we pee.  We both have our strengths and our weaknesses.  And I like to think that as co-parents we compliment one another well and have raised two amazingly awesome kids because of it.

I think it is time to stop accepting that fathers are some kind of second rate parents.  Quit describing a dad spending time with his kids as "babysitting" or "giving mom a break", he is just doing what he is supposed to be doing...being a parent!  Quit having such low expectations of what a father looks like.  EXPECT a father to be a parent.  A real parent.

And don't accept this "I work hard all day" as an excuse for not parenting nonsense.  Guess what?  For three years I was the working parent with the 9-5 job, yet I somehow managed to come home, change my clothes, and go play with my kids...and my husband (because that is important too).  In fact, everyday I would make sure to 1. notice and give Superman a compliment about the house, 2. give him a rest from the kids (stay-at-homes need this "me time" much more than working parents I think), 3. cook dinner, and we alternated days for who gave the evening bath.  Was it tiring?  Of course.  But who ever said being a parent would be easy?

I'm happy to say that its summertime again, and school is out.  Which means my husband has left his Clark Kent job as high school teacher to resume his role of Superman stay-at-home-dad.  So, for the next 2.5 months, I can rest easing knowing Thing 1 and Thing 2 will be having the summer fun of their lives!

And honestly, I'm pretty jealous.  Because who wouldn't want to spend all day hanging out with this guy --->?

I like to plan ahead...

Superman actually enjoys last minute shopping.  He gets a thrill out of going to the store and having to find "the perfect gift" in five minutes flat.  Unfortunately, more often than not it is the leftover gift...the gifts that no one else wanted.  Which is why I like to plan ahead.  If my gift is a fail, it is rarely for lack of trying.

Which is why Mother's Day has just passed, and I'm already thinking of the next holiday...Father's Day. On Mother's Day, I got my mom a "4 Reasons I Love Being a Grandma" shirt from PersonalizationMall.com, and for just $3 extra I was able to add a personalized card which I thought was a really cute and unique touch.

So, for Father's Day, I decided to head on over to another of my favorite websites, Shutterfly.com to order up a few personalized cards for Superman and the grandpas.  Right now, you get 20% off of all cards, plus free shipping on orders over $30.

I was able to fill up the cart with a bunch of things I needed printed and a few other upcoming gift necessities to get my free shipping.  (I have an unnatural need to never pay for shipping!)

The trick is you have to order these far enough ahead of time that you can wait the 7-10 days delivery time for the free shipping items.

Check out the card I made for Grandpa Train.  It maybe the only picture of him and Grandma Train with all of their grandkids.  I think he is going to LOVE it!

And, if you make a project and share it in your blog (like I have here), you'll get a code for $10 off your next purchase.

The Easter Bunny Threw Up

I'm proud to say that we actually only bought three of the things on the table.  The Bambi video and the baseball gloves.  That's the best thing about having really young kids, they don't remember that they got all of this other Easter crap for the last three Easters.

We've known for months now that we wanted to get the boys baseball mitts for their Easter baskets, especially since their first tee-ball practice is next weekend.  The only problem...we still don't know if they are right-handed or left-handed.  We've been trying for weeks to pinpoint, even enlisting their teachers to help us out, but we still aren't 100% sure.  Thing 1 seems to prefer his left hand for writing, throwing, and eating, at least most of the time.  But not all of the time.  Thing 2 seems to prefer his left hand for writing and eating, but throws with his right hand.  But again, most of the time that is true, but not all of the time.

Superman is really rooting for them to be left-handed.  First of all because his dad, Papaw Train, is left-handed and he (Superman) has a serious case of daddy-worship.  Second, because he has big dreams of the boys being Major league pitchers one day, which they'd have a better chance of if they were left-handed.

I personally would like Thing 1 to be left-handed and Thing 2 to be right-handed.  That'd make a perfect pitcher/catcher team!

For now, we bought three mitts.  Two left-handed and one right.  We are pretty sure Thing 1 is left-handed, but we got Thing 2 one of each, and we'll see which one he prefers and return the other.