I've Gone Too Far

I have come to think of myself as a foodie.  In the past few years I've noticed my tastebuds have altered to like only really good food, in most cases (I can still rock a Coke and some peanut M & M's).  And what I really love is homemade food, from REAL ingredients.  In other words, from scratch.  No boxed mixes. 


I thought that I really couldn't dive any further into the deep end than when I started grinding my on wheat.  But apparently there is a new low.  It's really an airtight case.  I have no alibi. Go ahead and convict me based on this startling confession. 


Exhibit A - and only one exhibit is needed, that's how bad it is:


In church on Sunday, KQ was giving a really great sermon about the archeological evidences of Christ's story, and he shows us the picture of Caiaphus' remains.  The point being that up until 1990 when this box was discovered, there was no other evidence that this man existed other than the Bible itself.

I should have been thinking something profound when I saw the picture.  Like, "Wow, I love when God consistantly backs up His story."


Nope, not me, the foodie that I am.  What am I thinking?

"That's a really cool box.  Look at those designs.  That would be soooo perfect on my kitchen counter right beside Julia, my new flame orange dutch oven, only if it were about 12 inches wide of course, I can't really tell from the picture"

"I could use it to store my sour dough starter.  That is--if I even had any sour dough bread starter."

But still, wouldn't that be a great pairing?  Just move the radio out of the way and there you go.  I'll stop short of photoshopping it in, but you get the picture...

Then I realized what I was thinking and pulled myself out of my spiraling internal conversation and back to reality...  God help me.

Facebook might be Pandora's Box

I'm beginning to wonder if when I joined Facebook perhaps I might have unwittingly opened pandora's box. Sure there are benefits. We know immediately when we can expect our children to get the stomach virus because everyone's status tells us it's heading our way. We always know when there are sales at stores, thanks to the mommas out there who actually leave their houses during the day. And most importantly, I can always depend of Facebook to let me know that there are other people out there with lives very close to mine. Empathy is a comfort.


But, I think perhaps that the negatives might override the positives.

1) I can never-ever gain weight without everyone knowing. It's like we have a living weight chart on the world wide web. "Kristina looks like she's packed on about 15 lbs. since last June. See this pic versus her brand new profile pic." Don't post pictures of yourself you say? I don't have to, because there are people who take their annoyingly addictive I-phones around, take pictures and tag you in them. Then the tag tug-o-war begins. I'm tagged, I untag myself, someone else tags me, I untag myself again... so on so forth... I and my seesawing weight are forever immortalized on the internet. It's kind of like the tabloids with Oprah or Kirstie without the headlines of course. Thank GOD there are no headlines....


2) I can never surprise anyone with a fun factoid. "Yeah, I saw that on Facebook" Really ruins the enjoyment of quasi gossip. e.g.: Did you hear that so and so is pregnant? Did you know about so and so's new purchase? it goes on and on... every body knows everything instantly.


3) It causes me to almost sin on a daily basis. My friend Amy says it DOES cause her to sin. My other friend Cheri says it's not sinning if you realize that it might be...? I call it Facebook Coveting. Before Facebook I didn't have to see my friend's delicious meal that is sitting right in front of them at this very moment at S.A.B. while I'm having Cheerios for dinner. Before Facebook, I didn't have to see a bajazillion pictures of Hawaii while I am swimming in rain (I love you Kimberly).  I'll stop now, before I tell you the times when I've REALLY sinned while reading stuff on FB.


4) I constantly think about my life in terms of status updates and postings. Is this event status update worthy? I should post that on Facebook. I bet that would get tons of comments on Facebook. It's kind of like in 10th grade when I was addicted to Tetris. (yes, I played video games too much, yes, I was a dork, and no, I didn't have a boyfriend... I was too fat for one -- thank heavens there was no constant pictorial documentation back then...).  We rented it from the movie place, and I played non-stop. It got so bad that I begin to try to fit imaginary Tetris shapes into various silhouettes in my real life. STOP THE MADNESS!!!

But the box is open, and quite frankly I don't think I can stop, but curbing back is highly in order. We'll see. So, signing off for now. I need to go post a link to this posting on my profile.

I Resolve.

It's a new year and time for the obligitory list of resolutions.  So here goes:

I, Kristina Sanford, momma to three and wife to one in this Two Thousand and Tenth year of our Lord resolve to:

1) take a shower before noon at least three times a week. I usually  still have on my pajamas at 4:00, when I normally get my shower in.  That's only because I have a competent 6 year old home from school who can baby sit for about 3 1/2 minutes...  I cringe to know what actually goes on while I'm in the shower.  I'm sure there is some mischeif that I'd rather not know about.  Maybe I should just take longer showers and swim in the wonderful abyss of ignorance as long as I can...

2) wear something other than my pajamas to the bus stop.  Pretty doubtful any of Grant's friends or the bus driver for that matter think I'm running for the fashionista of the century.  They probably don't even realize I have real clothes.  You know the kinds with buttons and zippers and cloth other than fleece, jersey and spandex.

3) actually fit better into my real clothes. You know the kinds with buttons and zippers and with cloth other than fleece, jersey and spandex.  My father gave us Wii Fit for Christmas.  I'm sore already and I've really only just plugged my name into the thing.  I may need some anti depresants after seeing what that awful thing did to me yesterday.  I innocently stepped on that little rectangle box and typed in my wee little height and the next thing I know, my little mii figure blows up like a balloon and this little sqeeky, creepy voice tells me that I'm obese.  nice.

So in a nutshell, this year I want to be freshly showered as I workout in real clothes on my Wii before noon.  I'll let you know if that happens tomorrow.  I seriously doubt it, but maybe, just maybe, by 2011 that little squeeky, creepy voice will tell me I'm just overweight, not obese.  

To Grandaddy's House We Go

I have always considered my husband a great driver.  We seem to make it to our destination all in one piece-- or five pieces depending on how you look at it-- every time.   We have been a magnet for other dangerous drivers though.  -- 6 times in the past 3 years.

1)  Kroger parking lot
2) Parked in front of our house
3) In front of Kroger -- this one totalled our Honda, so sad
4) Parked in front of Troye's house 
5) parked somewhere -- this one was a hit and run at some point that we didn't notice until later
6) three weeks ago infront of the Mall of Georgia.  Dude did not have insurance - but we won't go there right now.

Any who.  The hubby is a great driver.  The teeniest bit of road rage, but all in all, I almost nearly never get stressed in the passenger seat... but after this evidence, maybe I should.

We were driving to Grandaddy Mike's on Christmas Eve and I thought I should capture the moment.

"Smile Everybody!"

Aww.. Let's do it again boys!

Cute, but your eyes are closed, son

Let's do a family shot.

Nice, boys, but apparently your father is driving with his eyes closed.  Let's try again.

Mmm.  let's try again honey.

Maybe we should pull over right now.. Do you need a nap dear?

Oh, Christmas Tree, Oh, Christmas Tree

Anyone who has known me for my entire life would know that I've changed somewhat over the years. I've been skinnier and fatter, then even skinnier, then the fattest, then somewhat thinner, and then somewhat fatter again. But that's not what I mean. I used to be a control freak. I don't even know if people around me knew that, because I'm also a people pleaser. So perhaps you could have called me subtlety controlling. (They probably have therapy for that, and I'm almost certain that is a key characteristic for most criminal masterminds, but I digress.)

I don't really know what has changed. I think getting married and having a family. I have learned that getting my way really doesn't matter, because there are more important things to worry about like mouths to feed, noses and butts to wipe and whether or not I will even get a shower today, or tomorrow for that matter.

I have one last strong hold, however. I have not quite released the last sliver of control over that tiny part of my life. I feel somewhat like Chris Farley clinging to the little stick on the side of the mountain in Black Sheep. "Stay strong, little branch" I'm clinging, but I know it's in vain. the signs are everywhere... actually at the bottom... of my Christmas tree...

My husband learned after the first year of marriage that the Christmas tree is my deal. He can contribute after, and only after, all lights are properly affixed, branches sufficiently fluffed and ribbons and bows and key ornaments are arranged. When the word is given, he might be allowed to hang a few non-vital ornaments, but with full understanding that I always maintain the right to rearrange ornaments to create the perfect ratio of colors, size and balance for the over all aesthetics of the tree.

Then I had Grant.... and Grant takes after his mother and is also a control freak. So the branch began to loosen from the side of the mountain and my grasp on it suddenly became a futile effort, and I began to realize that my tree was no longer mine.... but ours...

As Grant gets taller and taller, so does his impact on the tree. This year it is quite a juxtaposition… kind of like Kate Gosselin's hair. You know, all business in the front, and party in the back. This is more like a clash of Martha Stewart meets the Griswalds.

The top of the tree is just lovely. I can look at it all day. Look at the combination of antique ornaments, ribbon, new ornaments, flowers and the play of the tiny twinkle lights and larger bulbs. Just perfection.

Then the further down the tree you go, the tree loses its chance for the blue ribbon from Southern Living Magazine. There are no glass or antique ornaments down there for obvious reasons. Grant has all 6 of his ornaments for each year of his life hanging on one branch. He doesn't care about section 4.2b of the Christmas Tree Manual that states that all ornaments must be properly distributed over the entire tree to ensure the overall aesthetic integrity of said tree. Then there's the Christmas village. Now I must say I caught it at a better moment. Usually there are matchbox cars scattered everywhere. Not to mention playmobil men, knights, leggos and a few wild animals.

So I've lost control of the tree, for now, at least. And My childrens' fingerprints are all over that sucker...just perfection. I wouldn't have it any other way.  Man, I love Christmas!

I Mother, Therefore I am... tired

I'm tired today.

I'm tired because Juliette's diaper leaked at 4 am and she didn't like it so much, "and while I'm up, Momma, why don't you go ahead and feed me."


I'm tired because every time I start to try to something productive Jax has to pee. Why can't you pull your own pants down, son? And I know you are excited when there is poop in the potty, but do I really have to see it every time?


I'm tired because I constantly do laundry. No further explanation needed.


I'm tired because I always feel like I'm feeding someone.


I'm tired because there were TWO children in my bed with me when I woke up this morning


I'm tired simply because I never recover from 5:00-7:30 each evening. That time slot deserves its own post.


I'm tired because I've been so busy this morning I haven't had my coffee yet.


I'm tired because I had to walk to the bus stop in the rain AFTER I looked for my car keys for 15 minutes.


I'm tired because NOTHING seems to wrap up nicely with a bow. Really, the dude who hit us doesn't have insurance? nice...


I'm tired because the boys' bathroom ALWAYS smells like pee... I can't clean it enough.


No cutesy ending to this post... too tired to think of one.

I Don't think Jax is Shooting for the Nobel Peace Prize

My son is obsessed with guns.  With our first, Grant, we made the no-gun-rule.  Every good parent does, you know.  No shooting in my house, no sir.  No buying of guns. No giving of guns.  No pretend guns.  It worked great.  Grant has just enough of his mother in him that he enjoys making peace.  And as we all know, shooting at others really detracts from that goal. 

Then Jaxon came into our lives.  Not much shooting going on with an infant.  Then he discovered guns.  I don't even know if that's what happened really.  I think it's simply a part of his DNA.  Implanted in there when the sperm hit the egg.  It just started happening when he was coordinated enough to point his finger and pop down his thumb.

We still had the no-gun-rule.  But no matter to Jax.  Anything can be a gun - fingers, leggos, clothes, and even properly constructed Hot Wheels tracks.  And then there's the shooting noises. His repertoire is incredible. He recently acquired the machine gun. REALLY? We don't have video games. We don't even have cable.

We finally gave in and let him be who he is... and let him have a gun with his cowboy out fit.  He shot everything in sight for weeks.

I had to speak up, however, when he declared that Santa's sleigh "goes really fast and shoots."  I told him clearly that Santa does not shoot, and neither do his elves. 

I'm pretty sure that coal is going to be in Jax's stocking.... that or some shotgun shells.