Ya know, just in case any of you were wondering where I am.
Now, where have I been? Good question.
Saturday, we spent the day with my family, celebrating Easter at my cousins' farm in Bucksnort. (Is Bucksnort not the funniest name for a town)? (Oh, and just to clarify...everyone calls it a farm because it is a couple of hundred acres in the middle of nowhere which, I am sure you gathered by the name Bucksnort...it does not however, have animals or crops, so I am not sure what the actual term should be, so for the sake of the story, we'll stick with "farm").
Where was I? Oh yes, Bucksnort. We spent the day eating fantastic Bar-B-Q, hunting for eggs, riding 4-wheelers and enjoying the farm life. (Mark and I are trying to convince ourselves that we do not need a "farm" ourselves).
Sunday was spent at church of course. It was fantastic. Truly fantastic.
After church, we left for St. Louis.
On the way, it snowed. Heavily.
We were shocked by the sight of flooded farm land.
We checked into our hotel. (My husband wrinkled his nose at my choice of the Drury Inn Plaza. He apologized upon arrival. It was a great hotel, great service, nice breakfast and huge rooms. Yay for tripadvisor-dot-com).
Monday, after breakfast, we hit the Zoo. St. Louis has the BEST zoo.
We had lunch at a Root Beer bottling place called Fitz's. The food wasn't great, but the Root Beer was TASTY. (Forrest and I are root beer connoisseurs).
My lovely husband took the kiddies for a swim and I read for a bit as I was coming down with a cold.
Which is why I took NyQuil in order to sleep that night.
Which is why I slept through 3 hours of Sophie and her stomach virus. Have I said that I have the best husband in the world? He completely handled the stomach virus. All three hours of projectile body fluids. God bless him.
We slept through breakfast at the hotel on Tuesday.
Sophie and I braved IHOP with everyone else.
Then, she and I came back to the hotel and slept for the next four hours. Mark (the saint) took the rest of the kids to tour a historic court house, wander around the green-space beneath the Arch, and swim in the pool again.
On Wednesday, things were looking better. We made it to breakfast.
Then, we headed to the City Museum. We couldn't believe how much they have added in the last 5 years. The weather was great, and the kids had a blast playing outside. After 6 hours, we were wore out. We headed back to the hotel, ordered in, packed and went to bed early.
Which was a good thing.
Because Chloe woke up with the stomach virus.
The plan was to go to the Arch and then to the Magic House Museum.
Instead we ate a quick breakfast and headed for home.
Which was a good thing...because Chloe threw up in a plastic bag for the next three hours. Yay. (Yes, we tossed them out and replaced them with fresh ones frequently...just in case you were worried about the germs and/or smell).
And we had to stop at Wal-Mart to get Hannah cough medicine because she caught my cold.
And then we were caught in a hail storm.
And then Mark got the stomach virus.
And then I got a fever.
And now, I am going to bed.
p.s. Pictures to follow.
p.s.s The 306 blog will be updated tomorrow.
p.s.s.s Even when we are all sick, we have a great time together, and I am so eternally thankful that God has blessed me with this hectic-crazy-sickly-fun-wild bunch of kids and fantabulous husband.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Introducing...
Winston Oliver Suffridge
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Born: February 1, 2008
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Currently 9lb 10oz (and growing by 5oz a day)!
We are in love.
Monday, March 10, 2008
The deal with dogs is...
ya just never know. Will they be a "good" dog. Will they potty train in a reasonable amount of time, will they be loyal and loving, sensitive to your mood and ready to nuzzle you when they sense that you need it? Will they be gentle with the kids, happy in the car, friendly with the neighbors and their dogs? Will this be an euphoric Lassie-like experience where everyone (doggie included) is happy with the relationship?
Or will they bite the groomer ensuring that they come home with a strip of hair the width of razor missing from their back (think reverse mohawk). Will they nibble on your children or will they chew your new dining room furniture? Will they refuse to potty outside, preferring to "go" under the beds in the pink bedroom? Will they chew on your favorite brown Steve Madden sandal or poop right next to your brand new Nike shocks? Will your friends kindly ask that you put your doggie "up" so that they aren't jumped upon or scratched and so that their children aren't chased around the house? (Yes, all of those things happened to us while we were the proud owners of Libby Lu).
That's the thing with doggies. It's a gamble. An expensive gamble at that.
When Mark and I first married, he had a 95lb Lab mix, Onyx. When she was a puppy, she contracted parvo. Mark spent $600 on his "free" puppy, and she lived. In most respects, she was a great dog.
We had been married a few months when she began digging under our fence. We spent MANY hours filling in holes, picking up trash and chasing her down. Once we figured out how to keep her in the fence, male dogs began climbing in there with her.
Strange behaviour seeing how she had been fixed three or four years before.
We took her to the vet. Evidently, when she had been spayed, a tiny bit of ovary had been left. It regenerated, and this was causing her to go into heat a couple of times a month. This also caused her to be aggressive towards dogs that were smaller than her.
After having to pay the vet bills of two of our neighbors dogs, we gave her to my aunt and uncle who live on 10 acres out in the middle of nowhere.
Eventually, we decided that we wanted another doggie. Despite our preference for large dogs, we thought that with our new house (we had been here less than a year at this point), and our small children (Sophie was 4, Chloe was 3 and Cammie was 2), a smaller doggie would be a better choice.
We fell in love with an adorable, fluffy, little Shih Tzu. I personally had visions of cute little sweaters, frilly hair bows and my own wittle furry lap dog. Mark raved about how "beautiful" she was, Forrest thought she was quote "the sweetest puppy ever". Hannah promised to brush her, Sophie developed Elmyra-ish tendencies, Cammie thought she had a new playmate and even animal-timid Chloe was in love.
This lasted for a few months. We tried to train her. We made excuses for her less than desirable behaviour. Then, after the infamous poo-in-the-Nike-shock incident, we gave her away. The kids didn't bat an eye when after 12 months of trying to traing Libby, the nice people we found on free-cycle drove off into the sunset with her. That was the end of our dog owning days.
Fast forward two and a half years.
The itch is back. We want a doggie.
We love dogs. We enjoy owning them, playing with them, loving on them.
After going back and forth, weighing the pros and cons, we decide to jump in and give it one last try.
This time, we spent time researching... thinking of the traits and characteristics we wanted in a dog.
We knew from past experience that we wanted a large dog. I think small dogs are ADORABLE, but they are just not for us. We are BIG dog people.
No yippee dogs, no jumpy dogs, no dumb dogs. No hyper dogs, no mean dogs.
Big. Calm. Tame. Trainable. Reliable. Docile.
And. So. We decided that a Saint Bernard is the dog for us. 185 pounds of trainable, loving, docile fur.
This time, we are going into this more educated and more informed. Just in case that isn't enough, we're hiring an obedience trainer.
This is our new lovie. We haven't named him yet. We bring him home on Saturday.
Or will they bite the groomer ensuring that they come home with a strip of hair the width of razor missing from their back (think reverse mohawk). Will they nibble on your children or will they chew your new dining room furniture? Will they refuse to potty outside, preferring to "go" under the beds in the pink bedroom? Will they chew on your favorite brown Steve Madden sandal or poop right next to your brand new Nike shocks? Will your friends kindly ask that you put your doggie "up" so that they aren't jumped upon or scratched and so that their children aren't chased around the house? (Yes, all of those things happened to us while we were the proud owners of Libby Lu).
That's the thing with doggies. It's a gamble. An expensive gamble at that.
When Mark and I first married, he had a 95lb Lab mix, Onyx. When she was a puppy, she contracted parvo. Mark spent $600 on his "free" puppy, and she lived. In most respects, she was a great dog.
We had been married a few months when she began digging under our fence. We spent MANY hours filling in holes, picking up trash and chasing her down. Once we figured out how to keep her in the fence, male dogs began climbing in there with her.
Strange behaviour seeing how she had been fixed three or four years before.
We took her to the vet. Evidently, when she had been spayed, a tiny bit of ovary had been left. It regenerated, and this was causing her to go into heat a couple of times a month. This also caused her to be aggressive towards dogs that were smaller than her.
After having to pay the vet bills of two of our neighbors dogs, we gave her to my aunt and uncle who live on 10 acres out in the middle of nowhere.
Eventually, we decided that we wanted another doggie. Despite our preference for large dogs, we thought that with our new house (we had been here less than a year at this point), and our small children (Sophie was 4, Chloe was 3 and Cammie was 2), a smaller doggie would be a better choice.
We fell in love with an adorable, fluffy, little Shih Tzu. I personally had visions of cute little sweaters, frilly hair bows and my own wittle furry lap dog. Mark raved about how "beautiful" she was, Forrest thought she was quote "the sweetest puppy ever". Hannah promised to brush her, Sophie developed Elmyra-ish tendencies, Cammie thought she had a new playmate and even animal-timid Chloe was in love.
This lasted for a few months. We tried to train her. We made excuses for her less than desirable behaviour. Then, after the infamous poo-in-the-Nike-shock incident, we gave her away. The kids didn't bat an eye when after 12 months of trying to traing Libby, the nice people we found on free-cycle drove off into the sunset with her. That was the end of our dog owning days.
Fast forward two and a half years.
The itch is back. We want a doggie.
We love dogs. We enjoy owning them, playing with them, loving on them.
After going back and forth, weighing the pros and cons, we decide to jump in and give it one last try.
This time, we spent time researching... thinking of the traits and characteristics we wanted in a dog.
We knew from past experience that we wanted a large dog. I think small dogs are ADORABLE, but they are just not for us. We are BIG dog people.
No yippee dogs, no jumpy dogs, no dumb dogs. No hyper dogs, no mean dogs.
Big. Calm. Tame. Trainable. Reliable. Docile.
And. So. We decided that a Saint Bernard is the dog for us. 185 pounds of trainable, loving, docile fur.
This time, we are going into this more educated and more informed. Just in case that isn't enough, we're hiring an obedience trainer.
This is our new lovie. We haven't named him yet. We bring him home on Saturday.
p.s. As I was typing this, the movie Beethoven came on. Surely that's a sign...right?
p.s.s. Feel free to leave name suggestions in the comment section or email them to me.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Did you hear the sigh of relief...
coming from Hendersonville around 5:30 this evening?
No?
Well, that was me. Mark and I finally put our Christmas totes up into the loft in our garage. They have been taking up a good chunk of our garage ever since December 30th. It has been a very tight fit parking my truck in there.
Yes, the 2 five foot tall eighty pound nutcrackers, 3 over sized totes, 10 regular sized totes, 1 wreath container, 4 bags, 1 seven foot tree, 2 four foot trees, 1 holly berry topiary, 1 cardboard box and festive holiday door mat are nestled into their home high above my truck just in time for Easter.
No?
Well, that was me. Mark and I finally put our Christmas totes up into the loft in our garage. They have been taking up a good chunk of our garage ever since December 30th. It has been a very tight fit parking my truck in there.
Yes, the 2 five foot tall eighty pound nutcrackers, 3 over sized totes, 10 regular sized totes, 1 wreath container, 4 bags, 1 seven foot tree, 2 four foot trees, 1 holly berry topiary, 1 cardboard box and festive holiday door mat are nestled into their home high above my truck just in time for Easter.
7 Random Facts
I had planned on posting today... a post revealing the breed of puppy that we are adopting. As I was reading Renee's blog, I realized that I had been unofficially "tagged". (Actually, I am feeling a bit lazy, and figure it will be easier to come up with obscure things about myself than to write about our history with dogs).
Without further ado...
1. When I was in the 7th grade, I decided that since I hated my name so much, I should go by my middle name...Ellissa (how creative was that spelling...Mellissa minus the "M"). I even had it embroidered on my cheer leading uniform (yes, I was a cheerleader...eek). Unfortunately, everyone knew me as "Destry", and even having my new name emblazoned across my shoulder wasn't enough to convince them to call me otherwise.
2. I have a scar that is approximately 4" long running across the top of my head. When I was 7 years old, I went on a field trip to the Sun Valley swimming pool with my daycare. Someone had the nerve to doubt that I could do a back dive off the side of the pool. I proved them wrong. This caused several people to become interested in the spectacle, which caused me to do another back dive. And another back dive.
On the 4th dive, just before I was to plunge into the water, I hit my head on the side of the pool. There was much blood, the pool had to be evacuated and I had to be rushed to the hospital for stitches.
Moral of the story. No body's perfect. No seriously, the moral would be...don't show off even though it's really cool that at age 7 you can do a back dive.
3. I was 18 when I watched a Green Peace documentary about the life of a chicken from the time they hatch until they end up at the grocery, I quit eating them. I didn't have a bite of chicken for almost 6 years. To this day, I have a hard time eating chicken. I rarely cook it or order it at restaurants. Scary stuff.
4. After I get a few chapters into a book, I usually read the last few pages to see how the story ends. It doesn't ruin the book for me...I like to see how the story unfolds.
5. Before I die, I am going to learn how to rappel and scuba dive, and take fencing and golf lessons. (Mark says I have to wait until Cammie goes to college to learn to rappel...our life insurance doesn't cover "dangerous hobbies").
6. Ducks make me nervous. When I was little, my Grandma or Papaw would take me to the park near their house to feed the ducks. Once, they clustered around me and pecked at me to get me to drop the bread I was holding. It's 25 years later and when I take the kids to feed the ducks, I still get anxious.
7. I LOVE old cemeteries. In every city that we visit, Mark indulges me by seeking out the oldest cemetery. I love to wander around looking for the oldest marker and reading the headstones.
Without further ado...
1. When I was in the 7th grade, I decided that since I hated my name so much, I should go by my middle name...Ellissa (how creative was that spelling...Mellissa minus the "M"). I even had it embroidered on my cheer leading uniform (yes, I was a cheerleader...eek). Unfortunately, everyone knew me as "Destry", and even having my new name emblazoned across my shoulder wasn't enough to convince them to call me otherwise.
2. I have a scar that is approximately 4" long running across the top of my head. When I was 7 years old, I went on a field trip to the Sun Valley swimming pool with my daycare. Someone had the nerve to doubt that I could do a back dive off the side of the pool. I proved them wrong. This caused several people to become interested in the spectacle, which caused me to do another back dive. And another back dive.
On the 4th dive, just before I was to plunge into the water, I hit my head on the side of the pool. There was much blood, the pool had to be evacuated and I had to be rushed to the hospital for stitches.
Moral of the story. No body's perfect. No seriously, the moral would be...don't show off even though it's really cool that at age 7 you can do a back dive.
3. I was 18 when I watched a Green Peace documentary about the life of a chicken from the time they hatch until they end up at the grocery, I quit eating them. I didn't have a bite of chicken for almost 6 years. To this day, I have a hard time eating chicken. I rarely cook it or order it at restaurants. Scary stuff.
4. After I get a few chapters into a book, I usually read the last few pages to see how the story ends. It doesn't ruin the book for me...I like to see how the story unfolds.
5. Before I die, I am going to learn how to rappel and scuba dive, and take fencing and golf lessons. (Mark says I have to wait until Cammie goes to college to learn to rappel...our life insurance doesn't cover "dangerous hobbies").
6. Ducks make me nervous. When I was little, my Grandma or Papaw would take me to the park near their house to feed the ducks. Once, they clustered around me and pecked at me to get me to drop the bread I was holding. It's 25 years later and when I take the kids to feed the ducks, I still get anxious.
7. I LOVE old cemeteries. In every city that we visit, Mark indulges me by seeking out the oldest cemetery. I love to wander around looking for the oldest marker and reading the headstones.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Happy Birthday Forrest!
My baby is 14. Too weird.
Even weirder (is that a word?), he'll get his drivers permit next year. Hmmm...that's not weird, that's scary. Danger, danger.
Instead of a cake, he requested the Apple Dumplings that Renee had mentioned on her blog (www.reneecamacho.blogspot.com) earlier in the week. (Ummm...they were not very conducive to holding candles, but hey, what's wrong with a few wonky candles on your birthday)? 
Even weirder (is that a word?), he'll get his drivers permit next year. Hmmm...that's not weird, that's scary. Danger, danger.
Instead of a cake, he requested the Apple Dumplings that Renee had mentioned on her blog (www.reneecamacho.blogspot.com) earlier in the week. (Ummm...they were not very conducive to holding candles, but hey, what's wrong with a few wonky candles on your birthday)?
I have to say, they were tasty. With 2 sticks of butter how could they not be?
After lunch with all of the granparents, Mark and I took Forrest and Brandon to see the Spiderwick Chonicles at the Imax. Very intense.
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