Tuesday, June 23, 2009


I just sat down to enjoy "my time"  - when all chickies are in their rooms for nap time - when I start to hear a gentle banging coming from "that corner" of the house. 
Meaning ... Keeny's room. The gentle banging becomes more and more boisterous and this is when the big question of my day arises - Do I go in his room?
I'm gonna be pretty honest here - in most cases I don't go in there. I just let him bang away and I horrifically imagine all the destruction he is causing. Eventually he bangs himself into exhaustion and surrenders to sleep mid destruction. This is always most amusing to me as I have found him in many odd postitions when I eventually check on him after nap time.
 - Buck naked with butt in the air asleep backwards on his bed. Clothes, diaper strewn everywhere.
 - Sleeping right next to his door with little fingers still pushed under the door. This one really is a favorite... I love walking down the hall and seeing 3 tiny little fingers wedged under the door - as if they are saying "help me please... break me out of here..."
-Asleep in his closet (did I mention that his closet doors are "supposedly" baby proofed with a latch). This one sent me on a panic hunt around the house - "Keeny where r u?? He eventually wakes from his slumber and I hear a tiny voice, "Here I am"... which sounds more like "Heeh I wam" I had to literally use force to get his head unstuck from between his closet doors.
- The last few episodes have been poop related. Involving poop in the carpet, books, bed, clothes... I really don't want to rehash these.

So today I decided to go in there - the banging was really becoming a bit scary and I thought maybe he is trying to tell me he pooped in his potty. We are attempting to potty train this week.

So I opened the door and I found little peanut Keenan holding his 8ft curtain rod (including curtains) over his head and jamming them into his closet doors. Just imagine Hercules with a javelin/spearing type motion - again and again.
Yes he had torn down his very large, long, and heavy curtain rod and curtains.
When I came in he promptly looks at me - lowers his spear and says, "Look Mommy bwoke." This statement is accompanied with a very convincing bewildered look that suggests he has NO IDEA how it could have broke.

I akwardly attempt to take the curtain rod and remove it from his room (did I mention it is really long) while trying to be very stern with my "No." The only thing I could come up with in the quickness of the moment - "Just wait till your Dad gets home - he is going to be VERY upset that he has to hang this back up. Now go to bed." All the while I am still trying to manuever this long spear out the door and not very gracefully. Upon completion I promptly shut the door with one more stern - "No."
Ahhhh the banging has ceased. 
Two seconds later the loud crying begins.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Sweet Tea, Sweet Tea... We All Scream for Sweet Tea

My family came up for a visit last month... the first time meeting the new little one. A tradition we have started when Dad & Johnnie visit is hosting a Southern Sunday Brunch. And this visit was no exception. I just love it. When you are 8,000 miles away from family and home there is nothing better than food to help savor those memories.  And what could be better than Southern food. 
Ummm hello can we say biscuits and gravy. 
Oh no it gets better... fried okra, pork chops, black beans, and collard greens. 
Yes it gets even better... sweet southern iced tea. Oh baby a tall glass of heaven on ice. When I first left the south I was shocked that places in the world don't serve real sweet tea. But for some bizarre reason they think they do.
Me: "Do you have iced tea?"
Waitress wearing flannel and Sorrels: "Sure do."
Me: "Is it sweet tea?"
Waitress with baffled, dazed, and confused look: "Ummm... sure."
Me: "Great... I will take the biggest glass you have!"
Few minutes later I am presented with tarry looking liquid with two sweet n low perched alongside. Or worse yet a glass of "liquid-powder-rasberry-peachy-nestle-chrystlelight-ish-should-of-stayed-in-powder-form-I think-my-name-is-tea" tea.

Everyone deserves a real glass of Southern Sweet Tea. You need to brew it perfectly and spoon in the real sugar. Oh I am sorry did I say spoon... I meant to say dump in cupfuls of the real sugar. And just when you can feel your waistline expanding and your cavities screaming... you dump in one more cup for good measure. Then you sit back in your lawn chair and take a long sip from your canning jar glass of iced tea. That's right - the only real way to drink sweet tea is from a jar. And in that one sip a rush of memories flood your senses... sun tea sitting on the back patio brewing the natural way, the smell of orange blossoms, and sand spurs sticking in your bare feet. I guess its a lot more than just a few bags of tea leaves and sugar - its pretty much your authentic childhood poured into a jar. 

Thanks to my family for bringing a little bit of the south to the last frontier.

I am linking this to Scribbit - Write Away contest. Check it out:)

I'm Back

I know, I know...  I have been a neglectful little blogger. This I can guarantee... if the words aren't ah flowin' it must mean the sun is ah shinin'!
It has been a true Alaskan Summer - BUSY. Trying to cram everything from camping to visitors to weddings to construction into 3 itty bitty months.
Where have we been? What have we been doing?
I will try to catch up over the next few days.