Goodnight, Ladies

This will be the last week Poutine will be up, so don't forget to update your blog rolls, or your favourites list to http://www.revandthemissus.blogspot.com if you want to keep up with Wiggle Man's adventures. And mine, of course. And Hubba Hubba's...I mean, The Rev's.

And hey, go one step further and follow me over there. It's easy to do: head on over, and click the follow button on the left hand side.

Don't Forget

If you have a hankering for adorable pictures of Wiggle Man at an apple orchard, you need to head over to Rev and The Missus!

Poutine will only be up for a little while longer, so please update your bookmarks, etc, or even better--follow me over at www.revandthemissus.blogspot.com !

Don't Forget

I'm now posting over at Rev and The Missus, so update your favourites list, or your blog roll, or however it is you lovely people find me.

The Missus says please. The Missus says she'll give you candy. (Not really, unless you, like, know me, and come over to my house and stuff. Then I might be able to dig up some candy or sumpin'.)

The Missus says thanks.

Moving

No, not us, silly! We just moved! My blog is moving. Now you'll be able to find me at www.revandthemissus.blogspot.com . I'll be there, and so will Wiggle Man, and Hubba Hubba (only we'll be calling him Rev now--I mean, if I can't do it in real life, I'm surely going to call him that online).

Don't worry--I'll leave this up for about a week or so in case you forget the new address. I hope you'll all follow me over to my new place...see you there!

Teeny Man

Even when he was a baby, Wiggle Man looked like, well, a little man.



This is him, inspecting his first train. Considering he still plays with it, it must have passed inspection.

Wiggle Man continues to amaze us. I'm convinced he grows inches every time he sleeps, and today I have proof that my boy is paying close attention to what he sees on tv. In a touching mother/son moment, we sat on the floor reading a book about trucks. Some sort of large, manly, dirt-moving type tractor was on the page, and Wiggle Man pointed to it and said, "George."

I was thrown for a minute, until I remembered the Curious George episode where George goes to the landfill, and drives a tractor very similar to the large, manly, dirt-moving type tractor in the book.

Then Wiggle Man pointed to his head and said, "hat." Because, of course, in that episode, George goes to the landfill to rescue The Man With The Yellow Hat's, well, Hat.

He's growing up so fast. I hope I can keep up.

Lucky Seven

Seven years ago today was my first date with this hunka hunka burnin' love.



(This is one of the few pictures I have from his ordination service--this is from before the service.)


Here we are, in all our youth and glory, on our honeymoon.


Somewhere, there are pictures from when we were dating. But those are on film. I know. Perhaps I'll bust out the scanner. When those pictures actually get unpacked. So, look for those sometime, I don't know...next year, or something.

Nutmeg and Cinnamon

I love this thing.



Fall would be so tedious without my apple peeler/corer/slicer. Before this lovely invention, I had to do all this by hand. The horror.

Even with a broken handle (the repair, by the way, will be a boy job) I whizzed through those apples to get to the good part: dark brown sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon. This was the first time I've grated my own nutmeg and cinnamon. It was a little extra work, but worth it.

There you have it: my first apple pie of the season. Inspired by Julie, whose blog you definitely need to check out. We went to college together, so I can tell you that as cool as she seems in her blog, she's just as sweet and cool in real life.

Another Big Day

We've had quite a week in our family. Not only did Wiggle Man turn the big 0-2, but tonight Hubba Hubba will add another title to his name. Hubba Hubba is many things: Husband (obviously), Father, Son, Brother, Friend, Killer of Spiders and Other Unidentified Crawlies...but tonight, he adds Pastor.

Tonight, surrounded by friends and family, Hubba Hubba will be ordained as a Minister of the Word and Sacrament. In a way, it's the culmination of a journey that began when he was in high school, got detoured for a bit, and began again one fall night as we sat in his car and he told me he felt called to ministry. I knew then that one day we'd be here--he'd be ordained, and we'd be preparing to start serving a church--our new family in Virginia. (Still working on a blog nickname, guys.)

So, babe--congratulations. I plan on telling you this about a million more times today, but I'm so proud of you.

Party Time!

Now We Are Two

From this:

To this:

Happy Birthday, baby.

Wiggle Speak

As we've been meeting new neighbours and friends, I'm noticing I've been translating for Wiggle Man a lot. This reminded me it's time for another installment of Wiggle Speak. So here goes:


Sigh: (No, not the sound, I just don't know how else to spell what he's saying.) 1. Outside

Das: 1. Thank you.

Hoo-hoooooooo: 1. Train. 2. Thomas The Tank Engine. 3. Sirens

Cook: 1. Cookie. (Not that he eats cookies, mind you. He thinks fig bars and animal crackers are cookies. I'm content to let him linger in ignorance.) 2. Tacos. 3. Cook. Eg--what does Mommy do in the kitchen? Cook. What does she cook for you? Chssssssssss.

Ba-Ball: 1. Ball. 2. Baseball. 3. Target. (Wiggle Man calls Target the Ba-Ball store, because of the giant red cement balls out front. He tries to push them every single time. He also claps and cheers when we tell him we're going to the Ba-Ball store. Mommy has taught him well.)

Nom-nom: 1. Food, usually Subway.

Tuuuuuu: 1. Two. 2. Any other number. Eg--how many feet do you have? Tuuuuuuu. How many fingers do you have? Tuuuuuu.

And to finish up, a little Wiggle Eats. We took Wiggle Man to a Chinese buffet for lunch today. My son? Wanted nothing to do with the chicken nuggets they had. Instead, he ate an egg roll (filled with the usual cabbage, etc.) and lo mein. Odd boy.

Movin' On Down (South, That Is)

A thousand apologies for my absence—I’ve spent the last week amidst boxes. Boxes and boxes. Boxes of boxes. It’s been a little ridiculous. But all for a good cause—we’ve moved to our new home in Virginia, and couldn’t be more pleased. Thank you to everyone who helped unload boxes, move furniture, put together furniture, bring meals—we’ve been overwhelmed by your love and generosity.

I’ve been thinking—I have blog names for everyone I write about (except myself, of course.) How should I refer to y’all (I’m practicing being Southern) from our new church? I’m taking suggestions for your collective nickname.

My goal today (which was my goal yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that) is to finish unpacking the kitchen. Who knew I had so much stuff? Seriously—some of this stuff has been packed away so long, I’d almost forgotten I had it. However, I’m proud to tell you that only two boxes remain to be unpacked in my kitchen. (Let’s not talk about the counter, which is covered in dishes to be washed. My poor, poor dishpan hands.)

Wiggle Man seems to be settling in just fine—he’s very proud of his new “big boy” room, and tries to show his choo choos to anyone who drops by. He’s been sleeping in his “big boy” bed every night, and hasn’t rolled out of it once. He has, however, figured out that he’s no longer actually trapped in a crib, and has tried to sneak out and play when he should be napping. What he hasn’t figured out yet is that Mommy has ears like a bat.

Anyway, I think I may go back to my boxes for a bit—hopefully I can post a little more regularly as things settle down.

Another First

Wiggle Man is churning through the firsts this week. He said "bye" for the first time this week. And we had our first "procedure."

Here's how our story begins:

Wiggle Man and I were sitting on the deck Sunday after church. It was idyllic, almost. A beautiful day, a well behaved child...I should have known. We hadn't been out there long when Wiggle Man came limping up to me, whining and pointing at his foot.

I know, I know. He should have had his shoes on. Lesson learned.

So, I pulled him up on to my lap to examine the splinter that, sure enough, was sticking out of his chubby little foot. Using my super Mommy powers, I quickly grabbed the end of it with my fingernails and pulled it out.

Or so I thought.

Turns out, there was a whole lot more to that splinter. I had just pulled the tip off. What was left was like a small tree or shrub, stuck there in my little man's foot. He was not impressed with our attempts to remove it. He was not impressed with the idea of it remaining, either.

Once we got in bandaged up, Wiggle Man decided he felt better. Me, not so much. But I was hopeful that bath time would soften and loosen things up, and it might just, you know, come out on its own.

Not so much.

Nor would it come out after another "session" with Dr. Hubba Hubba. Dr. Mommy had no luck, either. Even Auntie M, with her nursing background, was unable to remove the shrubbery. So, the next morning we headed off to the pediatrician's office for the procedure.

Dr. D asked Wiggle Man where his boo-boo was. Wiggle Man obliged, pointing to his foot. Dr. D thought he was kidding...until he looked at Wiggle Man's chart.

"Oh," he said.

Yeah.

The plan was for me to hold Wiggle Man up to my chest, so he couldn't see the doctor poking and prodding. Hubba Hubba held Wiggle Man's leg still. Dr. D did his thing.

For 15 minutes. Maybe longer. I certainly wasn't looking at my watch, or anything.

No, I had to look into the screaming red face of my son, who chose this moment to say "Mama." Only it was more like this: "Mamamamamamamamamamamamamamamaaaaaaaaaaaa!" It broke my heart to not be able to do anything besides hold him, tell him every story I could think of, and finally just tell him Mommy loved him, over and over again.

20 minutes later, he was smiling and eating pancakes at McDonald's. Me? I'm still a little traumatized.

Drumroll, Please

Are you ready? Here it is: the moment you've all been waiting for. Or maybe not. But if you've been dying to know what our big news is, I'll let you off the crazy train and tell you.

Right now.

No, seriously, I will.

Ok, here goes:

This morning, at a congregational meeting at a certain church in a certain area of Virginia, that congregation approved the call of Hubba Hubba as their new pastor!!!!

Obviously, we're super excited. This is something we've been working and praying and thinking and hoping towards for, well, almost the entire time Hubba Hubba and I have known each other.

You see, one fall night, Handsome Boyfriend (this was before he became Hubba Hubba) told me that he felt called to ministry. While his telling me this was a big step for our relationship, to be honest, I wasn't surprised. Not only did I know Handsome Boyfriend would make a great pastor, but I always felt that I'd end up as a pastor's wife. (And Handsome Boyfriend and I both knew at that point that we were meant to be married.)

As you might imagine, it's been a long road since that night. There was marriage. There were denominational requirements. And there was seminary life. And denominational requirements. And Wiggle Man arrived. And then were were more denominational requirements. And then there were times we weren't sure exactly what God was doing.

If you've been reading my blog for awhile now, you know that at one point we were considering whether God was actually calling us to serve Him in Kenya. Obviously, He wasn't. I don't always understand the roads God takes us down to show us His plan. But I do know that if we're patient, and quiet enough to actually listen, He will show us His will, one way or another.

Back in June, we traveled down to Virginia to interview with a representative committee from what is now our new church family. I think everyone involved had a sense right away that God's hand was in this.

If you're a part of our new church and you're reading this, I hope you know how very excited we are to meet you and share this life God has called us to lead together. (Oh, and my apologies that you get to hear your new pastor referred to as Hubba Hubba.) I hope you enjoy this glimpse into our lives, and I look forward to getting to know you and your families.

Soon and Very Soon....

I'll be able to let you all off the crazy train, and tell you what big changes await our family. And this time, when I say "soon" I mean, soon. Like, hopefully, sometime tomorrow.

Because of what I hope and pray to be able to tell you tomorrow, my week has been, well, full. Soon, hopefully, I'll be back to posting regularly about my adventures--being a stranger in a strange land, wife to a foreigner (ok, I guess I'm the foreigner here) and mother to a slightly odd, but totally wonderful Wiggle Man.

For instance, this week you missed out on hearing about Hubba Hubba's birthday cake. (Which tasted amazing, and looked like Wiggle Man might have decorated it. Except I did.)

You missed on out what Hubba Hubba requested especially for his birthday cook-out, and my thoughts on the leftovers, which are fragrancing the refrigerator. (Spell check seems to think that fragrancing isn't really a word. Bizarre.)

I'm not even going to rant about those ads on websites that are driving me crrrrazy--you know, the ones that expand to cover half the web page if your mouse even glances in the general direction of the ad? (Note to advertisers: this does not make me want to buy your product. It has rather the opposite effect.)

Instead, I'm going to finish my iced tea, (the fake kind--I only like the real kind when it's done the proper, Southern way, super sweet and ice cold) and go back to doing what I've been doing all day to get ready for next week.

You know, when the crazy train makes a stop somewhere.

Edit

I've been playing with some photo editing, so I thought I'd share.

Since, you know, I'm holding out on you about, ahem, other things.

Hint, Hint

Hoo-Hoooooooo

You may think that a certain place with a certain famous mouse is "the happiest place on earth." For many people, I'm pretty sure it is. I've been known to enjoy a happy day or two there, myself.

But if you are not quite two years old, and you happen to be my son, then "the happiest place on earth" has got nuthin' on this place:



We spent yesterday at a local railroad museum, and even got to take a ride on a working steam engine. We also got to spend the day with Grandma and Papa (my parents), so Wiggle Man got thoroughly spoiled. (As is proper, for a day out with Grandparents.)








Of course, Thomas The Tank Engine has a lot to do with Wiggle Man's love of trains.

All day long we got to hear Wiggle Man point out the trains to us: "Hoo-hooooo! Hoo-hooooooo! Hoooooooooo-hooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

We got some interesting looks in the museum, that's for sure. And, when he wasn't "hoo-hoo-ing", Wiggle Man was screaming. (Also bringing us interesting looks, stares, and--from the parents of other Thomas-loving toddlers--knowing glances.) Yes, screaming. Big, giant tears of agony every time we left one attraction to go to another.

It didn't matter that we were leaving the steam engine ride to go to a entire museum filled with trains. Or that we were leaving the museum to go to a petting zoo. Wiggle Man doesn't exactly have the concept of anticipation down yet.

All he knew was that we were dragging him away from something fun. It didn't matter how much more fun he was going to have where we were going next--he was willing to miss out on that to stay where he was. A bird in the hand, and all that.

There's a lesson in that, I'm thinking.

WiggleSpeak

Finally, (or so it seems to my anxious Mommy heart) our Wiggle Man is learning to say more than animal sounds. So I thought I'd take this opportunity to give you a dictionary of WiggleSpeak, for those who may not be fluent.



Dada: 1. Daddy, of course. That's an easy one.


Pop: 1. Pop-Pop (Hubba Hubba's dad. My dad is "Grandpa", and Wiggles is still working on that one.) 2. Popsicle (specifically, Mommy's special blueberry-banana-yogurt pops--the only kind he knows.) 3. The machine at the farmer's market that makes multi-grain cakes (like rice cakes, sort of) and which makes a big popping sounds. 4. Pretzel dogs, from the same farmer's market. This gets confusing, as you might imagine.

Car: 1. Car, simply enough. 2. Uncle Carl, our neighbour and good friend.

Book: 1. Book. 2. Milk. (I have no idea.)

Bee: 1. Plane. 2. Blankie.

Gas: 1. Gas. Heaven forbid Mommy not get gas after a trip to Walmart--he doesn't understand we don't need to get it every time we're out.

Chhsss: 1. Cheerios. 2. Cheese. 3. Shoes. (Sometimes, you just gotta take it in context, and figure it out from there.)

Chuch: 1. Church. Wiggle Man does not like passing by the church and not stopping. This has less to do with his early spiritual leanings (although we do have an ultrasound picture where his little hands appear to be clasped in prayer) and more to do with the toys in the nursery.

Bech: 1. Beach. However, since he likes to say this randomly (when no beach or sand is present) this one took us a while to figure out.

Brrrr (or, beurre): Regular readers already know this one--my bilingual child is merely asking for peanut butter.

Trash: 1. Trash, garbage.

Pee: 1. Just what you're thinking, only more inclusive. Wiggle Man refers to, ahem, numbers one and two as "pee." You just have too look at where he's pointing to know which, um, number he means.

Stinky: 1. Yup, stinky. He especially enjoys telling us his feet are stinky. Sometimes he'll even demonstrate for us just how stinky they are by sniffing them, declaring them "stinky", and laughing hysterically.

He has a few more words, but I think I'll save them for another day.

Blindsided

Just when you think you have them all figured out: they become toddlers.

All afternoon, I was in Supermom Mode. I was sooooo proud of myself: I had a plan. A plan to get Wiggle Man to eat something other than beurre. Or animal crackers. I was going to get him to eat vegetables and fruit. In a single sitting. And he was going to enjoy it so much, he wouldn't even realise it was good for him.

This plan might have worked, had it not been for the terrible unpredictability of the two year-old (or almost two year-old) set.

I made mini pizzas on whole wheat crusts, cut up the veggies very, very small and covered them with cheese. Then I made us fruit smoothies. Brilliant, yes?

No.

Wiggle Man sat in his high chair for...I lost track of time, but for a ridiculous amount of time, refusing to eat. Smoothies and pizza. I would have killed for smoothies and pizza as a kid. I certainly would not have sat stubbornly at the table, refusing smoothies and pizza. Now did I refuse potatoes? Yes. Pork chops? Yes. Meatloaf? Heck yes. But pizza? Are you kidding me?

To top it off, while typing this I had to tell Wiggle Man not to eat the goldfish crackers. Out of the trash. They were soggy from sitting in the rain for two days. Apparently garbage is preferable to mini pizzas and smoothies.

I have a feeling two is going to be a fuuuunnnnnn age.