Three's the new fifteen.

Spiderman.  Need I say more?
(THANK YOU GRAMMY AND  PAPA!)

My little boy turned three on the 13th.  I suppose this is where I say, "Where has time gone?"  Maybe it's just me, but my foot-loose and fancy free days feel like light years away.  These three years (well, almost four if you count pregnancy) have been a roller coaster ride of excitement, fear, success, failure, joy, and frustration. As I reflect, all I can think about is how exhausting it is to be a parent.  Sure, it's all worth it, and blah, blah, blah, but really, it would be much easier as a part-time job (actually many days I wish it were just volunteer work, so I could up and leave...).

We watch children morph before our eyes as they grow and think, "Wow, he's changed so much.  I swear he looks older than yesterday!"  I would argue that we develop just as rapidly and significantly as they do.  They change our perspective, intuition, actions, feelings and more.  For example, I worked in adoption and foster care, but until being a parent never fully understood why these parents fight so fiercely on behalf of their children.  Now, I think they're not fighting hard enough.  Jimmy admits being more critical and concerned when one of his "client's" unlawful behavior affects a child.  He's hugged and supported parents and children who needed him while on the job, when he would have otherwise been callous.   Parenting Ashton, followed by Reagan, has made us better people. We're more tolerant, giving, and patient.  We're happy and fulfilled.

Ashton taught us to live every day, reminding us to see the beauty and wonder in the world.  Nothing about these three years has been fast, thank God for that.

Off to daycare!

Pretentious B....

I never thought I was pretentious until I moved into this home.  When I scoff at the the things around me, Jimmy makes a point to highlight how stuck up I sound.  Give me a break, man!  I have zero familiarity with this stuff and I feel like I'm in a foreign country.

1. Septic system.  Two words I prayed I'd never have to deal with.  Something about a huge tank of... waste... makes me want to VOM.  I know nothing about septic tanks.  You have to have it pumped?! How is this any different from a portapotty? It can overflow and make my yard a sewage treatment plant? Freakin' lovely. 
2. Oil heat.  I'm about to go picket Capitol Hill.  To heat our modest abode is approximately $290/month, and that doesn't include electricity.  Can't they just hook up a gizmo to our electric cooling system to make it provide heat?  Beware:  I have our thermostat set at 63, so if you come over, it's BYOB... blanket, that is.
3.  Dump visits.  Apparently it is common for people to not have trash pick up.  Ok, I'm new to this, but    the thought of schlepping my trash to the dump makes me want to hurl. It's un-American, people!  Jimmy thinks it's all fine and dandy to put the trash bags in the bed of the truck.  OMG!  Call me hoity-toity, but  I can't bear the thought of trash juice soaking into the truck with the putrid fumes following us down the road. Am I the only one that finds this repulsive?   
4. Well water.  Since we live on a farm, I'm super excited about drinking the water underneath the fields of manure.  Also, I vaguely remember hearing that people that drink well water have brown teeth. I have no clue if that's true, but Deer Park it is, baby.
5. Pest plan.  We have crickets, spiders, lady bugs (protected by the EPA-- who knew?!), and likely mice and rats.  The morning we moved in, I purchased a pest control plan.  I may live in the country, but there ain't no way I'm living with roommates.  
6. Fireplaces:  Who knew that there was so much to learn about fireplaces.  Where to by the wood, how much to buy, how to stoke it, how to make it efficient for heating the home, fireplace inserts... the list goes on and google is probably annoyed with all of my searches.  To put it this way, I thought "seasoned wood" meant it was flavored.  "I'll take the apple spice, please!"