My little weejie.

(For a long time, Brock couldn't say Kate's name and called her "Weejie" and the nickname stuck.)

Growing up, I loved to be in my room. It was where I'd work out dance routines to "Let's Hear It For The Boy," alphabetize my books and make collages for friends.

Kate, on the other hand, can't stand to be alone in her room. Because of this, she is by my side all the time.

I admit that sometimes I need my space. I've been known to get flustered when I'm trying to work and she's chatting away. (Yesterday's topics ranged from dog breeds to Halloween costumes, to why we haven't invented a more concise word for up-side-down.)

But this summer, when she spent a week at her grandparent's house, I realized how much I missed her constant companionship.

I also get a kick out of seeing parts of me in her. Take for instance, grocery shopping. For as long as I can remember, I never take the first item off the shelf. Instead, I take the third or fourth one behind it. I feel like the those in the back are somehow more superior.

So when I was waiting in the check out line recently, I realized I had forgotten cottage cheese. I sent Kate to grab it and when she returned she said, "Don't worry. I took the one in back."

I don't remember ever telling her about my odd shopping habits, but over the years, she picked up on it and now practices it.

It's so nice to have someone emulate you so well — down to the littlest detail.

Filter Follies

To the average person, this is just a box of 100-count coffee filters.
To me, they represent the future.
"Where will I be when the filters run out," I wonder.
This is common neurosis of mine usually plays out when it involves something in the near, but not too near future. I don't wonder who I'll be the next time I have to buy cereal— that's too frequent of an occurrence. But when I get my oil changed and they slap on the reminder sticker in the upper corner of my dash, it makes me ponder.
Usually, I picture the "100-day into the future Erin" thinner, smarter and all around more together.
But it never works out that way. Typically, the future Erin isn't much different than the current one —give or take a few pounds.
This recent filter purchase stopped me in my tracks though. A quick calculation showed that the next time I was due to buy more filters, I'd be just a few days shy of my 39th birthday.
Which only leaves a handful of coffee-filter packages between my thirties and my forties.
I just about broke down in aisle four.
Yep. I'm approximately five coffee filter packages away from turning 40.

Where have I been, you wonder?

Let's see...

1. I got a speeding ticket — first one since I was in high school.
2. Brian accidentally stepped on our baby rooster and killed it. (A sight that will forever be seared into both of our memories. Luckily the children weren't home.)
3. Drama in the neighborhood over a semi-permantely parked RV.
4. Our pets continue to relieve themselves in inappropriate places.
5. I still hate packing school lunches.
6. I have socks older than the number of months left until I turn 40. (16 months and counting...)
7. I am constantly amazed at the number of shoes I see along the highway. How do they get there? Child-size shoes I understand: (Toddler + Shoes) Open Car Window = Chances are good your child will leave the car with one less shoe. But what I don't get are the adult shoes on the side of the road. Do that many people forget they put shoes on the roof of their car and drive away?
8. And speaking of shoes, lately I have spent a fair amount of time pondering the Middle Eastern custom of throwing shoes at elected officials in protest. After the event, do people retrieve their shoes? That seems like such a waste...

And that about sums it up.
How are you?

Not so perfect...

Kate (thinks) she is always right. She usually is, so it's rather amusing when we catch her making a mistake.

We were discussing things that we are afraid of and K said "man-agains."

"Man-agains?" I asked.

"Yeah. You know. The fake people in stores."

Oh how cute. And, her version does make more sense.

We had a good chuckle at her mistake. And she was a good sport.

So, we really laughed hard the other day when we were shopping and she made the mistake again.

I wonder if "man-agins" will become her version of "amblee-ance." I have never ever been able to say that word correctly. Even when I think the word out, I still can't say it properly. In fact, when I had to call 911 the other day because we worried Brian was having a stroke after his surgery, I had to say "medic" instead of "ambulance." I was afraid the operator wouldn't know what I was talking about....

13....oh my!

Raise the roof...a teenager is in da house! Can't believe my baby boy is now a teen.

We threw him a low key, pizza/movie party last night. His first boy-girl party since he was three. It went surprisingly well. It was a nice group of kids. I think having a mix of genders kept the party mellow. No one wanted to be the obnoxious boy who burped the alphabet.

I stole this picture off of Brock's facebook page. This is his his "girlfriend" and I mean that in the most general way. Although Brock wouldn't admit it, I think he was really nervous having her over. It was cute to see him being shy and bashful.