A Morgan Christmas- Part Two

So this morning I broke out the magical-Santa drinking a bottled coke- snow globe, and I finally got that whisper-y "WOW" out of Noah that I've been looking for.

Tough one to crack, that one.








We then had some yummy homemade muffins, grits, and beanie weenies.

The muffins were a hit with Graysen.






And when we were all full (of heartburn...Oh, wait. That was just me.), Daddy showed the pups how to hang ornaments on the tree.









And here's the finished product.

It's just oozing Morgan. Seriously, you should see it up close. It's the perfect combination of color, light, and Christmas-tackiness.




So to sum it all up in a cliche...

New lights....$30.00

Tree....$40.00

My totally awesome wreath, complete with gaudy peacock feathers....Priceless, baby.

That's right, I made her myself. Isn't she a beauty?

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A Morgan Christmas: Part One

Brandon and I have a real talent for squeezing Christmas trees into impossibly tight spaces...often, we try to do it in the rain as well- just to add a little extra challenge. Wouldn't want things to get boring!







After Putting up the tree (see background image), Brandon decided it would be the perfect opportunity to make eggnog...with Graysen.

Peas in a pod, those two...













Snuggle Picture...you know, for posterity.











Upon finishing the tree's lights, Graysen took a step back in awe and whispered, "Wow, it's...perfect!"









Noah's response? Well, he cried...but I'm sure it was just because his heart was too full to hold it all in.

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That's life, Kid...

Okay, this is a little beside the point, but it's cold outside!!!

Catch the excitement?

Anyway, Gray and I went outside for about 5 minutes earlier so that she could have a little social interaction and enjoy the sunshine.

Well, three minutes into her shivering, windblown fun, a pack of the neighborhood kids group together around a massive ant bed and begin taunting the ticked off ants.

Graysen, who really isn't sure what all the fuss is about, giggles and runs along with them, oblivious that this choice could have consequences.

* I'm going to pause here and acknowledge to you that I am an overbearing, overprotective parent who refuses to let her children learn lessons "the hard way". So, judge me. Whatever.

Anyway, so as the group migrates to the ant bed nearest my perch, I call out to Graysen.

I then proceed to lure her inside with promises of juice and a quick discussion.

After giving her juice, I begin to bargain with her..."Gray-gray, it is super cold outside and your friends are being a little reckless, do you think maybe you'd like to wait until your best friend wakes up from her nap and invite her over?"

She pauses to look at me. "Yes, but I want to play with my other friends too."

Did I mention her methods of negotiation have almost surpassed mine?

I reply, "I know, love. But your other friends are playing in an ant bed, and when those ants get mad they're going to jump on your friends and bite them really hard! Don't you think that's a bad idea?"

Graysen's forehead creases as she carefully chooses her next words..."Hmmm...yeah...that's not berry smart."

"You're so right, it's not." I smugly reply.

Her face lights up like a light bulb, "I need to go tell my friends not to play in the ants!"

"That's okay, Gray."

With even more enthusiasm, she replies, "But Mommy, I have to!"

Well of course this is long after I have warned the gang of ant killers against provoking "biting" insects, so I take a breath and think out my next move..."Well, Graysen...I don't think that your friends are going to listen to you."

"But, why?" she replies.

"Because baby, they think that playing in the ants is fun, and they don't care that they may get bitten."

The look of deep concentration returns to her face, "Well..." she pauses again, obviously feeling a little confused and defeated, "that's not berry smart either."

I nod, encouragingly.

She slumps down into the couch and picks up the t.v. remote, disillusioned for the first time by the senselessness of human decision-making.

Life lesson #1, Kid.

You almost made it 4 years.




Happy Birthday to my Graysen, who turns 4 this Sunday! :) Pin It

Dinner Guest

Tonight we had a dinner guest.

Batgirl. In person.

That's right.

We were told she would not be removing her mask for dinner, and we were to call her by her real name, Batgirl.

We were so honored to have her join us that we didn't argue.

I was relieved that I had prepared one of my best meals- Morgan soup, and Batgirl seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.

We ate politely and quietly until Batgirl turned to me, face tight with fervor, and said "Bats don't eat vegetables. I need more meat."

Cough.

I apologize. It's just that I've never had a bat for dinner... Pin It

Not What My Hands Have Done

It has been a hard day.

My Noah bug is sick- nothing fatal, just a cold.

But it's one of those nasty ones where goo continually resides under his little nose, and he cries every time he moves because his little limbs ache.

My emotions have varied from intense anger at his irritability, to sorrowful pity at his weary little condition. And my husband is consistently the most empathetic nurturer you've ever seen- which makes me love him all the more, yet frustrates me to no end because of my lack of patience in comparison.

So by 6:00 pm, I am wiped and ready to put the little booger to bed.

I take my little one upstairs, put on his pj's, and sit down with him in his big, soft, micro-suede rocking chair.

And what starts out as a means to quickly get him to sleep, ends up as a quenching water to my thirsty soul.

I begin to sing hymns to him, going through all my favorites:
Come thou Fount of Every Blessing
Jesus shall Reign
Crown him with many Crowns
Isaiah 43
and many more, but last, Not What my Hands Have Done.

And by the last verse of this hymn, my labored, rushed, tiresome singing had turned into a fountain of praise, pouring out from my graciously redeemed lips.

All the while, my little one- who has been somewhat untouchable all day, nestles his little head into my chest and clutches my hand with sheer contentment the entire time...only letting go at the end of each verse to clap with fevered intensity.

I finished the last verse as I lay him in his bed and snuggled him with his blanket.

I kissed him goodnight and quietly closed his door with tears in my eyes and an insurmountable joy in my heart.

Praise God for His love, and for His never-ending, always undeserved grace.

I praise the God of grace,
I trust His truth and might
He calls me His, I call Him mine,
My God, my joy, my light
’Tis He Who saveth me,
And freely pardon gives
I love because
He loveth me,
I live because He lives! Pin It

Homemade remedies

Set up:

Typical Sunday night...chips, frozen pizza, board games, the works.

Brandon and Callie sit at the kitchen table playing scrabble(Callie's winning, but that's irrelevant).

Graysen and Noah play upstairs.

Story:

Graysen and Noah come running down the stairs...Brandon and I lazily look up from our scrabble game to engage them.

Graysen happily and emphatically states, "Noah reary likes a medicine!"

Brandon and I quickly look at each other, the panic obvious across both our faces.

Graysen holds up a pink medicine dropper and we sigh with relief that it's just the one we gave her to play with.

Brandon laughs and says, "Here Gray, want me to give him some medicine?" He takes the dropper to dip it in Mommy's Sunkist.

But as he inches it toward the glass and squeezes the end, a large volume of clear, foamy liquid sprays out the end- and across our pizza.

Brandon says, "Graysen did you give him...spit medicine...?"

Graysen, without taking her eyes off scrabble slowly nods and says, "uh huh."

Immediately, Brandon hits the floor laughing while Mommy sits in complete horror.

Complete horror.

Complete.

Horror. Pin It

Bath-time.

Bath-time is a much anticipated nightly ritual at the Morgan house.

For at least 20 minutes a day, the kiddos play together... happily... in one place.

During which, Brandon and I lay around like sloths, reading or getting in some computer time-it's pretty fabulous.

But tonight...bath-time was an epic, epic fail.

Not even ten minutes into the bath, Brandon and I hear an intense scream.

Noah.

Brandon heads upstairs to see whats going on.

Shortly following I hear 3 things: The shower turning on, a huge thud and a second scream coming from Graysen.

I run upstairs for the assist to find Brandon in the shower, fully dressed, holding Noah upside down under the spray of water.

Graysen, is clutching her eyes like someone just poured hot acid into them-screaming all the while.

I won't go into how the situation was resolved, but I will say that Graysen received a "talkin to" about washing her little brother's hair.

After the "talk", Brandon told her to give Noah a kiss and apologize-which she did gracefully.

She then said, "Look, Mommy. Wuh Wuh is happy!"

"Yes, Graysen." I replied. "Noah is usually pretty happy until someone puts soap in his eyes."

She looked up at me with a huge grin and said, "Hey, I'm someone!"

Well done, Graysen... A+ Pin It

My little Provider...

My children have very loud personalities.

Or maybe they don't, and Brandon and I just see them as "loud".

Regardless, my son, Noah, is just coming into his personality.

And...well...he's kinda, I dunno....tribal?

He's like an aggressive, affectionate, tribal, alpha-male.

He isn't using words yet, which doesn't help.

He just walks around-half naked, because inevitably none of our children like clothes and we're too lazy to fight that battle, chest bowed out, grunting at inanimate objects in and around our house.

When he wants food, he violently pushes me to the kitchen and grunts at the refrigerator.

-Maybe that's just the example that's been set by dad. Maybe that's just because boys are different from girls...

When he is finished eating, he pushes his food away with a loud "ugh" and shake of his head.

Again...example? Again...boys?

Anyway, so yesterday he comes up to me-naked, chest bowed, and holds out his chubby little hand in an offertory sort of way...

I look up from facebook my copy of War and Peace and see him glaring at me intently, waiting for me to accept his love offering.

I move to sit in front of him and look into his sweet little face.

His eyebrows are furrowed with seriousness. He grunts at me again...

I peel back his fingers and accept my gift...which was...of a rubbery, spongy texture...sort of...brownish red?

While examining this unknown object, I realize he's chewing...

I...gave him cheerios...This...is...not a cheerio.

Gag.

Hmmm...He looks at his offering, then back at me...waiting...

"Um, buddy? Whatcha want?"

He grunts again...Obviously he wants...me...to eat this.

Never gonna happen, man. Never gonna happen.

I examine the..."object" again, hoping for his sake that it is food, when I realize with relief that it's a piece of a hotdog.

Sigh.

Panic.

We haven't had hotdogs... in days. Pin It

My mistake, G.

Funniest. Graysen. Moment. Ever.

So for some reason Graysen has been acting terrible today. Terrible.

Probably because Brandon and I have actually been trying to be productive.

Anyway, so at some point today, sending Gray to her room ceased to be a successful form of discipline. At that point, I pulled out the heavy punishment and tied her to the hot water heater(totally kidding) I gave her a light(ahem) swat on the booty.

She immediately broke into hysterics.

I sat down with her on the bed, waiting for her to calm down so that we could discuss her bad behavior.

As she began to get quiet, I started.

"Graysen, Mommy loves you. But I had to spank you because you have been a very, very bad girl today."

She broke into another fit of frantic noise-making-or so I thought. Moments later, I realized these "noises" were words that came together to form a response as follows:

*Side note: Please insert a gasp in between each word. Thanks.

"No. Ah. eh. Mo-ham-ey. Aye-eh not-ee ah bad gir-sniff* girl."

"Look. eh. It's ah me, sniff* Graysen...See?"

Bahahahahahaha. Oh. Yes, sorry. I must have been mistaken. Pin It

Chips and Cheese

Today, Graysen and I spent some extra-special quality time together in the absence if Daddy.

We were both pining for him I guess.

First, we made tea with fresh orange in it. Graysen stirred.

Then, we cleaned. Graysen watched.

And last we enjoyed our freshly made tea alongside our snack-that's right...chips and cheese. In case you haven't been let in on this tiny golden nugget of information...cheese sauce is the key to a 3 year old's heart-the less identifiable the ingredients, the better.

So about half-way through our magical cheese snack, a lightbulb went off.

I remembered the oh-so-yummy salsa I had tucked away in the bottom of the fridge.

I thought to myself, Man, I am going to get some major extra brownie points with this one. Take that, Daddy! Whose the cool parent today?

I returned and plopped a spoonfull of salsa down on the plate alongside the cheese. Big dumb expectant grin on my face, I'm sure.

I looked up to find an expression of shock on my 3 year olds face.

Shock.

Shock, that quickly turned to disgust, which turned to anguish. Have i mentioned she's incredibly dramatic? Wonder where she got that...

My own face slowly sank...

She looked up at me and said, "'Mommy..." Long dramatic pause...

"Mommy," She started again..."That makes me have sad feelings."

Crash

And

Burn. Pin It

Pillow Talk

Preface--

In case it isn't common knowledge, I'll begin my post by informing you that we are in the process of moving.

Again.

We're exactly dead center in the middle of it, actually.

And at the moment I'm tucked away in Benoit, Ms--aka, Egypt--with my parents, while Brandon and his dad load the budget truck six hours away.

And however silly it may be, I still pine when seperated from my husband-if even for a night.



So last night, as Graysen and I snuggle into sleep in a foreign bed, she rolls over and asks,

"Mommy, you love me?" I reply sleepily, "Yes, baby. I love you so much."

She rolls over again, grinning smugly.

She wrinkles her nose definitively states, "I make you happy."

I smiled and replied again, "Yes, baby. You do."

She sighed, smiling larger still, and murmered as she knodded off to sleep, "I'm special."

A lump rose in my throat.

Oh! I think so too, Graysen...I think so too. Pin It

More Musings

Tonight, Brandon and I decided to celebrate life over two savory, perfectly seasoned, bleeding, half-mooing slices of cow. -More sophisticated people refer to it as "steak".

They came off the grill, sizzling, and smelling divine.

The kids' steaks which were really just glorified hamburger patties,( hey, back off... We don't cast our pearls before swine.) came off first, so I cut them up and dispensed ketchup.

We prayed, and eventually all sat down to eat.

Brandon, looking very smug over his manly provision, glanced over to find Graysen staring at this unidentified food with unquestionable disdain.

Okay, Side note--

Every night is a fight with this one. She never wants to eat what is put in front of her. It's some sort of pre-adolescent rebellion. I don't know.

Anyway, resume.

So Daddy points out, logically-go figure, that tonight she shouldn't want to make a fuss about eating because steak- especially steak cooked by Daddy, is a delicacy.

This, to Brandon's frustration, served only to increase the whining. The word steak could now be reiterated in a tiny, nasally, God-forsaken little voice to emphasize the object to which the 3 year old objected.

Anyways, the battle raged on until Brandon nonchalantly said, "But Graysen don't you like hamburger?...It's not steak, it's hamburger."

She replied, "Hmph." in a little high pitched grunt, and gobbled it all down before we had a chance to say anything else about it. I'm telling you, swine. Pin It

"Everything Looks Perfect from Far Away"

The fire is hot this season. Really hot. And my only hope upon realizing myself in this fire is that I can come out on the other side a little more new.

Yesterday, I watched my husband sell his old identity for a measly month and a half of rent money.

I'll explain.

For as long as I have known him, I could categorize the space in his heart by three earthly loves:

Music

Kentucky

And who knows why, but me.

His love is of the most devoted nature. Consistent. Unconditional. I'm blessed that way.

So yesterday as I watched him hand over his beloved bass guitar to a completely unworthy stranger, my heart sank. And a sickness crept up my spine that I carried with me most of the day.

It wasn't just a piece of wood he was getting rid of...It was himself. It was his worldly identity as a musician that he has treasured for so long. Music was one of his constants in this ever-changing world. And now it's gone.

We drove to Cincinnati to sell it, so we decided to go through Lexington on our way home to Bowling Green.

Brandon grew up near Lexington and has since had visions of the perfect little house with the basement that sits in the middle of the most green, grassy field that a kid could hope to play in.

Since he was a kid, he's dreamed of going back. I think part of him thought maybe he had imagined this place.

I've listened hours upon hours of him talking about that wonderful old house with the basement and the memories that he holds so dear..."Mom making fish sticks while I adventured with the farmer's baby calf" "Dad taking me running with him on cold mornings when I could smell the tobacco from the neighbors barn" "My faithful dog, Scout, saving me from the pains of death almost inflicted by the treacherous mountain lion"...

It was his happy place, a 7 year old boy's heaven.

The tales go on and on. And it's never been hard to tell that this place, to him, contained some sort of unearthly magic that would always be his.

And after so many years of pining for this long lost love, we went back.

I can only imagine how he felt as he turned down that familiar dusty road after fifteen long years of dreaming about that moment. I can imagine the anticipation growing, the lump rising in his throat as he imagined how it would feel to sit on this wonderful piece of earth with his wife and two kids.

And then we found it.

An old, worn down, lifeless house sitting on the most overgrown piece of property I've ever seen.

It bore no resemblance to that mystical place in his dreams. And I could tell by the silence on his lips and the confused, horror struck expression on his face that he had just lost his oldest, dearest friend.

He got out of the car, slowly looking around, and walked a few paces to the back of the house. He stood for a minute, turned, and walked back to the car.

And we went home.

The things we love in this world were never meant to last...And they don't.

But he's found a new love, one that never turns to dust. And he's given up everything to be faithful to it.

"For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." Matthew 16:25

"Fair are the meadows, fair are the woodlands,
Robed in the blooming garb of spring:
Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer,
Who makes the woeful heart to sing" Pin It

Graysen the skeptic

So tonight Graysen, Brandon and I huddled together in our little kitchen and made some homemade goodies...cookies, lemonade, fried pickles and onion rings... Nom.

It was sooo much fun, and so calorie-filled.

Graysen hung around for the first part of the cook-off, dying to get her little fingers dirty.

So after I had cut up all the lemons I yelled to her to come help me make the lemonade.

She was sooo excited to finally be able to get involved.

So she ran in, paused at my leg, and looked at me questioningly as if to say, "Okay smarty, I'm only 3 feet tall, how do you expect me to reach?"

So I motioned towards a folding chair in the corner.

She walked over, grabbed it, and lugged it over to the counter where I was working.

She unfolded it and paused, looking first at the counter, then at me, then back at the chair.

I looked down at her worried little face and said, "Whatcha doing girlie? Climb on up."

She looked once more at the questioningly stable folding chair and replied skeptically, "Mommy, are you sure?"

Even my kids are starting to question my judgment. Great. Pin It

Brando 1, Callie 0

Okay, so I've been trying out some new recipes lately. All successful.

Kinda.

Okay, most of them successful.

I mean, I guess this one could be considered a success since I thought it was GREAT, but it's non-success lies in the disapproval it received from Brandon.

As a general rule, my husband eats the R O Y G (B I V) (These three count if you apply the rule to cotton candy, ice cream, or cotton candy ice cream.) colors, of the food color spectrum, of course with the added brown, white, and occasional black.

Well tonight we had manicotti, which consists of spinach, chicken, ricotta, mozzarella, and tomato sauce.

It's heavenly goodness in a noodly shell.

But Mr. Picky, to my surprise, scarfed down his shell and left the room. I thought, a little smug, oh, maybe he's getting more!

But he happily reentered with a bowl of cereal.

I thought, Oh hell no Hmmm...let me inquire as to why he is eating cereal.

I tried to force my best "innocently offended" face and said, "So...you didn't like it?"

I might of thrown a little chin quiver in there just for good measure.

He replied with all the superior grace of a gentleman , "Nah baby. I just like two month old stale cheerios."

Smirk...

Silence...

Wince.
Pin It

Out with the old, in with the new.

He has turned on me.

And quite frankly, I'm heartbroken. Our relationship just isn't what I thought it was.

I thought everything was fine, ya know. I mean, how do see you this kind of thing coming? Maybe I wasn't intuitive enough. I thought we were happy. We've been doing this for a long time now.

He was the object of my desire every morning. All night I dream of his strong, rich aroma and the warmth that envelopes around me when I finally get to enjoy him.

I need that feeling of security and contentment that he gives. I need to know he can be there for me, but lately...I've just been disappointed. He never gives me what I want. It's all about him.

I mean, I always put him first-no matter if kids were crying or the facebook needs checking. I give him sponge baths and sing his praises, and he gives me what? A mess all over the counter that I have to clean up first thing in the morning. An extra fifteen minutes until my needs are met. Well, I can't do it anymore. I won't. I will not settle for less than I deserve, and I deserve fulfillment.

I'm replacing him. It's going to be emotional, I know. But I can do this. I have to liberate myself or I'll stay in this unsatisfying relationship forever.

And I've already found a replacement. In wall-mart the other day I noticed him. He was tall and dark. I even checked out the back and all the necessary features were there. Will he bring me happiness? I think so.

Mmmm...Mr. Coffee...This is going to be a good thing. Pin It

Three year old wisdom

My children give me insight into my soul.

What's that? What do you mean a statement like that requires an explanation? Sigh. Oh fine, I'll indulge you.

I often ask Graysen to be her brother's keeper, and she rarely disappoints. She follows him around expectantly, eagerly waiting to be able to call him out on his wrongdoings.

So this afternoon as I was reluctantly happily making dinner, I called out to Graysen asking if Noah was being a bad boy. Her reply? "No, he's happy."

Curious response. So curious in fact, that I thought about it a lot of the afternoon.(Okay, I'm a stay at home mom...How much do I really have to do? Oh, bug off...) Anyway, I think my insightful little sprite is onto something that some adults haven't figured out.

She realizes that obedience brings happiness and disobedience brings sorrow. Poignant for a three year old... Is this epiphany material? Probably not. Is it stunningly convicting? I think so.

So I've already confessed in my previous blog that I haven't been a very good girl as of late. Well, I haven't been a very happy girl as of late either. And forgive me if I sound like a clincher in a Nicholas Sparks novel, but I'm convicted that the reason for my recent peril is my ineffectual dwelling upon the failures of the people around me to meet my needs.

Well... are their needs being met? I can't remember the last time I asked myself that question. I think... sometimes we have to give to receive...(I know, I just gagged too.)

But seriously, I am not serving the needs of my family. And more importantly, I am not being obedient to the Father. My disobedience has chained me to my sorrow, and instead of worrying about the chain, I bark and howl at everyone around me. I am not rejoicing in the Lord always, nor am I looking after the interest of others. I am just worried about how they are not fixing me.

I am happiest when I get what I want am being obedient to my Creator. I must have the attention span of a goldfish to have to remind myself of that so often...but what joy comes from remembering that my Savior was perfectly obedient! He suffered my death because He knew I couldn't do it. Wow. Hallelujah, what a Savior.

"To see the Law by Christ fulfilled,
To hear His pardoning voice,
Changes a slave into a child
And duty into choice."


I promise my next entry will be light and fun and not at all thought provoking. Pin It

Thanks anyway

I think you should know, I'm a whiner. I often feel sorry for myself. True story. I do.

As a young mom and housewife, I often feel like I spend all my time working effortlessly to do things for my family that no one appreciates. And unlike some people, I take no pleasure in martyrdom. It's unrewarding. And I take little pride in being self-sacrificing unless someone is there to see it and reward me with a cookie...there, I said it.

Now, lately I've been feeling extra sorry for myself due to an overall increase in the stress level at the Morgan house. Tension is high and there is little room for praise and adoration for mommy, which is no good, seeing as how I need those things. And I have felt like an annoyance to my husband and a tyrant to my kids. And I want to believe that I don't deserve to feel that way, but the truth is...

I am chief of sinners. I hate being submissive. I am a tyrant to my kids. I completely lack self-control, and I hate being selfless, even when it's absolutely necessary. And no, I'm not just being self-deprecating. There are things I do like about myself-probably too many for me to NOT be considered a little vain, but in a stroke of grace I realize that I too often find myself complacent in my sin. And I'm saddened at my measly attempts to justify myself and feel self-righteous. What am I thinking? I'm saddened that my family has to live with me this way most of the time and I'm grateful that they love me, even in this messy state that I'm in.

Thanks guys.

And at the risk of seeming a little melodramatic...

The past five years have been filled to the brim with laughter, tears, hard work, laziness, selfishness, self-sacrifice, loneliness, companionship, snuggles, conversations to be proud of, and conversations that are best stored in the repressed memory section of your brain. In all these, Brandon, I love you. And I'm grateful for you.

I poorly suffice to give you the thanks you deserve for putting up with me in my radiantly sinful glory. I'm so thankful to be the girl next to you in family photos, and I'm proud of you for your hard work and obvious sacrifice. This home is the happy, comfortable place that it is because of your passion for the gospel and understanding of grace and sufficiency in Christ.

Thank you so much for being the strong leader that I absolutely require, but never deserve. Pin It

Funny, funny.

Tonight Graysen told her first joke.

She watches Dora the explorer(which I'm not proud of), and she often pretends that she is Dora. So tonight we went out to eat, and while waiting for our food to arrive we "played" Dora. Graysen was Dora(the heroine), as usual. Noah was Boots(the sidekick), as usual. Brandon was Benny(the cow), as usual. And mommy was to be Swiper the Fox(the swiping villian), as usual.

So quickly upon commencement of the game, I swiped her napkin. This required that she yell out "Swiper no swiping, swiper no swiping!", at which point I return the napkin and reply, "Aw man, aw man!". This is a careful reenactment, seeing as she gets mad if you don't correctly portray the character. So it's funny and we laugh. Then Dad decides to do the Swiping(under the name Benny of course- theres no breaking character allowed), and he swipes the napkin. The rest follows the normal formula.

Now Boots(Noah) has been doing his own thing...eating his own napking(which Dave Gardner would say is southern for napkin, beating on the table, that sort of thing. But as Graysen turns to laugh at Daddy, he spies that the napkin has been left unguarded and swipes it quickly out from in front of her. To this Graysen looks at us and giggles, then replies, "Swiper, no Swiping!" And bursts into a fit of laughter...she realized for the fist time that she could be funny.

If you don't know anything about the Morgan family, I'll tell you this. Original sentences are a scarcity. Most Morgan dialogue consists of snippets from movies, books or old tv shows. Entire conversations can take place without anyone using "normal" dialogue. It's really odd, and apparently, it's genetic. Pin It

Morganisms

Graysen repeatedly calls her daddy, Brandon, a bad girl.

Noah is an unapologetic trash-diver.

Donuts are dimp-dumps.

Hum-on, Daddy translates into follow me daddy.

Snuggles are the things ya get when you've been reprimanded or injured.

Missing somes: Anything, at all, that is not complete.

We lost it: to be used on occasion, interchangeably with "missing somes". On all other occasions it means, in fact, that something that should be here...is not...such as daddy, or mommy.

Noah has started shaking his head at me, smiling and yelling uh, uh, uh...which in "mommy" means no.

Lately, Brandon has been using Graysen as a translator. She apparently has picked up on some of the messages and has been ordering me to "summit" a.k.a. "submit"

Graysen calls Noah(and always has) Wuh-wuh...She used to call herself Ascents.

That's all I've got at the moment. My brain stopped working. I'll be writing more as I think of them.






Pin It

Good Morning, Graysen.

So for the past four days, three out of four of the members of our family have been sick.

Our house is covered with crinkled up tissues, and clothes, and blankets, and other sick-people things.

This morning, Graysen, the only Morgan that isn't sick, came into our room and climbed into bed with us.

I rolled over, unwilling to relinquish ten more possible minutes of sleep.

She curled up beside me, tossing and turning and chattering to herself, while I fell back into a light sleep.

After a while I felt her glide off the bed.

Usually when she gets disinterested in my bed, I give up and follow her, but this morning I decided to stay put a few more minutes since the temperature of my house was around ten below-freezing ( thanks Brandon).

So as I'm lying snuggled under the covers, I feel an awkward twenty-five pounds jump back on the bed, crawl across me, and fidget around in the covers.

This stirs my curiosity.

Fidgeting usually means trouble.

So I rolled over and peeked my head out of the covers to find a bug-eyed three year old staring back at me, covered in tissues.

She looks at me seriously and whispers, "Mommy...I got issues."

Yes, you do.

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Meet Me

As a new blogger, let me begin by issuing an apology for the erratic nature of my thoughts and the mode by which I will be expressing them.

This is my first attempt to tame my thoughts, so don't be too harsh with me.

Let me give you the introduction:

Once upon a time there was this boy--a hobbit of a boy, who met this girl--who was a beauty to say the least, and they fell irrevocably in love.

So then, from this boy and girl came another boy and girl...who were loved dearly by all those around them.

And they live happily at the present in their little shire of a town called Bowling Green.

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