Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Call in Sick Today

I've been tagged by Mrs. Fuzz to list 3 joys, fears, goals, and obsessions. Here goes:

Joys
1.  Hearing my children sing songs about Jesus. Ain't nothing sweeter!

2. Seeing my husband walk in the door at the end of the day. Sweet relief.
3.  A new cut and color. I'm basking in the glow of newness. Love it.


Fears
1.  Spiders. {{shiver}}
2.  Traffic. I'm always worried we'll be stuck and one of the kids will have to use the bathroom. I avoid traffic at all costs.
3.  Heights ... mostly just since having kids.

Goals
1.  Surviving the "young motherhood" years intact.
2.  Actually cleaning my house this spring and finishing  painting my living room. It's a few years in the making.
3.  To never use credit to pay for anything ever again. Ever ever.

Obsessions
1.  Getting alone time with Officer Hottie.
2.  Making lists.
3.  Dave Ramsey and financial freedom. We're debt freeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!

I'm supposed to tag SIX people:

Ain't gonna happen. BUT I would love to read what yours are ... so comment away!


Please enjoy this song that Officer Hottie shared with me yesterday. 
"This is YOU!" he said. He's so right. Goes right along with Joy #2 and Obsession #1. Enjoy!


Sunday, March 28, 2010

Hero Worship

My husband was a hero yesterday. In our home, he is a hero everyday. For all I care, he can sit in his car all day and never do anything and he is still the reason his city stays safe. So I'm biased.
But yesterday, he was a hero for someone else. He found a missing person; a 77 year old man who suffers from dementia. You know where he found him? In the woods. Stuck in mud. The poor man must have been terrified.
I know this falls under the "All in a day's work" category, but seriously. I'm so proud of him.
I just needed to brag a bit.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Those Stupid Stupid Geese

In writing 25 things to my mother I was remembering all sorts of odds and ends from my childhood.

#16. Thanks for not being mad when I hit the goose over the head with the frying pan. That stupid goose.


Did you read that one? After reading Momma Fargo's story about her own geese this morning, I felt like elaborating.


When my mom was pregnant with my baby brothers, and they found dog sized rats in their rental, they decided it was time to buy their own home.  After the rat incident (I'm told the last straw was when my mom thought the German shepard we had was playing in the bathtub, only to find it was actually a rat) they moved all of us into my grandparent's home until they could find a place to live. I think they would have taken another rental, but my parent's were young (only 23 or so) and already had four children with one more (they thought) on the way and I'm sure potential landlords saw them coming and locked their doors. So, purchasing it was. My mom stayed at home with us and my dad worked for a large newspaper during the night shift. While it provided for our families needs, it didn't make them rich. So they bought a home with lots of potential out in the middle of nowhere. And I mean nowhere. At the time it was a good 30 minutes from any sort of civilization. It was on acreage, which was appealing since they had a bunch of kids. A beautiful double wide trailer with a broken down well, but it was theirs. And, as the shock of all shocks came three weeks before my mom delivered (it's twins! AGAIN!) I'm sure the thought of having space was more important than anything else. 


So, the double wide. I loved that place as a kid. Now, as a mother, I wonder how my mom didn't lose it and murder us all. I have a ton of stories about that place but this one is about the geese.


I don't know why my parent's got the geese. Maybe it was because we lived so far out and they had dreams of owning a farm? (By they I mean my dad.) Whatever the reason was we had two geese and they were terrible. Awful. Mean. Evil. One of my chores was to feed the chickens (yet another farm dream, I guess). The chickens were great; the problem was between our house and the chicken coop were the geese. They terrified me. I tried not to be afraid but I would cry and cry and beg my dad to come with me. He would send me with my little brother, who was more terrified than I. Not much help as I recall. 
I clearly remember walking down to that pen. It was an ominous walk, the sky overcast and light rain running down my face. I wore pink sweats and moon boots; standard issue if you live in a double wide. As I walked down to the coop, one of those geese, those stupid stupid geese, charged me and grabbed ahold of my pant leg. I started screaming and kicking and the danged thing wouldn't let go. My brother ran back to the house, crying (thanks Spud). I'm pretty sure my dad was yelling from the house, "It's ok! Just kick it away!" and laughing. (Dad, I'm so sending you my next therapy bill.) It didn't work. When I swung my leg one way the goose just hung on and bounced back still firmly attached to my pants. I could feel the other goose ready to attack, fear and panic slowly taking over my little body and mind. And then, with a light shining from heaven and angels singing in the background, I saw it. A skillet just sitting in the mud at my feet. Without hesitation, I picked it up and I smacked that goose over the head. Not once, or twice, but probably 15 times. Until it let go. And then I'm pretty sure I chased it swinging away like a wild woman. I was victorious. I had won. The other goose started to come toward me and I swung at that one too. And it left me alone. I quietly inched toward the chicken coop, my skillet firmly in hand. Once I was in the coop I knew I was safe. I fed the chickens, processing what had just happened. I was pretty sure my parents were going to be mad at me. I just knew I'd be getting in trouble. After feeding the chickens I picked up the skillet, peeked out the door and headed back up to the house. I saw those geese waiting for me, conspiring. I took off running, my moon boots squishing the mud and my pink sweatpants pulled up high with pride. As I walked into the house I could hear my dad laughing. I entered to applause. The little brother thought I was brave. My parents were proud of me. My mother said she hoped the goose would die. I wasn't in trouble at all. 


A few days later the goose I'd pummeled disappeared. My dad said a coyote got to it. Maybe it did, I know I wasn't the only thing who hated those stupid geese. Maybe it had serious brain damage and succumbed to his injuries. That's the story I like to believe. A few weeks later, to much cheering and celebration, my dad took the other goose to the Lake and set it "free". 


Good riddance.




No more fear. Stupid goose.
("Oh, you loved it!" my dad says. "Look at that smile." Whatever. He's still getting my therapy bill.)


Tuesday, March 23, 2010

For My Mom on her Birthday

Dear Mom,

Today you are 50. You are officially old. I will forever torment you with the fact that you are such a geezer. I jest. I'm only 19 1/2 years behind you. I know my day is coming.

I wanted to write 50 things I like about you or memories I have of you. Please take your ADD medication before you begin. This may require some concentration. You can do it. 50 year old's are supposed to have a decent attention span. Ok, I'm just kidding.  Not even I have the fortitude to write 50 things all at once. But I came up with 25.
(My apologies to anyone who doesn't feel like reading 25 things about my mom ... this is for her. Not you.)

1. Remember when R1 and R2 were little and I wanted you to dress one in purple and one in pink? But then you reversed it? I was really mad at you. I called them by the wrong name all day just to show you how mad I was. Do you remember? I'm sorry. That was really juvenile of me. I should have known better. I hate to admit that I think this is my first memory. Can you forgive a three year old?

2. I like that you married Dad.

3. I like that you made Dad cut his hair when he turned 30. I'm glad you finally got rid of it. I wonder if you could have given it to Locks of Love?

4. I like that you make Dad wear the "good" sweatpants in public.

5. Thank you for not listening when your friends told you I would be ruined forever if you had more children. I am thankful for all the built-in friends you and Dad gave me.

6. I have never worried about loving another child. Because you once told me that love always multiplies. It never divides. You are right.

7. Thank you for being as excited with my fourth pregnancy as you were with my first.

8. Thank you for praying for our marriage when you thought it was falling apart. Remember that day? You came to pick me up for lunch and I was a blubbering mess and kept saying I had to get a hold of Officer Hottie? You know, the day I found out I was pregnant with Snuggles. Thanks for caring enough to pray.

9. Thank you for the $30 you gave me on my 21st birthday and telling me not to spend it on bills. Even though I was so broke it wasn't even funny. And then Officer Hottie lost it in the Albertson's parking lot. Now I'll never mention it again. (Maybe once or twice more. Then I'll be done.)

10. Remember when that stupid car broke down on me on my way to stupid college on the side of stupid I-5? And then the stupid towing company towed it? And we had to drive all over trying to figure out what stupid idiot towed it? And where it was and how I was supposed to get my stupid stuff out? Thank you for giving me the money to get my stuff out. And for picking me up. And for letting me  have a bad day.

11. Thank you for letting me take "Mental Health Days" while in school.

12. Thanks for only making me mow the lawn that time you caught me in the Taco Bell parking lot when I should have been in school. And then signing the form so I could write my own notes my senior year. And then letting me "go to the dentist" to watch Mariners play-off games. And sleep in.

13. Remember when I asked you if you'd ever smoked pot? And you freaked out and asked me if I was smoking pot? And then I said no? And you believed me. Thanks for believing me. I was telling the truth.

14. I can't believe you let us play under a double wide trailer when we were young. What I can't believe even more is that you encouraged it. Ok, I can believe it. In fact, now that I'm a mother with four young children, I'm thinking having four of your six kids under the trailer, where you knew we were safe and contained, and the house was quiet, probably kept you on the "more sane than not" side of things.

15. Treasure hunting under that trailer is one of the highlights of my life.

16. Thanks for not being mad when I hit the goose over the head with the frying pan. That stupid goose.

17. When my boys spit their gum on the car floor today, I was remembering that time in Mexico when someone squeezed the tube of toothpaste in the middle (you know where I'm going with this...) and you asked us all if we "had a mental block in (our) brain?" And then we couldn't stop laughing, even though you were ticked, because it was one of the funniest things you'd ever asked us. And then you laughed too. That's a good memory Mom.

18. Remember Mexico? And living in a trailer for six months? I remember getting married and then wondering how you and Dad spent "alone" time and then realizing ... oh, never mind.

19. You are brave. You allowed your son, and then your son and daughter, to live in a foreign country before we hit puberty because we "wanted to". You are brave.

20. Remember the week before I got married? And you called me while I was on my way to work and you were crying? And you said, "Remember when you used to call your bedroom the gebroom? And the kitchen the chicken? And now you're getting married!" And then I cried and had to pull the car over because I couldn't stop crying and laughing. You are the best mother.

21. I love that when I said, "I want my reception to be pretty" and then never thought of it again, you made it perfect and exactly how I dreamed about. It was actually better than I dreamed. Even on my wedding day I remember thinking, "Oh wow. I did not help with this at all. My mom is amazing."

22. Thanks for being at every child's birth. Except Little J. But even I would have missed it if you hadn't come to watch Snuggles. So thank you for that.

23. I'm sorry I'm not "IN". But Verizon sucks.

24. This memory is more about Spud ... but remember in Safeway, years and years ago, and he went running down the aisle, farting the whole way? And jumping and trying to hit the signs? And he kept farting? And we were mortified and laughing.

25. Remember when R1 and I took you out to lunch for your 50th birthday? And we had our children there and it was nap time and you were giving Evie her bottle and playing tic-tac-toe with Little J (even though he's a cheater) and all of my kids had to go to the bathroom all at once. Do you remember how I looked at you and thought, "I am thankful for my mom. I am thankful she is here. I love her. I love her. I love her." Maybe you don't remember that, but I do.

Mom, happy birthday. When I grow up, I want to be like you.

Sarah's Hope

I wanted to share a new (non police wife) blog. It is called Sarah's Hope and it covers the journey of Sarah Lien as she battles breast cancer. Sarah's parents go to church with me. Her mother, Barb, is a two time breast cancer survivor. Barb has been through the ringer and I'm sure the news that her young daughter, only 24, is going to have to fight this battle is horrifying. Sarah was told her treatments would be 10 times worse than what her mother went through. Her cancer has not spread, but it is a level 3, and it is a rare form, so she has a long and grueling battle ahead.
Today we are praying that Sarah's eggs are able to be harvested as treatment will wipe out her future chances of having children.
Although there is so much unknown and such a scary path ahead Sarah, her husband Kirk, and their families are so full of Hope.
It's a good read ... and since she's only seven days into her journey it will be providing much to pray about and much to hope for.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Behind the Badge Foundation

My sweet wonderful sister-in-law sent me a link today. She is so thoughtful.

You can read what she sent me HERE. I love that she was thinking about me and she knows what I'm passionate about. I wonder if she knows that I've totally not been doing the research I promised myself I would do. Well, now she does.

Behind the Badgee Foundation

After reading that article I just kept clicking away until I found THIS! And now I'm just about giddy as I finally finally finally have not only an organization, but also something that is already planned that I can participate in. After reading about this foundation I am so thankful for them. The Behind the Badge foundation provides funding for funerals of fallen officers.  Hard to believe we lost so many officers in Washington state last year. I still can't stomach the violence that was poured out on our law enforcement family. 


I am excited to take part in the 5K that is happening in June. I am hopeful that our Cop's Wives Club will be able to raise funds so we can make a donation to Behind the Badge in honor of our husbands and all the men and women who are out there every day.


I'm sure I'll have more to share as we get closer to the actual date. Until then, on top of letting Jillian Michael's yell at me everyday I'm going to have to start running. Hear that Alison? Have that baby so we can start getting ready for this thing!!

Mama Guilt Monday

Mama Guilt Mondays

My mama guilt today ...

Fuzzy has been sick for three weeks. Runny nose, cough, slight congestion, slight fever. Nothing to get us overly worried. He's cutting four teeth, his canines, so I thought a lot of the crankiness and drooling was due in part to that.

I wanted to take him in a week ago. I decided to wait. "It isn't that bad. And, they'll send me home to 'wait it out' anyway." I finally decided to take him to the doctor when his coughing fits were waking him up from sleep and naps.

His fever was 104. Both his ears had "raging" infections. His lungs had pneumonia.

I started to cry. The doctor said, "You either get here too early for us to know what it is, or too late and they're super sick. You'll never make it on time. Don't worry about it."

I'm not so much worried as ... the guilt is eating me alive.





Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Keeping up with the Resolutions

At the start of the year I made two resolutions. The first was to lose weight and get into shape. Currently I have lost 14 pounds and am letting Jillian Michael's kick my sad saggy butt into shape at least three days a week, usually more. Two months ago I wore my sweat pants all the time because all my other clothes were too tight. Look ... having four children in five years will do that to a tummy. I'm just saying. Today, I'm wearing my sweat pants because most of my clothing is too big. And although I'm dying to go shopping, I need to wait a bit more because I'm determined to lost a bit more. We shall see. I feel like I've done well with my first resolution. I actually feel like this is my new life ... not just a resolution but something I plan to continue. I have enjoyed getting into shape and being able to run around with the kids without sucking air 30 seconds in. And I must admit, I like the looks I'm getting from Hottie. He's always given me looks and grabbed me at totally inappropriate times (which I secretly love) but lately he's been a little more grabby and the looks are lingering slightly longer. It has been nice that he's been losing weight with me ... 27 lbs so far. I just bought him a new pair of shorts, to celebrate his weight loss, and they are so big on him now he has to wear his gun inside his pants just to keep them from falling off. At least, that's what he tells me. So ... YEAH! Resolution one holding strong.

The second resolution was to read my Bible everyday. My faith is so important to me and yet it remains a struggle to make it a priority. Somehow I can manage to find time to update my Facebook status or to catch up on my favorite blogs, or even to work out, but taking the time to read my Bible seems elusive. So, at the beginning of the year I resolved to read my Bible every day ... while in the bathroom. Ok, I know, gross, ew, too much information, yadda yadda yadda. Anyone with kids out there knows that there is little to no alone time. Not even the bathroom is sacred. The other day LadyBug decided she'd rather forgo Sid the Science Kid and sit on the bathroom floor and watch me. Really? Really? Yes, really. I comforted myself with the fact that she saw me reading the Bible. A year or so ago my dear friend Laura told me, "Just grab what you can get from the Lord. Even if you have to leave a Bible on the back of the toilet at least you're getting something." She was right. I need something, even if it is just a few lines. In just over two months I have actually read my Bible nearly every day. And I have been blessed because of it.
Years ago for Christmas my parent's gave all of us a One Year Study Bible.

The One Year Bible NIV

It takes the Bible and breaks it up into 365 daily readings. It is so easy to use and it is embarrassing that it has gone neglected for so long in our home. If you want to read the entire Bible in a year, here's your tool. It isn't good, however, if you are trying to find a particular book or verse in the Bible since it is organized differently. I find that reading just the New Testament portion has been good, and if time allows (i.e, no one is bleeding or hanging from their toes) I will read the Psalm and Proverbs that are for that day as well. Most days I can find something that I've never paid attention to. I think that is so great. It feels like God has been saving something special just for me to take notice of. I have loved this time "alone" with God ... even if it is in the bathroom and my kids are on the other side of the door screaming or sitting on the floor staring at me. Either way, the Lord is blessing me.

All in all I feel pretty good about sticking to my resolutions so far. One for my body, one for my soul. Amazing how both of them impact my life.

What were your resolutions? Have you stuck to them?

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Grandma

Today marks the third anniversary since my grandmother's passing. I miss her. A lot.
I lived in Mexico when I was younger. She and Grandpa, along with my mom and cousin, came to visit me and my brother. That was the highlight of my entire time down there. While sitting around the living room one night with everyone talking my poor grandma stood up and exclaimed, "Oh shut up. This is ridiculous. No one speaks in Spanish this much." I was mortified but totally understood what she meant. When I first moved there my brain was so overloaded that I would see people whispering and think that they had to be speaking in English. I just couldn't comprehend not speaking in English. I got what she was saying.
When I went to college I would spend the night at her house when I had to work. They lived closer to work and school and I didn't want to commute. She would make me a lunch every day. One day my coworker told me I should quit eating so much. I couldn't bear the thought of not eating the lunch my grandma made for me. I was 19 years old after all, and perfectly capable of packing my own. I wasn't going to give up a good thing. I started exercising to counteract the massive amounts of calories my grandma was putting into my stomach.
When Officer Hottie and I got engaged my parents were upset with us. They were not happy about the timing of the engagement (I'll leave that story for another post). My grandma is the one who took pictures of us. She said my parents would want pictures to look at one day. I didn't believe her then, but she proved to be right. The picture she took went on the front of our wedding invitation.
She and my grandpa eloped. She said it was the best worst thing they ever did. They moved away from their families so their marriage wouldn't be annulled by her parents. She loved my grandpa completely. She missed her family completely. I think her heart was always torn.
When OH and I went to a wedding, after we were engaged but before we were married, I ironed his shirt for him. He walked into the room my grandma was in and she promptly made him take it off so she could re-iron it. My ironing skills are still lacking.
She made my wedding veil for me. She had my dress pressed and dry cleaned before the wedding. She bought me a tea set that I thought was silly. After Snuggles was born she visited in the hospital and held him. When I asked for him back she laughed and said no. She made the best spaghetti and meatballs. She told us all we were fat. And then she laughed like it was ok to say that to someone. She told me to have more than three children. She said odd numbers made for odd children. So we had four. They are still odd (as I type this my daughter is pretending her foot is a phone.)
She remembered everyone's birthday. She had the softest cheeks and I loved to kiss them. She also had random whiskers and didn't seem to care. She loved to go thrift store shopping. She knew how to love and she loved very very well.
She died when my daughter was three months old. I wish she could have seen her grow. She would have loved her curls and her personality. She was so surprised when LadyBug was born. "I really thought Officer Hottie was so big he'd only be able to make boys." I loved her reasoning. I wish she could have met Fuzzy. She would have loved his blond hair.
On my mom's birthday she always bought my grandma a new rose bush. My grandma told me, "I hope you treat your mother as well as she treats me." I started buying my mom flowers on my birthday. I am very thankful she gave birth to me.
Grandma lived through the depression. One time her dad gave her a nickel to go buy an ice cream. She dropped it while walking over a bridge. She watched the nickel the entire way down, then climbed down to where the nickel landed. She understood the value of money. I admired that about her.
She loved Jesus. Utterly and totally. He was her everything. And she told everyone about him. And she passed her faith onto her family.
She gave birth to seven children and miscarried two. She had 26 grandchildren and as of today has 31 great-grandchildren, including those in the womb and those in heaven.
Now I drink tea from the tea set she gave me. It doesn't seem so silly anymore.

R2, Grandma, Me (pregnant with Snuggles), Mom, R1
A favorite memory

Monday, March 8, 2010

Random


I don't have much to write about but I do have some random things going around my mind. Maybe this will make sense, probably not, but here I go ... (I apologize for all the picture montages lately. It might be my new thing. I think it's just my way to get around writing when I don't have much to write about. I guess we'll see.)

Occidental Grand Xcaret

I want a vacation. I want a vacation here.

Allegro Playacar

I would also be ok if I were forced to vacation here. I'm a little bit disappointed I have to wait 11 months for this vacation. But I am very happy to know there is a vacation coming.

margarita

I would like to meet Alyssa for margaritas. Alyssa, do you read my blog? Now you know we need to get together for margaritas. I promise not to tell your personal trainer.


I wore something similar to this on our honeymoon. I've said my good-byes and gone through all the stages of grief. But, sometimes (like today) I wonder if maybe, someday, somewhere (far, far from where anyone knows me) I might wear one again. And if it wouldn't send the people of said far off location running for the hills. 


That's quite a new baby. Just over one hour old. 
Now he is 18 months old. And he has crazy that makes him look a little like Benjamin Franklin.
I never knew having a last baby would be so bitter sweet.
It's the most wonderful terrible decision we ever made. 

200559480-001, Douglas Menuez /Riser

Today my husband issued a citation to a senior citizen for speeding. He was then chastised for having the audacity to write a senior citizen a ticket. I asked if he, in turn, chastised the senior citizen for having the audacity to break the law. He said he didn't. He's much nicer than I am.

The End.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

My newest Love

Yesterday I met the newest love of my life.


The kids welcomed her with open arms. They even fought over who could cuddle with her.




She will take care of this for me ...


And this ...


I'm starting to see a pattern here ... someone get that kid a bib.


And so the world may know how fashion forward we are, she'll help with this ...






I love you new GE Front Loading miracle. I missed you while you were gone. Please please never ever leave me again.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Guns and such

Mrs. Fuzz is hosting a poll right now about what kind of duty weapon you, or your spouse, carries at work. Of course I had to call Officer Hottie and ask him what he uses because I have no clue except that it is black and will kill stop someone that may be trying to hurt my husband.
It got me to thinking about guns and the guns he carries. He has his duty weapon that is given to him by his employer and he has his back up weapon that was given to him by my grandpa. I hope you can put up with me and a minute of reminiscing ...

My great-grandpa worked for the Youngstown, Ohio police department. I honestly don't know very much about him or his time there; my grandparents eloped and moved out West and my understanding is that my great-grandpa was a fairly angry and abusive sort of man. We never saw him much; I only remember him coming out to visit us one time (although I'm sure he did more than that) and my mom, although she loved, didn't like him very much. She told me when they would visit him he would spank them. "Not something that grandpa's are supposed to do." Great-grandpa was a police officer first and then was promoted to detective. I'm pretty sure when he retired he was still a detective. I've also been told he was a crooked cop, although that isn't a question I'm willing to ask my grandpa about and a story I'd rather believe was fabricated but I don't know if anyone except my great-grandpa would know the true answer to that one.

Officer Hottie graduated from police academy in February of 2006. Shortly after his graduation we were visiting my grandparents when my grandpa said he had something he wanted to give OH and left the room. He returned with a Smith & Wesson 38 Chief's special. My grandma's eyes just about popped out of her head. "Put that thing away Frank! You're going to hurt somebody!" She was genuinely shaking at the sight of it. OH, on the other hand, had wide eyes for another reason. On the handle of the gun there is a little plaque inscribed with my great-grandpa's name and his position in the department, and his years of service.
Grandpa said, "I want you to have this. You need it more than I do."
OH replied, with tears in his eyes, "Are you serious? Isn't there someone else you should give this to?"
Grandpa "My son-in-laws have been trying to get that from me for years. You're the only one who needs it."
Hottie quickly put it away since my grandma was near hysterics (he's respectful like that) but when we got home he couldn't stop looking at it. I was so amazed too ... my grandpa giving his granddaughter's husband something that carries so much emotional weight ... it was a pretty cool thing.
My grandpa told me that that gun had saved his father's life more than once. The one story that really sticks out is that my great-grandpa was fighting with a suspect and somehow the suspect got a hold of his gun and put it to his head. My great-grandpa managed to put his finger behind the trigger so it couldn't be fired. Maybe that story is elaborated a little bit. Maybe not. Either way it's a good story and one OH tells when people ask about the gun.

With all the stuff I don't know about my grandparents families I am thankful for the gift my great-grandpa left for my husband. I am hopeful that one day it can be passed onto one of our son's.
And now that we're out of debt, thank you Dave Ramsey, we can finally afford to get OH an off-duty weapon that he will really enjoy and put the heirloom in a glass case and put it on display. I wonder how it would look next to the box of diapers? Hmm...maybe Veggie Tales DVD's? ... guess I'll have to put a little more thought into that.

In trying to find a picture of my great grandpa I came across these pictures that my grandpa had put on his blog. Yes, my grandpa blogs. It is actually a memorial site for my grandma, and he posts in the "guest comments" quite a bit. It's been a great way to learn stories and a good way for him to process. Anyway, here you go ...
My grandpa and grandma.


I'm pretty sure this is a picture of my grandpa's side of the family. I know my grandma is the one holding a baby and my grandpa is the one next to her, on the left. My great-grandpa is the one to the right of my grandma and my great-grandma is the one kneeling behind the children. 

Great grandpa with his great grand children. My baby brothers look about 2-ish in this picture so it was taken a good 23 years ago. There's a lot of great grandkids missing!

I couldn't help but include this picture of my grandma and Snuggles when he was about 2 years old. How sweet is this?