Hello all you wonderful people who wandered over from Holidailies. I figure you might want to know a bit about me before we get into the rest of December.
My name is Suzy Smith. I’m a 31 year old woman living in rural Virginia. Tony is my husband of 8 years and the love of my life. He just graduated Summa Cum Laude (and man I hoped I spelled that correctly) in May with 2 degrees in Engineering.
Let’s see. I’ve been writing online for years now, back before there were blogs, in fact. I’m disabled and use mobility devices to get around, from a cane to a wheelchair to a scooter, dependent upon the day and how I’m doing.
I am the oldest of four, 3 girls, 1 boy. I’m Aunt Pooh to 4 kids on my side 3 boys, 1 girl, and 1 boy on Tony’s side. And, yes the kids, (Other than Tony’s side) call me Pooh. Right now I am living with my parents, my brother, and his two boys. The boys are a huge part of my life and you’ll
hear more about them I’m sure.
Most of my life has been spent in or around Colonial Beach, VA. We moved here in 1983 right before my 8th birthday. The farthest I’ve lived from here since then is an hour from here. That lasted 10 months.
As the month goes on, you’ll learn more.
December first is the correct date, I’m positive unless all of the internet is having a huge joke on me. It’s 78 degrees outside. I have all the windows open and a fan in the one trying to pull in some cooler air. Yesterday was the same thing. It is extremely odd to be having weather like this when you’re hearing about how cold it is, or how much snow they have, all over the place.
I mean, not that I’m complaining. I’d much rather be sitting here in shorts and a t-shirt (and a 3 year old hanging off my neck) than shivering in pants and a sweater. The boys are loving it as well. They both hate wearing clothes and winter clothes? Oh man that just makes things worse.
Well, that whole line of thought went kaboom. First, Charlie (almost 2) woke from his nap and wanted cuddles and hugs. No problem, how can you turn that down, especially from a sweet, beautiful, chunky, little boy?
Then Tre started screaming. He came running, on tiptoe, up the hall. I grabbed him, and saw it.
A thumb tack. Buried. In his foot.
Yeah, I’d be screaming, as well. I held his foot still, yanked it out, got it cleaned up and he’s fine now. I’m just completely lost on what I was saying.
Okay, wait, here it comes. The boys, clothes, warm winter clothes. Winter time means pants and long sleeves and socks. You’d think I was placing Tre’s foot in acid not a warm, white, cotton tube, when you put socks on him. He hates them and is goal in life is to get rid of all of them.
And by all of them, that includes his brother’s, his Dad’s, and whatever ones he can find. If you have a pair on, he will gladly yank them off for you. He then puts them away, far away, in the land of enchantment where socks and silverware go.
He’s lucky he’s so damn cute.
Really that was my day, boys, weather, introduction here, a horrible dinner I just finished (why I buy frozen meals, sometimes is beyond me, I hate them.)
Have a good day.