Introducing...

The newest addition to the Kane family, Drew. Ha, ha!

Melissa had her baby right before Christmas and was nice enough to come to our house and let me snuggle him and brave enough to let Koy hold him. Then she moved to Idaho. Boo. But we still like you so come visit anytime. :)

Our baby is still safely tucked away here for just a couple more weeks.

Maybe just one more week... We'll decide what to do on Wednesday. :)

We have a few names picked out so he'll be lucky enough to come home from the hospital with a name. Ah. What a relief.

Anyway, I just wanted to catch up on our Christmas. It was crazy. We had such a busy December that I don't know where the time went. Hil decided to take the plunge and get married AND move to Laramie. Who moves to Laramie, really? We just miss her being in Logan and wish she would move back. HINT, HINT. Her wedding was super nice and we got to see all of Justin's family right before Christmas. Can I just say, I LOVED her dress? Seriously, I couldn't stop dreaming about it. It was soooo cute!

Just a pic of this kid's cute brown eyes. I just love my little Koy!

Hil's reception was at an old train station and Koy was out-of-control the whole night. It looks like he was dancing here but I'm pretty sure he tripped right when I took the picture.

Katie's parents set up a bazillion trains in their house for Christmas and she took us to see them. The kids watched those trains for over 2 hours and her dad was nice enough to let the kids each blow the train whistle. Pure heaven for this little guy.
First time seeing Santa... he didn't really care. He was more excited that he got a treat bag with peanuts in it.

Christmas morning was a little over whelming at my parents house. We had everyone there except my oldest brother and his two kids. Koy doesn't look too excited about his bike, because he wasn't. There were so many other toys being opened that we had to force him to sit and open his own gifts and he was not happy about it.

And just a couple of pics playing and laying in the snow. This kid loves it so much he even says he's thankful for snow prints in his prayers at night. Goof. (I promise he starts out with gloves on but he hates them so we play until his hands about freeze off.)

Hello Again!

Surprise!

We're still alive!

We know you all are just waiting for an update on our lives...

and you are going to have to wait a little longer!

Sorry.

Really though, I made the effort to come use my sister's internet to update this bad boy but blogger is being retarded and I can't upload any pictures.

Tear. Sniff.

J/k.

I'm not heartbroken. Now this won't take me as long but it will be extremely boring.

Koy has officially named Justin "Daddio" and me "Mommy Sue."

We have been doing patch therapy on Koy's eye since December which I was COMPLETELY dreading but to our surprise, Koy has done so well with it.

When we wake up in the morning he knows it's going on and he'll even take his glasses off and wait for you to put it on. We go back to the doc on Tuesday to set a date for his surgery. That should be exciting.

My friend Melissa had her baby on Dec. 21st and she brought him over to our house for a visit. Koy kept asking to hold him and he did a couple of times. Hopefully he'll do as well when his baby brother gets here.

Speaking of baby brother, that's his name, so don't wear it out.

We haven't decided on a name yet.

Any suggestions would help... since he's going to be here soon.

Actually, not just any suggestion would help. Be real people.

There are some strange names out there.

His name will probably be strange, but we kind of dug ourselves a hole naming our first kid Koy.

We are still planning on March 21st for this little guy to come.

He really doesn't like me some days. Infact, there have been days where I wonder how such a little guy can cause so much discomfort. But as I recall, the worst is yet to come. Ah!

Anyway, all is well here. Justin is still alive and kicking. That should shock everyone since pregnancy is so miserable for him. J/k. He's been great and he offers to help out so much. It's really not as bad for him as he made it sound in his last post.

Hopefully I'll get some pictures up of Christmas before next Christmas. Probably not, so don't hold your breath.

If this two-year-old ruled the world...

We would all wear mixing bowls on our heads...

and...

Christmas ornaments would hang from all key holes...

The Death of the Chubby Chaser

If Justin dies because of his last comments, it won't be because of me. I promise. I've learned a great deal of patience and even more tolerance for insanity. I just knew that if I waited long enough, karma would do me justice and by dang, it did! Wa ha ha! So Justin, I won't kill you, but karma sucks and so... good luck with that.

Now, to defend myself from his last post. I am NOT a grumpy pregnant lady. He knows that. Really, he honestly knows that. (I just asked him to double check.) I think I'm quite pleasant most of the time. However, I am at the awkward stage of pregnancy. My body doesn't respond to pregnancy like the rest of women. I just get kinda chubby for a while before a belly starts poking out. This is how I feel I look in the mirror:

Seriously, all muscles go on a nine month vacation and all my skin gets loose. Then fat deposits in places I didn't think fat could deposit. I think most women can agree that you go through a phase of prego life where your cute skinny clothes don't fit but maternity shirts make you look like you're wearing a hot air balloon. Clothing is just a lose-lose situation so you can't help but have a hard time finding something to wear. I am super grateful to be prego and I can't wait to meet our new little man but clothing for the next few months will be my worst enemy. Maybe I'll just follow the Michelin Man's style and wear a scarf. Yikes!

So Justin, you will never understand how it feels to go through pregnancy or delivery, and for that I am grateful. (That would be weird if you did.) You don't need to worry about us having a girl ever. I think there is WAY too much testosterone in you. You are getting a little crazy in your old age, but I'll just blame that on the seven years of school. As for being forgiven for your post, I think either

A: A sincere heartfelt and very public apology is in order

OR

B: A treat that starts with an "i" and ends with a "ce cream" will suffice.

Take your pick sir.

Dear God, Thanks for the baby boy but...

What I really prayed for was a job, new car, and a house. Excuse me for being cynical, but that is what came to mind when Sherrie told me that I should blog about the new man-cub. I remembered it from one of those funny/inspirational emails everyone gets once in a while, and this one was compiled of letters from little kids to God. One little boy said, "Thanks for the little brother, but what I really prayed for was a puppy." Maybe I'll pay for my insensitivity in another life. I couldn't come up with any better way to announce to the blogosphere that I was right, and it is in fact, a boy! I called it at the first ultra-sound. Sherrie is mad at me right now because I'm always right, (her words, not mine) and because I told her I was a "chubby-chaser." Before you scald me with your comments, let me explain. Men are doomed when it comes to commenting on the Body Condition Score of our females. Damned if we do, damned if we don't. Sherrie is grumpy because she is 5 months pregnant, gained a whopping 1 pound last month, but somehow thinks she looks like she belongs on the Biggest Loser. And she's not the only one! Well, let me rephrase. She's not the only pregnant woman that frowns to the mirror every single day of the 9 month journey, complaining about having nothing "cute" to wear, and fearing that they look like a beached whale. She doesn't belong on the biggest loser, but there are many many out there that do. You know who you are. Anyway, during the past 4+ years of marriage and during 1 and 1/2 pregnancies, I have tried everything to convince her that she's PERFECT. I tell her how sexy she is, slap her butt, remind her how many women there are in the world that would KILL to look like her, and do a few other things that are none of your damn business. Nothing seems to work! So, I decided to try a little reverse-psychology. She was standing at the mirror and said something about how fat she looks, and I told her that I was a chubby chaser. My bad. But as miserable as it must be to watch your body change during a pregnancy, the bloating, the aching, the cramping, the stretching, the need for new/different clothes, imagine having to listen to it every day of your life and not be able to do anything about it. What do you want from us? Anyway, I'm kindof in the doghouse and decided that if she wanted me to blog, then I'd better blog.
Well, that concludes my rant. I appologize to anyone who chose to take offense to my comments. Nobody made you read what I typed. Whatever. In other news I am on the brink of finishing my thesis and graduating from college. I know what you're thinking, but a lot of people go to school for seven years, right? Anyway, we are anticipating new employment, hopefully a new car, and someday a house, but we'll be fine in the meantime. I'll be a stupid horse-shoer with a Master's degree if not. We are, in fact, extatic about the new boy. Especially me, because I don't think I can survive dealing with another female's fluctuating fat-illusions. Come to think of it, I might not make it anyway after Sherrie reads this post...

Happy Birthday!

Happy, Happy Birthday Sweet Koy Boy!
We can't believe that you are already 2!
You are so much fun and we are so blessed and eternally grateful to be your parents.
You make us laugh multiple times every day.
You're the sweetest little guy there ever was, even during the fake crying when you are in time-out.
You are turning into such a character and you are so animated.
We love to hear you talk and are often surprised by the words you say... and words you say that we wish you hadn't heard us say. :)
We are so excited to see you as a big brother - you'll be so great at it!
We hope you have a great birthday and can't wait to watch you grow more over the next year.

We love you!

Love, Mom and Dad

A captivating title for a really good post...

A little while ago my friend posted this on her blog and I loved it so I asked her if I could share it. (She probably doesn't think we're friends... but I do. Anyone I stalk is a friend. :))

It's worth your time to read... and so is her blog. She's funny even when she doesn't mean to be and she does such a good job at painting a picture in your mind that I can't help but read her stuff. So if you have some free time, or want to waste some time, you should click on the link to "Emily and Adam" on the right. Enjoy!

From A to B: ixnay on the udgmentjay

It's about to get real up in heya so cover your ears if you come here for the laughs.

I was walking down the stairs at the train station today when a buxom woman with a scowl that could have excited the devil came bustled past me and clocked me in the face with her Mary Poppins carpet bag. I covered my smarting nose with my hand, expecting an apology but was met instead with a Move out of the beeping way!

Oh my, the words that crossed my mind! She-devil! Winch! Imbecile! Please note that I'm censoring for the children. Seething with anger, I boarded the train and began to let my brain conjure up thoughts of shoulda-coulda-wouldas.

In my mind's eye, I had just chased her down, pulled the floor lamp out of her bag, and beaned her with it, when a stooped, elderly man boarded the packed train car and made a move to squeeze in by me. Still seething from taking it in the face, I thought, Fat chance, Old Man. If you think I'm moving just because you survived WWII, you'd better think again. Plus, you sorta reek.

As he braced himself against the wall, I noticed he held an appointment card in his gnarled hand. The top of the card read "Washington Cancer Institute." My heart dropped, along with my last shreds of anger.

Then, because I'm a manic, I started getting riled that no one was giving him a seat.

The point is, I'm a judger. And not the "Your Honor" kind, nor the judge righteously type. I see, I assess, and I pass judgment. It's a characteristic I HATE about myself and I often vow to overcome the glaring natural man, only to find myself pinning a skinny girl with an eating disorder the very next day.

Between both Adam and myself we can't seem to remember the exact origin of this story but we recently heard an account of a professor who asked the members of his class to anonymously write down a trial they were each dealing with presently. He collected the papers and read them aloud. Rape, fear, divorce, death, anxiety, unplanned pregnancy. Each person was dealing with something monumental and not a single person in that room knew about it.

Take Ole Bopped-Me-On-The-Nose for example. She had probably been up all night with a sick baby. She then might have broken her heel on the way to work and had to wear her spare flip-flops all day which didn't bode well with with her boss, who was already yelling at her for a misplaced file. Maybe she forgot her lunch, her cell phone, and her Metro pass. She also forgot about picking up her great-aunt from physical therapy, which is where she was running to when she passed my sauntering hiney and thought, If that little twerp doesn't get out of my way, I'm going to clock her in the face with my Mary Poppins carpet Bag.

Or maybe she's just an ornery old hag.

Either way, how am I to know?

Since I'm a sucker for rhetorical cliches: have I walked a mile with her Mary Poppins carpet bag? Not a chance.

The thin, tan, blond mother is fighting depression, the trite business man exiting his Lexus recently lost his mother, and the indifferent teenager behind the Taco Bell counter is working two jobs to help with rent.

Every single one of us is going through something and "who am I to judge another, when I walk imperfectly?" In fact, Adam and I are in the midst of something so thick that I wouldn't even wish it upon those boys in sixth grade who mocked my hot pink t-shirt.

So I made a vow. For the next week, I'm going to remain acute to this despicable habit of mine. When judgmental thoughts cross my mind, I'm going to nip 'em and flip 'em.

In other words, wanna bash me in the face with your Mary Poppins carpet bag? Now's your chance.

And see? I blogged this entire thing from inside a bath tub and you had no idea. You just never know....