. . . that holds it all together.
Three weeks ago, my 17 year old brother moved in with me and started at our local high school. My evenings have been consumed with Spanish, Absolute Values, American History, and “have you started your book report yet?”s
Since Ed chose to move in with me, my mother decided that she would change her plans as well. She had planned on staying with me for a month or so to help with the baby, and then she was going to move back to Salt Lake and continue her employment with Nordstrom. With Ed being here, she felt that her place was here as well. She is now looking for a local job and sharing a bed with my 3 year old daughter. Stella kicks. She talks in her sleep. She is not a great bedfellow. Last night, in the middle of the night while sound asleep, she said “Mine is bigger than yours. Ha ha!” Poor grandma.
Ed’s ride to my house from Texarkana was with my other brother, Scott. My family is so much fun to be around, and, well, let’s face it, we are pretty much WAY AWESOME, and so he doesn’t want to leave, either. I hope he doesn’t.
We also now have a cute little dog named Frankie (who came with Ed) to whom Jack and Bob are both allergic.
Oh, yeah, and I gave birth to a beautiful little guy named George two weeks ago.
Are you counting? Our Rosie household has doubled in size in the past three weeks. We were Mom, Dad, Jack, Creed, Stella. We’re now Mom, Dad, Jack, Creed, Stella, George, Ed, Grandma, Scott, Frankie.
I guess we had better start work on finishing a few bedrooms in the basement. Feel free to come and visit, but you had better bring your work clothes if you do!
At home stitches on Scott’s eye. He was trimming a branch on a tree in the backyard so that he could hang some gymnast rings, and missed his eyeball by mere centimeters with the clippers.
George’s lips are purple because we had Thrush and I tried a homeopathic cure. If you have never had Thrush, be glad. It feels like your baby has needles on the end of his tongue that he pokes you with every time he eats. At least it wasn’t Mastitis.
Watching the Klockenspeil in Pella, IA.
Spring Tulips and Spring Babies.
Baby resting in a giant pair of wooden clogs.
Okay, I am officially in love . . .
