Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday!

This is circa Oct. 1987.

I'm thinking home coming???

Nice hair...

Love you!

Wake up old man!

Osto was giggling yesterday about his new alarm clock. When I finally saw it last night, I actually gasped. It is HUH-UGE! I've attempted to capture this monstrosity but the photo doesn't really do it justice.

You could also land an airplane by this thing it is so bright.

I think this is a sure sign that he is getting old.

These numbers are 1.5 inches high!

Sheesh.

We're in the spirit, the holiday spirit

We went to the kid's christmas program tonight. Its hard to see the separation of church and state at a public school that holds its christmas program in a church and sings songs about Christ. Not that I'm complaining...just interesting how things are done a little differently in my ultra-conservative, ultra-religious town. Wonder how long that will last?

After arriving 45 minutes prior to show time, I found there were no - repeat - no seats available. What is this bullsh*t about "saving" a whole row of seats? I mean, I'm no holiday show virgin so I guess I should expect this mayhem but still every year I'm surprised at the gall of these people! I was so tempted to just plop myself down on one of these "reserved" spaces and play dumb just to see the shock & awe. But I trooped upstairs and found surprising good seats in the balcony (shhhhh).

Anyways, the show was great! The kids did cute numbers about puppies, reindeer, fruitcake, and some standards. Baby girl had a little solo part in one of the numbers and she belted it out and wasn't even nervous! She did awesome. Tyler's group did a version of Silent Night with flashlights. Really cool. Osto and I were so proud of them. Definitely put me in the holiday spirit. We took pictures, but from our lovely nosebleed seats its hard to tell anyone apart!

Boys being boys...

My oldest son decided it would be a good idea to "train" my youngest in the fine art of "battling". This involves all types of kicking, punching, wrestling moves, and sometimes weaponry. This has been going on for months and the Chooch is now quite skilled in the art of battling and is quite accomplished with a foam sword as well. As long as they weren't crying, nor propelling themselves off my furniture (at least when I was watching), I really didn't care about said battles.

(You can view the nonsense here).

Well, as of last week all battles have ceased at Camp Osto. My oldest came running up stairs while I was cooking dinner with blood running down his face. (Now you have to understand that this kid cannot stand the mere thought of blood, let alone the sight of his own. I am more afraid that he is going to pass out and that the eggs I was trying to cook were going to burn in the pan in the meantime). Anyways, the Chooch hit him in the head with a toy fishing pole and put a little, but bloody, puncture in his noggin. Ugh, boys. I told Bird it was his own fault that he had trained the Chooch so well...

And the winner is....