Hello, welcome, yes, and excuse me while I find some clothes.

The flag keeps falling off of our mailbox. In trying to fix it without making a sharp edge (ie. using wire) I used two bread plastic bag clips, clipped onto the peg of the flag that sticks inside. I haven't decided if it was clever or trashy - but it worked. Hello Mrs. Mail Lady. We're the people at the house with the giant white van, children who love to get the mail before you’ve even pulled away from the mailbox, and the bread clips inside our mailbox. Aren't you glad to know us?

I finally got Pierce to answer with an actual affirmative answer. For the longest time he grunted. It was anybody’s guess whether each grunt was a ‘yes’ grunt or a ‘no’ grunt. Now, he answers “NO!” quite clearly and “mmm hmmm” for yes. It’s just about cute. (Okay, not the “NO!” part. But neither was the screaming when we responded contrary to his desires. Getting a word – and a warning – is a good thing. It’s one step closer to getting the boy to conform. I think.)

The AT&T truck pulled into my yard this morning sometime in the 8am hour. They weren’t supposed to come until Friday. I wasn’t dressed. I was sitting at the computer, working on a blog post in my pj’s with less than appropriate underclothing in which to meet strange men at the door. I haven’t gotten dressed that fast EVER. I didn’t even know what I put on until after I looked in the mirror later. It took ten minutes AFTER I was dressed for my heart rate to slow down. After all that, they never came to the door. Instead, they opted to climb the pole in the yard. Whew. Talk about an adrenalin rush. Not nice.

I’m sitting at #3 in the Circle of Moms contest for Top 25 Big Family Blogs. I’d be honored if you’d click over here and vote for me. There’s been a lot of talk (ahem, me, begging for votes) on Facebook, but I know a lot of you aren’t on there. You can vote every 24 hours. I’d love to maintain my spot!

I found out yesterday, when I took Pierce in to see the pediatrician for a bug bite gone wild that there’s such a thing as “Chigger Weed”. Turns out, chiggers live in the stuff. Not being a native to the state, I had no idea. My children have been picking the flowers of the stinking thing and putting them in cups all around the house. It’s like we hung out a big welcome sign, inviting the bugs in to make themselves at home, and offered our bodies up as breakfast, lunch and supper. Perfect.

If you don’t know what a chigger is, thank the good Lord and pray you never find out.