The Latta Family

A few weeks ago we got a dog.  She's lovely.  She has such a calm personality.  She's loving and sweet and exactly what I wanted.  When I was talking to the previous owner, she described Gracie (the new dog) as totally calm.  She wasn't lying!  Nothing really seems to phase Gracie.  Unless you knock on the window.  So we'd had Gracie for just a few days, on this particular evening.  Doug was late coming home.  Andrew, Alexa, and I were already sitting down to eat dinner. Gracie was laying near Andrew's chair.  It was a lovely dinner, very calm.  No one was fighting, or complaining that they didn't like dinner- yet.  That calm was not going to last long.  Suddenly there's a knock on the window right near where we sit and eat.  Gracie did exactly what you want your dog to do, when there is an unexpected knock, when it's dark and you're a woman alone in the house.  She used, what to this day, is her most intimidating bark.  Andrew started screaming

Christmas is one of the most stressful times of year.  I mean, you've got a ton to do, while still having to do all the usual stuff.  For me the most stressful part of the season is coming up with the perfect gift for each and every person.  I rarely do it.  This year I came up with the perfect gift, for one of Alexa's teachers.  Not that she's not a deserving girl, but really Kate?!  You couldn't have come up with the perfect gift for your husband, children, or family?!  It had to be a teacher that in a few years you won't hardly see? Doug came up with the perfect gift for me.  I will confess now, I knew something was up.  Bless my son and his big mouth, he told me weeks ago, that Daddy traced their hands before they went to school one morning.  I bit my lip.  Pretended I hadn't heard.  Ooooh, I wanted to ask what it was for.  What they were planning, but I didn't.  I know the element of surprise is just as much fun for Doug, as it is for me.  So I wonder

That Alexa is a stinker!  So here we sit, enjoying the spaghetti and salad that I spent 15 minutes cooking tonight.  When Doug gets up to get seconds, Alexa immediately jumps into his seat.  Then sits there and grins at him.  Doug asks her to move- but she won't.  Oh, she's so mischevious.  She knows she's aggravating her Daddy beyond what he may be capable of dealing with. And she just smiles at him, dimples flashing, eyes gleaming. I convince Doug to sit in her chair. He offers to pull the chair Alexa's sitting in- closer to the table, she refuses, "No Daddy!"  In fact, she's so adament in her refussal, she jumps up and pushes the chair across the kitchen.  Then, turns around and demands her chair (the one Doug is currently sitting in) back!  So, Doug makes her bring his chair back to the table, and they switch seats again.  Watching Doug and Alexa tangle, can be pretty stinking entertaining. 

Dear friends with sons under 4 years old, You might sit around thinking to yourself, "I'll never think this sweet, darling boy is anything but cute and wonderful."  And that's true, until they're 6.  When boys are 6, they start the slow, agonizing change towards become a male.  As it turns out, even though they're our sons and we love them sooooo much, they're still male, and therefore they can still be infuriating.  For my house, 7 has been the year when I look at Andrew and I am completely mystified by him.  Where did my sweet, beautiful boy go?  There are glimpses of him.  It was a friends birthday the other day,  and Andrew told me he gave his friend 8 birthday hugs.  I thought how sweet and cute that was.  Then I thought, next year those hugs will be arm punches.  Yesterday it became painfully clear to me- Andrew is a male, no longer a sweet, boy.  I don't get hugs nearly as much as I get bottom smacks, arm wacks, and instead of giving me ki

Tonight Andrew asks me, "When is the first time you kissed Daddy?"  I won't lie, I was surprised.  First, somehow it never occurred to me my children would be interested in my "love story" and second, why is he wondering about kissing?!  So I told him this story- which, for the record, is true.  I met Daddy for the first time, when I went to our school to take a tour.  It was my first year teaching and I wanted to see where I was going to teach.  When I saw Daddy, I thought "Jeez, he looks like a grump!"  Then we had to go to all these boring beginning of the year meetings, and a friend of his, kept putting us in the same groups.  Daddy thought I was pretty cool and asked me out.  I said, "No."  So he asked me again, I said, "No" again.  Then he asked me out one last time and I said, "Ok" and I realized how awesome he was! Daddy had such good manners!  He held the doors open for me. "He did?!  Did he bow and say,

This past week, my sister in law stayed at our house while she was in Charlotte attending a class about investments.  So on Saturday, I just put an exhausted Alexa down for a nap, and Andrew, Doug, and I sat at the kitchen table enjoying lunch.  Suddenly Andrew says, "What is Aunt Janet's class about?"  We responded, "Saving money."  Andrew says: Like car insurance? Me: (clearly too many Geico commercials are played on tv).  No.  Like saving up money to buy big stuff, like we're saving money for you to go to college. Andrew: Oh, I'm not going. Doug: What are you going to do instead?! Andrew: Nothing.  I'm staying here. Not sure which one of us started this response, but . . . : Nope.  Definitely aren't staying here! Once you're 18, you either go to college or move out.  Andrew: Why can't I stay here? (I'm thinking, his sister will be 13 and none of us will probably want to be here, but anyway.) One of us said: You'll be 1

So, around 5:00 this afternoon, I realized Andrew was playing in his room, Alexa was hanging with Doug and that meant . . . I could sit down and chill out for a minute.  I deserved it.  I had worked hard today.  I cleaned out my car.  The kind of clean where you take the kids car seats out, wash their covers, take the actual seats of the car out, and vacuum under them and wash down all the plastic in the car.  I had taken a moody, temperamental Alexa for a long walk, dashed around hiding cookies and distracting her from remembering they're no longer in sight, and I've down tons of laundry.  I was tired. So I snatched a few m&m's, sat down on the couch and . . . there was no sound.  Huh.  Weird, but with Andrew operating the TV and Alexa stealing remotes, it was probably just something with the settings that children had screwed up.  I decided I didn't really care, because then I can watch the Soap Network, or Friends and not worry about little ears hearing things

There is a lead up story to the real story. The lead up is this: when Andrew was in the 3 year old room at daycare, the ultimate of ultimate insults among the three year old sect was to call one another, "Baby!!!"  Whenever anyone called Andrew this, he would completely fall apart.  It absolutely infuriated him.  He was NOT a baby!!!! It doesn't matter what age kids are, when they get a reaction like that . . . well they just increase the taunting.  Doug and I decided we'd give him a comeback, and practice with him.  So, whenever someone called him "Baby!!!" he was supposed to respond, "I don't care."  We practiced the tone of voice he was supposed to use, we practiced not falling on the floor crying, and we practiced a LOT!  It turned out to be a useful lesson, because eventually people stopped calling him "Baby!!" and then we got to reiterate the lesson again in kindergarten when the ultimate insult was "Stupid!" Fast

I have met my match.  I thought I was stubborn, and then I had Andrew.  I realized he's stubborn, but then I had Alexa and she proves to me regularly Andrew and I have NOTHING on that girl.  NOTHING.  Back in August, Alexa moved up to the 2 year old room.  She has flourished in that room.  I have learned that her ideal teacher, is a sweet teacher.  Her teachers have rules, and she follows them, but they're so cute and sweet.  She has become a totally different child.  The temper tantrums are infrequent, the laughing and smiling is constant.  With them she is learning her ABC's, she can count to 4, she's learning her colors, and so many new words.  We're almost having conversations.  She's so doggone cute to me sometimes, I could absolutely eat her up.  Her hair is finally growing, and she's leaning up.  But, one thing has not changed.  She's a stubborn mule!  There have been many characteristics that have me fearing for her early teenage years, but h

Folks, I've got to tell you that I have been sooo stinking excited the last two weeks (even though the hard drive on my computer is capput, and let's not talk about the last time I backed up everything and the pictures I've probably lost.  I'm currently living in a state of unrealistic hope that the tech guy fixing it- will recover everything.  Right?  Right.) So, what am I soooo excited about?  What could be that thrilling that it compensates for my computer troubles?  Well, I'll tell you.  The good city of Monroe has changed their waste management company and now I can recycle EVERYTHING practically!  OMG!!! Seriously?  That's what's got me so excited?!  Yes.  That's what a freak I am.  Recycling has got me over the moon.  I am a big recycler.  I recycle my AA, AAA, DD batteries, in addition to the cell phone, and car battery variety.  I have been mad at the good city of Monroe for years because I have been unable to recycle cereal boxes, and other

I got my new Entertainment Weekly magazine yesterday.  I read it cover to cover today.  I just love that magazine.  If you're not a reader, this week's feature is about the tv show, American Horror Story .  I started to read the magazine this morning before I headed out on my morning walk.  I was the only one awake in the house, sitting in the kitchen alone, looking at the cover of this creepy magazine and the light over the kitchen sink started to flicker wildly and then suddenly went out.  I was completely creeped out.  I am a huge scaredy cat.  Huge.  But not about normal things.  I'm not scared of getting mugged.  I'm not scared of the teenagers in my school.  I'm not scared of weather related disasters.  See, why would I worry about something I can't control?  I'll deal with it when it happens.  You know what I'm scared of?  The Boogey Man, being possessed by the Devil, and voodoo dolls.  Cause those are things you run into everyday.  Not. When

I sometimes brag.  It's a really unattractive quality, but sometimes I am really proud of my accomplishment and so I share it loudly with anyone who will listen.  However, I am starting to think that the Fates are sending me a message.  While I can be a "bit" of a block head . . . I believe I will listen to them. I have decided that the only way to satisfy the Fates, is with a public apology of my bragert ways, and where better to make such a declaration?  There is none.  So here is goes:  I am sorry for bragging that I've never lost a kid!!!  I'll try not to brag about that anymore. I bet you were expecting something better.  Maybe something like, I'm sorry for being so fashionable (y'all know that's not true- unless wearing khaki's with Sharpie that Alexa rubbed on me, is now in fashion?  yeah, I don't think so), or I'm sorry I'm such a fast runner! (hah! a 12 1/2 minute mile hardly counts as fast- unless you compare me to a turtl

At Alexa's 1 year well visit, I asked her pediatrician if he could recommend a book to me on how to raise a strong willed child.  I told him, "I typically don't believe in psychology books.  My mother and her mother and her mother and her mother . . .  you get the picture, figured it out without all that psycho babble, but I think I need one with Alexa."  And he said, "I totally understand where you're coming from.  My wife and I thought we were great parents and thought all of our friends who were struggling just weren't good parents.  Then we had my daughter.  It turns out we weren't good parents, we had an easy kid!"  That man perfectly verbalized my life with my children.  When I had Andrew, I was fantastic parent who knew EVERYTHING.  It was all those other people who didn't know what the heck they were doing, if they would have just asked me I would have been able to solve all of their problems.  Then I had Alexa and it turns out, maybe

Jeez, being a mother is hardwork!  You think it's so hard when they're an infant (it is) because you're running on lack of sleep and adjusting to horomones and how psychotically you love your children.  Then you think it's hard when they're toddlers (it is) because you're setting the foundation for the limits and rules within your family.  You think it's hard when they're pre-schoolers (it is) because you're teaching them how to act appropriately in society and sometimes realizing, you yourself aren't exactly a model to follow.  And then when they're kids, you think it's hard (it is) because you're teaching life lessons and how do you know how much to push them or ease up?  I feel like we've done a pretty decent job laying foundations with Andrew.  He's fairly well behaved, mannerful, polite, respectful, and even tempered.  But, we're in the middle of one of those monumental moments.  He's moved from t-ball to mach

Now that Alexa is getting older and turning more into a kid than a baby, I see how she and Andrew interact as siblings and here's what I've noticed: there is NOTHING like a sibling to make a perfectly, calm, peaceful child, turn into a raging psycho in less than 1 second.  I don't remember turning my sister into a raging psyscho very often.  I did turn my brother into a raging psycho, easily, and joyfully.  So, Mom, you'll be happy to hear, karma has come back to me again.  In the past few months, Alexa and Andrew have discovered the joy of . . . aggravating each other, fighting with each other, and playing with each other (it goes in that order too).  Sometimes all Alexa has to do, is simply walk into a room and suddenly Andrew is screaming, "ALEXA!!!!  GET OUT!!!!  YOU'RE RUINING EVERYTHING!!!!"  However, sometimes all Andrew has to do is walk within a foot of Alexa and she's screaming, "EHH!  NO!  BACK UP!!"  It's pretty aggravatin

I decided that I wanted to put a curtain over a few of my bookshelves in my classroom.  I have not Pinterested all of the "junk" on my shelves and therefore it's not all color coordinated in awesome fabrics and scrap book paper.  Plus, sometimes they can get a little messy, and so I really just want them covered up.  I figured I would just get some cheap fabric, hem it up, and run a tension rod through them to hang them up.  I saw some fabric at Wal Mart in the clearance section that I liked pretty well, but after doing some "Back- to-School" classroom/library designing with my mother, I decided I would just get white flat sheets from Wal Mart, hem them up, and spray paint them.  Let me just tell ya, that turned out cooler than I thought!  It wasn't necessarily cheaper or easier, but way cooler!!!  Here's what I've got: I meant to take a picture before I started spray painting to show the taped off sections, but I forgot, so you get to s

Life can be so extreme.  Like I am a completely amazing, genius one day and a completely ridiculously, attrociously, stupid, moron the next.  There's very rarely an in between.  For weeks, possibly months, Alexa has been locked in a food war with us.  It's part of toddler-hood I suppose.  Yesterday I realized that I am probably 75% of the problem though.  We ate dinner at a friend's house last night.  I didn't ask Lulu if she wanted the yogurt and spaghetti noodles- I was at a friend's house, I didn't want to be difficult.  I figured if she ate, she ate.  If she didn't, she didn't.  Well, low and behold, she ate all the yogurt, and even ate a few noodles!!  I was stunned!  It wasn't a big disagreement, there was no excessive sighing on my part, and no stomping and screaming, "No!" at me.  This is what a typical meal exchange sounds like.  I walk into the kitchen with Alexa and I stand at the cabinets and ask: "Alexa do you want, ce

Today Alexa is officially 2!!!  We celebrated at Lake Keowee with family and friends.  She was taking the day to act as an official 2 year old: temperamental, contrary, and demanding.  What did she eat today?  Mmm, tube of yogurt, Goldfish, gummies, Whoopie Pies, and ice cream and that's it.  (Jeez, I wish I hadn't thought of that, now I am embarrased and horrified by myself, what a load of crud I fed that kid!) Couldn't you just eat her up??! This is not the cutest picture I have of her, but it's a perfect picture.  You can see her curls, the two fingers she sucks, and Lovey that she always always always has with her.    So here's some things you should know about my girl: 1. She knows her mind.  If you aren't sure, read the post about her picking out the Tiny Trike of Terror 2. She's my helper and she's a good helper.  Andrew left his wet swim clothes in a big heap on the bathroom floor yesterday.  Alexa found them, brought them to me, and

I know some of you preserved your wedding dresses, but I am not one of those people.  I don't know why you did because how do you bust it out occasionally and prance around in it??!!!!  Periodically throughout the years (a smidge over 12- to be exact) I like to get out the old wedding dress and just see . . . can I still get it on?  The past 2 times I've done this, I have stunned myself to find I can still get it on.  I was also stunned to find that it got over my hips no sweat, it's the rib area where my problems are.  I guess I take in a lot more oxygen or something because it's way tighter on my ribs than it used to be.  I still got it zipped up- without effort.  However, once I was zipped up in that buddy . . . well deep breaths were a luxury I couldn't quite . . . take in.  Before I put my dress on, I imagined myself prancing around my mother's living room, picking daisies, and small children being in awe of my beauty.  I imagined myself sitting on my m

Alexa's birthday is this weekend.  She will officially be 2.  She's certainly got that bossing characteristic down pat.  Doug and I decided we would get her a tricycle.  I had this vision in my head of those Red Flyer, old fashioned, metal tricycles.  How completely cute are they?  She'd be so stinking cute with her little bike helmet on, and her curls poking out underneath.  She'd be totally darling riding around on the driveway.  Well, I puttzed around and finally decided to buy the tricyle, but had to go to Toys R Us, because Target and Wal Mart (stores that are near my house) only carry the type of tricycle I didn't want: plastic, some God Awful Girly character, sparkles, lights, and played music. Since I puttzed around I had to bring her and Andrew with me as we're now on a time crunch.  I wasn't too worried about it.  She is really observant, but I figured I could somehow get this tricycle into my car without her really noticing.  So we get t

Lately, my beautiful son has taken to telling me that Daddy is more fun or Daddy's better or he likes Daddy more.  Let me say in all honesty, it does not hurt my feelings.  It does confuse me, because how can Doug be more fun than me?!  Seriously, I'm hillariously fun!  Here's my proof: 1. When it's just me and Andrew hanging out, I pretty much do whatever he wants.  We go see "Madagascar," go to the pool, parks, Discovery Place, Chick Fil A or McDonalds (although, hardly ever to McDonalds because I can't stand their nasty, fake, scientifically enhanced food).  You want dessert even though you didn't finish your lunch?  Ok . . . yep.  I've become a total slacker (sometimes.  Not all the time) Doug takes him to water the greenhouses, or work in the garden, or to hit off the pitching machine.  Mommy 1: Daddy 0 2.  Doug yells at Andrew on the t-ball field.  "You should've had that!" "Get your glove on the ground!" &qu

At the sweet, innocent age of 7, I have discovered that when my son comes home from a hard day of playing baseball, soccer, and helping Dad in the garden, he stinks!!!!  I looked at Doug and I said, "Man, he needs to use deodorant!"  Now I have told you before that sometimes Doug is not exactly the kindest of husbands and sometimes says things that are not exactly loving, confidence building, words of praise.  Doug looks at me and says, "He gets that from you!  I've noticed when you come back from a run, you STINK!  There's no way around it.  You stink."  Huh.  I mean, I've noticed that I sometimes don't smell like roses, but it's a whole other thing to have your husband, the man you love, the object of all you desire (besides Channing Tatum), tell you you stink.  Then my insensitive husband proceded to spend the rest of the evening telling me things like, "Can you hand me a knife, stinky?"  "How about some beans, can't hur

Oh the troubles with Pinterest and looking at the Better, Homes, & Gardens site!  It creates a longing for a completely redecorated home.  I mean, how have I lived in this blah house for so long?  These walls are all wrong, this furniture positionging, wrong, these pictures . . . wrong!  Trouble is, to completely redecorate it, costs money and time.  And unfortunately, I have to follow a budget and I am a mother.  Which means, I have a small amount of money to completely redecorate and small amount of time.  I hate that moment when you're sitting there happily daydreaming of the beauty your house will be, and then reality hits and you realize, that you live in a house with children and a husband and your house is never going to look like a show room, because your house is actually a home.  And while I would much rather have a home, than a show room, every now and then it'd be nice to have a show room.  I was determined to redecorate something, and I finally settled on

I have discovered that I am developing a phobia of hotels. This weekend we went to the big city of Marion, NC for the State 6-U All Star Tournament.  We stayed in a hotel, to the thrill of my children. Not as much to me. Hotels skeeve me out. It doesn't really matter what rating you have, 5 star all the way down to the 2 star (let's be honest, I've never been in a less than 2 star quality hotel. I am a boring middle class person like that) creep me out.  The notion of sleeping on a bed that hundreds of others have slept on, sweated on, and various other things I do NOT want to think about, is disgusting to me  I know the cleaning staff doesn't clean the comforters after every customer, so maybe one night some random, seriously sweaty  person fell onto bed, in a drunken stupor and slept on top of the bedspread, where they drooled all over it.  Then, the next night I check in and set my stuff down on random strangers dried up drunk drool or worse my children rolled a

It's becoming clear to me that Andrew and I should not be left alone together.  We're NOT good influences on each other.  Eating out and lounging around are becoming an everyday event.  It takes nothing for one of us to convince the other for a lunch or breakfast out, or a stop at the QT for a fountain drink.  Just as it takes nothing for him to convince me that I shouldn't vaccuum, clean the bathrooms, or emtpy the dishwasher right now.  We both have a natural tendency towards laziness.  If Doug or Alexa are not around to organize and direct us (aka: dictate the plans), Andrew and I don't really do much of anything.  Currently I am using the fact that he practices baseball for at least 2 to 2.5 hours an evening, or plays 1 or 2 games a day, 7 days a week as my excuse for why he can lay around all afternoon (and so he's not lonely, I join him.  That's what a good mom I am.), but baseball will be over in a week.  What will my excuse be then?  Today, I let him

Poor Doug. You gotta feel sorry for him sometimes. This past week he and his co-teacher took 8 students to Raleigh for the state FFA Convention. The weekend before he left, we lived on the baseball field since Andrew's team was playing in a tournament and since there is no rest for the weary, we practiced Monday night. Doug and Andrew got home at 9:30pm and then Doug packed in a flurry to leave for the Convention at 7am the following morning. In all of the flurry, he forgot his Facebook account and didn't sign out on the iPad... There I am on Wednesday, happily pinning many a pretty picture to my Pinterest boards when I realized, "What's this? Did my handsome husband leave his facebook account unattended?!" I decided I would leave a little post about how awesome his wife is that goes like this: "My wife ROCKS!! Not only is she smoking HOT, but she takes super good care of me! I am one lucky dude!!" then, like the dork I am, I giggled like crazy think

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, "Privacy is hard to come by in this house."  Is it because it's a small house?  Is it because we're a family of 4?  Is it because we don't have a lot of inhibitions?  Well that last one is definitely not it.  We're all trying to get privacy, but Alexa doesn't abide by the common rules of privacy.  She barges in the bathroom on me, as if I've forgotten her (I have not.)  Andrew has recently started desiring more privacy.  I believe it started as a way to escape his loud, temperamental sister. Then he realized, "Huh, it's sort of nice to be in my room with my door shut and no one nagging me, or making me stop doing something fun" or "Huh, Mom was right- it is better to use the bathroom with the door shut."  Privacy in the bathroom is almost as hard for Andrew to come by, as it is for me.  Alexa frequently busts in on him.  (I have 2 feelings on that: dread for the confusion o

Here are some rather shocking pictures of Andrew.  Or, maybe it's just shocking to me.  Somehow he turned 7 today.  How?  I don't know.  I blinked when I was holding him and feeding him a bottle, and now he's laughing at burps, farts, and when he hears the word booby.  He's not pudgy and soft.  He's boney, and scrawny.  He's not a baby, he's a kid.  He doesn't laugh when I do peek-a-boo.  He gets embarrased when I sing along to music played in stores.  He requests bands, Doug and I have never listened to in our life, ("Mom, do you have any One Direction?").  He has friends that aren't me.  He knows what to do when the ball is hit to him on the baseball field- and he can usually do it.  He's reading me chapter books and I'm not reading him picture books.   I like that he's growing up, but I hate it at the same time.  Last night before I went to bed, I kissed him for the last time as a 6 year old.  Today I kissed him for the first