The Latta Family

This one is sort of for my parents, but feel free to read, because it'll entertain you as well. This all started way back in high school.  See, I wasn't the most motivated student.  I wasn't flunking out or anything like that, but I hung out in the "B/C" area.  Looking back (and realizing how smart I am now) I probably could have done way better- if I would have been just put forth some effort. Pretty much the story of . . . lots of high schoolers. So anyway, one day I arrive at the dinner table and I make a big announcement.  It's a very dramatic moment because that's what I did back then (not now.  Now I am never dramatic.  Hardly ever.). I announce with excitement. . . "I have a new hobby!" I pause dramatically, and my parents and siblings sit with baited breath waiting (or rolling their eyes- whichever). "My new hobby is studying!!!!!" I was for real- at that moment.  It was my new hobby.  There was a pause, and my parents laugh

Friends of elementary aged males, does your son say, "Twenty One?" A lot?  There's this whole sequence he would go through: What's nine plus ten?  Twenty One!  Or on the way home from church today Alexa would say, "Andrew- jump out of the car!" and wait until Andrew responded, "Twenty One!" He's been saying it for a week or better.  When I first heard him saying this stupid phrase, I ignored it. Then I started wondering . . . WTH?!  Why does he keep saying this, and more mysterious, Doug seemed to have some knowledge about the phrase.  When I asked about it, Andrew couldn't explain it, and Doug sort of shook his head, but didn't offer up any kind of explanation.  Several days later . . . I started to get sort of paranoid about it.  In a government conspiracy sort of way.  My theory behind the stupid phrase seemed far fetched, and unlikely . . . yet . . . what if?   (my theory was that it was some sort of secret boy language and they w

I remember when Andrew was 4 years old, I cried one day when I was putting sunscreen on his face. I was pretty pregnant at the time.  I assumed I was excessively hormonal and that's why I was crying, like a weirdo. His face was just so sweet,and his cheeks were so smooth. Pureness, in soul and spirit, were shining through. I know now, it wasn't hormones.  I know it's just me feeling sad that my children are growing up, as I find myself looking at Alexa and feeling sad that she's turning into a "big kid."  Why does she have to??????  I mean- I know it's the natural progression of life, but it sucks.  Alexa is so stinking sweet and wonderful, why does she have to grow up and go to kindergarten next year????  She's my last baby, (although I was offered a 1 year old when I went to pick her up at daycare yesterday. I was willing to take that baby, who was obviously struggling.) It's crazy to think that a few years ago I had this cute little P

Doug and I are parenting like a boss tonight!  Andrew came home aggravating his sister- like a boss. At one point, Doug looked at me and said, "I'm about to knock your son out . . . like a boss!"  Like the bosses we are- we took care of the aggravating problem.  Turns out . . . when your parents use a "totally cool" phrase (among the 4th grade male sector) in everyday conversation- like a boss- it just ain't all that cool. The first few times we used it in conversation- like the boss we are- he was unsure of what to do. Was it funny?  Were we being annoying?  He seemed uncertain. Then we were able to insert the phrase into the conversation a few more thousand times- like the bosses we are- and he knew we were being annoying.  We can annoy him- like a boss.  He was getting mad- like a boss!  Alexa caught on- like a boss- and then we were all able to insert the annoying phrase into conversation- like bosses. I'm pretty sure we took care of that situati

Doug is a great husband.  He's supportive, he's steady, dependable, loving, helpful, a contributor, good father.  He's exactly the kind of man you want in a marriage, as a partner in raising children, and as a soul mate.  Plus, he puts up with a lot- from me. However, there is one glaring problem.  He probably doesn't even know it's a problem.  If he reads this, he'll be shocked to realize it's a problem. He's not exactly my "Knight In Shining Armor" when my imagination has taken over, or when there are critters to be dealt with. One time before we were married, I arrived at my much older apartment (which was actually a guest house of a historic home in downtown Monroe.  It used to hold the carriages.) to discover it was so ridiculously hot- my candles had literally melted.  I won't lie- I was totally wigged out.  Obviously it was some sort of supernatural phenomenon.  What else could cause a heating unit to randomly cause my little a