The Five Floridians

 Not everyone can be banana cool about moving like my James, but the Newhouses are adjusting to our new Florida status.  Our new house is much smaller, so we've had to consolidate somewhat.  The garage is still a mess, but the house is starting to look like home (we need some pictures on the walls and such to give it that Newhouse charm, but it's getting there).  The boys playroom has really come together as I found a few steals at the local target and walmart.  It's nice to have everyone so close together (I don't miss trying to heard the kids upstairs for nap time one bit).

We spend most of our days watching PBS, playing, and going outside.  The boys love the new fridge as they are able to open it and reach their milk.  I miss our old black beauty that is in the garage.  It is currently cooling my diet cokes (which I'm pretty sure I would go to extreme lengths to procure - some people are crack heads, I'm a diet coke head).  I hate that a thousand times a day, I have to redirect Ryan from the freezer and his endless quest for ice cream, but it has made the kids more independent in finding their beverages.  Also, the water here is pretty tasty, and the kids will all drink water much more readily than they did in Haslet.

When we first got here, we attempted for a couple of days to go without crib tents as the boys had destroyed the ones we used in Texas.  It was hell.  I'm not gonna lie.  At the point where I had spent my 6 or 7th continual nap/bed time putting kids back in bed for an hour or more, we ordered new crib tents, the boys were so excited to have their crib tents back and we haven't had a problem with sleeping ever since.  On the few days we did go without, all of the boys wandered out into the house looking for us.  Poor Michael got lost, couldn't find us, and spent who knows how much of the night sleeping in this chair.  Bob came out in the morning and found him just like this.  Pretty sweet, but much safer (and more restful for us) to have the monkeys confined in their beds.

The boys still love their plane, but the back yard is a plethora of new and exciting things like bugs, lizards, frogs, mushrooms, acorns, a big slide with a swing you can "fly" in.  I don't think I've seen anyone go in their house in a couple of weeks.  There is just too much to explore.

One of the things that this house has taught me is that I do not like fake wood floors.  They are impossible to make look clean with three two year olds, they are slippery (the number of falls that we have on an average day is just ridiculous), and I have only mastered mopping on my hands and knees which makes for a very long and unfortunate cleaning session.  Michael likes to use the rug in front of the TV as a blanket.  I probably should have rolled it up and put it up since it slips and slides all over the place, but he enjoys taking a "nap" with the rug so much that I haven't had the heart to put it up.

When we were in Haslet, Ryan was my resident nudist.  Since we've moved, Michael has taken over that illustrious position.  Although I did have to go rescue Ryan who was stuck in his shirt this week during nap time, Michael takes every opportunity to get naked.  Once he has achieved his freedom from clothing, he runs around announcing his nudity as though it is the greatest thing ever.   

 James is still my pacifier boy, but I've found it much harder to keep track of them here in Florida.  The other day, I found two pacifiers out in the yard along with an electric toothbrush, a water cup, and a myriad of dog poop.

The palmettos outside are so much fun to hide in.  Sadly, Bob's Florida work friends have freaked me out about palmetto bugs, snakes, and west nile virus.  We no longer play in the backyard with bare feet as we did in our Texas yard.  The weeds are just amazing in the variety and number of them.  I'm pretty sure we will spend the cash to weed and feed the yard so that the spring will be a little better, but it's not the Texas grass I'm used to at all.  The wildlife in the backyard is somewhat impressive.  The other day, the boys followed around (no lie) a 4 inch (not counting legs) grasshopper for at least an hour.  It jumped and hit my shoe causing me to freak out.  Everything is NOT bigger in Texas.  Florida has the bug market cornered as far as I can tell.

 In the neighbor's yard, there is an oak tree that occasionally gives us the gift of acorns much to the delight of young Michael.  He loves acorns, and I have found them in various and sundry places throughout our home.

One thing that has remained the same is the boys love of their toys.  Now, instead of being spread all over the house, we have limited the toys to their playroom (this is not to say that James doesn't drag the train table over to be in front of the TV or that the horse doesn't move positions to make it easier for Michael to do his bull riding dismount that he learned from watching rodeos with Papa Joe), but it does mean that for the three hours between when the kids go to bed and we pick up until we go to bed, the toys are all put away (unless of course, I'm feeling lazy and they just stay there, and I hope not to kill myself if I need to go check on the kids in the middle of the night by tripping over some random toy).

While the list of things about our old house and Texas is somewhat endless (this doesn't mean I'm not happy here, just that I miss what we used to have and where we used to live), one of the main things I miss is our pantry.  Now we have a tiny cabinet in the corner of the kitchen which the boys can get into and doesn't have much room at all.  Here by popular demand, we are having milk and animal crackers before breakfast (Daddy was out of town) on the kitchen floor.

One of the main purposes our old pantry served was holding the kitchen step stool in a somewhat safe location.  Ryan now opens the stool up and drags it where ever he wants to go.  Here he is in the midst of a hand washing, bowl filling, water spilling festival of joy.  He does love it so, and most of the time I find it adorable, but in illustration of my mixed feelings about this stool, I offer the following anecdote.  Michael was at Jim and Kathy's house, so it was just Ryan, James, and I.  We'd gone out to the library, the park, Chic-fil-a for lunch, and I was making a restroom pit stop before putting them in bed.  I closed the door and settled down on the toilet when the dynamic duo busted in with Duke and Emma.  Ryan drug the stool in and began to wash his hands - at one point, he poured a cup of water on Emma's head and she left (smart cat).  While this was occurring, James came over, took my phone out of my pocket, hopped up on my lap and began to play his horse racing game.  It is very difficult to get toilet business of any kind done with such an audience, but when you add to it, Duke attempting to lick the remnants of James' lunch off his face, and Ryan's very helpful attempts to wipe my bottom despite my protestations of being able to do it myself, it's just not a very fun bathroom trip.  Bob wonders why I always run to the bathroom AFTER I put the boys down for a nap.  I'm pretty sure my reluctance to relieve myself is justified.

As of yet, I have not made it out in the real world to meet people.  As I sit at Chic-fil-a and watch the kids, the ladies there with friends chatting it up while their kids play make me a wee bit desperate for a fellow mom to visit with.  I am sure that in time, I'll make friends, but my initial shyness and awkwardness left over from a childhood filled with being the last one picked for kickball have kept me somewhat isolated.  We are still looking for a church, and I keep thinking that maybe I'll join a mom's club.  I'm sure friends are in my future, but in the words of my sweet Dee, I might be in a post-move funk.  I need someone to come over to me, say "you've got a big butt like me, wanna go work out" then promptly take ourselves to Souper Salad to fill up on workout energy.  Dee, are you sure that you guys don't want to move to Jacksonville?  I miss my Texas friends and family.  Bob has been talking about watching the Marlin's next year (not loving them like the Rangers, but "paying attention" to them).  Just the thought makes me tear up.  I might have a Florida driver's license, but my heart is still in Texas.  Go Rangers.