The Gab Squad: Where Are They Now?

They made you laugh.  They made you cry.  They were in your living room on an almost-daily basis. 

Time to check in with the old gang and see what they're up to now...

You loved him as Shakey, the crazy third grader with a penchant for danger and animal noises.

These days he passes the sacrament at church, spends time at 6th grade Science Camp, and plays clarinet in the school band.

Remember little Lukechop?  You couldn't resist his devilish grin.

Of course, now the grin is missing a few pearly whites, but Mr. Luke is happiest when found at the zoo, on the tennis court or in front of the computer screen.

And who could forget Wedgiesaurus?

These days he can be found roaring at the top of his lungs in the pool and on the playground.  Don't mess with him until he's had his daily bowl of GoLean.

Super-cute Squeege was the blond bombshell who could make her three brothers cry.

Now that she's hit double digits, Em is the beauty behind the piano.  

The one with a killer throwing arm.

Stay tuned for next season...

Yeehaw

Our new hometown is one part Southern California and one part Laramie, Wyoming.

Last night, we hitched up our britches, pulled on our boots and headed to our first-ever rodeo.

Cute cowgirls,

hotdoggies and chili,

country music, pony rides and chicken chasing.   

Giddyup!

Boo to You

What happened to my cute little scarecrows, clowns and kitty cats? Yikes.

The kids are sugared up, the pumpkins are carved up and my house is seriously messed up.

No time to write tonight. But here is one of my all-time favorite Halloween posts, for old time's sake.

Happy Halloween to everyone. Here's hoping your kids share their Snickers and that the pumpkin guts come out of your new carpet.

Love, The Gab-lin

Off the Vine

I've been spending a lot of time with my pumpkins the last 2 1/2 weeks and have developed a love/hate relationship with Fall Break. Love the cooler weather. (It's 85 degrees, I need a sweater.) Love the relaxed mornings and unstructured afternoons. Hate the constant mess, noise and feeding. Really? Didn't we just clean up breakfast? Do you people HAVE to eat lunch? Every day?

Sam wins Most Photogenic Pumpkin this week. Actually he wins almost every week. The kid has loved getting his picture taken since before he was born. Seriously, back when he was only known as "Baby A," the sonogram techs were always impressed with his cooperation onscreen. "Baby B" was another story. Still is. But I love them both.

This little pumpkin got her braces on last week. Just in time for Halloween. More Tootsie Rolls for me, I guess. We were worried that Miss Em might be a little dramatic when it came to the orthodontist's chair, but she LOVES it. The sparkle, the shine, a bag full of tiny toothbrushes. It's like her own private spa. Only more expensive.

Halloween is the perfect season if you are an eleven year old boy. It's gross. It's scary. Your mom buys you a rubber mask and a knife with fake oozing blood. You roller blade around the neighborhood breaking them in. Your little sister screams in a most satisfying manner. Plus all your favorite candy is available in miniature size. Heaven.

Brad is gearing up to hike the entire Grand Canyon this weekend. I know.

Luke is ready to go back to school. Fall Break is fun, up to a point. But even the strictest First Grade Teacher is a breath of fresh air compared to three October-weary siblings.

I'll Know I'm a Native When...

...I can wear dark wash jeans in triple digit temperatures.

...I don't keep circling the parking lot, looking for nonexistent shade.

...I get the hang of using all my major appliances during "energy saving" hours.

...I can pronounce Spanish words other than salsa and guacamole.

...I can actually find a location after people say things like "It's on the SE corner of Alma School and Baseline."

...I don't get overexcited about spotting hummingbirds, quail and lizards.

...I can squeeze myself a glass of grapefruit juice from a tree in my own backyard.

We've survived our first August! Maybe I'm a native already...

Break Up Mode

I think I'm in break up mode with my current life. You know, that point in a relationship when you find every reason to fall out-of-love with the one who captured your heart so completely.

I guess it's my subconscious way of easing the pain.

I sigh and roll my eyes at the snippy school secretary, thinking, "That woman has never liked me. I can't wait to go to a new school with a friendly front office staff." (This, of course, distracts me from thinking about all the teachers, aides and busdrivers who have been living and breathing answers to prayer for the past eight years.)

Luke in The Rubber Chicken Relay

Or I grumble about the moisture in the air, anticipating all the good hair days I will soon enjoy in the dry heat. But, really. Will I ever truly know Good Hair Love again once I leave Danielle (beloved stylist of ten years, in case you haven't been paying attention) and her magic scissors thousands of miles behind? And what is the point of a great haircut anyway if you can't go to the Canal Street Grille and show it off?

Jake and buddy @ DARE graduation

Anyway, we've been eating our way through the frozen food stockpile and cans in the pantry. Last night was freezer-burned chicken wings. Tonight: fishsticks, miniquiche leftover from some long ago bridal shower and Spaghettios. If I wasn't worried about irregularity or vitamin deficiencies, I would stop buying fresh food altogether. (After all, I've never liked that grocery store and their long checkout lines anyway.)

Em's self-portrait (pre-bang-trim) won a spot in the district Art Show.

Today also starts the Big Purge. I don't have to pack, but I do need to clear the clutter. Because why exactly DO I have four Tae Bo workout dvds? A gallon jug of liquid starch? Three half-squeezed tubes of Orajel? It's time to lighten my load.

Nevermind that in a few short weeks I'll be in some desert Target furiously filling at least three red plastic carts with essentials, but, until then, I'm living off the land. (Along with some long-lost tilapia filets I just found under the miniquiche...score!)

Sam--extremely cool --as usual

I keep thinking I should quit blogging for awhile. I really can't justify the time, but this is a historical chapter in my life and I'm sure typing my feelings is good therapy.

More later...I think.

The First of the Lasts

I'm giving myself exactly 26 minutes to blog tonight.

I do not have time to spend on the computer. But I want to a place for all these memories while they're still fresh. So please excuse spelling and grammatical errors.

Right now, life is full. I am just trying to soak up every last day of our Bucks County existence. The calendar is packed with celebrations of all kinds and "just-one-more-time" kinds of outings. It's a month of lasts.

Jake's last concert with The Amazing Mr. Capriotti

Today was our last piano lesson. Not terribly sad.

But, earlier, we had our last pediatrician's appointment and I almost cried. It was hard to say thank you and good bye to my home-away-from-home of more than a decade.

That office kept me well-stocked with Amoxicillin and Cefzil for years. They always squeezed me in when someone had strep. And, on one particularly heinous visit with all four screaming darlings in tow, the receptionist told me that even though my kids were sick and miserable, I looked good! She made my day and I will never forget her.

A last shot of me & Danelle... I love her even though she wears a size 00.

I've had some "lasts" with my sweet friend, Danelle this week. Over the years we have been side by side in so many places--Target, baby showers, spin classes, presidency meetings, book club, birthday dinners, temple trips, visiting teaching (Oh, those lucky ladies who were fortunate enough to have us and our parade of preschoolers come spread sisterly cheer into their home each month!).

Now D and I are side by side in parallel moves Out West. Moving within days of one another. It's been fun to have someone to compare real estate agents and moving companies together. We share the excitement of being closer to families and the wistfulness of leaving dear friends. Still, these venting sessions are numbered too. We'll be in the same time zone, but probably not in the same spin class. I am going to miss her.

Another last...I discovered I'm not really a yard sale person this weekend.

Right now, I feel caught between my two realities. Am picking cabinets and carpets for a new home while still filling and vacuuming the old ones. Just because your life is topsy-turvy and there are 150,000 things on your to-do list doesn't mean you get to quit your day job.

Our neighbor's amazing backyard " Welcome Summer" bash. This is probably the last summer party I'll attend wearing a rainjacket.

Also, hopefully, the last time I ever sing all 14 minutes of Bye Bye Miss American Pie, karaoke-style. I blush just remembering.

Some lasts I am looking forward to: last ball game, last day the alarm rings at 5:03 AM, last homework assignment, last rush to catch that wretched midday kindergarten bus--which is either so early we're breathless or so late the twins have lost their shoes and backpacks.

Also hoping this is the last time Em "trims" her own hair. She has a history with self-barbering, as many of you will remember. A few years ago she looked like a young Haley Joel Osment. Now her bangs look just like her dad's.

I went over my self-imposed time limit by 11 minutes. Oh well.

Male Bonding

Sam + Luke in 30 years?!

Just over twenty years ago, I was babysitting my little cousins for a week. I had a supercute new boyfriend who came over to play with the kids (a little) and watch sports on the big screen (a lot). There may or may not have been some lip action. My mom was very interested in this whole situation, of course, and sent my younger brother over to "bring us some donuts."

Mom's carefully crafted espionage may have thrown a wrench in the romance (as if five kids weren't chaperone enough!), but it was the start of a beautiful friendship. Brad and Josh shook hands manfully, grabbed a couple of chocolate-glazed, plopped down in front of ESPN and started a conversation that hasn't stopped since.

Sports, church, business, family, travel, politics, you name it. These guys talk and talk and talk. They solve the world's problems one free-throw at a time, with me watching, amused, on the sidelines. They see eye to eye and, yet somehow, they still look up to each other.

Together, their job is keeping me humble. Not hard to do. Especially when, like last night, I amble into their late-night bull session feeling the effects of my night-time cold remedy, wild-haired and ranting.

It's ok. They've both seen me looking (and acting) worse.

Josh came with an adorable, lanky sidekick for a weekend visit. There was bowling, building, eating, scary movie-making, scary-movie watching, sledding, Olympic-viewing, and, of course, lots of talking.

At the end of the weekend, it was hard to know who'd had a better time. The men. The boys. Or me, watching, amused, on the sidelines.

Love you, Chase! And, yes, you too, Uncle Bosh!

You Are...

an island of pink in my sea of blue

Scout + Ramona + Harriet the Spy

not afraid of boys

sensitive

beautiful, but completely oblivious to the fact

going to be a very popular babysitter someday

quick

the original Ms. Independence

confident, capable and competitive

sort of messy, in a creative way

responsible

the best valentine I ever got

nine

Happy Birthday, Squeege! I love you.

Face Off

Ok...here is my carbface after 10 days of "watching it." A little less puffy? Maybe? Holding a camera over my chubby side helps. This week I have had my face in boxes of Christmas ornaments, the screens at Amazon.com and a jumbo jar of Vicks VapoRub. My December cold returns.

Of course, this face eats 3x what mine does and look at it. Not a carb to be seen. This face will light up if you ask its owner to share his thoughts on college football and BCS selections. He has opinions, people.

Ahhh...this face. It has saved its owner from all kinds of spankings and time-outs. Dimples as defense. This face has been within an inch of the under-the-tree-Christmas-train all week. Choo choo.

This face tries so hard to be tough. Mostly to cover up the softie within. This one likes to face the music. Particularly the John Denver/Muppets Christmas CD which is playing non-stop around here

This young one has his holiday game face on. Christmas shopping all done? Check. With money he earned himself? Check. Outstanding report card? Check. Santa has noticed.

.

The face of a snow-angel. We had our first dusting of white stuff this weekend. Just enough to sled in for a few hours before all melting away. Beautiful.

Christmas? I think we can face it.

Photo Shoot

What do you get when you combine some cute kids, a seriously intense camera and one fantastic photographer?

You get an afternoon of adventure at the farm down the road!

(Not to mention a whole bunch of really great photos...coming soon to a Christmas card near you.)

We loved having Aunt Christie come to stay as she snapped, clicked and flashed her way through the Keystone State. I was seriously impressed with her professionalism and creative talent. This girl's got it together. She's so good!

As her honorary sista, I felt a whole lot of family pride and was excited to recommend her to my friends. It was just fun to be a part to of her East Coast debut.

In between gigs, Stie hung around for some late night chatting, a few good meals and one ridiculously heinous movie. (Oops, my bad...)

Still, it was one great weekend.

Say Cheese!

Go check out our photographer's website. She really makes everyone look beautiful.

While you're there, wish her a happy birthday! Love ya, Stie!