She has a name!

Alexis Paige Bartle

{Sorry my photography
skills aren't the
greatest, and my
cropping skills
are worse, apparently.
I tried.
And gave up.}

But see that cute boy
in the background?
We are buds.
He calls me cookie.
Love it.
Love him. {And his brothers,
of course!}
We are having a great time!

Happy Granny

And who wouldn't
be happy?
A perfect baby
girl.
In case you
were wondering from
the last post,
here are the vitals:

5.16.09
2:49 p.m.
7 lbs. 13 oz.
21 inches

Mom, baby and daddy
are well.
Granny is happy.
Male siblings are awestruck.
Life is good.

P.S.
I'll let you know when she has a name.

So.....
these kids left
for the hospital
about 1:00 p.m.
(Colorado time).
I'm taking guesses
on a time of
arrival for
little
Miss Bartle!

I Love Technology

I love techology.
Even though it stresses me out.
Due to the magic of Skype,
{hope I spelled that right}
a genius husband,
a faithful missionary,
and a willing fam,
it was family
reunion style
on the phone this
morning.
Croatia,
Atlanta,
Colorado Springs,
and Mesa
converged into
one awesome hour
of conversation.
Thanks everyone.
It made my {mother's} day.
All six of my
hatchlings,
and
their hatchling-ettes
on one call.
Perf.
And just for
the record,
the Croat
sounds healthy,
happy,
and just
like his
awesome
self.

OP's

One treat you can
almost always count
on at Granny's...
OP's!

Otherwise known
as otter pops,
a few thousand
of these have
been consumed
in this
household.
The current
Elder Dixon
doesn't even have
to cut the
tops off. He
mastered
ripping them open
with his teeth.
{faster, he says}
OP's were a favorite
after a long
day of landscaping
in the AZ sun.

Those are not
the grandchildren
in that picture.
It is their parents.
How old are those aprons
anyhow? Um, OLD.
That apron was made at
a kiosk at University Mall back
in the day with this
amazing "new" technology.
Back before we had ever
heard of blogs
or imagined how many
households would have
personal computers.
We actually
called people to
keep in touch.
So archaic. But
I wouldn't be
surprised if
OP's existed...
even then.

And Iris, your
turn is
coming...what
color do you want?

The Infamous Sleep Genes

Some of the Dixon clan
have what we
affectionately call
"the sleep gene."
AKA, when we go to sleep,
we enter a "zone."
Like the twilight zone.
We are pretty sure
the gene came
from the Clodhopper
pool. {I have a few weird
sleep stories myself.
Do you add
or multiply your teeth?}
So this cute boy o' mine came
over last night.
Ate dinner.
Had some good conversation.
Took a snooze on the couch.
His mischievous bro decided it would
be funny to load all the cushions
from the larger couch across the room
on top of said twilight zone sleeper.
Did the boy even
notice? Or wiggle so much as
an eyelash?
Um, that would be a "no."
Can't tell you how
many conversations I've
had with my
afflicted offspring
on the phone,
only to find out later
that they have no memory
of it. As in none.
But cell phone
histories don't lie.
Ask my
sleepwalking daughter
about her mailbox
adventure. Or the
above-named
child about the
3 hour shower.
Sometimes
you've just gotta
be there to believe it.
{Or have your camera ready.}

Love you, sweet sleeper.
We will miss our
family spark plug
while
you wow the folks
in Atlanta.
God Speed
my friend.
{And yes,
we will miss
these Kodak moments.}
Wholeheartedly.

And dude...
get some sleep!

All I Can Say Is...

...laundry
is a
whole
lot
more
fun
when
it
looks
like
this!