Responsible decision-making

We have some great big changes coming up for out little family and decisions that have to be made.

Neither of us are fans of decision-making.  It usually seems to boil down to a verbal slap fight of "YOU be the responsible one!", "No YOU be the responsible one!", "I don't want to make that decision, I just want you to!", "Well I don't want to!".  And so on and so forth.  We are very mature.

Luckily some decisions are more feared by one of us than the other, so full rights and privileges are granted to the less afraid, and the majority of further dealings are kept secret from the other.  This is probably a recipe for disaster in the long run, but it seems to work for now.  For instance, Darren never knows how much we pay in tithing (besides the educated guess because he obviously knows how much he makes at work...).  If I should be so silly as to speak the total in his presence he plugs his ears and yodels.

By the same token, I have no idea how the boy pays his truck note.  And I don't want to.

Amanda rid her nail polish supply of a host of "rejects" and sent the unwanteds to my home for love and attention.  I've always been great at picking up strays.  I am currently typing with the unappreciated (by my husband) glory of completely opaque white nail polish.  My collection of colors has skyrocketed from 5ish to 25ish. This pleases me greatly!

I painted Emma's little toenails for the first time Sunday morning.  I had thought I would wait for a time when she sucked on her toes less, but I was bored and extremely tired.  I figured she'd survive, and so far, she has. Wonder Baby was less than wonderful about her sleeping habits as we spent the weekend at Amanda's, and we spent the wee hours of Sunday morning in misery and joy.  Guess which of us was miserable.  You are correct. Anyway, to help pass the time between 5 and church, I decided to paint her toes.  Yes, it helped pass 5 minutes.

They are really cool though. They alternate red and yellow, to match the dress I packed for her to wear to church.  She looked super rad.

Mom has been telling us all along that Emma looks like she did as a baby.  She wasn't playin'!

I have been wondering all along where the shape of Emma's eyes comes from since it doesn't resemble Darren's or my eyes. Turns out they come from her Grandma.

Gorgeous.