Monday, July 26, 2010

mommy's helper

You know what's helpful? An almost-two year old. Yesterday, he was a HUGE help.

First, he "helped" himself to some oatmeal. World's worst cell phone picture ever, but you get the idea. Those are (were) freshly cleaned tile floors, for the record.

Forget the Quaker junk, he fed the floors the expensive organic stuff. Of course.

Then, he "helped" me pack up a bag of old clothes to haul to Goodwill. But before I could get it the bag into the vehicle, he grabbed a little somethin' somethin' out for himself. (Flattering cut for him, right?) He wore it while he "helped" me vacuum. (Read: followed me around slamming his toy vacuum into the baseboards OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN.)

The "helping" wasn't limited to yesterday. Just this morning, he's "helped" me dispose of a roll of toilet paper (right into the toilet, cardboard tube and all), "helped" me finish my soda by snatching it off the counter and chugging what was left (while I plunged the toilet), and "helped" his sister stay hydrated by sticking a sippy cup spout into her ear. Three times. Helpful!

Saturday, July 24, 2010

she sits!

Vivian would like to show the internet world her newest skill. She figured the sitting thing out today, and as she sat upright like the biggest of little big girls there ever was, there was this look of awe in her eyes like "OH! So THIS is what it's like to see the world! Lemme at it."

V sits.

V stays.

V's a very good girl.

And no worries, little Bee, you'll be up and chasing after brother in no time. (She was VERY concerned about the fun he was having without her over there.)

Thursday, July 22, 2010

chicken tacos

You want to know what my house smells like? Besides my favorite lemongrass scented candle and Boudreaux's Butt Paste? Want a hint?

Today, my house smells so good you might want to EAT IT because it's CHICKEN TACO DAY. It occurred to me, as I woke from the most refreshing 15 minute power nap of all time and was overtaken by the wonderful aroma of my favorite chicken tacos simmering downstairs, that I had yet to share this ridiculously easy, indisputably delicious crock pot recipe on ye old blog. And sharing is caring, and I'm nothing if not a giver ... so here it is! (You're welcome in advance.)

What you need:
-chicken (6 tenderloins or 3 breasts), frozen or thawed
-chicken taco seasoning (can substitute with regular, but chicken is best)
-one container of pico (can substitute a can of Rotel if you're in a pinch/don't know what pico is because I sure didn't before I moved to Tex-ico)
-olive oil
-a crock pot

Cover the bottom of the crock pot with the chicken taco seasoning. Set the chicken on top. Dump the pico over that. Then pour in 1/4 cup of olive oil and another 1/4 cup of water. Resist the urge to stir, just leave it be. Then set your crock pot on low for about 4-6 hours (I use thawed chicken and it's always ready in 4). Remove chicken at the end of 4-6 hours, shred, and put back into the crock pot. Stir it all up and let it cook another 30 minutes or so. Done! Top with cheese, olives, sour scream, etc. and eat your tacos, then send me money ($20 increments, please!) in thanks for giving you your new favorite recipe EVER.

(A big thanks to the famous KA for being the original owner of this recipe. I'll send you 10% of my profits.)

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

lake funfest

The flight up to the beautiful Northwoods? Pretty great. See?

And he wasn't even drugged! At all!

Let's not even talk about the flight home, okay? Seriously. I have video evidence of its atrocity, which I'm not going to share, because you don't even WANT to know what a kid sounds like after he's kicked and screamed and terrorized a flight of 100+ people going from the very northern part of the States to the very southern part of the States. You also don't even want to imagine the LOOKS those people give the helpless parents of said kicking screaming terrorizer. Like we were just sitting there sipping bub and playing kissy face instead of resisting the urge to open the emergency exit and JUST JUMP TO END THIS ALREADY.


Even considering the hellish 3+ hour travel time back into the ATX ... The Family Funfest at the Lake was FANTASTIC. My family is as they always are - fun and warm and hilarious. There were aunts and uncles and cousins and a grandpa and a super surprise fly-in from the red eye flight queen herself, my sister! Or Duane, if you please. (I was told we were going to the airport to pick up keys to a rental cabin from some dude named Duane. I waited in the car with Bug and Nicki while mom took Vivi in to get these "keys" from "Duane". Then I heard Nicki say "here comes your mom with Duane!" and I turned to see Duane looked very little and suspiciously female and oddly enough, holding my baby and ... oh-my-freaking-goodness ... it was MEGAN! Who will hereby be referred to as Duane forever and ever.) Anyway, the whole weekend was a whole lot of fun, J survived kissing his 20s goodbye (thank you for helping with that rough goodbye, beer) and I can't even believe my good fortune to have all these wonderful people in my life to love me and J and our babies. So lucky. And now, a bunch of pictures.

Vivian met the lake.

Vivian loved the lake.

Bug met the jet ski. He was dubious, but only for a moment, then he was like "OMG THIS IS AWESOME" and screamed any time the jet ski left the dock without him on it.

We tested out the yachttoon.
She floats just fine, even with 16 onboard.

Ahoy, Matey!

Boating is all about fashion.
And stepping on that poor doggy's toes with your fancy pink "choos".

Grandpa loves his youngest grandbaby and youngest great grandbaby.
Clearly, the girls love him right back.

Anderson puts safety first.
Lawn mowing drownings are a REAL THREAT, people.

Auntie loving while Republican bib wearing.

Sistah loving.

A mysteriously tall looking brother with his sisters.

The End.

Friday, July 16, 2010

my loves

My three loves, the lake, the most perfect of Wisconsin summer evenings.
Life is good. Very, very good.

Happy birthday, my wonderful husband. Thirty looks good on you.

Monday, July 12, 2010

5 months

Baby Vivi is 5 months old today. FIVE FLIPPING MONTHS! How'd that happen? She's happy as ever, our Vivian, teething and lingering cold and sleep deprivation be damned.

And Miss V has quite a fifth month on tap. First, there's our family trip up to Wisconsin, which couldn't come at a better time for anyone. J needs time away, we need time with J, and the Texas heat just keeps on coming. We'll spend our trip with my family at the lake cabin, boating and tubing and jet skiing, celebrating a big 3-0 (J's) and a big 5-0 (my dad's), going to bed smelling of campfire with tummies full of s'mores. Later in the month, V and I take our first mother/daughter vacation out to Maryland, where Vivian will meet her new cousin/BFF Ayla. (And three billion photos will be taken of the little cousin-babies, because their mamas are pretty excited to have baby girls about the same age apart as we are.)

So month 5, it's looking good. As are you, sweet Bumblebee.

Friday, July 9, 2010

bare necessities

I'm too tired to be wordy. So I give you a post in pictures. Theme: things without which I and/or my babies may not have survived the past week.

I'll let you decide who utilized what.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

littles love

You know, I don't necessarily love being up every 90 minutes between the hours of 11pm and 5am. I also can't say I thrive on finding dried poop on my elbow at 4pm with no idea when or how it got there, but knowing I hadn't changed a stinky since before lunch, so I'd probably walked through Hobby Lobby with crap on my elbow. I can tell you for sure that I'd NOT put 'enduring a 10 minute kicking, screaming toddler tantrum' at the top of my list of favorite ways to start the morning.

But seriously? I know it's obvious and I know it's nothing every other mama doesn't feel about her own little people ... but can't be said in BIG ENOUGH LETTERS how much I do so love these babies of ours. So much that sometimes, I find tears coming to my eyes when I walk into A's room after his nap and hear a sweet "mama!" from my boy, blonde wisps of hair sticking up this way and that. Or feeling V's fuzzy head nuzzle my neck when I pick her up for a middle night feeding, the warm weight of her in my arms as she drifts back to sleep. There are moments like this one, my babies sitting sweetly side by side with smiles just for their mama ...
...where I'm pretty sure my heart might explode if I loved them even one tiny bit more.

Thursday, July 1, 2010


This week has taught me two things:

#1: Just because you SAY things are going to get better the next day, doesn't mean they are going to get better the next day. Or the day after that.

#2: It's true what they say - no good deed goes unpunished.

Let's back up. At noon today, had you came to visit, you'd have found me atop my master bathroom toilet lid feeding the baby. Why in the world was I feeding the baby on a toilet? Because the carpet cleaners were making a lot of noise and that was the only semi-quiet, dark, dry floored room in the house in which to feed my very hungry, very overtired/overstimulated little baby girl. Why were there carpet cleaners in my house? To eradicate the fleas. Ew, gross, why were there freaking fleas in my house, you ask? Because yesterday, I discovered poor sweet Georgie-cat was covered in the buggers, then found the dog and Ralphie-cat also had fleas ... a lovely parting gift from our old friend The Dog. Remember him? Yeah, I'd found a few fleas on his belly just before The Lady showed up to take him home. I went out that same day to buy flea treatments for our pets (they'd been treated about 6 weeks before that, but I figured they could use a booster). Problem is, I went with something off the shelf that didn't cost $70 for three pets like our usual pick, Frontline. BIG MISTAKE. Don't cheap out on the flea shit, peeps. Because you'll end up feeding your baby on a toilet and telling the carpet cleaner guys who look like they've just been released from county jail that no, you're not interested in a whole house carpet protection treatment and that no, you'd also not like for them to clean your ducts, that you'd just like them to SHUT THEIR MOUTHS and GET THE &^%$#@! FLEAS OUT OF YOUR &^%$#@! CARPETS BEFORE YOU BREAK SOMEONE'S &^%$#@! FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahem. So yesterday I discovered we'd been invaded and went into a straight up frenzy. The flea discovery kicked off a whole crazy chain of events that would be funny if we were on a TV sitcom, but alas, we're not on TV and so it hasn't been very funny AT ALL. There was a house alarm set off as I frantically ripped open the back door to boot the fleabag cat outside, which led to a toddler scared to death of his crib because that's where he was (napping nicely, mind you) when I set the alarm off, which later meant a TWO HOUR get-Anderson-to-bed event that ended with me crying big frustrated tears on the top of his finally sleeping head as I rocked and rocked and rocked, which kicked off a night where nobody slept very much at all and I rolled around feeling itchy and gross and TOTALLY POSITIVE that there were twenty billion fleas eating me alive in my (non)sleep, which led to a morning where I woke up and started crying big stressball tears before I'd even brushed my teeth and was only saved from the brink of insanity by the arrival of The Lisa (oh, thank GOD for The Lisa) who came bearing donuts and a hug and two arms ready and willing to hold Miss V while mama and the Mister ran out to gather Frontline and new air filters and more laundry detergent to wash every last thread in this house to ensure complete flea removal. And get a few groceries, since, you know, we hadn't had whole milk or bread in the house for TWO DAYS. And teething tablets AND some baby cold meds, since in the midst of all this, Vivi cut her first tooth and Anderbug caught a miserable boogery cold. UNCLE!

Sheesh. I try to keep a cool head and a positive outlook and a grateful heart (and not to scare my mommy friends expecting/considering a 2nd child), but sometimes, I give up. This is hard. I know at the end of the (long, awful) day that what matters is that I have my J, my A, my V, my loving supportive family and friends, and a roof over my head. We'll survive fleas and sleep deprivation and toilet-top feedings. And worse. I know. But damn. Sometimes it just needs to be said: 2u2 is some serious insanity on its own. Then add in the rest of that nonsense? Yikes.