Saturday, March 31, 2012

the bunny easter!

After a long week, one filled with lots of frustration and annoyance and counting to 3 more times than, well, I can count .... we needed a Saturday outing like this Saturday outing.  The local movie theatre hosted an Easter "carnival" with egg hunts and games and face painting and of course, a creepy bunny on which to plop your kids for a photo op.  (Vivi: "it's the bunny Easter!")  And my kids?  They were happy* and smily and the best mannered little listeners in all of the woods.  Their manners, I dare say, were better than a good number of the adults in attendance.  Like the one who budged her 10 year old to the front of the face painting line (right in front of my patiently waiting for upwards of 10 minutes kids, mind you) because her boy needed a "touch up".  She's lucky I fear the long arm of the law and/or ending up front page small town newspaper fodder, or I'd have touched up HER STUPID NOSE.  With my fist.

Ahem.  Not my point.

I was saying, it was a very fun morning with the littles.  And the long, cozy naps we all took after returning home were pretty fab, too.  Batteries: recharged.  Just nobody annoy me again, mmkay?  This pregnancy is making me FEISTY.
they were a smidge chilly.  fake summer it was not, this morning. 
so typical.  vivian's skeptical, anderson's excited.
but nobody's crying.
first time ever! 
he was so excited about this bunny face it almost made me cry.

it's all fun and games until it's a melty pile of mushed cup that your mom has to take away before you ruin your cardigan.

*Until I took away Vivi's snowcone so we could leave.  Then OMGMELTDOWNCITY.

And because it's Saturday and Saturday brings a brand new week of pregnancy, here's a look at still un-nicknamed #3.  Poor Three.

17 weeks.
my halfway point is TWO WEEKS AWAY.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

really?! really?! REALLY.

You guys.  This week.  NOT WORKING FOR ME.

So I decided to buy myself some nice maternity jeans.  Some that won't give me a saggy diaper butt and/or be made of cheap fabric that will chafe my legs.  I don't do crap jeans, okay?!  I place my order.  The jeans come in as planned.  They're Joe's, they're a jeggings material, and they're very comfy and very cute.  I wear them on our Texas trip.  And while I'm sitting at dinner after a day of shopping, I feel an odd sensation.  Like ... the sensation of bare buns on booth.  Huh?  Can't be.  I'm glad I'm wearing a long sweater.  We get back to our hotel, I take a look at my rear, AND I CAN SEE MY REAR.  They'd split all the way across the backside.  It's not like I tried to cram myself into size 25s, yall, they had room for the rump to grow, so I did NOT just split my pants because I eat too much, okay?  Annoying.  I come home, and I call Pea in the Pod approximately 25 times over the course of a week (in alllll my spare time).  Twice I hold for as long as 15 minutes, then get sent to voicemail, then leave voicemails that nobody returns.  Awesome.  So finally, I get smart and instead of pressing the number for customer service issues, I press the number for new orders.  And get hung up on once when the operator, apparently miffed that I'm NOT a new order, "drops" my call.  Really?!  Really.  Keep calling.  Keep calling.  Finally, late Tuesday evening, I get a real live human on the phone who, while not exactly Polly Polite, doesn't hang up on me.  She agrees to accept my return, setting up a UPS pick up for the next morning.  I place a new order for replacement jeans, because obviously this is about 100x faster than waiting for an exchange.  Send J to his office at 8pm to scrounge up a box and print off the paperwork and get me a DQ mint Oreo Blizzard.

Yay!  Problem solved!  New jeans!

So the next morning, I set out my package for UPS pickup.  In a super obscure place, aka, my front door. And UPS guy?  Comes, checks my SIDE door, and leaves me a note saying this was my one and only pickup chance in this lifetime and now I have to hunt down some randomass warehouse to get my return on its' way.  Not yay.  I haul the kids all over the place finding this warehouse, and arrange a swap - their patience and good manners (read: not kicking the back of my car seat 500x times, suspending screaming contest) for a couple of Happy Meals.  Yeah, yeah, pink meat, whatever.  Drop off the package.  Drive to McD's.  Order the meals.  Happy kids!  Yay!  Get to the window.

NO WALLET.  And no wallet = no Happy Meals.  I'm sure you can understand that my kids weren't super happy about driving away minus the promised Happy Meals?  Yeah.  (Fortunately they have a really, really great daddy who agreed to run the Happy Meals home.)

Sigh.  Are you still reading?

So today.  UPS drops off my package!  Yay!  New jeans, just in time for a dinner out with the hubs to celebrate my 20th birthday this weekend!

I open the package.



I had to go get another Mint Oreo Blizzard* just to make this all okay.  And I snuggled a friend's squishy new baby girl, so that helped bring down the spiking blood pressure, too.  But still.  GAH!

*So far, I don't appear to be diabetic at all.  My blood sugar numbers are smashing.  I'll eat Blizzards until they're not.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

point of story: boycott tots in mind

You really haven't lived until you've been told to "shut up" by a three year old while pushing a cart through the grocery store containing a two year old with a black eye.  Oh, and you're noticeably pregnant and OH ALSO you forgot your wedding band, so you just look like an unwed baby factory with unruly and beaten kids.

In fact, she's not beaten (which I hope is, like, DUH).  Poor baby girl fell out of her crib on Saturday at nap time.  The worst part?  There was no crying immediately after the big boom I heard from above.  Can we all say "heart attack?"  By the time I sprinted up the stairs and made it to her door she'd let out a scream, and I found her sitting on the floor beside her crib with her hand up to a little bruise on her forehead.  She was upset for a few minutes, then requested a favorite book and a return to her crib.  But by the time she woke up from her nap later that day, the little bruise had turned into a goose egg AND a black eye.  Perfect.

Sidenote: you're probably wondering "what?  I thought she had a crib tent?"  Oh, she does.  A crib tent with a big hole cut out of the side.  Because a few Saturdays before this fateful Saturday, I'd gone to get her up from her nap and found the zipper stuck shut.  No amount of force would unstuck it, and after ten minutes of attempting to make it budge, let's just say Miss Vivi was NOT CALM.  So I took a scissor to the netting and set baby girl free.  Then emailed the company politely requesting a replacement (after trying to call and finding all voicemail boxes full).  Then emailed again, a smidge less politely. Then emailed AGAIN and threatened to share with every mom I know what a crap product said company makes if they continued to ignore my requests for assistance.  I'm a woman of my word: do not, do not, do NOT purchase a thing from Tots in Mind.  Particularly, do not purchase this crib tent unless you want a useless POS from a company who ignores their customers.  Got that?  NO TOTS IN MIND or we're DONE.  Looking at their reviews of late, this was no fluke, either.

Anyway.  I don't even have the heart to share a picture (obviously I took a picture) because it's just too, too sad.  But Vivi's unfazed.  Tough cookie, that girl.

The boy?  You guys?  What do you do about mouthy three and a half year olds?  "Shut up"?!?  I asked him politely not to take a bite out of the green pepper in the cart (why would he even want to?) and bam.  Shut up.  Sad to say, it wasn't the first time that day I'd heard it, either.  Generally, we've had good luck disciplining with the skills we picked up in '1, 2, 3 Magic'.  Usually I get as far as "2" and he drops whatever craziness he'd been up to and after a moment, returns to his sweet Buggy self.  But the past few days he's started mouthing off and I tell you what, I consider myself someone with a loooooot of patience with my kids, but NOT for that kind of disrespect.  We watch our mouths around him, I swear we do, but who isn't guilty of a "shut UP?!?" when you're meaning "no WAY?"  As in: "Shut UP!  Tori Spelling is pregnant AGAIN?!"  But apparently a three year old isn't up on slang and just takes away that it's a-okay to tell people to "SHUT UP".  So, mamas, how do you handle this?  Part of me thinks ignoring it might be key, because by reacting I'm giving the words even more power .... but it's tough to ignore that.  Or maybe it was a one day special, yesterday only.  Please be that.

And also, I'm cold.  Upper 40s after a week of 70s does not a happy me make.  Or happy cats, either.  One's under the covers in my bed at this very moment.

The good news is, 16&P comes back to my life tonight.  It'll give me something to do while I polish my Mother Of The Year trophy.  Ay caramba.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

summer but not really

My apologies, dear blog, for the absence.  We've been busy.  Mostly doing this:

That'd be us.  Outside.  In summer clothes (without pants sometimes, even!)  In the very same yard that looked like THIS two weeks ago:

What the what?  We went from winter to summer, there was no spring, and quite honestly it makes me afraid.  Afraid that either 1) winter will return in April and I'll fall into a deep dark freezing cold depression or 2) we're in for the hottest summer of all time and HELLO, I've already spent a hottest summer of all time (100 degrees for 100+ consecutive days, anyone?) hugely pregnant and don't wish to do so again.  However, I'm suppressing my urge to be a fearful skeptic and just loving the bejeebies out of these days.  Perfect, mild 70s!  Every day!  You forget, really, how fast the days go when being outside of one's house is an option (being outside without freezing your face off, I mean).  We get up, we hit up a park, we eat lunch on the patio, the little people sleep like rocks, and we get up and go back outside.  I haven't seen that b-face Dora in a WEEK!  Um, love.

And before we were busy enjoying summer in March, Vivi and I were on a girls' trip back to her native Texas.  Texas did not disappoint.  We saw the in laws and friends and sat by the pool and shopped and ate so much delicious Texas grub that we doubled in size.  Partly thanks to the cookies at Auntie Lauren's baby shower, of which Vivi ate ... 5?  6?  (Papaw?!)  Miss V had an ear infection, I was working on a sinus infection, but despite that we had a really awesome time.  I'm not sure why I dragged my Nikon all the way across the country and came home with three iPhone photos of the trip, however.  You'll just have to trust that there were people other than Vivian and myself there, I guess.
just making a few pre-boarding phone calls.


hey, cookieface.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

cloud dough

I found the idea for cloud dough on Ashley's blog the other day.  (And, shocker, she found it on Pinterest.)  So fun!  A tad messy, so I saved it for a nice sunny afternoon when we could play outside and not have to involve a vacuum or mop in the clean up process.  Clean up process = throw a lid on the bin and go inside for dinner.  That's my kind of clean-up.

So super easy to throw together.  Get a big plastic bin with a lid, a couple bags of flour, and a bottle of baby oil.  Ashley's recipe is 8 cups of flour, mixed with 1 cup of baby oil, stirred by hand.  I doubled that, and it made the perfect amount for two littles to share.  Okay, and their mama - this stuff was neat!

Make it.  Have fun.  A & V did.  Thanks, Ashley, for the fun idea!

Tuesday, March 13, 2012


One day, they're shoving the paint brush this way and that, as much paint on the table as on the paper, sopping wet watercolor mixing into one brown blob.

And the next day, there's concentration.....


and finally, beaming exclamation: "it's a A!  Like ME!  Letter A!"

But the brush shoving, table painting, paper sopping stage is pretty neat, too.  

Monday, March 12, 2012

crazy hair

What Miss Vivi likes: sleep, sleep, and more sleep.  Homegirl is a sleep machine.  It's unreal.

What Miss Vivi dislikes: having her hair combed after that sleep.  There's not much hair, but there's enough for crazy hair.

On another note, notice my pictures are 90% of the iPhone type lately?  These are the first "real" pictures I've taken in .... weeks?  Sad.  I've been in a creative funk, for sure.  I've only been using Pinterest to look up a favorite recipe, I've got not the patience or energy for much crafting, and the things I have tried to craft have been flops (Vivi's lamp, for starters - would've been cheaper to just buy the PBK model I was trying to knock off, since the knock off ended up in the trash).  And my poor camera has gathered a bit of dust.  Partly because I misplaced the charger, and it just turned up over the weekend in the back of my closet at the bottom of a shopping bag.  I just feel .... uninspired.  The pregnancy stuff?  Balancing work and babies and a moose-size puppy?  Winter blues?  No doubt that, in part, it's the bland landscape - there's not much inspiring about banks of white stuff, really, at least not four months into winter.  This week's days with forecasted highs near 70 should help with that, no?  Spring fever is raging in this house ... along with the deep phlegmy cough that A passed to V that's STILL keeping us home and away from the general toddler public.  BLEEP.

Anyway.  Here's hoping green grass and chirping birds and healthy kids and the 2nd tri make for a more inspired me.  And a girls' trip to Texas later this week!  YAY TEXAS!

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

sick bug, sassy bee

Poor, sick Bug.  Hoarse voice, big phlegmy cough, flushed little face.  And while I'd never wish one of my kids ill, there is the matter of all the extra cuddles, and I'm not going to lie - I like the extra cuddles.  And the "carry me, pwease"s and the warm, heavy head that rests on my shoulder for far longer than he'd ever allow these days, were he feeling well.
"no lunch, mama.  teddy so tired."
 And this one?  Not sick, KNOCKWOOD.  (We've got traveling to do next week!  To someplace warm!  With Chick-fil-a and family!)  But you know what she is?  A total two year old, all of the sudden.  Sassy and dramatic and full of "I do mah hat by mah self!" kind of spunk.  Is this a babysized glimpse of 13?  Wine!  Send wine!
fine.  do yo hat yo'self.

Monday, March 5, 2012

blue with green sparkles

Monday started like this.  Bug comes into my room at 7:00am.  His "green light" time is 7:15am.  Good morning, I love you, but back to bed until green light time, buckaroo.  Surprisingly, he took the news like a champ and headed back upstairs.  And then?  It got really, really quiet.  Thinking maybe he went back to sleep (dumb), I dozed off again.  (I was up way late!  Have you guys read Room?  It's IMPOSSIBLE to put down.  I could.  NOT.  Stop.  Reading.)  Anyway, so I snoozed for about ten more minutes and woke up to a still very quiet upstairs, but at this point I got a little suspicious.  The last time that boy slept past 7:15 was, like, 2008.  Or so.  Just as I'd worked up the gumption to go upstairs and investigate the silence, he tip-toed back into my bedroom.




You guys.  I wish I had a picture, but you see, I was kind of busy going "what ... what the ... what did ... what is ... WHATINTHEHELLOMG?"  He was .... blue.  With green sparkles.  His face, his pajama top, his buck naked bottom half.  All smeared with blue paint, all speckled with green glittery sparkles.  He'd not been in his room, he'd been in my "office".

About my "office"?  It hasn't quite, uh, come together.  (Because magic elves don't exist, that's why.)  I've got all my artsy stuff crammed into one of those plastic three drawer bins in a corner.  The kids know not to touch it, and they mind that rule surprisingly well.  Except, I guess, in the early morning hours when mom is still in her bed because she has a late night reading hangover.  BIG MISTAKE.  I paid for those extra ten minutes, believe me, I did.  I spent the next half hour scrubbing the desk and the carpet and the gates.  After I scrubbed the kid, obviously.

And before 9:00am even came around, there was the discovery of a cat puke pile, a girl who woke with poop up her back, and a bowl of Cheerios knocked onto the dog (whether the dog did the knocking or the boy did, I'll never know, and neither of them were talking.)

However, from there?  Smooth sailing, minus the hacking cough and scruffy voice the bigger little developed over the course of the day.  (Oh, joy!)  I took them into a boutique with ten million breakable things, and they broke exactly zero things.  (They also crawled on their hands and knees pretending to be shopping kitties, but hello, pick your battles.)  We grocery shopped and nobody had a fit, we did puzzles and nobody fought, and they napped long enough for me to work slash watch two baby shows on TLC *AND* the Brenda moves to Minnesota and hates it episode of 90210!  Nice parka, Bren!

Bring on "The Women Tell Nothing New!"  And then more of Room, but I'm instructing J he's to pry the Kindle out of my hands no later than 10:30pm.  Seriously.  It's that good.  Or more accurately, gripping.  Read it if you haven't already.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

it snowed, et cetera

Oh, look, here I am again slacking on the blog front!  It's just that, when my kids are asleep, I usually have three pastime options.  1) work.  2) nap.  3) me time (likesuchas, read or blog or watch TV.)  Work, if not completed in the morning hours while my kids play at the gym day care and I feel (not very) bad about not working out enough, well then, work wins.  (Because otherwise it eats up my evening TV time, duh!)  But then after work?  Let's be real people.  The nap's always going to win.  ALWAYS.

Or take today.  My husband is in his man cave fighting off another man cold (LORD HELP US ALL), and since it's a day of rest and all, I knocked work out of the pastime option running.  Which left 1) nap or 2) me time.  First, I tried to watch the SNL I recorded last night featuring Miss Lohan.  Oh, Lohan.  The Disney Housewives skit was hilarious, but after that?  Fast forward.  Fast forward.  OMG fast forward.  Poor Lohan.  So, quite obviously, I ended up napping.  For the baby.  And my whole family?  Still napping!  The bums!

Anyway.  So now, blogging!  What to tell you about this week.  Not much is standing out.  It's all kind of fuzzy.  Probably because we were in a snow coma.  This, my friends, is what it looks like when you get the 3rd biggest one day snow fall in history:
imagine if he weren't polar bear size?
you like how our stop sign is, like, six inches from being under snow?
Honestly?  I loved it.  It was February!  February is a snow month.  As are January, December, and November.  Snow outside of those months does make me a wee bit (meaning VERY VERY) cranky .... but I like the snow in the (self-determined) Months Of Snow.  I tried being a hot weather person, it just didn't fit.  Give me my Uggs.  Or in the case of Wednesday, when roads were impassible and everything from the library to the coffee shop was shut down .... but not, of course, your local trusty automotive dealership (bye, J!) ..... give me my pajamas and my snuggly littles and super fancy tea parties.  And sleeping cats, because duh.  I love you, cozy snow day!

And then, the next morning?  When we ventured out because let's be real, one day of cozy is good, two days of cozy is "LET US OUT BEFORE WE EAT EACHOTHER!" it looked a little something like this:
oh, you know, just snow piles as big as my not-small suv. 
at one time, there were stairs there.  see you in may, stairs!
In news of the littles, let's talk about Baby No-Name.  I had my 13 week check up, and as far as little BNN goes (NOT an official nickname, I've just been too busy napping to nickname poor little nameless #3), all is well.  Heartbeat chugging right along.  Yay!  The bad news?  The super depressing, no good news?  I've got my ticket for the Diabetes Train once more.  #%^$#^&T*&  Which clearly, makes me SO happy and not bitter at all and I totally did NOT throw a mental pouty fit.  I don't know, exactly, how my OB saw into my future in order to pre-diagnose me (obviously we all assumed, but he removed any shadow of doubt remaining).  There was a number he got back from my blood work - 5.4 - which he explained means I can start stocking up on string cheese and eggs (barf) and kiss my Girl Scout cookies goodbye, but which he also explains means odds are in my favor for another mild, diet and exercise controlled, non-baby-affecting case.  Apparently when your mysterious number reaches 8+ they worry about the baby, so I mean, yay for not being 8+ on the mysterious number scale?  But seriously, Eff Bomb.  And you know what's even better?  The fact that my risk factor for ending up with Type 2 later in life is, like, sky high now.  Oh, joy!  WHY WHY WHY?  No family history, zero other risk factors, SO WHY?  So, if any of you who are reading this had Gestational Diabetes 72 times and didn't end up with no legs by your 40th birthday, drop me a line.  I want to know you!

In all seriousness, though, it's fine.  It's a bummer, but our summer diet consists of a whole lot of proteins straight off the grill and fresh veggies and all that wholesome nonsense, and a family who will be supportive and wait until we go home to haul out the ice cream .... so the diet won't be a total B to keep up with.  And, most obviously, what matters is BNN.  And keeping my legs.

Last but not least, I guess this is what a bump looks like at 13 weeks on round 3.  Like, whoa.  I just compared it to my bump pics with Bug, and this is about how I looked at 20 weeks pregnant with him.  Except for some odd reason, I looked way better rested in those photos.  Hmm.
i haven't mastered smiling and self portrait taking at the same time.
Happy new week, yall!  I did complete a fun little DIY project for V's room.  And by that I mean I took some "Before" pictures two and a half weeks ago, then the project sat on the dining room table for awhile, then I made J finish it today .... but the little project is done.  So I'll get some pictures of that and her big girl room as a whole and get those up later this week.  Meaning, in May sometime if you're lucky.