Monday, August 5, 2013


It's August.  August!  Last August, we were suspended in a world of hurrying up and waiting (and waiting, and waiiiiiting) while temperatures soared and my feet swelled and the road to Colorado felt unimaginably long.  We were saying goodbye to our beautiful northwoods home (the hair!  On that boy!)  We were traveling, which meant me waddling in and out of every reeking bathroom from north central Wisconsin to north west Minnesota and struggling to reach into the backseat to restart Toy Story without pulling any muscles.  I was holed up in the lake cabin for a sweet, quiet week alone with Vivi, all princess shows and sparkles on everything and following her whims and her ways and cherishing our last days together as the only ladies of the house (the lack of hair!  On that girl!)  It was a whole different world, last August, it really was.  Because now there's this August.  This August, settled into our Colorado home with an almost five year old, an almost preschooler, an almost one year old.  With this almost sane mother who swore up and down she wouldn't go wild with the first birthday party or cry about middle child starting school or refuse to believe a kid of hers could be FIVE (but, you know, lies, all lies).  We've successfully banished the neon green from the guest room walls, we've got the kids' bathroom looking distinctly less 1998ish, and just today I dug into the depths of Mabel's closet and pulled out all those baby clothes and they're going, going, gone.  No more denial: we've got no further need for single digit month sizes 'round these parts.  Like ever.

We're hopscotching.

We're superheroing.

We're bean eating, aka getting Mexi take out at least once a week because we don't have AC and you're crazy if you think I'm running the oven.  Or even the toaster.  Or so much as lighting a freaking candle.  Yeah, no.

We're .... taking increasingly crappy family portraits?

Oh and sometimes we're convincing Vivi, when she wakes up and wanders into our bedroom, that the big orange cat (aka, Rodger) on the bed is actually Ernie (aka, Erns McGerns) and he just got really big while she slept.  AND SHE BELIEVES IT.  Ah, V.

And tonight, we're learning things like that cats sweat through their paws and that cats have 30 bones in their tail and I'm laughing hysterically every time J's iPhone chimes because SOMEONE signed J up for an hourly cat fact text message that he's been trying to shut off for like 12 hours with no success at all.  Whoever that mysterious someone is .... WELL PLAYED.  Well.  Freaking.  Played.


The Mahlke Chronicles said...

I really, really enjoyed this post. I clicked on all the links to your old blog since I'm a fairly newcomer to your world and I loved those, too.

But why on earth do you not have AC?!

Anne said...

THAT HAIR!! Also, Mister Baby was a tiny nugget last August!

Next GTG the pregnant woman brings the alcohol (remember the over abundance of beer we brought) the non preg lady brings the snacks. A system of checks and balances if you will.

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