Laying the Smack Down

Wow. So much has happened since our very Merry Christmas and unfortuanately all the extra sleep I have been getting and delicious food has made my brain somewhat foggy of some funny details of this break.

Except this little tidbit.

Last night, Davy would. not. go. to. bed.

It lasted hours and hours. Christopher was a champ through it all. I heard him tell her a gazillion Terrwilliger Twilly stories. He sang her songs. He let her tell him ridiculous stories. He got her water. He re-tucked her in more times than I could count.

I thought finally he had reached his nice daddy limit.

He's pretty much a softie in the realm of discipline and when he is stern, he is usually faking it.

So last night at like 10PM, as the mister and I were getting ready to actually sleep ourselves, we were disrupted by yelling and loud talking and toddler annoyingness... Then he looks at me seriously and says,

"I'm going to go lay the smack down."

I was intrigued, but mostly relieved he was taking care of the little noise issue next door.

About 2 seconds after he entered the girls' room.

I heard this.

I am still laughing about it.

Apparently he and I have different perceptions of what "laying the smack down" looks like.

I really didn't think there were peas in that song, but according to youtube I am wrong. OR maybe Raffi failed me.

Z is for Zeal

So far this Christmas has been. wow. So much family fun packed into one or two tiny egg rolls. Definitely delicious and filled with indeterminate amounts of amazingness.

You know what I'm talking about.

The kind when it's like 7:00PM and everyone thinks it's getting close to midnight. When 9:00PM rolls around... people start dropping like flies. Passing out in chairs, couches, standing up. Whatever.

Everyone except for the very zealous 31/2 year old. Still going strong after hours and hours and day 2 of almost straight partying and lbs. and lbs. of sugar. I thought sugar produced a crash at some point?

At the close of the evening, after being strapped in the car seat miracle worker, she did finally crash before we left the driveway of Grammy and Grampy's. I hope it's a long crash. And a very wonderful Christmas was had by all.

Followed by even more fun tomorrow. Fingers crossed for sleeping in until 7:30AM.

Merry merry merry Christmas!

Thank you wonderful family. We are muy muy blessed.

And if you have read these alphabet posts, give yourself a pat on the back and breath a sigh of relief, for they are d-o-n-e. phew. Buuuuut if you need more alphabet... here is what we like. Sometimes I sing the songs in my free time. It's animaltastic.

Y is for Yours

Wishing you and yours a very Merry Christmas tomorrow. Hope you feel like Davy tomorrow and don't look like Gianna.

 Be blessed!

X is for eXtra

I've said it before, and it's still true. I really have dropped the ball this Christmas as far as prep goes. Thankfully, my husband had work off today and took the kiddies so that I could attempt to pick it up again and get in the game.

And thanks to the mall's late hours for people who need that one extra hour... I. am. done.

phew.

That felt really good. And I did get some extra things because, you know, I saw them and I don't get out much. Hate how that happens.  Mosttttt of them were for the kiddos stocking situation and I had that Forever XXI giftcard from the great sock mishap. But oh em gee. Anthropologie's clearance was 50% off and they were practically giving stuff away. I couldn't say no. So I said yes to just a few tiny things.

Thanks Santa.

And thanks Chipotle for making me a burrito with extra carnita (not sure if that is what it was?) even though it was 10:02PM. You are a good friend indeed.

Thanks everyone who read this nonsense too. Have a very very very Merry Christmas Eve tomorrow! Hope you get extra time with your family and friends or alone if you are a sahm. Whatever you likey like.

W is for Wants

There are so many things to want these days. A bigger house. A bigger kitchen. A bigger car. A bigger family.

Or a smaller waistline, a smaller computer, a smaller ipod, a smaller college debt.

Lots and lots of wants.

Right in time for the big Christmas. And everyone is out there wanting and buying things that other people want or maybe they really don't want.

I was out driving in my car today in the rain and cold and I noticed all these cars getting stuff they may or may not need, but probably want for Christmas. And I was one of them.

I was buying stuff at Ikea that filled some kind of want that I had. And boy do they have a lot of stuff that you want when you see it.

Tis the season to want.

I've noticed something about shopping lately. Mostly because it happens pretty infrequently. There more you do it, the more you see what's out there and the more things you think of wanting enter your brain. You can't want something you don't know about.

That's why I stay holed up with the children most days. So I don't even know what's out there. Because once I do, it's like that want monster just creeps right on in.

Davy just wants a barbie. And Gianna just wants her thumb and some hair to dreadlock.

I hope the want monster stays away from you and yours this Christmas. I think we are done for over here. I guess there is always hope...

V is for Vivid

Davy has never really done the imaginary friend thing over here. Most of me is ok with that, because I flash back to a girl in my first grade class who had a few imaginary friends, including a baby, and she really freaked me out as she pretended they were crawling all over her and she shrieked in delight. I just really don't want Davy to be that girl.

Apparently and unfortunately her tune changed dramatically today. I was introduced to Davy's brother Connor. He's younger than her, but taller.  And on our little walk this afternoon,  he held Davy's hand pretty successfully without getting hit by any cars.

A little bit later Davy introduced me to to her sister Valia. These are all direct quotes from Davy..."She is from January 6th. And we go to the same high school, but she doesn't need school. And we dance together. And even she loves dancin.' We go to the same high school because we love each other. And we go to the same ballerina class where we learn about being a ballerina."

And now her and Gianna are making snow angels for Daddy in the living room.

.....

A few hours have come and gone. And now I just really need someone to make Davy go to sleep and bring my sushi. In reverse order. It's important. The baby loves sushi. By the way, Davy named her Lali. But we don't know what the baby is quite yet.

Don't worry we won't make you wait 6 more long and annoying months. Not even the Blessed Mother had to do that. We will let you know after the Sex Surprise Party I mean Gender Coming Out Party or really just a Gender Reveal Party. My friend Anne said to call it one of the first few names if we want to amp up the attendance.  I guess we'll see about that one.

Have a night with vivid dreams.

U is for Underprepared

It means you didn't do anything when you probably should have been. Or maybe you didn't know what you were supposed to be doing.

I'm pretty sure that's what happened to me this Christmas. I had so much time for so long. And then today rolls around and I feel like I finally remembered all the stuff I should have been doing for the past month.

Which is one reason why I went to the mall this evening with my friend and her two sweet children and my two children with no adjective attached for a reason. (I'm trying not to label them with words like crazy and ill-behaved.)

While attempting to return 20 pairs of socks to Forever XXI, I was told that one of the 3-packs of socks was not on my receipt and then given "the look" like I stole some crazy ugly socks and then tried to return them. What kind of human buys $60 worth of Forever XXI socks in the first place? (My husband, the brainchild of Terwilliger Twilly™) I'm pretty sure it would not be the same person who steals a $4.80 pack of socks and tries to return them. I would have at least stolen something smaller and more expensive. Socks? Come on. I've actually never stolen anything in my life, but my heart was still racing throughout the ordeal and I really thought I might get taken in by the Forever XXI police dressed in drag. jk. not really.

I hope you all get your Christmas shenanigans in order before the big day. And I hope someone else does it for me so I can take a long nap.

peace love and Christmas to you.

T is for Terrible Twos

I don't have any two year olds in my house strictly speaking. But I think Gianna just decided to fast forward 3 1/2 months and jump right in to the hysterical state.

It happened without warning.

It happened without a fight.

She went to bed normal by day and awoke changed after night.

(Maybe I shouldn't have watched the cartoon Grinch Who Stole Christmas this evening.)

She was so sweet yesterday. Her favorite hobbies used to be snuggling for hours with her mom, twirling my hair into horrific dreadlocks, sucking her thumb, copying Davy, giggling, and climbing.

Today her favorite hobbies were screaming "no," yelling at me, hitting everyone, running away from me, hiding, and pushing over her cousin multiple times.

What happened to my sweet baby? I don't know if I am up for two full-time crazies over here.

I really really thought this time, I had done a better job and parented just a stitch better and had been reaping the benefits.

Thanks for the reality check life.

Gianna I am going to be on my A Game tomorrow. Watch out you little wacko. And if you change your mind about snuggling on the couch when Davy is at school, I'll be here.

S is for Stories

Sorry this is late. My husband's computer broke last night and so did mine. The timing was not ideal for this little ABC blog situation. So now I am at my sister's house wreaking havoc with Gianna.

Anywho. I hope the mac store can work miracles tonight.

Every day and night we tell stories to Davy and Gianna. Sometimes all throughout the day.

There are the ever popular, "when mommy was little" stories in which I mildly stretch the truth about my heroic obedience as a child. It's gotta be better than lecturing.

Davy is also quite fond of the "when I was a baby in San Francisco" stories. We tell her exciting stories of our adventures and then tell her that we were holding her throughout, or wearing her tribal woman style.

Then there are the before the girls go to bed stories.

For a good 6-12 months, Davy asked for Spiderman bed-time stories. And we are forced to include Venom in the story, too, because one time Christopher brought him up from his memories of comic-book dorkiness.  I don't even really know who Venom is. One time I googled his image and I was horrified that he is included in Davy's thoughts before her nightly slumber. I bet she imagines like a little boy made of colored marshmallows and clouds.  Davy insists that the story be about "Venom not sharin' his toys with Spiderman." The story usually ends with Spiderman crying and going home or Venom's mom coming out and telling Venom to share or she will take away all of his toys.

And what little girl can live without the very predictable and boring stories of the "princesses" who live in luxury and have colored ponies and matching dresses and sit around all day looking good. 

Daddy has been keeping it entertaining lately with stories about Terrwilliger Twilly the Caterpiller TM and his adventures of eating and living as a tiny creature.

Sorry if you have just fallen asleep yourself or passed out from boredom. If you have any other good ideas for bedtime stories, we are in the market.

R is for Relish

Relishing life.

I feel like the past few months, maybe year, have been filled with story after story of people I love and some I just know in passing, who have had great tragedies. Mostly I have just sat at home and cried over these heartaches, for the those who have been lost or wounded and I've sat at home and prayed. It's hard to really know what the right thing to say or do is sometimes.

I read a post from a woman that I do not know tonight about her and her son, who were in a terrible accident (pray for their little baby).  What really struck me was how quickly and unplanned things seem to happen. No one is planning for loved ones to die or become seriously injured or for cancer or job loss. It usually hits quickly and abruptly.

Sometimes sadness and tragedy are almost reminders of how "blessed" we are that those things are not happening to us right now. It's easy to think that way. But as much as no one in our society talks about it. Every life will end. And it's terribly sad and burdensome to think about, but not thinking about it will not make it easier when it hits. I don't think preoccupying yourself with morbidity every second of the day is necessarily healthy, but there is something to be said of realizing that every moment you spend on this planet is over by the time you have thought about it. You can't go back. You can only press ahead and try your damnedest to live and relish every moment that you have been given as the gift that it is.

I really have no idea what the best way to do this is, but this is what I have so far. And that doesn't mean I'm doing it.

1) All the stuff you have, does not matter. It will break. It will fail you. And you will never have enough. The more you give to stuff, the more it will enslave you.
2) Things you say, once said, can't be put back in your mouth. I have said about one million things in my life that I regret and I will probably never have even the slightest inkling of the damage I have done with my one big mouth.
3) GIVE. Give until it hurts. Selfishness makes people unhappy. Keeping all your toys to yourself is so preschool.
4) Are you ready for this all to end? What if it does tomorrow? You should probably think about that. Write down who you want to be, and do it. Don't wait. You really don't have time.
5) If you have kids, hug them and love them and pray for the children who have no one to show them love. They will learn what love is from you.
6) It's easier sometimes to be nicer to people you don't live with. Charity begins at home. That is where love should start. Put your family first in line to your love. Don't spend yourself all day on everyone else and leave yourself empty for those who need you most.
7) Pray. Don't be afraid if you don't do it often or know how. (It's just talking to someone who loves you most.)
8) Relish your time and get off your computer/ ipad/ phone/ technology life sucker.

Q is for Quick

three married quirky sisters.

Today my sister Katie and I were talking about the very average family in which we were raised, and have realized since getting married that some things were not quite normal.

One such thing, was that everyone always announces where they're going in a home. This might not sound weird, but according to our first few years of marriage, it is.

 I don't know why but when I was growing up, announcing your every move was not only normal, but expected. No one would ever get up and go anywhere in the house without telling everyone where they were going.

And restroom visits were always attached to the words, "really quick." I guess to ensure that no one would start doing anything fun while you were away.

But translate that to marriage and you realize that no newly married man wants to hear that you are running to the bathroom "really quick" every single time nature summons you. It's not cute. 

My little niece.

As my children and my little niece are learning to go potty, now they also tell you that they have to go "really quick" or "weewy kik." (Which her little Therese never ever does because she makes you read her like 20 books while she is working.)

Our kids think it's part of the phrase. So what. It's definitely better than saying, "I have to use the restroom and I will be absent for an extended period of time." sick. i just took it there.

I'm now going to bed really quick.

P is for Present

"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift. That's why it's called the present."

I was in a crazy mood, so I asked Davy what the quote above meant to her.

She replied. "Are we Jesus' gift to God?"

Then I just decided to straight up interview her Barbara Wawa style.

Me-"What do you want for Christmas?"

Barbies. (ca-rap.)

Me-"What if you don't get one?"

Why??? (and then she almost let some tears fall)

Me-Will you be sad if you don't get one? (duh.)

(strangely she was already distracted by an etch a sketch) But its ok, I'll just draw this Christmas tree for God.

Me-What do you want to get daddy?

Prince clothes for halloween for my dad.

Me-What do you want to get Gianna for Christmas?

An ornament for our tree from Santa Clause. And then we open it up and put it on our tree. Its just an icecream ornament, like I made at school.


Let's go in my gym while we sing Jesus songs. My gym is in this country.

Me-What's your favorite part about Christmas?


Jesus' birthday.

**These answers have not been changed or altered to protect the innocent.  Should we get her a barbie for Christmas? I don't want to ruin Christmas like I did when I was a senior in high school.

O is for Osage Orange

I don't know if you know about this. I didn't even know of their existence until I moved to Cincinnati as a senior in high school.

They sort of look like softball sized warty tennis balls that fall from trees. And are basically amazing. I have seen people pinning them on pinterest and calling them moss balls. And then suggesting that they try and make some. You can't pin-people. They grow on trees. Andddd I am pretty sure if you stood under an osage orange tree long enough you might get hit with one in the head and die.

I really think there needs to be some awareness to the growing problem of Osage Orange Potential Accidents.  So today this blog post has a mission. Just be careful of Osage Oranges...and do not eat them. They may make you vomit, according to the internet.

And if you want to learn more about their plantlike characteristics, you can read about that on wikipedia.

I think it's important to take a break here and there and learn about the outdoors while staying comfortably indoors.

PS> sorry about the ridiculousness of this post. I did write 2 other O posts, but I think they were depressing and odd. Very unlike this post.

N is for Nativity/ Winner of Giveaway

We are a little Nativity crazy over here. I just put up four of them.

This may or may not explain why my kids play "baby Jesus" year round.

A few weeks ago I found a meat tenderizer tucked in my bed. I was, as you might have guessed, I little perplexed and alarmed at the situation.

Realizing that there was really only one answer to this riddle I asked little Miss Davy if she knew about the situation.

She looked at me like I was an idiot and with a blank stare said, "that's baby Jesus Mom. He was sleeping."

Neat.

Speaking of Nativities.... the winner winner of my very first ever very exciting giveaway issssss... according to the very random results at Random.org and my husband, who I made press the "generate" button is...

Anna F. Congratulations! A Nativity will soon be arriving to your home, please email me and let me know where that is exactly :).




Thanks everyone else for your entry. I will be doing more related giveaways in the future so fret not if you like wood painted people.


Hmmm and if you want to read something real...it looks like I wrote N for Nativity last year too. Maybe it's more legit?

M is for Momarchy.

It is sort of like complete anarchy mixed in with some fleeting moments where the mom really is the dictator. AND. You really have more control than one would think.

I've said it probably one million times before and so have hundreds of millions of others, but, it is worth repeating. "If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."

You could also look at that in a bit more positive light.

When you are in a good mood, it will likely spread to your family and then they will be in a good mood and then you will stay in a good mood, and then it will just keep repeating like this until someone poops on the floor and walks in it without telling you.

From personal experience, it is most important to keep your game face on in these situations. Which I definitely fail at multiple times daily.

I have little tiny kids so I feel like this is mostly true right now and can't speak for when they really become larger autonomous creatures.  But, my kids are learning how to behave from moi. When I am a jerk, they learn, that it's cool to be a jerk. When I get mad about bananas smashed in the playroom rug, they learn that yelling is a good way to let your feelings out. (Maybe sometimes it really is...but you get the picture.)

It's sort of like what goes around comes around at our house at least. And a lot of it starts with this girl.

Bring it mommy guilt. I'm so ready to be better.

L is for Lip Gloss

This is not a post about my favorite lip enhancer. Sorry if you came looking for something of the sort.

This is about a lesson in shoplifting.

We went to the mall tonight in search of some good Chipotle and some even better socks. We are wild, I know.

Eating Chipotle with the two children went smashingly and we all sat at the tiny people table. We got some looks, but we were the ones laughing because look who didn't need any highchairs. booyah.

Since dinner went so well, we ventured into H&M in search of all things socks. We were mostly unsuccessful and Davy found some crappy makeup, but the usual "those are for other people" and "maybe we could come back and get them some other time" worked like a charm. We are good parents.

Forever XXI trashville is on our way out the door so we decided to make a pit stop on our hunt for socks before we exited.

And boy did they have socks. Every color of made in China socks you could imagine. You know what was right next to the socks though? More makeup.

And Davy had apparently reached her limit. She grabbed a hot pink kid-sized brush and some matching lipgloss and informed us that she needed them.

So I tried the usual. "Those are for other people." And, "maybe we could come back here another time and get them." I noticed the nothavingit look on her face, so out of desperation, I added, "maybe Santa will bring you some."

 I was a little distracted by some over the knee trashy socks and then came back to her and she put the brush back with no problem and she wasn't holding the lip gloss. Again I thought, good parenting was probably behind all this obedience, no doubt.

We purchased the socks and as we were leaving Daddy suggested, just to be sure, checking the pockets in the hot pink puffy jacket our lovely 3 year old was wearing. I tried to get a few fingers in to check, but she cut me off with her little dagger finger nails. I wedged my way in despite the pain and felt what you probably have guessed. Daddy screamed "Hands high over your head where we can see 'em!"


It took me a good minute to retrieve the lip gloss from her grip of death. And when I finally did, she went absolutely berserk.

I picked her up kicking and screaming and as Daddio got the car I tried to explain to her in great detail the difference between wants and needs. I even threw in the starving children in Africa.

She just looked at me and screamed, "You never let me get anything at stores! And I don't even have any MAKEUP!"

And because she made such a crying mess of herself, some teenagers gifted her a giant red balloon. It pretty much fixed everything. Except for the small problem of her acting like a b-rat.

Tonight when we were saying our prayers, she asked if she could pray by herself. So cute.

She knelt down looked up and said, "God. Please please get me some makeup for Christmas."

Then she looked at me and asked, "Can I pray to Santa too?"

I just cut her off and ended with something a little more legit.

Debating if I should get her some lip gloss for Christmas or not...she scares me.

K is for Kitchen

Most of my life as a mom besides pretending to sleep next to kicking children has been spent in the kitchen. I could have never in my wildest dreams guessed how much time I would spend in there.

In our future residence, if we ever graduate out of this house, I want some couches in the kitchen, maybe a bed and definitely 20 times more counter top space and cabinetry.

As of late, my time cooking in the kitchen has diminished dramatically due to all things nausea and over active olfactories related. However, we are still hanging out in there and I don't know why. Maybe it's the prospect of never ending food, which is definitely likely in Gianna's case.

I honestly feel like I clean the kitchen one hundred or so times a day. The amount of water alone spilled in that kitchen daily could fill up a small backyard pond.

see what a happy place it is? if only it had a bed.

I think I might spend a lot of time in there acting like I'm cleaning, but really just dreading moving at all.

I paint in there. I make the kids craft in there. There are usually about 10 toys on the ground in there, which is nice because it doubles as a playroom when necessary.

Basically I think that there is something that draws people to the kitchen besides food. Maybe magic? The kitchen is an active room where you do things. Lots of people dance in their kitchens. We do all the time, and usually I close the blinds because it is embarressing. Kitchens are places of love and family. That is what I am going to repeat over and over and over to myself I repeatedly feel like my insides are trying to get out.

Hope you cook up something good soon or just keep openning your refridgerator hoping something new pops up. Just stop. There is nothing good left.

Cheerio.

J is for Joying

Lately Davy learned a new trick. Maybe at school? I really have no idea. But it's confusing and cute.

"Want to see me JOY?" She will ask you grinning from ear to ear. And then you will say yes because what else would you say to a smiling 3 year old.

And then she will start jumping up and down smiling until she starts laughing.

IT is a sight to behold and I guess she embodies the verb form of the word joy, which may or may not exist in common english.

Gianna tries to take part as well, but she is still not capable of a real jump. My kids are always late jumpers. I'm kind of embarassed about it. But I don't want to push them or jump in front of them ever. Mostly because jumping hurts my feet and knees and I hate it. So they have to learn either outside the home at local library sessions of toddler dancing or just pick it up on the city street.

I can't believe I just confessed my hate for jumping on the world wide web. humiliation station.

Hope your night is happy and that you can spend a little time JOYING it up tonight, however you do that.

I is for Immaculate

This post is dedicated to the state of my home always. Immaculate.

This is sadly from a year and a half ago...It looks like a different room now. And not in a good way. except there are curtains now.

I was lying in bed last night, peacefully, with Gianna trying to comfortably sleep on top of my neck and Davy inching her way into every last bit of personal space I had left and I was thinking about the letter I, like I do often while lying in bed. I feel like there could be a Sesame Street song about that.

Anyway. I had no good ideas for today and then I realized that today is a Holy Day for Catholicism lovers and the feast is the Immaculate Conception. Bingo.

pardon the catechesis spout...

Many Catholics mistakenly think today is about Jesus' Immaculate Conception. But it's not people. Plus. That would make His birthday sometime around August 30th.

Today is all about His momma. Jesus needed somewhere completely perfect to reside and be guided by sooo today is about her Immaculate Conception. taaa-daaa.

Maybe I should have truly made my home immaculate in honor of the Blessed Mother today.

I guess there is still time. or I could just let it be.

PS. Davy told us at breakfast that Drew a child that will remain nameless at school calls her Davy Crockett.  What 4 year old starts name calling. I'm just not ready for this. I was planning to tell her about him at some point, but I didn't think I'd have to at age 3. Besides. Davy Crockett was just his nickname. He was a David. geez. At least Davy thinks it's funny at this point.

PPS. Since this post is about Immaculate things. I should also mention a phenomenal book that all should read written by Immaculee Ilibagiza. It has been likened to an Anne Frank version of the Rwanda genocide. It is her personal story of survival and it is profound. It is called Left to Tell. And if you are a Catholicism lover you should also read this new book of hers about the Blessed Mother called Our Lady of Kibeho.

H is for Horses

At Grammy and Grampy Corjet's house and we were surprised by their neighborhood horses. I don't know what else to say except that horses are fantastic and I wish I had one.

And that you should watch this video because it is hilarious.

This post is for you Katie. ;)

G is for GIVEAWAY.

St. Catherine of Siena

St. Theresa of Avila

St. Jude

St. Philomena

This is sort of a Giveaway/revealing my secret newly discovered hobby....

I would mostly call it saint doll making. but not if you have a little boy. then I guess they could be saint action figures or statues or something.

I started on this little hobby after I got off facebook to make them for the girlies so they would stop breaking all religious objects at our house.

Then I made a few for friends. And worked on which paints were safe for eating and what to finish them with and then viola! a completely edible saint doll was born. Well...finished with shellac. And guess what else is finished with shellac? Jelly Bellies. candy corn. and most of your shiny pill medicine. interesting business.

I'm just kidding about the eating part. Butttt if it happens your kid will live happily.

And now I have made over 100 saint dolls according to my calculations... almost all have been adopted into happy homes.

So. Back to the f u n.

Here is what you will win...a Nativity for your home. whichever one below you like betta. And please keep in mind that baby Jesus is a choking hazard. Sorry. about. that. And also keep in mind that your Mary and Joseph will not look exactly like the pictures but definitely with familial resemblance.

And I might add some more Nativity people if I am feeling generous.

All you have to do to enter is....

1)post a comment below of what you are hoping to give for Christmas to someone you love andddd

2)if you are not yet a follower friend, you should do that too.

I feel like St. Nicholas.  No more entries after 12:00PM/noon EST on N is for Nativity day aka next Tuesday and I will draw the winner that night. 

F is for Facebook

A while back I broke up with facebook. Sort of....

I couldn't fully delete because my sweet husband made me a page for my blog like a year ago that I have never really used and I was the sole developer and to make a very boring story end sooner, I look super snobby on fbook now and made my page mostly private except for a picture and my name and this blog.

Anddddd I really thought this would change my life. And it did. For a while. I never got on...but then things would happen....like I would forget when exactly was my friend's birthday and look up how to spell my cousin's baby's name for my mom....or did so and so have her baby....and then I full on fbook stalked you all without your consent or ability to stalk back. And I'm sorry.

And maybe I should just come back....but I kind of like not having the pressure of constant communication...And I have been pretty good at growing some hobbies... tune in tomorrow for that fun.

IF you would like to give me any of your personal facebook advice. I welcome it. You can let me know if you think I should keep up my hypocrite ways or just get back full on double rainbow style on the fbook.

Plussss. A few people thought that I stopped blogging because I didn't post anything anymore. not true obviously.

Happy almost St. Nicholas Day! Put out a shoe if you like treats or small nutcrackers if you live at this house.

E is for Entertainment

 We are mostly boring people AND we don't have a TV. That's why I tell my self above things happen more often than not at this house.

For entertainment around here, the children have to get creative.

Today for instance, they spent a bit of time watching paint dry in the garage. Davy was even enjoying some popcorn while she viewed.

 Below we have two people pretending they love reading on the floor whilst fake smiling.

 We encourage Davy to try her hand at any offbeat sport she is interested in. We need her to get a full ride to college. Below she is working on her rake javelin moves.

 Gianna is more of a hiking/climbing type. Immediately after waking she dons a pair of boots to get herself in the mood and scales whatever is in her path.















Gianna also likes to travel on wheels. I hope this grocery cart is not indicative of her dream vehicle in the future.















Davy is a big fan of dangling Godzilla from her shirt by his teeth in a faux baby carrier situation for cheap thrills.















And I'm sure that if somehow you got through all of that, you were no where in the ballpark of being entertained. Try back later or watch some TV for us.

D is for Dressing Up

We live for dress up over here. Everyday Davy dresses up in one thing or another as her daily attire. Sometimes it's cute, sometimes a little humbling, and sometimes it's downright ugly. But yesterday it was just disturbing.

They girls were playing at an average volume level in the other room for a few minutes while I chatted with their father at work. There was obviously nothing to worry about  because it was not eerily quiet and all of a sudden I felt proud. This is how it's supposed to be. Children playing together without a referee.  They were happily chatting to one another and I reminisced about myself as a child playing with my two sisters.

And then they walked in to the living room and shattered all my dreams.

Unfazed by her own beauty.

Notice the swirl pattern on the face. Skills.

"I always wanted black eyebrows! Thanks Davy!"

             That is mascara. And it's hard to tell from the pictures but it also nicely covered their hair.

It came out pretty easily with baby wipes and bathing them while scrubbing with soap products.

And now I will leave you with something a little less traumatizing.

A word of advice from the novice: "hide your kid. hide your wife. and hide your makeup."

C is for Candy Climber

Anyone who has known me at anytime across my life would probably remember one unfortunate stand out quality.

I love candy. And I really don't discriminate. I will devour most things with sugar as the first ingredient swiftly and with aggression.

It's probably more like an addiction. Once when I was like 6 years old,  I ate my Halloween candy until I threw up. Then my mom put it on top of the fridge to keep it away for me. In the middle of the night she found me like a cat on the counter top scaling the side of the fridge to get it down. Liiiike I said, I have a problem.

Because I am self-aware, I generally don't buy candy as a rule. Somehow, though, candy finds me. One avenue has been my brother in law. He is basically Willy Wonka because of his candy-filled profession and once he gifted me 26 lbs. of it at one time. Needless to say, I ate most of it.

And as you may have well guessed, the candy apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

I have created a tiny monster.

Recently, we had some candy on top of the fridge. I told her she couldn't have anymore, and walked into the other room momentarily and returned to this situation to my right. A Candy Climber. Thank goodness I walked into the kitchen at this exact moment. And strangely, fortunate for you, I had camera hanging around my neck from taking some cute pictures of my other offspring. So we have this beautiful documentation of the most frightening nature. This literally happened in seconds, maybe a minute. She is quick and I have no idea how she picked up that chair and placed it on top of the other...must have been sheer adrenaline to reach her prize.

Anywho. There you have it. (Don't worry. I saved her life immediately after this was snapped.)

Hope you have a fabulous sugar-filled weekend!

B is for Baby Baby Baby Oh.

You might really have to read between the lines on the title. The message is a a little encrypted.

You could say we are moving to a zone defense as parents.
If you live in San Francisco you might call us breeders.
Or you could ask us 'if we know how this kind of thing happens.' We have an idea.

Our little growing family is super excited. Truthfully this is the most excited I've been of the three times I've find out about these tiny babies growing inside me. Maybe because I take my job more seriously now because I've messed up so much and I've been at it longer now.  I don't know, but I like it.

Davy is super excited too and announced it to our next door neighbor the day we found out. Today she randomly stopped a woman on a staircase at her school and told her that I was having a baby.

In other outbursts of Davy screaming at the unsuspecting... She practically assaulted a woman in a public restroom washing her hands next to us with words like "MOM! MOM! SHE'S HUGE! SHE'S HUGE! " and a "SHE IS A GIANT". Poor poor woman. She was tall and super skinny. Not giant-like at all. Embarrassing. Even more embarrassing because I started laughing and had to hide my face. I suck. Back to the baby....We had to go to the mall because they have a food court and I was voraciously hungry after all this crazy stomach bugness and nausea abounding and no food at home to speak of. And I'm pretty sure we caught a new disgusting disease there because Davy was practically licking the food court table the whole time.

secret time...it's not my baby

We are still pretty early in the baby game this time. According to calculations we will be 12 weeks on Sunday. For fruit lovers out there, the baby is in between the size of a fig and a lime.

It's going to be a party of 5 over here all the time starting somewhere around June 17ish.