Little Dude

He walks. 

He climbs.

He dances.

He says the following words:

Hi.

Mama.

Milk.

Hot.

Uh-oh.

Bye.

He has 4.2 million teeth.

He has recently learned how to climb out of his crib, which is, in fact, fabulously convenient.

He is completely and utterly terrified of bubbles in the bath.

And Uncle Alex.

But really . . .who isn't?

He's getting so big . . . but he will always be my baby.

Interesting.

I have a double-chin.

Who knew?

I wonder if they make "8-minute Chins?"

If so, I am totes buying myself a copy.

And now, to make everyone else feel better about their homes, I present a peek into my world:

Points of interest you should notice:

1)  Check out how scratched my  coffee table surface is.  This is due to the fact that Handsome Dude and Little Dude firmly believe the coffee table is, in fact, a race track.

(Interruption:  my in-laws are furniture restorers.  I fear I am a huge disappointment in the furniture area.)

2)  There is still toothpaste on my couch.  I repeat, there is still toothpaste on my couch.  I am considering turning the couch cushion around.

 3)  A bit of advice:  do not, under any circumstances, install faux wood blinds in your home if you have children under the age of 10.  Your blinds will never, under any circumstances, look nice and lovely for as long as life endures.

4)  Yes.  There is a fan in my home.  In January.  When it is freezing.  This is for to cool us down when we are exercising on the elliptical trainer that we pretend to use.

5)  Our dog needs a bath and better breath.

6)  Yours truly still has a very sore neck.  So, what you see there under my head is a heating pad.

And in conclusion, I would like to make something clear.

Yes.

My neck hurts from using the weighted hula hoop.

But, no.

I did not use said hula hoop around my neck.

I have had, like, 20 people ask me this.

I am not that dumb.

I don't know why my neck hurts from the weighted hula hoop.

But, I am considering going to the chiropractor as it has bothered me something fierce for 6 days now.

I am not looking forward to this.

I dislike being touched.

Why Boys need Mothers

Did you know my Handsome Dude can gets his pants on all by himself?

*sigh*

He makes me so proud.

One of these things is not like the other.

Little Dude.

He has been a cranky-pants for photo-taking sessions as of late.

It seems as if he ruins every picture by crying.

Every.

Single.

Time.

So, now, since I know you look forward to them so much, I present you with another song tribute.

Please.

Try and contain your excitement.

Thank you.

***

"One of these things is not like the other"

"One of these things just doesn't belong"

"Can you tell which thing is not like the others?"

"By the time I finish my song"

"Did you guess which thing is not like the others?"

"Did you guess which thing just doesn't belong?"

"If you guessed this one is not like the others:"

"Then you are absolutely . . . right!"

Name that tv show.

The Lumberjack Changes a Diaper.

So . . . last night the Lumberjack was playing around with Handsome Dude.

Usually this involves the Lumberjack taking Handsome Dude by the pants and twirling him all around.

Twirling, spinning, flying . . . you know . . . the usual.

And all this fun pants twirling resulted in a torn diaper for Handsome Dude.

I pointed this out to the Lumberjack who took care of things and put Handsome Dude to bed.

And this is what I discovered this morning when I attempted to tackle Handsome Dude's morning diaper:

Yes.

Perfect.

The Lumberjack got his giant, economy sized roll of blue painter's tape and just taped the diaper.

Interruption:  Can we not all agree that morning diapers are just about the worst thing in the world?

Yes. 

This is, in fact, the same blue tape that he used to wrap the Christmas present.

Perhaps the blue tape should be confiscated from the Lumberjack.

What was my Lumberjack thinking?

This is the man I chose to father my children.

I can only blame myself.

I am linking up at Finer Things today.

I suppose I should just be thankful that I have a husband who loves our kids, plays with them, and yes, even changes diapers!

Weekend Update

Or, since it is Monday, should this be titled "Post weekend Update?"

Hmmmm . . .

Thoughts?

Okie-dokie, artichokies:

Here's some intriguing events that have occurred on the Lumberjack front:

1)  My stairs are now festive, thanks to my friend Kim.

Truly, I did not help one iota.

I swiped my debit card when it came time to pay, and then I attempted to keep the children away from her so she could get her creative juices flowing.

Let's all have a moment of applause for Kim.

2)  You all know that the Tooth Fairy was slacking on Saturday night. 

Well, we had to have a do-over on Sunday night. 

The word is that the Tooth Fairy herself had a splitting headache and was half-asleep when she remembered Miss Daisy Mae's tooth. 

So, she pleaded with her friend, Mr. Tooth Fairy, to take the job. 

Mr. Tooth Fairy came back:  "Are you sure she put her tooth under her pillow?"

Mrs. Tooth Fairy:  "Yes.  She said she was."

Mr. Tooth Fairy leaves again for a few more minutes.

Mr. Tooth Fairy:  "It's not there."

Mrs. Tooth Fairy has to get up and save the day.

Mr. Tooth Fairy follows her into the room and shows her Daisy Mae's pillow.

"See?"

Mrs. Tooth Fairy kindly points out that, while the confusion is understandable, the child sleeping in Daisy Mae's bed is, in fact, Sweet Pea, and that if he actually found the child named Daisy Mae and looked under her actual head, he would find the tooth.

"Wait?  That's not her?"

Seriously, Mr. Tooth Fairy?

The girls just switched beds, that's all.

And that, my gentle readers, is why children need mothers.

3)  I would like everyone to know that my baby, Little Dude, always unzips his jammies like this:

Yeah . . . he's puttin' out the vibe.

4)  We got snow! 

And guess what my Lumberjack did?

He shoveled for me at 6 am before he left for work this morning and he plugged in my rig.

Let's have a moment of applause for the Lumberjack.

5)  We went to the Ugly Sweater Christmas party.

That's Shelly on the left and me on the right.

I have decided that this Ugly Sweater business could get kind of tricky.

If you think my sweater is ugly, my response is:  "Totally!  I know, right?"

If you have one just like it in your closet, my response is: "Yeah, I know!  I couldn't find an ugly one, so I didn't participate."

6)  I outfitted the whole fam in ugly sweaters.  Or, if you like them, perfectly fine sweaters.

Look at the sad state of my home.

Blinds are all messed up and one is even falling out.

Handsome Dude is putting on his sister's shoes.

The only presents under the tree are the ones the girls "wrapped" by putting in brown paper bags.

If you have come to this site for cute home decorating ideas, leave now and don't look back.

7)  Yes. 

I bought the Lumberjack a sweater for the Ugly Sweater Christmas party.

But, apparently, he was just too cool to wear it.

*sigh*

Let's all have a moment to reflect on what could have been.

Thank you.

I need to talk to a supervisor.

I have a complaint.

Do you know what's in that there baggie?

A tooth.

A tooth that was placed under the pillow of one Miss Daisy Mae.

Early this morning, Daisy Mae trudged down the stairs, held up the bag and announced:

"Look what the Tooth Fairy left me.  This is not very fun."

Clearly, the Tooth Fairy did not show up.

Like she has anything else to do.

Don't worry, I think I've got this situation under control.

You see, Daisy Mae put the tooth under her own pillow.

Then, last night, she snuck into Sweet Pea's bed and slept with her.

I simply told Daisy Mae that the Tooth Fairy probably thought she was not home and will come back tomorrow.

See?

I'm quick like that.

Now, I know that in reality, the Tooth Fairy probably stayed up too late to  watch a movie with a tall, dark, and handsome man and forgot all about her toothly duties.

But this simply just cannot happen again.

Thank you.

Christmas Card Picture Drama

Oh, the dreaded Christmas card photo session.

I am convinced that it is impossible to get 4 children to all look decent at the same time for one photo.

One photo.

That's all I ask.

Oooooh.

Little Dude is furious.

Daisy Mae (white jacket) is attempting to help.

He is not having it.

Hmmmm.

Which one of these is not like the other?

Which one of these just isn't the same?

(Name that tv show)

Excuse me, Mr. Lumberjack.

If you are in the picture, we need a Lumberjill.

You know.

To complete the look.

Yes. 

Good idea.

Duck down.

Just hold him up.

Brilliant!

Whoopsies!

Where did Little Dude go?

There he is!

Shoot!

Lumberjack! 

I can see your hands . . .

Um . . .

And got it!

 

Clearly this is just not working out.

Yes!

Let's ask the nice stranger lady to take a picture of all of us.

Wave to the stranger lady, kids.

Now, stranger lady wanted get the creative juices flowin.'

So she suggests we all just look at each other.

Awkward.

Why would we want to do that?

Then she really wants to get creative and have the girls be up on the hill a little more.

Fine.

But then stranger lady makes a huge mistake.

I knew it was a mistake, because I consider myself an informed person.

Allow me to explain:

Last week, I was reading an article on "How to Look Good in Upcoming Holiday Photos."

Some suggestions they offered were:

*Smile naturally

*Turn to the side a bit, to make yourself appear leaner (I would take this one to heart)

* Do not allow the photographer to photograph from below you, as this will make you look larger.  Instead have photographer be slightly above or right in front.

Kind stranger lady must have not read this helpful article.

And when she bent down on one knee to take the picture, I knew that me, and my thighs, were doomed.

One word for you: chin(s)

*Please notice that my thighs are not visible*

*Also, please notice that I am donning my turqoise blue earrings, per usual"

 

We did settle on a fairly decent photo for our annual Christmas cards.

Rest assured, it is not one of them contained in this post.

Boy with the blue earrings

Handsome Dude.

What were you doing in my room?

Did you hide something in your pockets again?

Please stop taking my earrings.

I don't want to wear blue earrings today.

Seriously.

Blue earrings to not match my overly bright red pullover fleece.

Clearly, you do not have a future in fashion, dude.

Then again, neither do I.

But that is besides the point.

Turquoise blue earrings cannot go with bright red.

No.

They simply cannot.

I know you love them.

You pick them out for me every day.

Dude.

I said no.

I am already wearing my super cool, oversized costume earrings that are more neutral in color.

No blue today.

No.

Fine.

I'll wear blue.

Attention all fashion-conscious adults who might see me in the next 2 weeks-2 years (or however long this phase of his lasts):

Please make every attempt to ignore me and my newly-accessorized self.

I fear I will clash every day.

But, you see, I have this boy:

and for now, all he wants is for his mother to wear her blue earrings.

True.

They are cheap earrings.

I bought them from Walmart.

They came in a pack of 3 for $4.

But irregardless of how cheap they are, my boy thinks I am beautiful in them.

And I have a hunch that he won't sneak upstairs, pick out the prettiest blue earrings he can find, and proudly present them to me when he is a teenager.

I doubt that he will continuosly move my hair from my face to check and make sure I am wearing the blue earrings forever.

I am certain he will not always grin and clap when he sees that his earrings of choice are where they rightfully belong.

So for now . . .

I will probably wear my blue earrings.

Every.

Single.

Day.

Oh, Handsome Dude.

Please don't ever grow up.