Wishes

A birthday wish for my brother:

As you join the ranks of the elderly, may you remember that suspenders and comb-overs are choices not pre-requisites.

Happy 40th, Wade!

Leaving His Mark

When a two year old comes running in with these:

You are bound to find a little of this:

And a new addition to your garage floor.

Let's just say that we have learned to barricade our youngest from freshly painted objects.

Growing Up

Lately I've found myself telling my kids to "stop growing!" They aren't listening (big surprise) and each month or so I make another trip to the store to buy another pair of pants for their lengthening limbs. For the most part this "growing up" deal is good. The older my kids get, the closer we are to reaching an understanding in our relationship (or so I tell myself). But every once in a while the growing pains take a little shot at my heart.

Today we dismantled the crib. It was a necessary move (Curtis has taken to standing on the ends of the crib in order to access the "panes" on his shelf). But, as I watched Ian take each part of his hand-crafted crib down and place it aside, I have to admit I suddenly felt laden with emotion.

This is it.

We have officially moved on to another phase. One that doesn't include cribs, burp rags, receiving blankets, baby lotion, etc. etc. And despite the lump in my throat...I'm okay with it.

And, apparently, so is he.

Conflicted

Baby stroller?

Or neighbor's dump truck?

That is the question...

And it provided quite a few moments of debate.

The stroller won out. Partly because it doesn't belong to another family...and partly because he seems to think it's awesome.

What Was That?

I literally just said this:

"DON'T PUT QUESADILLAS ON YOUR FACE! Food doesn't go on our bodies. Don't put food anywhere on your body! Food only goes in your body. Okay?...don't put it on your face."

Going Green

This morning, a sneaky leprechaun managed to turn our milk green and leave little green sprinkles all over our house.

By this evening, we decided to embrace the theme of the day and go green. For dinner.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Oddity

I went to the grocery store today and bought 3 potatoes.

It's an odd number. And when I say "odd" I mean that it's not "even"....and I don't typically purchase produce in uneven numbers. Wait, I should say that I never buy produce in uneven numbers. It's a fact.

But I was feeling a little daring today and decided to go with it. Apparently it's a big enough deal that I'm blogging about it.

That's odd.

(As I re-read this post I realized that I will most likely need to devote some blogging time to explain my odd (as in strange) OCD-like obsession with even numbers. Stay tuned.)

How To Eat Waffles

According to my slightly goofy girls...this is the only way to eat waffles with whipped cream and strawberries.

And More Birthday Stuff

We had a fabulous birthday. We celebrated the day with some of our favorite things.

• A nice lunch at Olive Garden without kids, with friends, and with a gift certificate.
• A visit from a friend with this amazing gift...which will adorn my table for a long time.
• An entertaining movie without kids and without teenagers texting behind us.
• A visit from the UPS man with my incredible birthday present (thanks again, Ian).
• A "mailbox" of handmade paper craft gifts from our adorable little girls.

AND

• A trip with the kidlets to our local Chili's where we feasted on this:

When I say feasted, I mean FEASTED...(it was a good thing we ordered two):

And we only had a few moments of chasing the little beast around a public place.

All in all, it was a great day. I think we only had one birthday wish that didn't come true: We didn't get to sleep in. (Apparently Curtis just couldn't wait to extend birthday wishes and decided 6:00am was the perfect time to do it. What can you say about such a boy? He's cute even when he's driving us crazy.)

Until next year.

It's My Party...and I'll Share If I Want To

When Ian and I first met it was not love at first sight. Don't get me wrong...he was absolutely wonderful in every way, but if you had met him 12 years ago you might have had the same reaction I did: "Why is this teenager talking to me?"

Oh, it's true. He was one young-looking 25 year old. I mean, scary young. No...I mean, did-you-just-get-your-drivers-license young.

I think I might have choked on some Diet Coke when I found out we were the same age. And I mean LITERALLY THE SAME AGE. Same day. Same year. Same-same.

It might have been the same-birthday deal that made me take a second look. (Because if you're going to share a big day like a birthday with someone, it's nice to know what you're dealing with, right?) The more we talked, the more I realized we had tons in common. Not the obvious stuff...he flew airplanes, I worked a desk job. He's a little reserved, I tend to be slightly outspoken. He likes exercise, I like donuts...but underneath it all we found a reflection of my thoughts, hopes, opinions, and dreams. If I was ever one to be cheesy I'd say that I'd found the other half of myself...but since I don't do cheesy, we'll pretend I didn't say it (even if it's true). :)

Marriage to me (and a trio of hair-raising children) has aged him a little since that first day. And we've had the ups and downs that always accompany the joining of two different souls. But tonight, at the closing of the 37th anniversary of our birth days, I just have to say...I'm glad I have such a wonderful man to share it all with.

Happy Birthday, Ian! I love you.

The Queen of Tantrums: Post Edit

I started reading a book today. A parenting book. (I know...I swore I'd never do that. But, as it turns out, I'm not a natural at this whole mom thing. So...I'm reading a book.) And it suddenly occurred to me (because the author specifically pointed it out) that in most of my disciplining attempts I'm really the one throwing the temper tantrum.

It's true.

When things don't go my way I have a tendency to REACT. And YELL. (Yes, people I yell. I'm a champion yeller. If there were Olympic medals given for yelling I'd be a gold-medalist. If some natural disaster struck and disabled all forms of communication I would be able to compensate with my loud, booming voice. Do you see where I'm going with this?)

And sometimes I cry.

Oh, and sometimes I throw things. (Not my children...just things.)

You see? Tantrums.

Post Edit: Lest you think I'm worse off than I am...I'm only throwing things like stuffed animals. Legos. Cheerios. You know...SMALL things.

Irony At It's Best

I was sitting at my computer, minding my own business when...

Ellie burst in the room and, mustering all the indignation a four year-old can possibly summon, exclaimed, "Lindy called me a tattle-teller!"

I couldn't help but laugh.