Tuesday, December 17, 2013

And a partridge in a blog treeeeee.

Well hello theren.

Long time, no see, kiss kiss, smooch smooch. Squeeze. Cough.

I have no strength to segue here, so we'll just jump right in.

Gracie does NOT have my alpha-gallergy (new word. I made it. It's mine.) - or if she did, she outgrew it as I did - that's right, I am back on the cow. Well, the udder. No meat. Just milk. All day. JK, not all day. After 6 months-ish of abstaining from meat and dairy (poultry was ok), I sorta lost a taste for it. I still eat it, but definitely as an accessory, and not as an all day deal. I love my veggies and I'm never giving them back. Anyway, she's fine when I eat dairy, and although she won't take formula, she IS back on the growth chart. The petite-est of petite peas slipped right down the growth chart till she fell off, then she jumped back on after I increased my calories roughly threefold last month. So now, I look like a house, and she's all the way back up in the 3rd percentile. Golf clap, Grace. Persnickety habits aside, she is the absolute sweetest child. She is so gentle, so sweet, so mild, so observant, so loving and lovable...I am so in love, can you tell? She also happens to have the world's best older brother, except when he's yanking her legs or clamping her ribs with his toy pliers.

We moved into our first home. It was a very difficult transition for me, simply due to the difficulties of packing and moving with a 3 month old and almost 3 year old with a husband in grad school while he renovates the entire new place. It's over. It's too recent to revisit. Just know, we moved into a house that had to be stripped to the subfloor (and even that had to go) because the previous tenants had piles and piles of dog feces EVERYWHERE. And urine soaked into subfloors and walls. And awful things. And now it's lovely, and done, and I'm thankful to be in. But I still get tired thinking about it.

I'm tired a lot. I have a 3 year old and a 6 month old, soooo...I think it's yes. I've had Phillippians 2:14 in my brain for a few days, specifically the not-complaining part, so I've been counting my blessings like Bing Crosby said.

In a few short weeks (like, two), I'll be heading back to Ye Olde Alma Mater; BCC. I took a year (oops) off to have Gracie, and although I would TRULY and sincerely love nothing more than to stay home with my kinderlings all day and continue to have a new one every few years (Lord willing, that latter part will still happen), it looks like I'll need to go back to work for the time being. Rather than continue to get short term jobs, I figure if I have to be away from my kittens, it better be doing something I love. So, nursing school it is. I love people. I love science. I love biology. I love to figure out puzzles. That last part probably fits better with diagnostics rather than nursing, but let's see what happens. I figure I can get my RN, work suuuuper part time (1-2 shifts/week) while finishing my BSN online, and then take it from there. I'm nervous, but very excited. Mostly excited. I talked to Korban today about it and he said "It's good!", so, that's encouraging. My husband is the most supportive man walking around on the Earth's crust, so that makes it a lot easier. He always believes in me. He always thinks I can do more than I think I can (he's been pushing med school for years). He never thinks our children would suffer (that is my top and single concern with returning to work). He always goes the extra mile and is such a good father. He makes me think I can go to school, work, and be a good mother. I am so very blessed to have him.

God has been so generous to us. We have seen prayers for our friends answered in miraculous ways. We have a beautiful home. We have loving family. We have our health, our faculties, beds to sleep in, food in the fridge, and meaningful work. Above all, we have a God Who loves us, a living Savior who never forsakes us, and the Holy Ghost abiding in us. It truly is a wonderful life.


"14 Do everything without complaining and arguing, 15 so that no one can criticize you. Live clean, innocent lives as children of God, shining like bright lights in a world full of crooked and perverse people. 16 Hold firmly to the word of life; then, on the day of Christ’s return, I will be proud that I did not run the race in vain and that my work was not useless." 

Friday, October 18, 2013

Write down ALL THE NEWS!

There is so much to catch up on, it just ain't happenin' right now. But, for quicksie's sakes:

1. My daughter is pretending to have caught my alpha-gal allergy in utero. She hates when I have dairy. She hates when she has dairy (which happened in all of two bottles that I tried to introduce since my stupid tick diet has her hanging around the 3rd percentile in height and weight. Awesome job at being HORRIBLE, tick.) I say pretending because if I even let myself think for 14 seconds that she has it, I'll cry ALL THE TEARS. Or at least two. Because if you know me (and you don't, but howdy, interwebs stranger!), you know me and soy are anti-BFF's. So I don't want it coming near my daughter. So that limits her protein to about four things. Sigh. No time for this.

2. We're moving. (We moved?) A mile up the road. TO OUR FIRST HOUSE! We're moving, to our first house, with our first mortgage, with an (almost) 3 year old and a 4 month old. With major dietary changed from food allergies. Do you know what my house looks like right now? Like someone came by and shook it. It's why I'm avoiding finishing packing. So here's the deal - next time I think of something like this, do me the sweetest favor and punch me right in the face.

3. I might have to start working. I. can't. even. handle. the. thought. I LOVE staying home, I love being a SAHM and homemaker and if I even think about it for three seconds, I pout and tear up. I can't talk about it right now.

But I had those three big things hanging around my bwain, and I needed to write them down so I could write them out at a later el-date-o. As always -

God is ever present. He is so near to us, always. He is GOOD and faithful to work all things for good. I trust Him. I love the safety and comfort of His sovereignty. And that makes all of the above okay :)

Love,
The Silver Fox (I pulled out a grey hair this morning. I'm not 30 yet.)

Friday, August 16, 2013

I spit tea out of my nose writing this post.

You may or may not have noticed (I'm flattering myself here, but leaning towards the may-not) that my blog was down for a few days - I'm working on a new host and site design, while working on a "brand identity" that works for selling any textiles IRL or on Etsy, and still works as a blog name. Because you asked :)

Let me take you on a quick trip down immunology lane. (Very quick, and very ignorantly. I haven't come close to finishing my Biology degree, but I love to read, and if I ever had to research anything just for fun, it'd be immunology. Immunology, and theology.) So let's start with this:

Darn. Every. Tick. To. HADES.

Take all these guys:

And give them to this guy:



And then I'll be all: 


IT'S MY BIRTHDAY.

Honestly, I laughed so hard at the :16 mark, I spit my tea out of my nose AND EYEBALLS. Truly. Is there anything funnier than Kronk?

Alright, to be fair, I do believe that in God's sovereignty, there are aspects of Creation we will just never understand. Like mosquitoes. I wish birds would just eat flowers instead of mosquitoes, but they don't. So we have mosquitoes. Ticks are another mystery to me. Maybe someone can comment with a purpose for ticks, because other than making me so ma-yad, I can't think of any. I digress. Let me sing you the song of my personhood:
A few weeks ago (12 weeks, isn't that cray!?), while I was enjoying my 39th week of pregnancy, I took my eldest peanut to one of my favorite happy-places, Johnson's Farm. I sat under zero trees, walked through zero woods, and watched my kid have a blast on the plastic splash-pad. Upon returning home, I felt a bug bite me behind the knee. I searched for the offender, couldn't see anything, and went on my way. Five minutes later, I felt another bite an inch over from the first one, and while scratching, I found what felt like a teeny tiny scab. This scab would not come off, no matter how hard I scratched, so I took a closer look, which was very difficult considering it was behind my knee. I peeled the sucker off and to my dismay, it was hanging onto me by a "hook". A blasted tick fang hook. This tick was smaller than the tip of a sliver of thumbnail, so I knew it was a larvae. It was not black, so I knew it wasn't a deer tick. What larval ticks bite? Lone. Star. Mother. Farming. Ticks.
The Lone Star Tick is distinguished amongst its nasty deer-loving peers in that it does not cause Lyme's Disease, although it can give you STARI, which still sucks.
You' nasty, tick.
No. This dastardly fiend has been giving folks above and below the Mason-Dixon line a run for their BBQ-loving money by causing an allergy to Galactose-alpha-1,3-galactose, otherwise known as Alpha-Gal. This is a sugar (not a protein, as is the case in most allergies) found in the breakdown of meat. This manifests itself in fun forms such as anaphylaxis or generalized GI upset, not in the usual 2-45 minute timeframe after ingestion, but 3-6 hours later, so as to thoroughly confuse you as to what on earth you are allergic to. I had originally read about this last summer, in this CNN article, and then promptly forgot about it.
When, shortly after birth, I began to notice a reaction anytime after eating red meat, that stupid article was the first thing that flashed to my mind. I ignored my symptoms for a few weeks, then scheduled an appointment with my allergist so as to avoid dying or something less inconvenient. We did the skin tests, which showed a mild allergy to beef, pork, and lamb, along with my usual sunflower seed welt as big as my head, and my fall pollen buddies. He did a blood test to see what my IgE count would be; normal levels for Alpha-Gal are anything < 0.3, or undetectable. Mine came back at a 7.0. Well, nuts.


This means for the near future, all beef, pork, lamb, and their associated dairy products are out. The meat I can handle, but dairy? That one takes the cake (ba dum dum!). Do you know how hard it is to find anything not prepared by your own hands without some form of dairy in it? Sidenote, maybe that's why God gave me a love of cooking and baking some years ago, to prep me for the time when I'd have to cook my own food. Maybe!
Anyway, I shed exactly two tears over this, then brushed my shoulders off because I have no time to feel sorry for my sweet-blooded self, and there are plenty of folks in worse positions. And thank God for poultry, because those hens are quickly becoming my BFFs for life. There is a glass of whole milk waiting for me at the end of the tunnel hopefully - one of my doc's patients with an IgE of 12.0 outgrew her allergy after 6 months of total abstinence from meats and dairy. When she retested, her levels came back undetectable and she now enjoys normal food on the reg. That original CNN article gave a timeline of 3-5 years, so I'm taking this 6 months example in faith and counting down the days like it's Christmas time. Except that instead of snow, I'll be rolling in piles of Locatelli.
And that's more than you ever wanted to know about the tick that bit my knee. 

Until next time,
Your favorite tale-teller.

 

Friday, August 2, 2013

Full circle.

This day. It's not even a bad day!! Sing it, this is the day, this is the day that The Lord has made (that The Lord has made).. It's like in high school, when you had four things go wrong, and all of a sudden EVERYTHING IS WORSE THAN ALEXANDER AND HIS NO GOOD VERY BAD TERRIBLE DAY. Sometimes that happens in my brain :) 

Last night some careless driver (I'm not judging, it's what her ticket says.) plowed into my 2 year old's corner of the car while my hubby was driving home. Miraculously, they're both fine. Korban had a little seatbelt rash, but otherwise was his jovial self. ThankYousomuchLordseriouslyiamsothankful. 

After an adventure to the ER, Korb got to bed at the ripe time of 10pm. He woke up before 7, clearly with enough rest for a toddler. Just kidding. He's exhausted. Did I mention he tried to skip his nap yet? 

In all his sunshiny exuberance which I truly do adore and appreciate and find adorable(!!!!! Really !!!!!) he managed to wake up Grace this morning, way before she had finished getting her beauty rest. As a consolation prize, he won approximately 57 minutes of screaming from her. Yaaaay. 

She managed to drift off to sleep just in time for us to go grocery shopping. Korb woke her up again. 

Thinking she'd fall asleep in the car, we filled up her boobie tank, and hauled off to Wegman's (Trader Joe's, why you no stock dill?). Grace cried the whole time. It may have been because when she'd finally drift off to sleep, someone short and sweet would loudly talk about how Grace is sleeping. 

I cried in the car. 

We turned around en route to Wegman's to go to Shoprite instead because I thought maybe some more drive time would help her sleep. Lulz. 

She fell asleep in the parking lot of Shoprite. 

We went inside, and she slept until it was time to checkout, when she decided to bless everyone with an especially acoustic rendering of how a two month old's lungs function. 

I picked her up to swing her 63lb carseat while pushing Korb in the cart with the other hand. She stopped crying :)

We get to the pharmacy to pick up my meat-hating epi pen (future post pending) and even though I have a coup for $100 off, it still costs me $34.00. My eyes welled up with tears and I cried in the pharmacy line over $34.00. 

It's not really the $34. It's the sleeps, I think. And the car. And my husbands paycheck being short 1/5 of our income for the rest of the summer. And the sleep stealing my son does to my daughter. And the attention stealing my daughter does to my son. And the mommy guilt over both of those things I can't control. 

We went home. I picked up exhausted Grace, fed my toddler, and put him down to nap. Grace fell asleep on the boob. I put her down to attack LAUNDRY MOUNTAIN. My sweet princess woke up because her bassinet mattress must have been hiding a pea under it. I picked her back up because I truly feel bad for her lack of sleep. She fell asleep on the other boob. 

The laundry is sitting wet in the washer, and right now every spore of mildew in the house is making a closed group on Facebook to discuss when to invade the clothes, and how many washes it will take to make them leave. 

I have 30 mins till Korb wakes up. My options are:

- Sleep with Grace. 

- Put Grace down to switch the laundry, which risks her waking up and taking 30 mins to put down again, just in time for my happy boy to possibly awaken her. 

- Put Grace down to prep dinner. See above risks. 

- Have 30 mins of Bible time, risking the laundry getting smelly, but ensuring rest for my daughter and I. 

- Sleep with Grace. 

Basically...am I doing this wrong? 

Joking aside, I am thankful for perspective. It's not even a bad day. Wanna know who has bad days sometimes and always manages to keep a great attitude? Canon Andrew White, Vicar Of Baghdad. The man is incredible, and so humble, and so sweet, and like a very tall teddy bear in person. He spoke at our previous church on reconciliation one time and it has never left my heart. Look him up on facebook or the web sometime, then come punch me in the face for whining. 

Honestly, I have nothing to complain about and everything to be thankful for. It's just hard sometimes, having a flesh :). I've heard the days are long but the years are short. 

We got approved for a house, and thankfully the last three paychecks got seen for our mortgage before this lessened one showed in our bank account. Thank You Lord. 

Through a serious of honestly, miraculous events, our lease is being taken over with no gap in renter, so no fee for us breaking contract 8 months early. Thank You Lord.

My husband doesn't have to leave me home for a week with a toddler and 8 week old to work in Boston; I prayed, and God answered, and the work can be completed in Philly. Thanks, God. 

My toddler didn't die in a car accident last night, and I wasn't widowed. Thank You, Lord.

I live in a country where my two month old can be immunized against polio, tetanus, diphtheria, pertussis, and rotavirus for very low cost, possibly preventing the unthinkable. Thank You, God.

I have a car so I can drive to the grocery store, and I have money that my able bodied, healthy husband has worked to earn to buy food, and I am of sound mind and health to prepare it and put it on the table. Thank You, Lord. 

I have a table, and chairs, and floors covered in toys. I do not live under a tarp. Thank You, God. 

No one tried to blow up my condo this morning, and artillery shells don't fill the air. Thank You, Lord. 

I get to go to Church on Sunday, and I won't be imprisoned for it and my pastor won't be murdered for preaching the Gospel. I get to openly confess my faith and worship my Savior without fear of repercussion. Thank You God. 

I have friends, and family, who love me unconditionally and offer support, because God sets the lonely in families. Thank You, Jesus.  

Off to read the Bible now. 
Love,
Chelsea

"God places the lonely in families; he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy. But he makes the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land."(Psalms 68:6 NLT)

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

What SAHMs do


Ok. Yes there is housework, and dishes, and meal prep, and oh so many butts to wipe, and laundry, and general housewiferymothery things... But the reason you'll never hear me play the stay at home martyr card is because of this: 


So much of this :) This was our whole day: party in the park with a dear friend and her toddler while Gracie slept on my chest. Thank You, Lord, for the gift of motherhood. 

Somewhat related, I actually asked my husband if I could go back to work super part time, just one or two nights a week to help pay for Korb's preschool this fall. The very unexpected answer: no. A resounding no. After a year off the books, and a year of routine and dinner (mostly) ready when he gets home, and housework (sometimes) getting done, and my stress level (almost always) at an blissfully small level (which happens to affect the entire household)...he said no, thank you. 

Well. 

Don't gotta tell me twice :)

Love,
The thankful homemaker. 

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Eureka, It's Urea!


After weeks of cajoling, threats of consequenes, nagging, and otherwise momfailing literally by the books (don't bribe, don't use consequences, don't force them, don't get upset, DONT BE A HUMAN BEING PLEASE BE A ROBOT MOM), Korb went PEEPEE ON THE POTTY last week. Once. It was a miracle. A real one, in our house. We'd had a long day, and I thought I'd ask God for a little help. I prayed that He'd help Korb use the potty. Then he did. It was a miracle.

Fast forward to this week. There were days of battling of the wills. One step forward, fourteen leaps back. I pictured my son graduating from university still in depends. Visions of cowpies plopped across my living room floor danced in my head. I was resigned to letting him just work it out with his kindergarten teacher. And then I remembered! Last week, I asked Jesus for help for the most mundane, ridiculous thing in the world. Couldn't hurt to try again. I asked Korb to use the potty. He used all his decibels to politely decline.

I asked the Lord for help.

Korb nicely informed us he had to go potty.

And he went.

Fluke? ME THINKS NOT. He went like, eight times! Then had an accident. Then I prayed again. Then he went potty again. Scoff all ye will, scoffers of the interwebs, this potty train is choochooing right outta the station, with Help from on high at the helm. I am now that girl that says "God helped me potty train my kid."


And dang proud of it.
Hallelujah.

Love,
The Church Lady


Thursday, July 18, 2013

7 Quick Takes

Because I can.

Actually, I hope I can. Are there rules to linking up? I'm doing it anyway. Linking up with the lovely Conversion Diary. (Posting early because I'm tired and breastfeeding and never free during the day and I CAN)



1. Doctor Who. I cannot believe it took me so long to give into my husband's nagging (encouraging?) to watch this dang show (NuWho, not the "classics"). I am and always will be a Trekkie, just like Spock will always be Jim's friend...but I'm pretty sure once you meet The Doctor, sick bay just doesn't cut it, if you're picking up what I'm putting down. I. am. hooked.



2. We just got central air after three weeks without it. In July. With a newborn. Gracie is seven weeks tomorrow (and just slept six hours, thank You Jesus!), and if you had to guess on a scale from one to NEVER how much she's loved nursing off a 98 degree mom in a 98 degree house for what seems like 98 billion days, if you guessed NEVER you'd be right. Thankfully, this girl is so blessed sweet, she didn't fuss much about it. So, thank You Lord.

3. Speaking of temperaments in children. Let me preface this with the obvious fact that I am head over heels in love with my child(ren, but we're sticking to the older one here). I still like to smell his sweet baby breath when I get a bedtime snuggle with him (TMI? TMtoughcookies). I try to kiss and hug him so much that he feels entirely comfortable refusing 99% of them because he knows there's no affection shortage in the 5 or 10 day upcoming forecast. Hopefully, this kid is very secure in his parent's love. All that to say, either I was waaaay off about not having a strong willed first child, or maybe he just has a sore bottom from being knocked off the only-child throne, or maybe it's because he's two and a half years old and the "terrible two's" are, in fact, a thing....but these last few weeks have had me in legit tears, multiple times a day, and I do not have PPD. I have feeling-like-a-failmom-eritis. It sucks. My sweet and sensitive boy has become way too comfortable screaming "NO" to my husband and I, ignoring and blatantly defying instruction, shrieking all the live long day, and generally not listening to us. Because I love him, (and because, honestly, it infuriates me), we have to discipline him (warning -> timeout -> spanking, rinse, repeat till you're ready to put your head through the flipping patio door) and this makes for a very unhappy toddler. Which leads to more defiance. Which leads to more consequences. And then it's tears alllllllll around. At the end of the day, I JUST want my kid to listen, so that it will go well with him. To love and obey God, to love and obey his parents, and honestly, it would be nice to get a snuggle or smile or any semblance that he isn't mad at me forever. I think that right there is my problem, wanting my kid to like me and not be mad at me, but this is becoming a not quick take.

4. Crockpots. I have been trying to get BBQ pulled chicken on the table for two weeks now because my entire day is spent with a baby in arms or babe in sling which means my cooking skills have disintegrated to something very sad, which is sad enough without Trader Joe's selling me stinky chicken. For real. If I spend eight to thirteen dollars on one more pack of organic chicken breasts that look fine but knock me out with a rotten egg smell upon opening, I'm going to flip. Do they have any idea how near impossible it is to get a newborn and toddler through a shopping trip? Both times I've done it, I've sworn it was my last. AINT NOBODY GOT TIME FOR REFUNDS, JOE.

5. On the aforementioned trip to Trader Joe's, my sweet boy kept tearing all the price tags and laminate signs off the produce and shelves and cheese. He loves the cheese. I love my kid. And yet...After numerous directives and warnings that another removal of a sign would result in a handslap or spank in the bathroom, he waddled up to the canteloupes, grabbed the sign, and ripped it off.

See what I did there? Replaced The Captain with The Doctor? For reals, I am hooked.
I calmly grabbed his hand, and led (dragged) him to the bathroom, where I intended to explain to him why he needed a swat, why his actions had consequences, blah blah. Before I could get there, he managed to pinch his finger between the cart and the wall and howled so loud I swear people in the parking lot heard. Needless to say, he did not get a spanking, but I did get the benefit of the entire store thinking I was a horrid mom for supposedly beating her child.

6. Because I can't have all bad stories about my favorite stomping ground, the Joe, if you haven't had their Tuscan Melon, you should hop, skip, and jump your way to your local TJ's and buy four of them. Buy four, stick three in your fridge, and one in your pie hole, because these things are THE epitome of summer. Best melon you'll ever have, pinky promise. 

7. I miss church. By the time Grace gets her vax's at the end of this month and we return asap, it'll have been two and a half months that I've been gone. That's almost a quarter of the year. I miss church. I need it, just like the Bible says I do. I miss the gathering of the brethren. The sweet refreshment in my Spirit that comes form hearing the Gospel - that God loves us, sent His Son to die for our sin while we were still His enemies, that we could be forgiven and reconciled to Him now, and in the life beyond - that before I get up and fail for the first or fiftieth time that day, that it's been bought and paid for at the Cross and His mercies are new every morning, and I can boldly approach His throne of Grace - I need to hear the Gospel preached. Every day. I need to worship the Creator of heaven and earth, my Creator, the same One who made toddlers and homes and the hearts of men and moms alike. I need communion with Him, I need fellowship with my brothers and sisters, I need the laughs, the sincere division of soul and spirit, heart and flesh, bone and marrow that hearing the Word incurs. All of it. I miss church, and am I the only person that follows the 8-week-no-enclosed-crowds rule to the letter? If so, I'll be pissed and I'm bringing my next one to church a lot sooner. Probably. We all know I get a little hermity after a new babe. My most recent of which is currently scooching awake for a boob. Which means it's back to number 1 - catching up with another episode of Doctor Who :)

If you've stuck along for all of these, good for you, Glenn Coco!


Lots and lots of love, and hugs, and a bleary eyed stare,
Chels


The enemy of good.

An old friend (shoutout, Pastor Mike!) used to tell my husband all the time "Don't let perfect become the enemy of good." I don't know why it took so many years to click, but I do this all the time; I don't write a post because it's not prepared perfectly. I don't sell anything on my etsy shop because it's not made, or shot, or lit, or priced, or described perfectly. I haven't finished the kids' scrapbooks because they're not laid out perfectly, or I have two thousand photos to pick from, and I want to pick the perfect one. I don't start cleaning the house if I can't finish the whole thing. I don't like to start projects unless I can sew them in one sitting. I bite off more than I can chew, then quit when it gets tough. It's annoying and I don't wanna do it anymore.

So, get ready for less than stellar posts, half finished thoughts, and sometimes mundane observations about the everyday (this post, for starters!). It's my blog and I can write what I want, and I'm not getting graded for it. I'm just going to do it. I'm going to try to stock my Etsy with one thing, and do that as well as I can with two kids two and under. On that note, Gracie is up and snorting, so it's milk truck time!

Love,
Me




Saturday, March 23, 2013

30 Weeks

Baby Gracie is 30 weeks baked today. I can tell not by the days on the calendar, but by the elbows jutting out of my thorax and the kickies on me' bladder that make me pee in the middle of whatever I'm doing, and the karate chops to the spleen and the big long yawny tumble rolls that turn my belly from round to pentagon-shaped. I think it's fun though :) Except the peeing. Peeing away from a potty is never fun.

While I'm grossing you out, is it REALLY too much to ask to brush one's teeth without throwing up in the sink? Can I tell you how many toothbrushes I've puked on and had to toss in the last two months? Three. Those are the ones I couldn't move out of the way in enough time to dodge the grossness. Do any other pregnant mamas puke when they brush their teeth? You know what, don't answer unless you do, or you'll make me self-conscious. Just kidding. I just told you about my puke's and pee's.

In "my son thinks we're a bit dim in the bulb department" news, our two year old has gotten miiiiighty crafty and creative about delaying his bedtime routine. From "mommy sing you a song...one more song" with specific requests like I'm a live-DJ (Edelweiss and Great is Thy Faithfulness are big hits), to the ever-popular "Need a drink? You're (read: I'm) thirsty!", Korb has finessed himself at least thirty minutes of avoidance each night lately. Last week took the cake though. After his second (really) juicebox in like, 30 minutes, he starts with the dehydration fakeification.

"Want juice? Daddy want get you juice?"
Deej: "You can get it, honey, it's right next to you."
Korban stands, lifts the juice, and exclaims in all sincerity, "It's too heavy!!"
We bust out laughing and he wins for most creative attempt at deception.

Is your inanity quotient filled for the day? If so, I've done my part.

Bless your hearts,
So fresh and so clean-clean.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Dinosaurs.


Usually, I can only keep one "big" room of my house clean at a time. Today, I tackled the kitchen and dining room hutch. 


Don't be fooled. Turn around. 


My living room looks like this LITERALLY every day. It matters not if I have just swept and mopped, organized and hid and thrown out 500 toys, it just is what it is, I have a boy and he is ALL boy. 



If you look closely from here, you can see the clean dining room though!


You may have to squint. 


You know what? 
I blame these guys.



Love, Mess Maker Deluxe

Wednesday, January 9, 2013