The devil wears a Kroger manager's special sticker

Yes.  Yes, he does.  Some weeks, these stickers are budget savers.  My eyes are trained to spot these suckers from at least 50 yards away.  I really do love a good manager's special.

So, imagine my elation when I spotted one in the cooler at the bakery.  And no, it wasn't on one of those awful black forest cakes (sorry if you like those...but gah-ross).  Nuh uh.  This sticker was on the holy grail of desserts.

Cheese. Cake.

$5.99 for a little circular nugget of happiness.  I nabbed it and could not wait till the kiddos were out for the night.  I had a date with the cheese cake.

I pulled it out of the fridge, ready to cut myself a nice, healthy slice (ha!), but what catches my eye but the stinkin' nutritional facts label.  Gag.  Seriously.  Gag me.  29 grams of fat for 1/8th of the cake!?!?

I'm sure that most folks are already aware of this egregious number, but I don't usually buy a whole pre-made cheesecake.  My mother-in-law occasionally supplies me with a luscious homemade, un-labeled cake, or I usually order it in a restaurant...where it is served in gloriously over-sized portions, and is, once again, un-labeled.

I cut my slice, slowly devoured it, and fought the temptation to up my 1/8th serving to 1/4.  I triumphed.   This time.

Here's a quick glimpse into my kiddos' lives over the last few days.

Cade sprayed about .7 of an ounce of Lacoste cologne on his shirt the other night while he was supposed to be brushing his teeth.  Doesn't sound like much cologne?  Just check out how many ounces are in your bottle.  It's a lot.  I've sent this pj top through the wash twice.  It'll still knock you out if you get within 5 feet of it.

Eve has worn out the spot of carpet next to the wall which is her "time out" spot.  The terrible twos have hit.  Hard.  Tonight, in the few minutes it took me to change out the clothes from washer to dryer in the laundry room which is directly across the hall from the bathroom, she managed to dump an inch of water on the floor.  Literally, an inch.

It makes me eager to have a little Post-it baby (not sure where I heard this term, but I'm adopting it) for a while.  Stick em' somewhere and they stay.  They don't douse themselves with cologne or rot the subfloor with bath water.  Maybe little Trek will rub off on his older siblings a bit.  Unlikely, but a gal can hope.

Now, I'm about to indulge a little more (as if a 29 grams of fat slice of heaven weren't enough) with a $5 bottle of nail polish and an episode or 3 of New Girl on Hulu : )

My kids are too....

Smart. Loud. Funny. Whiney. Strong-willed.

Take your pick.  I'm a little skeered of what numero tres is going to be like.

First of all, we have Cade. Cade will correct you if you use "good" instead of "well" and "right" instead of "correct".  He doesn't hesitate one bit to let you know that you are failing at something because "maybe it's a little too difficult for you, and you just need a lot more practice."  Umm.  Yah.  He desperately longs to be 6 years old because "all kinds of cool stuff" happens when you are six.  In his head, he will be able to ride with only a seat belt, he will be able to ride a school bus, and he will make 400 hundred dollars a day when he reaches the ripe old age of six.  Where does this come from?  I'm 27 and I've yet to concoct a legal way to make 400 dollars a day.

Then there's the new and ehhhh....improved 2 year old Eve.  Granted,  she is 100% potty trained--Day and night.  No dipes and virtually no accidents.  Yes, I do hear the hallelujah chorus in my head every time I think about it--but good night has she thrown us for a loop lately.  She can go from helpful to helpless in the blink of an eye.  One minute she's belly laughing, and the next she's fuming and trying to hit you.  You'd think she was the pregnant one.  Grrrr...

Her saving grace here lately has been her humor.  For instance, after lunch today, she stated that she was going to sit on the table.  Right before she plopped her rump on the table top, I said "Big girls don't sit on top of the table."  She looked at me for a few seconds and busted out laughing.  "Mommy, you said boogers don't sit on the table!"  Now, I know she heard me perfectly.  So, in those five seconds of silence after my statement, she concocted something funny in her head that would make me totally forget the fact that she was sitting on the table for the 100th time this week.  Instead, I'm now wondering how on earth she came up with that so fast.

This is why I fear #3 sometimes.  At the end of almost every day, I feel outsmarted.

Time flies

Blush...gasp

Almost 6 months since my last post.  Really?!?

I won't EVEN try to fill in all the blanks.  I'll just hit the really high and really low notes : )


First of all...

Whaaaaat?  Yep, if you just stalk my life in blogger world, you didn't know this.  I am, indeed, knocked up.  No worries.  The "baby daddy" is my boyfriend, who also happens to be my husband.  Oh, and this is definitely one of the high notes from the last few months : )  I'm 18 weeks, and the kiddos go with us in a little over a week to find out what #3 is.  I say boy, Cade says girl, Eve swears it's a baby : )

Yes.  Tis true.  Baby girl turned 2.  She also told her brother to shut up, went out of state without mommy for three nights, and has decided to quit diapers cold turkey.  God knew I needed another little one because this one is growing up too stinkin' fast.  To celebrate her big day, I made her pink buttermilk biscuits.  Her birthday actually fell on the day of the big Mario and Princess soiree she and Cade shared at a local park.  This was the first party we've had that wasn't "family only."  We asked that no gifts be brought to the party.  Best. Decision. Ever.  No crying kids.  No arguing over the actual ownership of the toys.  No chasing tissue paper around the playground when the 30 mph winds kicked up.  It was lovely.  Lots of Cade's friends showed, and my cake remained in one piece.  

I voiced this plea on Facebook, but I want to repeat it on here.  Maybe somebody will save a sista next year.  If I ever breath a word about making a fondant covered cake again, just slap me.  Hard.  This was the crumbliest fondant known to man.  I divided and dyed into 10 different colors and devoted about 6 hours to it.  I would blame this insanity on hormones or something crazy like that, but let's get real.  My pregnant body was pleading for me to sleep....not sculpt Princess Peach's head at 1 a.m.

Yeah...so I started this blog post about a month ago, and I'm just now wrapping it up to post. Sad.  I know.  I'm now 22 weeks pregnant, and it's a BOY!  Mr. Trek Archer Slay will be here before we know it. Cade has finally gotten out of the denial stage.  He wanted a girl.  Some kinda bad.  He even felt the need to tell the sonographer "Well, he won't be as big as me when he comes out."  Lawdy, let's hope not.  I think he's finally wrapped his head around the fact that he will always be older and bigger than his brother.  Now, if he can just get over the fact that his name is Trek and not Cade, we'll be ok : )

I would just keep blabbing into the next topic, but I should probably cut this one off right here and just start a new one.  Maybe it'll be published before New Year's.  Maybe.

Ain't that a kick in the head?

No, I'm not talking about love.  I literally feel like I've been kicked in the head.  Repeatedly.  With a pointed, steel-toed boot.  But I haven't been kicked.  In fact, I've barely been touched lately because it hurts too bad.  No, what I have is shingles.

No offense, but I totally thought shingles was something only old people got.  On top of that, I thought they were just being whiny babies about the pain.  Well, it turns out a 27 year old CAN get it, and if anything, they down-played the pain.  It hurts.  It hurts like nobody's business.  Now, I'm wishing it WAS an ear infection (what I thought it was when I went to the doc yesterday).

Blogging should be the last thing on my mind right now, but seeing how my contact with the world will be pretty limited for a while, I'm probably going to end up blogging more than usual.  Plus, I'm suuuuper sleepy from my herpes meds (just sounds funny to me), and I have a boy who is fighting sleep some kinda hard. My mom volunteered to take Eve off of my hands for the night, so he's sleeping in their room solo...something I don't think he's ever done.  He's usually the one jetting off to greemaw's every chance he gets, but alas, he has a date with the dentist tomorrow, so he had to sit this one out.  When I just tucked him back in for the 4th time, he told me that he can't sleep without his sister.  Sweet.

Speaking of sweet, my little man is already learning the art of wooing.  While he was running through his nighttime hygiene routine, he decided he'd like to weigh himself.  After he weighed himself 10 times, he decided it was mommy's turn.  He excitedly asked how much I weigh, and I answered him by telling him "too much!"  He thought about it for a few minutes, then he said "Mommy, you don't weigh too much.  You are juuuuust fine."

Well, I guess I'm off to attempt to wash all this horrid product out of my hair.  I had no idea when I got ready this morning that mousse was a no no.  After researching for a bit, I've learned that it can actually increase irritation on my poor, diseased scalp and cause my hair follicles to die.  WHAAAT?!?  I sooo do not plan on losing half of my hair at this ripe old age, so I'm about the wash like nobody's business...or until I feel like fire is flowing through my veins.  Oh, and even lukewarm water feels like molten lava on my scalp, the inside of my right arm from wrist to elbow, and the last two fingers on my right hand, so this should be interesting.

Yeah...this is some pure craziness.  Hoping for a speedy recovery or for some amazing pain meds to show up on my doorstep : )

3 going on 16

I would've said 3 going on 30, but a 30 year old would have the sense not to say this to his momma : O

Just a tiny snippit of our day...it's been a doosie.

Me-"Cade, Eve is getting a treat because she's done such a great job eating.  If you want one, you need to eat some more of your dinner.  You have to make that choice."

Cade- "I'm not gonna eat anymore.  I don't want a treat."

5 minutes later

Cade-"Mom, I think I deserve my treat now."

Me- "No, Cade.  You did not eat your supper, and it's not for you to decide whether or not you get the treat.  That's mommy's job."

Cade- "But it's not your job.  You said I hab to make a choice.  I made a choice not to eat my supper.  Now, I want to make the choice to get a cookie.  I decided that's my choice.  See, that's how I do myyyyy job mom.  It's not yooouuur job.  I make bacisions (decisions)."

Ummm yeah.

Pickin' and choosin'

As I was sitting across from the "napping" kids' room, working on printing out some coupons, I heard the click of the door.  Cade was up.  Well, I guess he was never technically down, but oh well.  I just dropped my hubs off at the airport for a 4 day business trip, so I'm pacing myself and choosing my battles wisely.  Late afternoon nap is most definitely not one of them.  Early bedtime, however, will be : )

Anywho, Mr. Mischief peeks around my door frame with a chesire cat grin on his face and announces he's awake.  "I've been reading my bible in my bed, mom.  I read some great stories.  I read bout the prodigal son (he even got the d and g in the right order...I know a handful of adults who can't even to that)," he says.  All the while, he is inching into what space is left behind me in the chair and choking..err..hugging me from behind.  

After inspecting his bed, a bible has in fact materialized and is hiding beneath his sheet.  I also discovered that his sister, who was in deep slumber only 30 minutes ago, is now bouncing up and down in her crib.  Hmmm...no idea how that happened.  

So, you see why I'm choosing my battles carefully these days.  With his charm and his daddy's eyes, I'm afraid I may engage in battle and lose to my little guy : )  If ditching nap time to read his bible is his worst offense over the next few days, I think we just might make it.

P.S.  Those women who always talk about how much easier it is to drop their husband off at the airport with each business trip...you lie.  Not nice.  Not nice, at all.

Scrugglin

Tag team back again...

Yeah.  You can thank me later for getting some good ole-school "Whoomp there it is" in your noggin.  Bring back memories?  Yeah, it takes me for a fun jog down memory lane, too.  Man, I thought I was some kinda cool with my dolla stoe boom box and my cassette single of this song.  Fun times.  But this is soooo not where I was going with the whole "tag team" bit.

Meet the new tag team in town.

Cute, huh?  Yeah, when they're SLEEPING!  Well, they usually play pretty well together after their naps, so I'll count that as a cute time, too.

Oh.  My.  Stars.  These two have given me a run for my money over the past few days.  In the last week, there's been fever, boulders disguised as teeth trying to make their way through Fancy's gums, overflowance of dipes, sinus infections, antibiotics (which cause an overflowance from the one not in a dipe...gahross), and att-i-tude in abundance.  Oh, did I mention the attitude?

Lawsy mercy, I thought I'd reached my end last night.  I'm pretty sure Brandon was bracing himself for an explosion or an attempt to fly the coup last night.  Love that man.  Without his sanity, I'm pretty sure I'd be rocking myself to the humming of a lady named Nora in the padded cell next to mine at the state mental hospital.  No idea where Nora came from, but she sounded good, so I'm rollin' with it.

Up to this point, it's pretty much just been Cade sassing me and Eve about anything and everything under the sun, and Eve screaming like a banshee every time Cade looked at her the wrong way.

They've pretty much been running their own shows, and warring fiercely against one another.  Sounding kind of like something straight out of WWE, right?  Well, here's another move straight out of the wrestling rink...those little stinkers learned the art of tag-teaming.  Seriously.  I thought this was just something that twins did to their parents.  Nope, it turns our my two are capable...and not only capable, but born professionals.

Eve gets mommy's attention by destroying the train track while Cade raids the fridge...

Cade diverts mommy by sending the folded clothes down the slide (pop-up tunnel with one end on the couch and the other on the floor) while Eve empties mommy's sewing trash bag all over the kitchen...

Eve lures mommy to the babygate (which is keeping them in their room for a few minutes of sanity) with the meltdown of the century while Cade sneaks out the bathroom door entrance to their room...

It literally goes on and on because this has been the majority of my day.  

I'm not too worried, because just like any wrestling tag-team, somebody will tick off the other and they'll be separate entities once again.  Until then, don't be surprised if you don't see me in public with them.  

In the meantime, I'm just going to have to visit my Lightroom albums frequently, and remind myself that they really are good, loving kids. They're just having a bit of a rough patch...together : /

Here are the sweetnesses at their best.

Especially love these next two : )

This may be the last post until Team Anarchy decides to break up.  Hopefully, the duo will return to their normal, semi-obedient selves soon and very soon.  If not, I'll be off to see Nora.

Feelin' like a criminal

I just got back from the consignment sale, and I am feeling a little guilty.  Ok, #1, some of those consignors basically GAVE their stuff away.  For reals.  #2, I ended up having some "help" at checkout, and I didn't spend a dime.  Well, I guess now that I think about it, it was a pretty stinkin' awesome trip.  Here's the loot.

Almost spotless Ked's, pink Converse, and mint condition Sand Suns (Which are boys, but who cares?  Hopefully her friends won't make fun of her.)

That is a smocked Petit Ami set that I got for...sit down and control your gag reflexes...$4.  The denim romper is Ralph Lauren, and was the same price.  Not a spot on them.

I was a sucker for these : )

Super cheap playclothes

The only decent things I saw for Cade.  And believe me, I looked..and looked.  There were some dirt cheap Kelly's Kids seersucker shorts that I nabbed.

Fancy's hat that greemaw decided was a "must have"

Total:  Just under $90

I'm not sure whether I should wash it and put it away, or hide it under my mattress to keep the cops from seeing it when they find out what I paid for such great stuff.

Now here's the shameless plug, and no, I'm not getting paid or compensated in any way, shape, or form (but I'm not opposed to it, either).  Go to the All 4 Children Consignment sale tomorrow and Friday from 9-5.  On Saturday, things will be half off!  I shopped early because I had volunteer hours, so think about that next time this sale rolls around.  It's worth it to raid the racks early. It's at the Ag Museum off Lakeland.  Seriously.  Go.

Oh, and you can shop early for $10 this evening.  Here's their link

http://www.all4childrenconsignment.com/



Whew...shopping with kids and two posts in one day have wiped me out.

She's a lady

Well, she tries to be anyway.  We just call her "Fancy".  Eve is a bonafide girly girl.  You'd think she was my sister's kid.  Aunt Shell is covered in sparkles, pink, and perfume.  Me...ummm...not so much.  So how did my girl get to be such a...girl?  Don't get me wrong, I think it's funny and cute how slipping a princess dress on her can transform her, and how makeup brushes and jewelry make her eyes twinkle.  It's reeeaally funny when you tell her she's fancy and she starts movin' those little hips and dancin' her hiney off.  Now that, she did get from me : O  I dance every time I'm called fancy, too.  Who doesn't?  

So, this morning looked like it was going to be a continuation of last night's whine fest with her.  I was getting so frustrated because as I was trying to eliminate the gargantuous pile of clean clothes that my dryer keeps puking out into the hallway, she was clinging to me like a leech (and kinda draining the ooomph outta me like one of those nasty suckers, too).  As I was hanging clothes in the kids' closet with her whiney behind planted firmly on my left foot, I spotted the lavender Fancy Nancy dress that she loves sooo much (kudos to greemaw).  I slipped the magical concoction of cheap polyester and scratchy tulle over her head, and she turned into a new kid.  There must be magical powers in polyester. Maybe that's why they wore so much of it in the 70's.  I wonder if I could bottle the stuff...hmmm....

Oh, and who knew that Victoria's Secret underwear could be such a great mood changer?  She's pretty much convinced that my underwear worn around her neck is THE ultimate accessory, and an accessorized "Fancy" is a happy "Fancy".  I've even seen her pile on as many as 4 pairs.  She was pretty much euphoric.  Watch out pearls.  VS's Pink are comin' for ya. 

Here's a little fanciness...

I used to be able to pull off one heckofa french mani/pedi.  This is what happens when your home pedi is interrupted umpteen times by playdoh crises, a poopy booty needing to be wiped, and a dumpster diving kid.  Polish remover, I'm on my way.  It seems that two coats of a single color is the way to go in this stage of my life.

Not so psyched about a toe nail re-do, but I AAAMMM pretty stoked about going to shop at the All 4 Children's consignment sale at 1 today with my volunteer pass.  Of course, both kids will be in tow, so there's the potential for an utter fail, but let's hope for the best.  

Catch up...

Holy molies.  It's been almost two months since my last post.  Needless to say, it's been a little biz-ay round here.  No worries, though.  I'm about to get you up to date on Slay happenings in about 60 seconds...

We sold our little piece of country and traded it for big city life...haha (Brandon).

We looked at houses here, got transfer offers, looked at houses in other states, decided moving away was a no-go for now, and moved into an apartment as a compromise...closer to hubby's work, easier to move when/if we get an offer that IS a go.

Brandon and I went to ATL for a spur of the moment 3 day getaway.

Cade turned into a teenager.  Well, it seems that way, at least.  For reals, the boy has grown and talks non-stop.

Eve officially has asthma and about 4 more teeth.

I sewed three curtains, two pillows, two bags, a pair of pants, and a dress.  Still have mountains of fabric.

I opted to sell my strugglin swagger wagon.  I decided I wanted a CR-V...then a Pathfinder...then an Xterra because it was a little more rugged and sporty.  In the end, I got a Jeep Wrangler.  Score.  Perfecto.

There's probably been a few dozen meltdowns, funny/embarrassing public moments, and nearly certifiably crazy moments with me and the kids, but who's counting?

About 3 hours ago, my living room floor was a sea of kettle corn.

And about 45 minutes ago, I nearly blinded myself while searing chicken in oil that was way too hot.

Ok.  Up to date.  Now for pics.

My little asthmatic pistol

You can take the girl out of the country...

Loves the playground

Mud. Bare feet. Cool playground.  Can't beat it.

Sweet.

The mystery is solved

For Christmas, Brandon and I bought Cade a set of Bible story books that were still easy to read, but had a little more substance than the super short versions in his toddler Bible.  One of them is the story of Adam and Eve.  We've read the story countless times, and afterwards he always gives me a re-cap, but it's always incorrect whenever he comes to the dialogue between Eve and the snake in the story.  This is the usual converstaion...

"Mommy, the snake told Eve "no, no don't eat dat apple", but God said "yes" eat it."

I would always correct him and tell him that it was the other way around.  I would explain why God didn't want her to take the fruit, and how it hurt God for them to disobey.  He'd still give me the same summary 5 minutes later.

Well, today, his reasoning for this came out.

After going through the whole routine of correcting him, I asked why he kept saying God told her to eat it. He said, "Mommy, God wouldn't want Eve to be hungwry.  Dat snake is mean, and he wanted to take her food!"  My heart smiled.  He knows that God is the Great Provider.  Now, I must be sure to teach him about the jealous God who wants our obedience and fellowship.

Well, that mystery is solved.  Now if I can just get him to stop randomly shouting "Let my people go!  I'm gonna turn a stick into a snake and he's gonna eat you!"  Yeah...he's coming up with his own little Bible story blend : /

Word on the street is...

I can't think of anything profound or productive to say, so I'm just gonna share some things I've heard other people say lately.  It's fun to listen : )

After the register rejected one of my coupons and a cashier had to call the manager, this cashier looks to the man behind me in line and says "I don't even know why dese women be trying to use dese croupons when de stuff is already on sale"...like I couldn't hear her.  Geez.  Instead of giving a tutorial on matching coupons with sales, I opted not to, and had the four cans of soup taken off my order and re-shelved.  Hollybush Dollar General...not "croupon" friendly.

While looking through the remnant bin at Hobby Lobby, I heard an older lady talking to a lady who was buying fabric to sew for her grand daughter.  The older lady whined about how time-consuming sewing is, and the seamstress stated that she didn't have a husband or anyone else in the house, so she had lots of free time.  The older lady told her that was a good thing, because seamstresses can't sew and have families, too. She said "They just can't be good housekeepers and still be able to do all that blame sewing.  I bet their kids just fall all over garbage and their husbands don't get any real food."  Ever heard of balance?  Obviously not.

Ok, the next was an encounter with an older lady at Kroger.  She grabbed a block of cheese that was B1G1 free, and walked back towards her cart.  I let her know that she could get another block or bag for free since it was B1G1.  She said "Oh, I'm just not a bargain shopper.  I don't have the time to look for deals and such."  IT'S FREE!  I thought about asking for her number to see if I could shop alongside her from now on and get all the free and discounted stuff she neglects to pick up.  

Now, on to my little man child.  This kid says some stuff that is straight whack.  

"Mommy, look at this page (a page in his book, "Jesus and His Friends").  There's Jesus, John, and Pooter."  Sorry Peter : /

As I was getting my ghetto on in the kitchen (dancing), he said "Mommy, you needa stop!  Somebody can see you doin that.  You not dancin good mommy."  Guess I'm not quite the dancer I thought I was.

He is quite the lyricist, as well.  He has come up with many complementary tunes which mimic, but should not be confused with the ever-famous "Pants on the ground".  These are just a few  

"Poop on the Ground"

"Pee in the Tub"

"Pee in the Bed"...are you seeing the theme?

"Poop on the Rug"

"Plates in the sink"...just to break up the excrement monotony.

And, the phrase that we have been trying to eradicate from his vocabulary.  So far, our attempts have been futile...

"Oh my gawsh"...all the time.  "Oh my gawsh, I can't bewieve you did that."  "Oh my gawsh, Eve is lookin so cute."  "Oh my gawsh, this food is wreally awesome, mommy.  You use butter and chwocolate?"  (a little too much Paula)

Told you.  Nothing profound.  Just a little taste of the last few days.

On a different note.  I think I may have developed an addiction to sewing home decor items.  I've been so focused on sewing clothing, I haven't sewn anything decor-wise, except for Eve's bedding.  It's just sad.  I've decided I'm tired of my home looking like it came out of a box or bag, which until now, it has :/  I'm customizing like nobody's business.  It will be a slow process due to super low fundage, but I'm determined for this home to look like "home" and not a neutralized, staged house.  Pics to come.

**I do have a deeper post saved and on the back burner.  It was getting too serious too quickly, so I hit pause.  I'll re-visit it someday when my sewing machine isn't whispering my name.