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.