Lovey kids and loogies

First of all, mad props to my man for dominating his interviews and getting a sweet promotion.  I'm super proud of him : )  Not psyched about him being gone 3 out of the next 4 weeks for training, but I know it's a necessary evil.  I'm definitely pacing myself over these next few weeks...easy meals, carefully choosing my cleaning battles, and being a naptime nazi.  Nap-less days just aren't an option when this chick is flyin' solo.  

So far, the kiddos have been super good.  Granted, we've only been alone two whole days, but hey, every hour counts.  Just check out this sibling love : )

They hauled every blanket, pillow, and stuffed critter they could find into their playhouse and begged to take their nap in there.  They were so sweet.  So, I let themmm....stay there until I could grab my camera to snap this pic.  Then, I brought them back to reality and put them in their own beds.  This momma just doesn't toy with sleep : )

This is a super sweet shot that I wish was a video instead of a pic, but I don't think I'll forget the dialogue anytime soon.  Cade was "reading" Eve her favorite book, "Biscuit".  It's a super short, simple book about a puppy's bedtime routine.  I'm afraid it's given them a super skewed reality of what having a dog will actually be like, but it sure makes for a good bedtime story right now.  This dog is basically spoiled rotten. He gets a snack, drink, hug, kiss, blanket, doll, and story before he goes to his bed, and that's still not enough.  He then traipses upstairs and steals the little girl's blanket and snuggles at the foot of her bed.  Most nights, it's a stretch for my KIDS to get all of those things before going to sleep.  A dog?  I don't think so.

Well, I have a kind of a big "project" going on right now, but I'm still waiting for some details to work out, so I'm going to keep you in the dark for now.  If it doesn't work out, you may never know what was going on : )  Pretty shady, huh?

To make up for keeping things under wraps, I'll leave you with the uplifting words spoken to me by my four-year-old son today, while I was slaving away to prepare his gourmet lunch (turkey and cheese w/ fruit).

Cade- "Hey mommy.  You are getting really big."

Now, since I've been trying to explain the growth of Trek and how that affects my size, I was happy he'd finally noticed that my belly was growing.  I mean, I am 29 weeks along, after all.

Me- "Yeah.  Trek is really making mommy's belly grow, isn't he?"

Cade- "No.  Pretty much all over you are getting really big."

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry...or spit on his sandwich.  Just kidding.  I wouldn't really spit on my kid's sandwich.  But I sure would have if it had been an adult, so watch your back...and your sandwiches.

I wear my sunglasses at night

Yeah, so I don't even own a pair of sunglasses.  My 2 year-old, however, owns 20.   Well, maybe not 20...but definitely at least 13 pairs.  For some reason, she always seems to have them upside down on her face, which, of course, causes them to slide down her nose.  This, consequently, causes what I would describe as a "hissy fit".  Cade is usually my OCD kid, but Eve has him topped when it comes to fashion.  "Momma, get it right or get outta my face" is generally her motto when I'm doing her hair or attempting to accessorize her.  Just check out what happened when she became "fwustawated" with her shades the other night.

Yes, I'm one of those evil women who takes pics of her crying child.

Before you report me to DHS, just know that the waterworks shut off as soon as her brother dug her princess shoes with "Chwismas lights" in the heels out of the depths of the dress up trunk.  Whew. 

Annnd after a 10 minute battle of wills over whether or not she could wear the glasses to bed, we struck a compromise.

This time, I was the one about to have a hissy fit trying to make those stinkin glasses stay put on the Cabbage Patch doll's watermelon head.  

And yet another sunglasses shot.

Yeah, I still have another kid.  He just generally avoids the camera unless he's naked, which of course is a no-go on the ole blog.  I did snag a few of him while he was too silly or drugged (allergy meds) to notice.

First, here he is in his "drugged" state.  He's also in his fav position...spread eagle.  He assumes this position whether he is clothed or not.  I'm a little tired of seeing his boy junk.  He, on the other hand, never grows tired of seeing, shaking, and flaunting it.  In fact, he stated a few days ago that boys and girls should all have penises because they're awesome.  Let's just hope this fascination tames down before kindergarten : /  If not, I can forsee lots of office visits.

And here we have my kids in the throws of their daily ritual.  It's called the "mommy just made up the bed, let's destroy it" ritual.  Just in case you're wondering, this is not one of the battles I pick every day.  I make that bed knowing there's a 50/50 chance it'll survive the rest of the day untouched, and I'm generally willing to take that gamble.  I know, I'm such a risk taker.

Speaking of risks...asking Cade to dress himself when I'm in a time crunch is another risk I sometimes take.  There's pretty much a 100% chance that it's going to cause a further delay, but my brain-dead self usually forgets this and asks him to do it anyway.  Blame it on the baby.  Sometimes, he "loses" the clothes I lay out for him and asks me repeatedly where his clothes are.  Other times, he layers his clothes over his pjs because he gets focused on a cartoon and he forgets to undress first.  But here lately, his trend is to shake things up a bit by using his shirt as pants and his pants as a hat.  See?

He'd shucked the hat before I could snap a pic.  Sometimes he even stuffs the legs of the pants so that they stand up on top of his head to resemble "ears"(I'm sure he gets this humor from his daddy) 

...then he laughs himself to tears, and my crazy, pregnant, temporarily emotionally bi-polar self usually ends up joining him.  See what I'm talking about with the delays?  At this point, not only am I un-stuffing jeans and dressing this kid, but I'm re-doing eye makeup, as well.  In the midst of all this chaos, Eve has probably managed to sneak into the kitchen, unwrap, and devour half a dozen cheese slices.  

Oh, and look what Mr. Smartypants did.

Why?

"Well, you said to stop throwing my dirty clothes on the floor."  No comment.

I know I've totally skipped the Christmas blogpost.  No worries.  I'm sure I'll get to it before next Christmas.  I will give you a little sneak peek as to how well my kids are treating their brand spankin' new toys, though.

Can I interest you in a game of head-less, ball-less Hungry Hippo, anyone?

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.