It might seem like I've been too busy around the house to blog...

... but the dust bunnies would prove otherwise. 

Things around here are going pretty much the same.  Like everyone else, we are tired of the heat and ready for a long weekend.  And bummer-- I don't even have any white pants to wear before it's too late!

Here goes nothing:

• The pooper has been more of a puker lately...  She is acting mostly normal, but threw up twice on Wednesday.  I wasn't too worried about it, but decided to go with mild foods for a day or so.  Then, we woke up this morning to find that she had thrown up all over her bed in the middle of the night.  Just call me mother of the year.  My child slept in her puke bed for hours.  I hope she can one day forgive me (although she didn't seem too upset about it to begin with).  I think I am going to break down and buy some baby food rice cereal for the first time ever.  I can't grind rice to be smooth enough...  And I already broke our coffee grinder trying...  Whoops.

• Here is some more proof that dogs are the best baby entertainers (as if I really needed any):

• We went for a walk the other day, and this pretty little lady never even ripped off her sunglasses!
  
  
  
   
•  Dave knows I respond pretty well to post-it notes.  Remember how he left me sweet little notes everywhere on Valentine's Day?  You don't?  Oh well.  Anyway, today he left me this little number on the dishwasher.  Do you think it says anything about my domestic failure skill?

 

• I feed Myles breakfast #1 in bed because I'm lazy.  Yesterday, she looked like the most hilarious little lounging glutton afterwards:

• And finally, a glimpse into the beginning stages of (attempted) discipline: Myla is like any child who loves to go straight to the things she is not supposed to touch.  I'll tell this story knowing full well that being on my laptop with my awake child probably wasn't the best idea.  Anyway, it went sort of like this: Myla climbs up to the table and hits the laptop.  I remove her from the area and tell her "no." Same sequence occurs approximately 8 times in one minute.  The next time, I thought I should step it up, so I took her chubby little hand in mine, smacked it, and said "no, Myla" using the toughest mom voice I could muster.  THEN, she looked at me and did this...
  
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  We're screwed.