A Daily Toddler Crisis

Alternately Titled:

 

Extreme Bedhead

If Only I were Taller

Toddler Highs and Lows

Drama Mama

 The Struggle is Real

 

 

The Grill Master

     About once per year, I decide to try and grill something outside.  Last year, I even determined to become a grill master, but alas, that did not work out.  My smart husband would love if I would stop using the oven during the hot months, because we are basically heating the house while simultaneously paying money to have it cooled.

     So tonight, I decided to impress him and whip up a few pork chops.  First, I told the girls to stay far away from the grill and hang out by their play house.  Easy enough.  This time, it only took approximately 2 minutes for the scene to turn from a wife making dinner to fire in the hole!

(I managed to turn everything off before snapping this crappy phone pic):

     All the while, Myla was trying to chat with me (per usual).  In my frazzled state, I basically kept hollering things at her like, "Just don't talk to me right now!  Give me a minute!"

Finally, as the flames died down, she said, "Can I ask you a question yet?"

     "Sure," I said.

     "Mom, you burned the chicken."

     "Thanks, honey."

She is such a helper.

(Bonus: Since I never grill, Dave was temporarily storing the plastic baby pool behind it on our porch.  It now features a lovely melted edge.  Whoops!)

The Littlest Yogi

    
     About once a week, Dave and I have a "date night" where we put the kids to bed and spend hours doing something super-romantic.  Not really-- we actually just take some time to do something fun before we start our regular Netflix show rotation.  It could be anything from playing Connect 4* to taking an online Meyers-Briggs test, to just chatting over dessert. 

     This time, we decided to repeat something we've done once before and do a random yoga video from Youtube.  (We basically search "yoga for extreme beginners" and see what comes up).  But beware, people!  Who knew there would be "Naked Yoga" videos to practice as well. 

     Piper was having a rough evening, so she earned herself an early bedtime.  Dave asked if Myla could hang with us for a bit during date night.  Enter: the cutest yoga class in the world.  I kept looking over at her and smiling, because she was so into it.  She was so cute, I didn't even get upset when she said things to me like, "Mom, your body is getting so big!"  Needless to say, she was the best student this time (seeing as though my large body wasn't doing things the way I thought it would and Dave spent most of his time snapping pics).  We are a lot more successful at the yoga where you just lay on a mat and breathe for a while. 

     (Nevermind the alien eyes in these photos.  We aren't photogs, and we're rocking a handy dandy, 5-yr-old digital camera).

 

 

*"Playing Connect 4" is not a euphemism, sickos.  This is a family blog!

 

Namaste, or something.

Summer Daze

      Summer is a strange thing when you're a stay-at-home mama of preschoolers.  I remember back in the day when I worked like a regular person, summer became the time when traffic was a little bit lighter.  Now, it's more like you go somewhere and think, "Why are all these other people here?!"

      We finished June with the traditional celebratory birthday dinner for Dave: Portillo's.  Since we can't make it to Chicago, Italian Beef sandwiches come to us!  Yay for nationwide shipping and awesome in-laws!  Obviously, the kids managed to muscle it down.

      The reality of summer has definitely hit.  Every time I realize I should take the girlies outside to play, this is how I feel:

 

      Have you ever met a Southerner who swears that you get used to the heat?  Well, let me tell you something.  You never. get. used. to. it.  You just try and dress in a manner every day that will camouflage your butt sweat.  And it's awesome.  But to ensure that these crazies will nap for the benefit of my children's development, we go outside sometimes.  How do I cope?  Like this:

[The only thing missing is a giant glass of iced tea...P.S. Do you like my fancy phone?]

[Someone else wanted to share in the breeze from the fan.]

      The other thing that makes our playtime super fancy is this 3-foot-wide baby pool that we are still rocking.  Don't tell my kids there are better ones out there!  Those poor darlings think that our friend's larger inflatable pool is a legit swimming pool.  They are so deprived. 

     Do you like how I dress them in long sleeves?  I swear, if I could find them a swim burqa, I would.  It's not their fault they were born into the palest family in the world, but what can you do when you want to protect their alabaster whiteness and also minimize the usage of sunscreen on sensitive skin?! 

     As a sidenote, Dave decided it would be funny to put this random skull on our fence.  It really ups the creepy factor of our backyard.

    
     And now for the part of summer I can really support-- milkshake parties!   Our sweet friends (who I never photographed--whoops!) invited us to Chick-fil-a for some milkshakes and relaxing adult conversation while the kids peacefully played in the play room.  Just kidding: the kids ran back and forth and managed to spill at least three shakes on the floor over the course of an hour, but we still had a blast.  Oddly enough, Myla embraced the nameless cow with open arms while Piper clung to a parent and tried not to cry.  We found that the best way to curb her fear was through milkshakes, obviously.

     Happy summer!  Here's to 2 more months of overworked air conditioners and exorbitant energy bills!

 

 

The Bunk Bed Chronicles

     A month or so ago, Dave proposed that we do a "48-hour trial run" with the beds bunked in the girls' room.  Naturally, I thought, "But someone might die!" "Great idea, Dear."  So we gave it a go.

     Bunking the beds opened up their tiny room quite a bit, and now we even have space for a reading corner (i.e. corner with a half-inflated air mattress and a box of books shoved into it).  Needless to say, the girls were excited.  We had some extra orientation time before going to bed that night.

 

 

     Per usual, I went into the room to kiss the girlies later that night, and this is what I found:

 

     Kid #1 on the top bunk slept like a champ, and kid #2 somehow ended up here...What a goober.  So far, the beds have served us well.  I even wonder if we can just continue to stack our kids up as they come. 

 

     The only downfall is that I sometimes have a near-death experience while trying to climb up and kiss my child goodnight.  The things we do for love.



Gah, Piper is TWO!

(Alternately titled: The Obligatory Birthday Post)

Dear Piper,

     I am kind of freaking out right now-- mostly because it's 9:18pm (gasp!), and I am just starting to write your birthday letter for tomorrow.  I have been thinking about it for a while now, but maybe I thought I could slow down time and keep you from turning two if I procrastinated.  (Note to self: did not work).

     Who are we kidding though, child?  You are officially two in every way.  And by "every way," I mean that you are starting to try fun things like throwing fits.  Oh, the tantrums.  Luckily, yours don't last very long.  And because of how hilarious you look, I sometimes have to fight back laughter and force myself to get back into the quick-responding motherly mode whenever it happens.  I can't help it that you have gigantic blue eyeballs and gapped-teeth that make me smile.

    I can't end this letter without proper documentation of your weirdest/funniest habit.  Some kids have a lovey.  Some kids have a pacifier.  Some like to suck their thumb.  You, child, have a double whammy.  Sometime over the past year, you found your own "lovey" in addition to your thumb: your belly button.  It doesn't help that I rarely get everyone dressed many days, but the fact that you walk around with a thumb in your mouth and a finger in your belly button really kicks up our civilized image another notch.  When you are sleepy, the hand goes down the shirt immediately to find the button.  If I have the nerve to dress you in a restrictive outfit, I will surely hear about it.  "Can't get my button!"  Want proof?  Here goes:

[Of course I'm not embarrassed that my child looks like this in public...]

 [The button must be easily accessible]

 

 

 

 

 

[You pick the greatest outfits to go with your #1 accessory!]

 

 

     Piper, you bring us so much joy.  We love you more than words can say.  Now on your birthday, take a big bite out of life just like you did this fried meatball at the rodeo:

 

 

Happy birthday, sweet Piper.

 

     Love, Mom

 

P.S. You have exactly one year to rid yourself of the terrible two's.

 



 

 

 

Dear Minivan,

     In honor of our recent one-year anniversary, I thought I should write you this letter.  I must admit, at first I was not too keen on the idea of becoming a minivan lady at age 27.  But alas, Dave my super-practical side came to the conclusion that you would offer us more bang for our buck as a family vehicle.  Also, we fancied ourselves as roadtrippers, and what better way is there to road trip than with you?

     (Well, for one thing, this way):

     I digress.

     At the dealership, I tried to convince Dave to buy the sleek, black van, because I was sure that it would make me feel a little bit cooler.  You know, a little bit more "Maybe there's a famous rap artist in there" and a little less "That's definitely a soccer mom wearing yoga pants."  But apparently it didn't make sense to spend an extra thousand dollars only for black paint.  Lame. 
    
     Minivan, the real breakthrough for us came when I finally reminded myself, "Katy, you aren't losing cool points by getting this minivan.  You really weren't that cool to begin with.  Get over yourself."  And with that, I stepped into my space ship and drove off into the abyss.  The abyss = Sugar Land, obviously.

     Minivan, I'm sorry I never named you, but it was only because our relationship wasn't love at first sight.  Now I finally realize what you mean to our family.  You have taken us to Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Mississippi to visit loved ones.  Hopefully, you'll take us to many more places (even though Dave is trying to avoid Disney World at all costs). 

(February 2013)

     The true reminder of my appreciation for you came recently when we had to send you to the shop for a few repairs.  (Don't worry, it wasn't your fault).  I was left to do my daily routine in the Escape, which is a lovely vehicle.  But, I have to admit that I cursed under my breath as I saw my child swing open the car door into a Cadillac in the mall parking lot.  There was suddenly an anxiety-ridden dialogue going on in my head: "Did it leave a mark?! I don't see a mark.  Should I leave a note? I really don't see a mark.  Hurry-- let's go!"  Did I mention, minivan, that those dad gum children can't even climb into an SUV on their own?  Grow a little taller, kids.  I mean, really.  Did you know, minivan, that other car doors don't close on their own?  You have to use your own hand to pull the handle!  What if I don't feel like using my hands that day?  The list goes on and on.

    
     Minivan, for all these reasons and more, I'll say it: I appreciate you.  I am glad that you take our family where we need to go.  And most of all, I am happy that in November, we won't have any problem finding a spot in your rows of ample seating for baby #3.  :)

All my love,

Katy

P.S. I promise never to shame you with a Rudolph nose and antlers.