Parenting is Hard but I am a Genius!!!

Newsflash: Being a parent is hard. It is a full-time, exhausting job, more work than any other job I've ever done. And just so you know that's only the actual parenting part. That amount of exhaustion doesn't even include the million other side jobs I'm expected to do: cleaning my house, keeping fit, keeping up our yard, church stuff, other general family responsibilities like sister, daughter, not to mention wife. Parenting is easier when your partner is there but guess what? He's usually at work and then home working his million other side jobs: cleaning the house, upkeep on the yard, church stuff, being a brother, son and husband.


I often think that if I was allowed to concentrate on just parenting and being a wife I could really excel especially if my ever-loving Ox was home and available more often. So I came up with a brilliant plan!!!!! I'm not kidding this will revolutionize the world.

1.  Everyone MUST retire at 55, regardless of job. This opens up those jobs for all of us young folk (my Ox included). Too many old-type people lost money in the market and stayed in their positions (or even worse came out of retirement) so they wouldn't have to live on cat food or give up their RVs. We don't just want the jobs we want the good jobs.
2. Old-type people will have 2 new part time jobs from 55 until 75 (or death):
1. Half time they will be at libraries, parks and city hall (or available for you to take home) purely to advise. Don't know how to bake bread? Don't worry Grandma Josephine makes wonderful bread and she'll come and show you how to do it. Don't know how to fix your plumbing? Grandpa Jo can explain the exact steps. They can advise on thousands of subjects and will, lawfully, be required to do so. Stop hoarding your knowledge Old Ones!
2. Half time they will clean houses and upkeep yards. They know how and it will keep them in shape. Plus it's only half day- I'm not a slave driver!
3. Since the old-type people gave up all the really good jobs this means we can afford to pay them for the half time they clean up after us AND all that social security they keep talking about disappearing will be plenty to pay their half time advisory positions.
4. All of this leaving parents the time to just parent. Read books, play play-doh, go to the park and teach our kids. Done and done.

You're Welcome. 

This Will Make It All Better

This life-saving recipe and post are a result of a) the overwhelming heat and humidity of Oklahoma b) a giant container of cheese balls, gorged on and finished and c) 1/4 of a small watermelon that was a bit too grainy.

Aqua Fresca

3 - 4 cups fresh fruit, coarsely chopped
6 - 8 cups water
1/4 - 3/4 cups sugar
2 T - 1/4 cup lime juice (optional)

1. Add the fruit and 2 - 3 cups of water to the blender. Blend until smooth. Strain through a sieve/cheese cloth/thin dish towel (hey don't judge).
2. Add the rest of the water, paying attention to taste. Add sugar 1/4 cup at a time, paying attention to taste. Add lime juice if it seems a little boring. 

Serve chilled!

Note 1: This is not fruit juice. It's not supposed to have a really strong taste, think lemon water...
Note 2: Try this! It is very common in Mexico and more refreshing than soda or water.
Note 3: In Mexico this always seemed to be served in a huge glass/plastic barrel-looking container. Should you have a giant, empty cheese ball container this will also work.

Options:

• Agua de Sandia - watermelon (my favorite)
• Agua de Melo - cantaloupe or other melon (way better than you're expecting)
• Aqua de Fresa - strawberry
• Aqua de Papaya - papaya (add lime to this one)
• Aqua Fresca de Pepino - cucumber (peel and seed and use lime)

You're Welcome!

Two Things I Am Not Good At

Lately I've been trying to remind myself that I don't have to be good at everything. I need to focus on my strengths and slowly work on my weaknesses as I can but really try not to let the weaknesses overwhelm me. So here goes...here are two things I am not good at:

1. Ice cube trays. I cannot seem to work an ice cube tray. There are always 1 - 2 ice cubes that won't come out or come out broken. And that's when I remember to fill the tray up. I never put it back in empty but putting it back with 1 cube is not unusual and then I'm super irritated that I don't have more ice the next time. 
2. Raking. I honestly don't understand what muscles raking uses and why I obviously don't use them in ANY other chore or daily activity. How can they be so unused?!? I can push mow my very large back yard and it's a workout but I cannot seem to rake for more than 5 minutes (ok closer to 3).

There you go. Feel free to feel superior if you are an expert at one of the above...or share one of your weaknesses. Or don't, if you have trouble commenting on people's blogs...

The Dreaded Photo Post

OK I blame no one for refusing to wait for this page to download and moving on. If you're still interested here are the 1000 most recent photos of my legume. 

Peanut is all about hiding right now. We recently moved around our living room furniture and now there is a perfect place to hide behind the couch. Peanut loves it.

Chick-fil-a is one of the best food places for kids. We haven't been in quite a while but this is Peanut in a random hat he found in the cubbies. Yea for not contracting lice!

Yes that's a cowboy hat. He also has real boots we actually paid for. I'm as surprised as you that I'm ok with this, but come on, we live in Oklahoma.

Who doesn't have a picture of their baby in a laundry basket? 

Yea summer is almost here! Old Navy flip flops make me happy. 

A picture missed in the Science Museum post. Mad Scientist anyone?

This is what happens when the house is too quiet. Ewwwwwww!

 Coloring eggs for Easter with Aunt Wendy. He made amazingly few messes, however all his eggs were cracked.

 The Saturday before Easter on our way to Aunt Josie we had to stop for eggs etc. Peanut love grocery store horses and luckily most around here are free of way cheap.

 Surprise. Not just plastic eggs to hunt for..these have candy!

 

 Peanut and I already have to compromise about his clothing. This vest is often the compromise. I get to pick out weather appropriate clothing and he puts the vest on top.

 So I make an 18 month old play outside in the backyard with only the dogs for company...and I baby gate him out...and I force him to show me his dirty hands so I can take a picture before I let him in...your point?

 It's not on!

 Wouldn't be a picture post without a naked picture.

 A couple of weekends ago we went to the Renaissance Fair with Tio Kit. It was great fun!

At said Renaissance Fair, Peanut drinking a ridiculous amount of homemade root beer and cream soda mixed. 

 After said Renaissance Fair the two boys, all tuckered out.

 Once again, the house gets too quiet while L is doing laundry. She returns to find the Peanut here. He won't get out. She takes out dry laundry and puts in cold wet laundry. He is not deterred. Should she start it?

 This used to be an entire loaf of homemade bread. This is what happens when Peanut gets his own breakfast.

 A couple days ago a zoo trip with L, Peanut, Grammie, Rachel, Cal, Madi, Katie Mae and Aunt Em:

Cousins

 The gorilla loves Peanut.

 Hiding off the path the second L turns her back.

 A much needed water break in the middle of the zoo trip.

A Peanut and his Bapa.

There you go. More pictures in one post than most of us born before 2000 have for our entire lives.

I was going to...

This morning I was going to post a grumpy note I've been marinating inside for a while but then I had a random dream about me failing drama and getting into a fist fight in the boys locker room. This led me to thinking about the people in the dream (who didn't look like themselves but I knew who they were anyway, you know??) and then I remembered this experience. And I told myself, "No one will care about or read your well-marinated rant anyway so why not share this tiny experience and bask in the joy that you don't have to be this person or have these experiences anymore."

When I was a young L, I was awkward. Especially around boys who liked me. For some reason a boy liking me, instead of bringing joy or increased confidence, brought severe awkwardness and stress and, quite often, for some reason, meanness. This wasn't one of those mean times but everything else holds true.

Young L has been told by her friend that a boy (lets call him Dance, Dance Revolution) will be calling her tonight to ask her out. L is unhappy. You see she likes this boys friend, not DDR, and doesn't want to go out with him. At the same time she realizes that DDR is not asking her to marry him, or wear his pin or even to go steady (so what if I want to imagine this experience in the 50's?) he just wants to take her out on one date so they can get to know each other and that could be fun, so long as her awkwardness doesn't get in the way.

Anyway so...DDR calls. However instead of getting strait to the point, he starts talking. And talking. And talking. He's just chatting away. This might have been an effective strategy if L's friend hadn't already told her why he was calling (all hes and shes clear here?). Instead of calming L, this makes it worse as L tries to keep up light, friendly conversation while at the same time growing more and more anxious about him getting to the point. To help ease off some of the stress L begins walking around the pool in her backyard as she talks.

The rhythm of her steps seems to beat in time with her level of anxiety. When DDR succeeds in distracting L with some comment, her steps slow, becoming almost strolling. When she remembers why she's out her at all her pace quickens until she is moving quite rapidly, never actually running because for some reason she assumes he would know if she did. Eventually it seems like he might be winning, L's pace is slowing and if her 3 nosy sisters are spying, they will have heard her laugh several times. L stops close to the large green exercise ball floating near the edge of the pool.

Side story: For Christmas the previous year, L's younger sister, HB, wanted and asked for: not the most expensive present, or the coolest present but the biggest present. Yes folks that's what she wanted- the largest present under the Christmas tree, she didn't care what. L's father searched high and low (or more likely just looked around on the internet) and found the perfect thing: an exercise ball. Not just the regular sized one but a huge one. Honestly, it must have been 5 feet in diameter (remember that's one side to the other, radius would have been from the center to one side- just trying to resurrect some long ago geometry knowledge). HB was happy.

 Additional note: L, in the way of most snaiLs, is not large. Let's say top height of 5'3". 

 For some reason that could only be explained by years of intense study into L's young brain, the size of the green balls distracts from it's placement and L leans on it slightly as she talks. DISASTER! L is now trying to swim, with one arm holding her cell phone out of the water, to the shallow end of the pool. She makes it and then must explain to DDR what all the commotion is- all the time laughing hysterically, because although L excels at being awkward (thoroughly noted in this story), she is also usually pretty good at laughing at herself when occasion demands.

L tells DDR what happened and then sits on the steps of the pool to finish her conversation. After all she's already soaking wet in her dress she might as well stay in the comfort of the water. DDR strangely doesn't seem as amused by this experience. In fact, he seems a little weird-ed out.

I don't even remember whether the date actually happens but if so it's certainly the last one. DDR never calls again. Let us all give thanks L doesn't have to date anyone but her Ox anymore. Amen.

Be Grateful There Aren't Pictures

I am serious about that title. Please stop for a moment and send thanks to me that there are not pictures accompanying this post. Moving on...

This story begins with L's father-in-law being nice. L doesn't get to the Temple for her church very often due to a lot of miss-prioritizing and a little legume we like to call Peanut. Anyway L's father-in-law arranges for L to do a session at the Temple on Wednesday while he watches the 'Nut outside. Problem solved. L is excited.

However, on Tuesday Peanut is a little clingy in the morning and after being up for about a half hour he vomits twice in the living room. It's not a big deal, especially since he hasn't eaten anything yet and as he has been having problems with allergies L chalks it up to that appealing-sounding sinus drainage. She watches what he eats all day and isn't overly concerned.

Wednesday he's still not back to normal but not even any vomit. L's sister, from here on out to be known as 'Wendy the super queen and best sister ever', comes over and dyes eggs with L and 'Nut and much fun is had. Although 'Nut seems mostly back to normal L determines she doesn't want him running around too much outside yet so has Ox take off work early to watch the 'Nut and she heads on down to the Temple. 'Wendy the super queen and best sister ever' watches the 'Nut for the few minutes between L having to leave and Ox getting home.

On the drive to the Temple (approx. 70 miles/1 hr 15 mins) L realizes she hasn't eaten since lunch and won't get dinner until late. Well...life happens. However, after L gets to the temple her stomach starts hurting. Then aching. Then grinding and twisting into a tornado of pain. This eases into a wave of nausea. L is sitting through the approx. hour and a half session alternately praying to NOT VOMIT IN THE TEMPLE!!! and wondering what would happen if she did. Probably not a lot of quality worshiping.

After the session is over L rushes to the bathroom fully intent on vomiting but nothing happens. The nausea diminishes and the pain becomes bearable. Maybe God loves L because she stoically endured under pressure? L would be proud if she wasn't in such a rush to get home. So starts the 'short earlier this afternoon and now unbelievably long' trip home.

L drives down the freeway trying to decide if it's better to be distracted at a higher speed or for a longer time. If she vomits on a cop will that get her out of a ticket or into jail as he will surely not believe she's not drunk? Being a planner L starts to look around for what she could vomit into should such a situation arise... Ahh thanks to L and Ox's slovenly ways here is a WhataBurger bag within reach. Problem solved. L even calls her Ox to make sure he will still love her if she fills their car with vomit. He responds positively but hints that love will not extend to cleaning vomit from car upholstery.

And then it happens. Uncontrollable Vomit. Left hand on the steering wheel, looking over the right shoulder to change lanes and pull safely off the freeway, right hand holding the WhataBurger bag to her face to catch pulsing streams of something hot and rancid. Almost to the side...almost safe...then the WhataBurger bag disintegrates under a burden it was never meant to bear. Suddenly things have gone from bad to worse.  

***Pause to calm yourself... She doesn't get eaten by the eels at this time.*** 

As we return to the scene L is safely off to the side of the freeway. However the gratitude that should be forthcoming is mired in the vomit covering: L, her lap, her seat belt, her center console, her gear shift, the right side of her car seat, a small section of the passenger seat...

If the world were fair L would be immediately transported to her own bathroom to get cleaned up and then pampered by her loving husband. Alas the would is not fair and L is still over 45 minutes from home. Calling Ox results in sympathy but no logical quick fix. So L calls 'Wendy the super queen and best sister ever'. 'Wendy the super queen and best sister ever' immediately agrees to meet L at a gas station about 2 miles from L's current location.

'Wendy the super queen and best sister ever' meets L at the gas station and sends L into the bathroom with her own back up clothes. L ignores the horrified look of the attendant. While L cleans herself up and seeks to wedge herself into her sister's much smaller clothes, 'Wendy the super queen and best sister ever' uses a half carton of baby wipes to clean L's car better than could be ever imagined. L comes out (with a resolve to think on thigh and tummy fat at some later point), buys a water and thanks 'Wendy the super queen and best sister ever' in an inadequate way. 'Wendy the super queen and best sister ever' heads into the city for a date/night out (with her friend who has been sitting horrified in her car the ENTIRE time) smelling of someone else's vomit. She truly is amazing.

And so L heads home. She still has 45 minutes of driving and is eager to get to it. She does vomit once more but makes it off the road and out of the car first. As she makes the last stretch the following words come through her mental fog from a song playing on the radio:

Ooh, ooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell?
Ooh, ooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you

Sorry my kid hates you...

So we have a problem...Peanut hates his doctor. From the moment we pull up to the office he is suction cupped to me. When the nurse comes in he in ornery. But when our doctor comes in he literally screams the whole time. I don't quite understand it. Dr. makes sure he's not there when shots are given out. He rarely forces anything, although of course he had to check ears when Peanut had his ear infection that lasted for eternity. He's friendly and nice (and I personally think he's cute) but Peanut can't stand him.

I wasn't really bothered until this last appt. But amid all the screaming I couldn't help thinking I should ask to see Dr.'s wife (also a doctor). I really don't want to trade doctors. I think I need to find something between now and Peanut's  next appt that will help him be more comfortable with Dr.. Any ideas? I was thinking of a puzzle or sticker book made from Dr.'s picture???

See doesn't he look nice with his wife, Lady Dr.?

Instead we...

Well last Tuesday was supposed to be 'Clean the Bathroom Day', instead I took Peanut and his cousin Madi to the OKC Science Museum.


First, the ride there. I'll admit it was the hardest part. If you don't know I live 35 miles from Rachel (and Madi). So Peanut and I drove there, picked up Madi, dropped off books due at the library, dropped off promised bread at the Institute and then finally got on the freeway for the 60 mile (hour and 15 min) drive to the Museum. By Guthrie (30ish minutes from Stillwater) the kids were already done. 

Madi was quiet and grumpy. Peanut was loud and grumpy and had somehow managed to get his arms stuck awkwardly in the car set straps.

Luckily I had a few tricks (and treats) up my sleeve. We stopped at a gas station, got out the satsumas Rachel had packed and readjusted toys and snacks (and Peanut's arms). 

On our way...again.

However once we got to the museum everything went wonderfully. Both kids were amazingly well behaved and stayed close and played a lot and went to the bathroom when they were supposed to, and LISTENED. I don't ever expect this to happen again but it was a marvelous one-time occurrence.

They played together which was wonderful and unexpected. We love having cousins around but the one problem has been slight bullying. Madi bullies Peanut, Peanut bullies Cal etc. Thankfully everyone is soft with Baby Katie Mae. 

But on this trip no bullying or grumping. Hallelujah!

They played in the water, had their faces painted (note: I am not a professional face painter) and just seemed to have a great time. 

At one point we tried to see a show but it was more geared toward older kids so Peanut was bored and Madi got was scared (it was about explosions). So instead we went and had lunch.

(insert missing lunch pictures here)

After lunch we played for about an hour longer and then packed up and headed home. I love the freedom of a yearly pass! No feeling bad about only going for a half day- especially since kids this little can't stand more than that.

On the way home we stopped at Freddy's Frozen Custard to see my sister, Wendy. I got Peanut and Madi one mini vanilla custard with gummy bears to split. The mess Peanut made with his half was incomprehensible. He honestly got more custard on him than there was in his cup- I'm sure of it. We ended up striping off his shirt. Yes, I was that mom.

Madi chose to be the good child and ate carefully while coloring her picture. She was super excited when the manger posted it immediately. 

Then the ride home, where blissfully both children fell asleep. All in all a wonderful day. I can't decide if I should do it again because it went so well or leave it a perfect memory...

Reasons I Love This Picture...

For those who don't know the subjects, this is Jeanne (the Ox's mom) and 2 of her grandkids, Cal and Madi, who are (obviously) Peanut's cousins. Onto reasons I love it:

• Well, the obvious, Jeanne is slightly stuck at the bottom of a huge slide in the middle of 2 of her grandkids. 
• The juxtaposition between Jeanne's expression and Cal's.
• That Jeanne only has one shoe on. The other came down a few moments earlier with Peanut. 
• The fact that to get to this point Jeanne has to convince Madi and actually carry both Cal and Peanut up 8 billion stairs to the top of this slide. She not only signed up for this, she had to work for it. 
• That Gibson was unconcerned and rode by himself, missing the pile-up. 
• That it is the first picture of Madi I've posted. I don't mean to exclude her it just hasn't happened until this moment. 

 The thing I love best about this picture is that it is one moment of an awesome day. I never thought I would love living near my in-laws (not them specifically but any in-laws) but I do. I love that Peanut has a great relationship with both of them and has 2 people besides Ox and I that he feels totally comfortable with.

In addition to this I now have my sister-in-law, Rachel and her family living within 35 miles. Her kids, Madi, Cal and Katie are perfect ages to play with Peanut and for him to learn about cousin relationships with. Plus, she's fun. Grammie Jeanne, Rachel, Madi, Cal, Katie, Peanut and I all fit perfectly in the van and can ride together all over on adventures as we did this day, going to the Oklahoma Science Museum.

Life is good.

Top 5 Ways (this past week) I Am A Questionable Mother

5. Have started using my yoga mat as a place to let Peanut feed himself. He has started insisting on feeding himself and I am not willing to clean my old school, needs to be resealed (or sealed to begin with?) hardwood floor that often. I sit him down with his breakfast... a bowl of oatmeal, or cereal or (this is a memorable one) 5 frosted mini wheats + 3 baby carrots + one strawberry and let him go to town. Then I put him in his morning bath (yes he has 2 a day) and let the dogs in to lick up the yoga mat. Should that be a different entry? Using your dogs as an honest part of your clean up routine? Oh no, that's on the Top 5 Ways I'm A Bad Housekeeper list.

4. Have given up on the 'Don't eat dog/cat food' issue. It was my red button, makes me so irritated I could demolish a building issue. I have admitted defeat. "Fine, Peanut! You want to fill up on dog or cat food? Go ahead! See if I care! But I'm telling you kisses on the mouth from this mom are going to diminish significantly"

3. Give my child lemonade. Apparently it's worse than soda on your kids teeth because of the citric acid plus sugar. Just kidding, I just only had 4 blaring example of inept mothering this week but a Top 4 list is stupid.

2. Have started insisting Peanut spends time outside in the backyard without me. What? 17 months old is too young? Don't worry, he has 3 dogs (the smallest 3 times his weight) out there who alternately knock him down and lick his face, thus knocking him down, to watch him. Also we have one of those dog water, hooks onto the spigot, looks like a hamster water things out there and I've totally caught him using it so I know he always has access to liquid refreshment.

And the Number 1 Way I Am A Questionable Mother...(try it in story form)

1. Let's say L has put on her calendar that Friday she will get out of the house (without using the car) with her fussy baby, NO MATTER WHAT. Living in a town with no sidewalks (ok there might be some but they're definitely not by her house) taking the regular stroller is quite a pain. But wait...we have a bike trailer that, with the addition of one wheel, turns into a jogging type stroller (bigger wheels= easier on rough streets).

Except one thing...L can't find that one wheel. One grumpy phone call to husband later, tire still not found and L is close to losing her mind. Why? Well, the road from normal L to losing-her-mind-L is not a long one. So she decides to just take Ox's bike with said trailer attached.

Problems with this? First, Ox's bike was a special buy made to fit Ox. It even says the word "Giant" on it. Even with the seat all the way down L can't reach the pedal at it's down position.

Second, L honestly hasn't ridden a bike farther than 10 feet since elementary school. This is no joke. Not a huge fan of bike riding (seriously, all these years later and they can't figure out a more comfortable seat?) L has avoided biking most of her life. When is a good time to rekindle your interest in something and try it anew? Well, it's definitely not when you will be riding on the street, pulling your baby behind you, with his life in your hands (or just dependent on feet that can reach the ground without laying the bike over sideways).

Does L contemplate all this? Not really. So she starts on her bike ride. It's easier than she thought, besides the part where you have to give it an extra push at the 90 degree point in rotation so the other pedal comes around to where you can reach it. L is starting to feel pretty good about her self and this idea. Then comes the slight incline, and the railroad tracks. This is more aerobic activity than L has done in a while. Also these seats really are uncomfortable.

Ahh here it comes...the stop sign. L is aware legally she should stop but since she can't get off the bike without holding onto something or kindof dropping the bike sideways and jumping off she decides to skip it. Her pulse accelerates contemplating a oncoming car or even a cop but luckily she lives in a podunk town with not many people cruising around in the early afternoon. A not long time later L arrives at the park with Peanut, who seems unaware his life has just been gambled on. A phone call and two short trial trips later, L and Peanut resign themselves to waiting at the park for Ox to get off work and pick them up.

 


And there you go. Has my almost year and a half of motherhood imbued me with a maternal instinct and a lot more common sense? Not really. I don't want to scare you not-yet-parent types but parenthood only seems to increase your ability to be stupid and/or questionable. Should my Peanut survive to adulthood you may all remind him what a close call it was.

Happy St. Patrick's Day AND Happy Anniversary!

There are many fun things about having your anniversary be the same day as St. Patrick's Day- it's easy to remember, you feel an ownership for a national holiday etc. But one problem is that celebrating your anniversary often gets put on the back burner. We have an annual St. Patty's Day celebration and that normally takes most of my concentration and effort on March 17th. So this year I thought I'd send out a note of why I'm lucky to have my Cute Face:

1. He lightens my load, cheers my heart, unburdens my psyche... I have a tendency to get bogged down in monotony and routine. Nate shakes me out of that and helps brighten my entire visage. I definitely need that, although (as is obvious from this paragraph) I have a difficult time conveying to him how much I appreciate it.
2. He makes me laugh- out loud. He tells a lot of lame jokes, and a few funny ones. He had a little kid's know-I've-been-naughty face that absolutely cracks me up. He shares with me things that happened at work or that he heard about that are just funny and he makes me laugh out loud. 
3. He is an amazing father. I don't personally know anyone else who is so active in their role as father. When Gibson was first born I had to beg to get to hold my own baby, because Nate always wanted to hold him. I often forget how much he does until he's not available and I have to go to church, put Gibson to bed, feed Gibson dinner alone. Nate sings Gibson and I to sleep every night. 
4. He thinks, and tells me all the time, that I am sexy. Sometimes I find it hard to believe he can find the occasionally put together girl he married in my down trodden mom look but he does and reminds me there's a woman inside this mom. 
5. He helps people. I'm honestly ashamed to admit that a good majority of our fight are about him wanting to help someone out and me being irritated he can't spend every moment at home. He actively participates in church, scouts, blood drives, work service, and the general helping out of people. He stops for people on the road. He helps make the lives of those around him easier. 
6. While being totally involved in child-rearing, he supports my crazy hippy ideas and takes full part: co-sleeping, cloth diapers, baby signing, homemade cleaning products etc. He believes I've done the research and that I have the instinct. 
7. He fixes things. He finds broken things and fixes them. He riggs things to work. He is mechanically minded, and I think that's hot. 

Overall I'm just really lucky to have found someone who can put up with my crazy and actually love me for it.

To my husband: I love you! Happy Anniversary!

Happy Pi Day!

Yea for Pi and pie! Today to celebrate we had dinner (and dessert) with Jeanne, Brad, Rachel, Madi, Cal and Katie. We had Cottage Pie for dinner.

Then for dessert we had Chocolate Buttermilk Pie, Sour Cherry Pie and Coconut Cream Pie. So good!

 

Then two little cousins had to take a bath. How do you get coconut in your ear?

Also Katie Mae smiled at me today...

 

So happy times, yes?

But oh last night...

It started off innocently enough, with Peanut doing some sort of half-nudie photo shoot

then moved onto soon-to-be-regretted tattoos

and finally moved onto the saddest event...

the 1st real haircut...

I'm not ashamed to say I cried. Since Ox was the one who actually held the clippers he did penance by cutting off his own hair (sorry no photos). 

Then came the moment that chills the blood. 

There she was, an innocent, madonna-like mother, laying (or is it lying? I can never remember) in bed, practically radiating love and peace, when she was set upon by the testosterone in the house. 

Held down by both her Cute-faced lovey and the fruit of her loins and tortured. They overwhelmed her. The small one sat on her chest and snuffled her chin and neck, the initiator grabbed at sides, waist, arms, legs. She was overcome. 

Eventually came the cry that she fears will become (at yet one more point in her life) her mantra, "LET ME UP OR I'M GOING TO PEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!".

Outnumbered.