potty time... the travel series

Because I am one of those totally prepared Moms, says the same woman who never has baby wipes with her and has to always bum them off other Moms/strangers in moments of need, I like to keep a small kid potty in the back of the Tahoe for those days where Harlyn will downright refuse a public bathroom. I like to think she's a clean freak and the germ infestation corroding public restrooms is more then she can handle but girl is nasty, like find random straw off the ground in the parking lot and pop it in her mouth nasty, so lets rule that out immediately. She's just wishy washy and cant fully commit to the idea that not all public toilets are automatic flushers attempting to suck her up and rid her from her ever loving Mommy.

And I do love her. But, more so when she's not doing this



No, that is a whole new low, even for her; using the travel potty while potty seat is located on leather seat in the back of the vehicle while said vehicle is parked in our driveway and there is a completely clean, automatic toilet free zone for the taking. To me this seems like an easy one, but then again this IS Harlyn were dealing with. She stripped down and did her business, both uno and dos and with total and complete pride because after all it happened not in her romper.

As a mother, I choose to pick my battles and for this she earned my praise.

Could have been worse... I know this because it has been before. Alotta times before.

And high five to the kid sitting right next to the Nasty Nast completely comfortable reading a book. Barbaric, these ones. Their parents should be proud.

ding ding ding

There's a little problem with dinner time at my house. Its not the strain of cooking night after night, or even the pile up of dishes that I can manage to dirty in a single meal preparation... no, its the company.

I hate eating with these people.

Correction, Brad isn't a bad dinner partner. He could stand to use his utensils more and fingers less... but I practically, and sometimes literally, lick my plate clean so who am I to judge on table manners? But, eating with my children. Ugh. Worst.

Proven by the photo below.
One on timeout and the other passed out.

Its like they hate me and love to prove it during dinner time. I'm not talking like they fight me on their vegetables... oh they do that too, but they also fight me on everything else.

And forget it if I baked a casserole... that scenario goes a little something like this:
*boxing bell sounds, Mom puts on oven mitt boxing gloves and approaches her opponents.
Son throws first blow, ew, whats in that?
Mom blocks said jab and goes straight for the gut, nutrition and you need to eat all of it off your plate!
Daughter comes in as Son's back up, uckies.
Dad throws in kitchen towel before the fight gets dirty...

And don't let those delinquent masterminds above fool you, Khage's gut appears to be huge like he ate a massive amount of dinner... he didn't. Beer gut is just his normal body shape. And Harlyn's tray looks clean as if she devoured every last morsel but instead it remained spotless all throughout dinner only because Brad was spoon feeding her as she alternated back and forth between being shaken awake and the REM cycle.

See what I'm dealing with over here? And lets not even discuss the mishaps, shenanigans and complete food related nonsense that I must endure during breakfast and lunch, all in the sake of nutrition. Am I a bad Mom if its fruit snacks and string cheese from this moment on?

Don't answer that.

baby roo | week 22

For the sake of the record keeper I am actually 24 weeks at this exact moment. Its also 3 pm and I am still in my pajamas if you wanna get real thorough about it all.

Really, as long as your out of the first trimester weeks don't truly matter anymore. Sized like a banana, pineapple, or carrot... they all seem to be relatively similarly sized so either way I'm confused and not entirely sure why we keep comparing my baby to produce. The only reference I ever understood was the "watermelon" sized fruitage being pushed out of my body during birth, because I can unhappily attest to that.

Can I just brag a moment about how good I am feeling right now. So good infact I think I may have gained energy with this child. I haven't been sick a smidge, I am constantly running around and haven't yet felt the need to slip it into neutral. I think I could honestly be pregnant with this baby forever. Throw that back in my face in 16 weeks when babies 4 days past due. "It" also moves around all of the time so I get that extra little piece of mind that Roo Baby is happy where it's at as well. For those of you who have suffered through tough pregnancy, don't punch me just yet... after all I have already gained a solid 16 pounds and counting and lets not forget I'm just at the half way mark. My goal (and previous pregnancy's weight gain) of 25 pounds doesn't seem to be at all likely this round. What I lack in discomforts, I gain in weight. Your welcome.

Look at those kankles. I'm sorry their not sorry. I wish they were.

 

Here's another shot a few days later, incase you found those undefined ankles too distracting. Concentrate instead on the whole squinty eyed family. Eye balls get lost on the smiles of the faces. Deal with it. I know I have to.

 

can everyone just open their eyes please

- were trying.

 

yada yada yada

 



See you in a few weeks when I am busting out of jeans and my flip flops start feeling tight.

happy and he knows it

I must be running a pretty happy household, it isn't every home I'm sure that a child wakes in the dead of night to bust a gut... like full on belly laughing while simultaneously sleeping. And the real shocker is that it wasn't even the obnoxiously happy child that is Harlyn. It was Khage... the miserable one. The one who has been known to continuously label each and everyday as "not fun".
The one who is often times found to be loudly proclaiming how boring his life it. But it was he who woke up laughing like he was at a comedy club and every punch line was fresh and completely hilario.

Strangely enough, I initially thought he was crying. That's how hard he was cracking up. His outlandish giggling reached a point of laughing so hard that your almost crying but stopped short of the point before you pee yourself. I checked.

And a week later my gloomy guy was at it again... and again with no recollection of what uproarious thing he was dreaming about.

All I can say is that deep inside he's not as unhappy as he claims to be.
Way down.
Down.
Down.
Down deep he's giddy about his life and he knows it.

Caution, video will remain annoyingly dark as it was close to midnight and I was not about to turn the lights on and risk waking up the during-the-day-happy one. Not to be confused with the other: midnight-happy one.

THE DAY WE WALKED 7 MILES

Today was magic.
It was beautiful.
And entirely just what my heart needed.

Don't get me wrong, we did have a beautiful magical day of family time and love but it still wasn't all puppies and ice cream cones. Harlyn still threw her typical massive turd sized tantrum because she hates being cooped up in the stroller, Khage was annoyingly torturous to her because after all she was within arms reach to him and his sister-pestering-hands, the hat that I was wearing tried on numerous occasions to leap from my head to which I can only imagine was due to my poor decision to skip a shower that morning... or maybe it was because of the wind, and Brad's back still hurt because frankly his back hurts most of the time... so it definitely had its glaring areas of gray but all that aside it was still incredibly perfect.

Let me describe this day in detail. For the incessantly bored at heart feel free to skip it.

We left around noon and went out for lunch. Brad even made it a point to bring along some ColorWonder for their strollering pleasure... excuse me while I fan myself, nothings hotter than an overly prepared Daddy.

Ahem.

Anyway, we ate Mexican food on the patio and because apparently people don't like the outdoors we were blessed with an entirely empty restaurant patio all to ourselves. The kids played, hardly ate a lick of their food but hey totally alright because ya know more for me, and we enjoyed the breeze and sunshine.

From there we agreed to walk. Just walk. Anywhere. Around town, under overpasses, through brush, under train tracks, past fields, to Grandma and Pompa's house, and all the way back home. We walked for miles, over seven, equally more then 5 hours... which yes that works out to like an abominable 42 minute miles but speed wasn't our primary goal. We just wanted to walk, explore, see new sites and soak in some family time.

Sometimes whenever we are together, just the 4.5 of us I get overwhelmed by how much I love these people. Most of the time I thank God, but other times I thank myself for having the clarity over eight years ago to recognize Brad as my better half and the link to this wonderful life we have made together. Soul mates are for saps, and I am surely no sap, but I am so glad that I met him precisely on that day, in that distinct parking lot at that specific grocery store and that he is this particular kind of man. The kind of man who says yes to my random request for family time disguised as an aimless stroll around town.

These blissful days of nothing but family love are few and far between. Life happens; laundry needs folding, dinners needs made, and butts need wiped. But when family day does happen, I think the love between Brad and I and these wonderful little crying and fighting people we have made is heightened to a place of blissfulness and purity.

...okay, maybe I'm a little sappy.

And a total sucker for a sleeping baby.

And although Roo isn't here taking up space in the stroller or sending sleepy drool down my left arm, this bundle of love deserves attention too.

Oh how this bump makes me smile.

And small shoutout to Farmer John, whom I hope wasn't too perturbed by me stomping all over his livelihood. My bad, FJ. My bad.

AND THEN THERE WERE 3...

This post could also have been titled...

Oh, I get it. Now its starting to make sense how babies are made.

But, lets stick with the original.

Baby Number 3 / Baby Roo is here, in the womb sucking me dry of nutrients and I don't care a bit. I'm happy to turn feeble for the sake of our last child. With Khage I worked until almost 40 weeks so I was always exhausted, with Harlyn I was always trying to prove I could handle everything without help, but with this one I just feel blissful. I am relishing in it all because there is something so very magical about knowing this is you last time being pregnant, nothing can get you down.

Unless I get cankles.

But for now, I will relish in all things pregnancy related... even those pesky belly button hernias were embraced. It was the first time I truly felt pregnant so I couldn't help but "enjoy" them. And look at my baby above all 12 weeks old and without knees.

And now I cannot believe it is already 14 weeks old.

 

 

Thus far this baby is the least active in-womb of all my children... which I like to think translates to an uber calm and quiet baby. That's called pregnant lady hopefulness. Us, pregnants, are known for catching a dirty case of the glass half-fulls and Mama's bankin' on this one being easy peasy lemon squeezy.

 

Although I don't much have an affection for lemons... Easy peasy triple cheesy.

 

YES... that one suits me just right.  



CATCH UP CONTINUES - CHRISTMAS 2014

Give me a few minutes to recall some details of Christmas...

Because that's what happens the minute you have children, your once sharp memory, the same one you once prided yourself on, turns to mush. A once lock tight memory bank has an open door and dangling latch.

But all is no lost. I do recall this being the best Christmas yet. We basked in the beauties of this holiday season... unlike last year.

 

 

This year we happily blew our money on gifts that the kids no longer play with, ate way too many sugary treats but didn't care because that's what sweat pants are for and I didn't get all that mad every single time one of the kids yanked an ornament off the tree and broke it. We were happy. Still are. If you need us we'll be riding this ride until there's no more stops. And if a happy cheery Christmas full of love isn't enough for you...

 

Were also famous.

 

LIKE TOTALLY 8 PAGES DEEP IN A MAGAZINE FAMOUS. That's 8 pages into the magazine and you will see our faces, not 8 pages dedicated solely to our faces.... just to clarify. Were just beginning our famous so don't get crazy. Soon enough we'll be washed up... but until then lets look at the famous versions of ourselves yet again. Want a hard copy? Find us in the magazine section at your local grocery or book retailer, that's Country Living March issue page 8.

 



 

 

I'm so glad my mom never taught me to cook properly, turkey cooked to perfection is not nearly as humorous as the bird all a'blaze. And for those of you with the sharp 20/20, Brad's gun IS missing. The editors at Country Living thought it may be too controversial with all the gun control issues floating about... sorry Brad, but if they asked to put a Spiderman mask on me, permission to Photoshop Harlyn into twins and wanted to switch out Khages shoes for a pair of cowboy boots with spurs I would have let them. You wanna put me in a magazine... modify it as you see fit.

 

If your not convinced how legit this situation is, need I remind you that we are side by side to a Tidy Cats ad. Tidy Cats is like one of the top cat liters in this country. If that's not confirmation, I just don't know what is.

KHAGE IS FOUR

Its been almost two months since Khage's fourth birthday.

Needless to say... he's still four. I had this incredibly brilliant plan: if I continued to treat him as a three year old, referred to him as a three year old and begged him relentlessly to remain a three year old it stands to reason that he would be... a three year old.

There's logic behind this one, stay with me.

People always say your as old as you feel, so if I forced him to feel 3 that's just what he would be... that's not me talking, that's science people.

But aside from my ruthless nagging, it seems he grew anyway. Practically in front of my eyes. He uses words like literally, has an opinion about how he intends to do everything from getting dressed to climbing into the car, and any chance he gets he likes to refer to himself as a man.

He is truly 4... 4 going on 14. And I just need to deal with it.

I suppose this one growing is particularly hard on our hearts because he's the aging pioneer. Every new milestone and growth spurt is completely out of our realm of expectation. We don't know what comes next... and then he shows us and we sob quietly behind his back because he was supposed to be our baby forever. With him, everything is new and unexpected and it just makes it all the harder for us to loosen our grip and let him grow. For him, we have to buck up, hold back our fear and watch from the sidelines as he maneuvers through this new year. Our boy, comfortably independent and forever difficult... but loved beyond measure.

Dont Judge

Your kitchen too would look like this if an intruder decided to invade your home.

No.
Stop.
Don't freak out.

We weren't robbed.... Your so dramatic. Why in the world would a burglar upturn the oven? I don't hide my none-existent gems and diamonds under the stove, although that would be genius. Genius, before I blasted out my newly discovered secret hiding location on the web.

It wasn't a vandalizer or a thief, instead it was a dirty, stinky little house mouse. Although he didn't have intentions of taking off with our goods, I still feel violated by his mere presence. Khage on the other hand wanted to keep him. We met in the middle: releasing him near the wash by our house.

Tell me this? Should I be worried about my cleanliness if a mouse chose this particular place to pillage? Originally, I thought of myself as a clean person. I sweep multiple times a day and frantically wipedown the counters just about everytime I come into the kitchen. Seems I'm gonna need to step up my game to ward off future intruders... after all he knows where we live.

And don't worry about the toddler completely unsupervised on the counter... pretend the floor below her is scattered with pillows. It wasn't. But pretend. If the fictitious pillow safety feature isn't enough for you, Daddys in the diving with a 50 50 chance of catching her range. Believe dat.

Halloween 2014

I'm going to ask you to ignore the date today. Pretend like were pals and do me this solid. It is a week before Christmas and less then three weeks before the new year... that computes to a hearty seven weeks too late for this post. All is fair in love and laziness.

I had such plans for this Halloween. Khage was gonna be a cowboy... a rumblin tumblin child of the West, complete with homemade vest and chaps....

Then he saw an Optimus Prime costume. So I did what any mother would do, I tried to bribe him. I attempted to lure him over with talk of guns and a holster, but that boy cant be bought. He wants what he wants, and boy wants to be Optimus.

Do you see the look in his eyes? That doesn't come with the costume my friends, that's all Khage getting deep into the character. Once the mask went on, he transformed (eh? eh?) into a whole new guy. So much in fact he sometimes referred to me by my first name.
Jamee, will you roll my sleeves please? 
Jamee, can you help me put on my mask?
Thank you, Jamee.
At least his character maintained a constant state of politeness.

Harlyn's costume was also incredibly store bought, but one which we already had on hand. I pulled it out of her closet and said to her wanna be a chicken and she just continued to blank stare at me for an uncomfortable amount of time... I happily took that as a yes. I have always wanted my kids to share a costume. Have the one costume that no matter what they all wore it at least once. Then later I could look back and play a little game of who wore it better.

Your right, that is weird.

Enter chicken costume round two. Remember round one?

Maybe next year I will get around to posting Halloween pictures while not conjunctionally shopping online for Christmas gifts. Let us add that to my endless list of resolutions that will never be fulfilled. Just squeeze it onto the list... maybe before Make Khage and Harlyn wear coordinating costumes but after Convince Brad to dress up as the Phantom of the Opera. Oh how that Phantom has wooed me.

Happy Halloween friends.

You agreed to fudge on today's date remember?