(insert dry-heaving sound here)

 This, my friends, is why I hate eggs.
 
 I rest my case.

2 Things

Tonight, after a semi-successful trip to Home Depot (success based on the fact that we didn't break a fluorescent light bulb that is apparently considered hazardous material... semi based on the fact that my boys are so busy and I had to continually chant "sit down, sit down, sit down" and Reese pooped) I was buckling Nate in his car seat. Per usual, he was being sassy and arching his back and trying to make it difficult. I growled, again, "SIT DOWN." To which he replied, "You're fired." What?! I wanted to scream, "You can't fire me, I QUIT!" But I didn't.

A nicer boy at the moment is Oakley. He's funny. The other night I was telling him that he had his t-ball party and they were having pizza there, or he could eat dinner at home. He said he wanted Burger King. (He's never had it but totally enchanted with the idea of a crown.) I asked him if he was buying it with his money (which he has none of.) He said, "No, you'll buy it." I told him, "No, you can eat at home or at the party." Oakley asked, "You're saving your money?" I said, "Yes." He replied, "on car insurance?" He might watch a little too much tv.

Okay, a third thing.

Our tree got chopped down today! On purpose! It was huge and the roots were coming up in the yard and taking all the water from the grass so now maybe we can have grass and not a half grass half mud yard. I am looking forward to not changing muddy kids all the time but am a little sad about having a tree-less back yard. I just want the ones on the other side of the fence to grow super tall now to shade my yard. So don't be surprised if you see me out miracle growing the trees on Lindsay to death.

Lame

I found my sunglasses.

They were in the gutter.

My Coping Skillz

My parents moved.
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

We are all having a hard time dealing with it. Obviously.

So, I've realized that I busy-fy myself as a coping mechanism for (not) dealing with them being so far away.

I have spent hours on invisible work:

(That lasts about 8 minutes.)

And then hours of more manual labor:

(Still wish I had man muscles under this lady-like physique of mine.)

Followed by more hours of (my) mom-ish work:

(No big deal, just juiced 12 gallons of juice, one for every month until next year?)

In other news:

Reese got new glasses,

Oakley played his first year of t-ball,

and Nate talks and talks till he tires himself out.

(Mom, I'll try to post more often for you. Hi, Dad!)

Kids: 2 Mom: 0

My parents gave this to me a while back, with a smirk:
I guess since these were a day apart I have nothing to complain about.
Showering and vacuuming are over-rated anyway, right?!

"And that's why you don't use a one-armed person to scare people."

My children are horrible eaters. Seriously, like going-to-drive-me-to-drinking bad eaters. It honestly doesn't need to be as difficult as they make it. I obviously don't have a hard time getting it done, I don't understand why they do.

When dinner was having a hard time getting in their mouths and down their throats, I decided to try a bribe. Bike rides; but only after their food was all gone. I finished my dinner (which was neither disgusting nor delicious... eggs, bacon and biscuits,) and told them I was going by myself.

By the time I had the garage open, Oakley came out the door, still chewing an entire plate of food. We headed on our normal route, commenting on how nice the cool breeze was, and when we reached about the 1/3 way point it started sprinkling. By half way it was pouring with gusty winds and we were so cold! We rode against the wind as quick as we could back home. We pulled the bikes back into the garage, and turned to look at the rain... which had miraculously stopped.
And that's why you don't try to teach lessons to your children.

Collections

When I was little, my sister Alyson, had the most impressive sticker book. Photo albums (yes, several of them) were filled with every sticker she could accumulate. I used to love to pull back the plastic sheet of the sticky page - sshhhhhkkkkkk - and feel the fuzzy ones or smell the scratch and sniff ones.

I don't think I ever collected anything, my attention span and lack of patience didn't help me hone the collecting skill. For this reason, I'm thinking Oakley must be her boy. He has collections of she-shelves (sea shells,) dinosaur bones (dried paint clumps,) and most recently, locust skins.


Anyone know where I can pick up a sticker book?