Washable.Non-Toxic.Thank Heavens.

Confession:  I might have been surfing the web while Corban was eating breakfast on Saturday morning.  Apparently he finished and thought to himself..."I bet that black marker, just within my reach, would be the perfect thing to top off my Apple Cinnamon Cheerios."  Jacob walks in the house and says, "Corban, what in the world??"  That sent me running into the room to find my son attempting to turn himself into Little Black Sambo.  After I thanked the Lord for letting it be a Crayola and not a Sharpie...I laughed a little and paid my debts for ignoring him for a few moments.  Bath time!  By the way, killer bedhead dude!

Sink or Float?

I think a little boy has been sneaking out of his crib and watching too much Letterman.  His current fascination is toilets.  So, this past Saturday Dakota ran to the bathroom while doing her "potty dance", lifted the lid and found quite a surprise.  I laughed, sent her to another bathroom, took a picture then went fishing.  You might think one of those child-proof toilet thingies would be a good investment for me but since I have a 3-1/2 year old who sometimes waits to the last minute to go to the bathroom I better not put an extra obstacle in her way.  So for now I think I'll choose toilet bowl fishing over wiping up puddles of pee off of the floor :). 

What's the funniest thing you've found floating in your toilet??  So far we've found toothbrushes, Daddy's socks, a farmer and these...

I love my dog, I love my dog, I love my dog...

Hi gals! I put this post on my own blog, and then decided that it fits oh-so-well with what we're trying to do here, so enjoy! Sorry, no photos. Once you read the content, you'll understand!

Monday, 7:00 PM - Give dog soup bone from Mimi.
Monday, 9:00 PM - Call Mimi to thank her for soup bone - Spike is thoroughly enjoying it and has eaten about half of it.
Monday, 11:00 PM - Take Spike to bed after he has consumed entire soup bone.
Tuesday, 2:00 AM - Dog is making annoying licks on the carpet, ignore and go back to sleep.
Tuesday, 3:30 AM - Dog's licking turns to smacking of the lips and coughing, attempt to ignore and go back to sleep (slightly annoyed).
Tuesday, 5:00 AM - Can no longer ignore dog's coughing, which has turned to hacking. Bring him Harlie's babydoll's bathtub filled with cold water. Force him to drink. Attempt to go back to sleep.
Tuesday, 5:30 AM - Dog is on bed, as usual. Try to get comfortable with him under my legs.
Tuesday, 5:45 AM - Hear dog beginning to vomit; shove him in an attempt to keep the vomit off the bed. Think he's on the floor, but bed shakes with each heave. Wake Mike up and yell at him for shaking every time Spike pukes.
Tuesday, 7:00 AM - Mike gets up to shower and says, "Do you even know where the dog threw up?" I inspect entire bedroom, and find that I need to scrub the floor, change the sheets, scrub the mattress, and wash two comforters.
Tuesday, 7:30 AM - Thanks a lot, Mimi.

Perspective.

6:45: Oliver awakes, 45 minutes earlier than usual..eh.

7:15: Get said, whining child out of bed.

7:30: Breakfast

8:00: Chores

9:15: Stetson awakes 2 hours later than usual, no complaints.

9:30: Breakfast, again, for him at least.

10:00: Chores

10:15: Screaming from the living room, Oliver, of course. Blood gushing. Stetson smiling, as usual.

10:30-11:30: Remains a blur, but from what I can gather, I spent about 30 minutes holding pressure to a superficial above the eye gash. With Oliver, this is no easy task. Holding pressure not only involves the obvious, but also holding down 34 pounds of flailing arms and legs. Tune out screaming. That's normal. Called Chad for a second opinion on stitches. He comes home and recommends them. Who's the nurse here?

11:30-12:15: Drive to Parkside. Love. that. place. Docs decide against stitches since crazy boy will probably yank them out. We go with super glue, ahem, Dermabond, instead. Good choice, looks great.

12:30: Lunch

1:30: Naps, ahh.

1:45: Pick out new paint color for kitchen. BIG source of frustration yesterday and today. Call in the pros (I love Rachel Howell!)

2:00: Go get said color. My accomplice and loyal helpmate, mom, stays with kids. LOVE. HER.

2:45: Hate said color, ERRG! Third color I hate to date.

3:00: Mom leaves, forget about stupid paint. Open fridge to brainstorm for dinner, decorative tin plate falls on my head then to the ground. Stitches for me too? Nah, not that bad. Headache sets in. Forget about dinner for now.

3:00-5:00: Laugh, play, tickle, read, put out small fires.

5:00: What's for dinner, again?

5:00-6:00: Scrounge up food.

6:30: Eat, super hyper time for kids. (Do your kids get crazy hyper after dinner?) Mine do.

7:00: Chad, he's awesome, mixes all the paint colors I hate, makes a concoction of one I love. Solved! Take to Home Depot tomorrow to get them to match it.

7:30: Stetson to bed, still smiling.

8:30: Chad reads "Cat in the Hat" to Oliver, rap style. Oliver and me make up our own routine, rap style, of course. Yo, dawg. Bedtime.

9:00: Grateful.

I think, "What a day!" Then, I think, and really think. Oliver could have been up earlier, the cut could have been worse. I really could be scrounging for food, in a much more literal sense. My mom could live thousands of miles away instead of 10. Chad could've of (but never would've of) belittled my "paint woes," instead of being my hero. All in all, I'd say it wasn't too bad of a day. It's all about perspective isn't it?

Side note: Hi! Thanks TTC, for inviting all of us to this funny blog. Laughter is certaintly the best accompaniment to motherhood. I happen to be TTC's sister in law, aunt to Dakota and Corban. I have a 2 year old, Oliver. He's my wild child. And..a 9 month old, Stetson. He's mellow. You'll hear more about them on here. Love those boys...can't wait to hear about yours!

Stamped

Which cards do you think will reach their destination?? Dakota put these "stamps" on when I wasn't looking.  Oh, if it were only that easy (and cheap!).

Sound Off

This story seems appropriate to the theme of the blog...We (my husband, 8 month-old, and myself) recently traveled to Nashville to visit family. While we were in town, we met up with one of my best college buds at Panera for a brief visit. Isaiah was having a ball jumping on Laura's lap while we were chatting, and something about that motion just seems to get things cranking in his belly. Mid conversation, he starts his typical, dramatic, grunting, red-faced, "watch out he's about to blow" valsalva that can only mean one thing--he's about to poop (or have a BM as the PC would say, which isn't me). Now most people have no problem identifying the root cause of such theatrics, and when it's coming from a baby, people tend to just smile and go on about their business. Unfortunately, this must have been a pretty challenging poop for my son. We easily had 5 minutes straight of groaning and grunting that the whole restaurant could hear. You can see people trying to mind their own business and act like they don't hear a thing, but they can't help sneak a peak at the source of said sound. About midway through Isaiah's intense efforts, music is suddenly turned on over the loudspeakers which conveniently drowns out most of his grunting. A large part of me was relieved that we no longer had to be the center of attention, but at the same time, I'm thinking "Give me a break, he's just a baby!" Coffee and a whole-bran muffin anyone?

Kids + Husbands = Stock in Shout

This post isn't just about my kids, it includes my husband...he's kind of like a kid.  I always say that my kids will never do anything to surprise me because my husband has probably already done it.  I have an amazing husband who will watch the kids without complaint whenever I want/need some girl time or me time.  This morning was no exception as I met some lovely ladies at Panera Bread for our book club.

When I returned home (to a flooded basement that has nothing to do with this story) my husband raved about how well the kids did for him and how much fun they had.  He said that he and Dakota went fishing while Corban took his nap.  Our dialog went a little something like this...

Jacob:  Dakota and I had so much fun fishing.
Me:  Looks like it!  I saw her muddy Crocs outside.
Jacob:  You should have seen her pants!
Me:  You mean the brand-new pants that she had on this morning?
Jacob:  Yea, those.

Enough Said.  See Exhibit A.

Ok, so in defense of Jacob, the shorts only cost $1.50 on clearance at Target but they were cute, and new, and clean.  I probably spent more than $1.50 on the amount of Shout that I sprayed on them so hopefully they'll come clean.  If not, oh well...the father-daughter bonding & mother-friend breakfast time was worth way more than the entire clearance rack at Target.  Thanks for letting me have that time buddy!

Poop On My Shirt

All mothers have been there...doing something we swore we never would do or swore our kids would never do (because they're perfect right?).  Well, this blog is a place for us to laugh along other mothers as their kids do things that our kids would NEVER do or rejoice together as our kids accomplish goals and overcome new challenges.  It is a place to share stories of mothering mishaps and mothering meltdowns and ways that we have changed all because of the children God has blessed us with.

I've been wanting to start this blog for some time but am just now getting around to it. As I blog stalk other moms (don't laugh...you do it too!) I love to read stories about what kids have gotten their parents into and have thought, "Wouldn't it be great to compile these stories in one place??" Like the time my sister-in-law had to break a window in her house after her 2-year old locked her out...or the time my friend Tracy's kid Sharpied the walls or covered her sister in Boudreaux's Butt Paste. Yes, we like to laugh along with them, but the truth is, we all have a similar story to share. 

So about the name...As I was getting ready for our church's Tenebrae Service this past Easter season I was running around (late as usual) trying to get the kids ready and get myself dressed.  I grabbed a shirt, threw it on and noticed a "spot" on it.  I quickly came to the conclusion it was poop from my then 6 month old and said, "Oh well...I don't have time to change."  So I went to church with POOP ON MY SHIRT and I didn't even care!!  This is a girl who used to iron her soccer uniform before a game or condemn an article of clothing after a pea-sized mark was set in and here I am heading to a sacred service with fresh baby excrement on me!  Ah yes...because I am a mother and being a mother has changed me.  How has it changed you?

Feel free to invite friends to join this blog but please follow the simple rules at the top of the page.  Have fun!