Birthday Boy

Wouldn't it be sad if on your birthday 

(which just happens to land 3 days after Christmas) 

your mother was too tired to really decorate a real cake 

and just decided to use left over red, green and white frosting from Christmas?

Isn't that breaking some sort of December-birthday code?

What kind of mother would do that?

Uh...ok, maybe a mother like me.

Not only that, but I literally just squirted that stuff all over 

to create the worlds most unappetizing looking cake ever.

If you turn your head to the left, 

close your right eye and squint with your left eye 

it might look like a hamburger or something.

Or not.

But whatever - this dude still thought it rocked!

 He thoroughly entertained his little audience tonight with his cake eating abilities.

No really, we practically died.

This boy is all kinds of awesomeness.

I spoil him rotten.

Love on his little face all day.

And will do almost anything for him...

except apparently decorate a proper birthday cake for his first birthday.

Eh, Happy Birthday anyway little friend.

Le Toilette

So, I've got this girl who lives in my house.

She's super cool.

But she's not the biggest fan of doing homework.

She has far too many other things she would rather be doing.

Like playing with her bird.

A friendly little parakeet named Blueberry.

A few months ago I got a desk for Brooklyn's room.

A place where she could go finish her homework in peace and quiet 

and I could not go completely insane asking her 1 bazillion times to get back to work.

Well obviously just putting her in another room didn't erase the problem.

But she is sure having fun.

You know, drawing birdie toilets n' stuff.

Cuz you've gotta go when you've gotta go.

And a proper bird only goes on a hand drawn sticky note toilet.

I don't always photograph bird poop,
but when I do, I make sure it's on a bird toilet.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

 Dude.

You know how kids sometimes give themselves a little trim?

Yeah...I know about that.

We were on our way to church and Brooklyn says from the back seat,

"Um, Mom, I think Aubrey cut her hair."

Wha???

You think?

Nothing like chopping off your ponytail to form what looks like a wee little broomstick.

Not such a good look.

 I found that neat little pile of hair and those dang scissors right in the middle of her bedroom floor.

When I asked her why she decided to do this 

she looked at me with this super excited look on her face,

grabbed my face and said, 

"Mommy, I learned how to cut my hair!"

Can we get an applause?!

Um. No.

In other news, 

as if the new do wasn't exhilarating enough, 

my very special girls decided to see what would happen if you put a comb in your hair and twisted it up like spaghetti on a fork.

Again, not such a good idea.

Everything about this picture makes me shudder.

 It kinda looks like we dragged her out of some back woods trailer park.

I'm sure there's some sort of redneck joke that would be appropriate here.

But alas, it will suffice to say that I will never get that hour of my life back.

It was considerably more difficult than one might think.

At one point I considered cutting the comb out.

There was some serious weaving going on there.

She probably walked away with a couple of bald spots.

Speaking of bald spots... 

No joke that within 2 weeks of Aubrey demonstrating her hair cutting skills that Bradley decides to one-up her and go straight for the Bic.

That is one very lucky little hombre.

That big bald spot was smooth as butta.

Can anyone else believe that he didn't cut himself?

Seriously.

That.could.have.been.bad.

The good news:  

my head was not involved in any of these life lessons.

Lifeguard on Duty

So, I have this boy.

A boy who has only recently become a decent swimmer.

And by decent I mean that I trust him 98% of the time,

but there's still that 2% the scares me a little bit.

About a month ago we took a trip to Hume Lake with some friends.

The adults were sitting on shore passing around the Oreo's 

while all the kids were swimming.

Good times.

As is normal, I find myself counting heads every couple of minutes.

At one particular moment I am counting

 but can't find Bradley's head among the group.

In a brief moment of panic 

I find his little head bobbing out further than he was supposed to be.

(naughty boy)

So I go to the edge of the water and watch him swim.

Seriously, where is he going?

That's when I spot the tiny orange spec floating near him.

He grabs it, turns around to swim back and I start getting nervous.

He wasn't panicking yet, but I could see on his face that he wasn't going to make it all the way back. 

(For the record, all of this happened in a matter of a few seconds)

As Dave and I look at each other

(and do a quick round of Rock-Paper-Scissors)

our wicked awesome friend Ryan

[cue Baywatch theme song]

runs from his chair, rips off his shirt and goes to the rescue.

Thank goodness he's like 12 feet tall 

because he was able to reach Bradley in 1 stroke.

He lifts my little guy in the air and what does Bradley say?

He proudly holds up that Tampico lid, 

has the biggest grin on his face and yells, 

"I got it!"

Really?

Apparently he was unaware that he might sink to the 

deep, dark nasty lake bottom.

His only thought was that he must MUST rescue that lid.

For detail purposes, 

I must mention that Dave really wanted to be the one to go into that deliciously green water,

but he was far too busy flexing for me.

Priorities, you know.

Everything is Awesome

My Boyfriend: Edition 3 had his first soccer season this spring.

And I'm here to tell you,

they charged me 70 bucks to let him play.

I would have paid double. (but don't tell them that)

It was straight-up the most entertaining thing I've experienced all year.

(Ummm...upon further inspection, I'm to-the-bone-frightened of the creepy sunglasses man in this picture. Let's just pretend he's not there.  [shudder] 

Let's focus on that adorable very happy face attached to the flying leg.)

Every time it was time for soccer (whether practice or game) he was all kinds of excited.

Like, camping out in full uniform several hours before game time excited.

It was adorable.

And when his practice would get cancelled....
oh the tears.

He was known to sprint out onto the field doing a little jig and singing 

"Everything Is Awesome" (Lego Movie, anyone?)

which is basically the theme song for this boy's life.

I do enjoy live action sports pictures.

Some facial expressions are just...special.

Bradley's infamous backwards kick.

(The sunglasses guy looks way less creepy here.  Phew.)

And just so we all understand....

another of my boyfriends played as well.

It was fantastically fun to watch,

but more for reasons related to the kids actually knowing how to play.

As opposed to pure comedy.  :)

Jack got to put his speedy little legs to work playing forward.

It was fun to watch him understand the game more and more as the season went on.

And because I enjoy torturing my fluttering heart...

The Writer

Jack straight up hates writing.

Like writing a journal entry is pure torture.

You know, like burning in acid torture.

His teacher pulled me in for a Conference to talk it over.

In many less words than she used, here's the gist:

"Jack won't complete his writing assignments.  

His handwriting looks like cryptic hieroglyphics.  

And he gives me dirty looks."

Alrighty then.

So I sit the boy down and find out what his deal-io is.

He tells me that he just hates writing.  Period.  He just doesn't see the purpose.

And believe me, when that boy doesn't see the purpose in doing something, 

you better strap your boots on.

So what did I do?

I pretty much brought his world crashing down.

Me:  "You know Jack, any job you decide to get in the future will require writing."

Jack: "What?!  Every one?!"

Me:  "Sorry sweet thang.  EVERY one.  No doubt about it."

There's really no sense in lulling him into a false sense of reality, right?

Unfortunately, that statement didn't exactly seem to light his inner writing fire.

At that moment, 

a little light bulb appeared above my head.

Ding!

I told Jack about a person he knows that has always hated to write.  This person has always agonized over writing assignments and most recently practically perished trying to write a 100 page dissertation.

Who is this person?

None other than my hunk of a man.

(Who just happens to be floating on a giant orange floaty in what appears to be diarrhea water...)

I then proceeded to pull out our copy of Dave's dissertation.

It's a book that sits on the back of a shelf in plastic packaging because the mere sight of it is enough to cause convulsions in this poor man.

Jack however (a true book lover) was suddenly beaming.

He had just learned that his very own father was an author.

(or at least that's how he perceived it)

His stunned little self strutted downstairs to congratulate his Dad for being awesome. 

He carefully looked through all the pages

and then asked if he could take it for Show and Tell.

Uh.  Ok.

I can only imagine how that went down.

Jack proudly standing in front of 30 second graders telling them about the book his father wrote, titled

"The Effect of Microphone Port Occlusion on Hearing Aid Directionality"

The boy hates to write but he should get some points for being able to read that title, right?

He said that his class loved the book.  (right)

Really, I am sure that his teacher just thought that we were absolutely nuts.

Which is mostly likely not true.

Just so we all can recognize that Jack actually has 2 amazing parents and not just one amazing author parent, here is a picture of my famous ear. 

Which just happens to be published in 1 book which exists in 1 library.

Does that make me a famous model?

Um yes. Yes it does.

Baby G

We've had Grant hanging around for 10 whole weeks now.

And I'll tell you one thing;

I think we'll keep him.

I had almost forgotten how fun it is to have a baby in the house.

I pretty much eat his face everyday.

Let's have a quick sum-up of Grant's life thus far.

1.  He's getting plenty to eat.

His pediatrician practically gave him a standing ovation for gaining 2 pounds in his first 3 weeks of life.

10 week weigh-in: 13 pounds

He definitely came with the understanding that he is the 5th child.

This kid can take care of dinner time in 10 minutes or less.

He gets enough to be a little fatty 

and takes some to spare since he tends to spew forth quite often.

2.  He's processing all of that liquid nicely.

No picture for this one, but just know that the "plumbing" is working.

He's nailed me more times than I care to count 

and he may have even decorated the wall at the pediatricians office.

3.  He hardly gets any attention.

I mean, it's like no one likes to look/touch/entertain the poor boy.

Riiight.

Of course,

all that attention can be a bit frightening sometimes.

Just ask the kid.

4.  He smiles and coos.

Which pretty much makes me melt into giant puddle.

For reals.

I practically want to marry him.

Which of course I can't.

Because see that hairy arm?  I'm already married to that guy.

5.  Most importantly, I think his first words will be "Let it go! or Do you want to build a snowman?"

Brooklyn has discovered the 'repeat' button.

Oy.