Happy Birthday

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear beer,

Happy birthday to you!

(a photo of the birth certificate)

Our beer has a birthday today. Not a (as in singular) beer that was accidentally misplaced or forgotten in a cooler or unintentionally left to roll around in the trunk for awhile. But the (almost case of) beer that is in our garage refrigerator. The beer we offer guests. The beer we add if a rare recipe calls for it. The beer I apparently don’t turn to at the end of an exhausting day.

Call it whatever you will, be it neglect or impeccable self-control or downright shameful, but the fact of the matter is I don’t know how to properly celebrate a beer birthday. Never in my life have I been faced with such a situation of being the owner of year-old beer. The old me would be so disappointed. Does this mean that I’m officially a grown-up now?

I don’t think it would be fitting (or wise or tasty) to drink it, but does this birthday beer deserve to be put out of its misery (a.k.a. down the drain) just because it’s old? I feel an ethical debate about beer euthanasia brewing (pun absolutely intended).

As with all celebrations, it’s the early stages that are the most awkward. I think I’ll break the ice and get this party started by hoisting up my imaginary glass of champagne and toasting to the beer of honor.

Cheers!

This is the official invite for beer’s 1st birthday party. Stop by anytime to salute the birthday beverage. And for your own enjoyment, it may be best to BYOB.

She's Got Skills

E has few reservations about showing off her stellar spelling skills,

but when she walked away from the refrigerator leaving this behind...

I couldn't help but wonder if we have a child prodigy on our hands.  So proud!

This is the Stuff

I think this song was written just for me...



except "stuff" isn't always the word I use.

A Lazy Mom

A lazy mom doesn’t want to walk all the way across the store (for the fourth time) to get traditional art supplies, so she grabs what’s around her instead.

A lazy mom opts out of cleaning the kitchen floor after mealtime because her intuition tells her it will need more than a sweeping by the end of the day.

A lazy mom kills two messes with one stone by combining art and snack times.

A lazy mom uses a single cookie sheet as the tray for snack/paint to dodge additional dishes.

A lazy mom makes her children enjoy hands-on activities in underpants to avoid using an entire bottle of stain remover on one shirt.

 

A lazy mom would have rather used a hose outdoors for washing up, but since she is not a stupid mom, the bathtub made due on a wintry day.

A lazy mom doesn’t even bother to ask that the extreme splashing be stopped.

A lazy mom throws away painted underpants to avoid using an entire bottle of stain remover.

A lazy mom doesn’t comb her baby’s wet hair, resulting in yet another Nick Nolte look-a-like day.

A lazy mom doesn’t put pajamas on her daughter immediately after bath time.

A lazy mom regrets this and now has to wipe urine off the freshly Swiffered floor while wondering what it is about nakedness that caused her potty trained girl to pee on the floor. 

A lazy mom thinks new floor covering (even though the current grooves are unable to be scrubbed clean) sounds like too much work because she doesn’t want the hassle of combining new things with young children.

A lazy mom tucks her kids into bed and sits down for a brief moment to reflect upon the past three hours of her life.



A lazy mom decides that maybe things didn’t turn out to be so lazy after all and rewards her (not-so-lazy) efforts by letting this horrendous heap go until the morning

and blog with a beer instead.

Laziness is exhausting.

The Not So Sweet Smell of Victory

J snuggled up next to me yesterday afternoon to watch the end of a movie.  As soon as the final credits began rolling, he jumped away and said, "I'm done."  Playfully, I trapped him with my arms and legs and began tickling him.  I wasn't going to let him get away that easily.  After only a couple of seconds he shouted, "I tooted!" 

Because I know that every male in this world desires loud and clear acknowledgement when his own flatulence is involved, I purposely played right into his game and reacted in a very dramatic fashion with a high pitched scream and a "get out of here!"

As he walked away in victory, he turned around and reported, "That's my defense mechanism."

Possible Titles for Our Unwritten Book

There’s practically a baby boom happening around me. I love, love, love any baby snuggles that I can sneak in, but just a look at the exhausted parents of a newborn revs up my PTSD. Flashbacks of inconsolable, relentless crying and feelings of inadequacy leave me diaphoretic. Don’t get me wrong. I adore my children and being a mom, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The delightful emotions that go along with all of the hugs, smiles, kisses, and accomplished milestones are indescribable, but I’m all about keeping it real, too.


Going from married and childless to being the parents of one baby boy was rocky for us. Yes, I think I can also safely speak for my husband on this one. There was simply no way we could have physically, emotionally, or mentally prepared for this transition. Even if everyone in the world told us while I was pregnant that there would be parts about parenthood and the infant stage that would really, really suck be difficult, our imaginary perfect parent la-la land that we were living in would have impaired our ability to fully grasp what was being said anyway. Plus, no one wants to be that person to rain on an expecting mother’s parade and tell it like it is, so everyone just chooses to lie instead. When’s the last time a pregnant mother asked you what she should expect when the baby arrives? Did you respond to her with advice about cracked nipples, reflux, zombie land, breasts the size of Texas, creative tips for putting a stop to the wailing, 3rd degree tears, or depression? Didn’t think so.

Over our supper tonight, we were reminiscing about our early days of parenting and all the real feelings and emotional states (just to name a few…frustration, failure, disappointment in ourselves, delirium) that we still associate with our first months of parenthood and why no one can be upfront with soon-to-be parents. It was at this point that Steve said, “We should write a book about it. Maybe it could be called Your Parenting Skills Will Disappoint You or Welcome to the Land of Failure.”

That’s when we started brainstorming possible titles for our non-existent book focusing on the realities of parenting an infant. (Remember: We do truly love our little blessings, but our sense of humor is twisted.)

I Know Why the Post-Partum Mommy Cries


Need a Humbling Experience? Have a Baby.


One Foot in the Toilet: When Your Parenting has Turned to Crap


Realistic Parenting: Accepting That You Don’t Know What You’re Doing and You Never Will


The Biggest Loser: You as a Parent


Despicable Me


Seamless Transition to Parenthood: A Common Myth


And You Thought Pregnancy Was Exhausting


Are You There God? It’s Me, Katie.


Don’t Move! The Baby’s Sleeping


What to Really Expect the First Year


Sleep Deprivation, Leaking, and Insanity


So, You’re Not That Good of a Mom After All


Smoke, Pray, Love: A Guide to Surviving Colic


The Diaper is Full of !@*# and So are All of the People Who Talk About Their Children Sleeping Through the Night

I know we’re not the only ones with sick humor (or are we?), so feel free to join in our fun!

Christmas Card Photo Shoot

I've randomly shared several images from our Christmas photo shoot before, but here's a few more.  Since I've never scrapbooked (and have no intention to) and haven't ordered actual prints of any photos other than the occasional cards or wall pictures for about year and a half, I feel the need to group a few things together.

This was the 15 degree day that I was finishing up J's scarf on the way to the park.  I was fully expecting to hop out of the car, line the kids up in front of a tree, snap a few shots, and be on our merry, cold way.  Thankfully, they were in such a playful, cooperative mood that my boring idea was turned upside down.  We had such a great time, and I didn't raise my voice out of frustration one time.  No Bo Pelini this time.  Remarkable progress!  The only thing I would have done differently when doing pictures in the snow:  packing a dry change of clothes.  Lesson learned.  What are the chances that I'll remember that next year?

Teens

Imagine for a moment that you are one of the two adults responsible for this many teenagers...

day in and day out...

 as in EVERYDAY.

Sweaty palms? Elevating blood pressure? 

Rapid heart rate?  Burning and churning stomach? 

Possibly even a little vomit in your mouth?

Me too! 

Just the thought of parenting teenagers makes me nervous.

Even my most challenging days with my little ones

seem like a heavenly dream compared to this terrifying task.

I'm not so sure I can survive sending J off to kindergarten, let alone puberty.

Please, excuse me.  I have a little more vomit in my mouth.

C & D, so brave you are!  I pray for you a lot!  Seriously.  A lot.

Procrastinator

Me:  Hi.  My name is Katie.

You:  Hi, Katie.

Me:  And I'm a procrastinator.

Here I go again...publicly revealing yet another flaw of mine. 

Indeed, I consistently put things off until the last possible minute.  Always have...probably always will despite my occasional but brief attempts at organization.  There's too much evidence against me to even begin denying it...like finishing up J's scarf in the car on the way to take our Christmas photos or pulling an all-nighter to begin and finish a project the night before it's due or packing for a trip minutes before our planned departure time or wiping down the toilet with a Clorox wipe as expected guests are ringing our doorbell.  No matter how organized I was, I'd still be doing this with a two and four-year-old in my house.  No doubt about it.  I could go on an on and so could my husband as my last minute antics drive him crazy.  Ask him about my Sunday morning pre-church routine or lack thereof.  You'll see for yourself.

Frankly, I don't really like spending days and days preparing for something.  (Maybe this is why planning our wedding was an utterly painful process for me.  I've already begun to outline all of the benefits of elopement and a simple tropical marriage ceremony to E.  I really hope she's listening.)  This drawn out approach actually increases my anxiety level.  Plus, I seem to be much more efficient and effective when in a time crunch. 

Because my level of motivation is so highly dependent upon a nearing deadline, I find it quite difficult to accomplish even the simplest task if a time frame is not involved.  Although I may wait until absolutely necessary to start with the actual steps of accomplishing something, this doesn't mean I don't start tossing around some ideas about an upcoming event or task well in advance.  Sometimes I even make a list.  I love lists.

Anyway, with J's 5th birthday quickly approaching, I asked him what he had in mind for the big event.  He first said Star Wars  but then quickly changed his mind.  He wants the theme to be storm chasing.  I should of known.  After all, this is the boy who frequently prays that Tornado Alley will go away.  He also has an old out-of-service cell phone in the car so he can report any twisters to the National Weather Service.  I nodded my head as the wheels started turning and said, "Maybe I could make you a tornado cake."  He then asked, "Could it be an F5?"

So a tornado/storm chasing birthday it will be.  That's all I've come up with so far.  Oh, and I know that if we decide to actually have a party with any invited guests, the venue will not be our home.  It's just not designed for entertaining (and I'm not really either).  Although, our living quarters look as if they were in the direct path of destruction of an F5 tornado, so this might just add to the theme.

I'd love to tap into some one else's creativity as I am not above ripping off ideas.  I'll give credit where credit is due. Promise!  Feel free to share.  After all, I'm already going to be up to the wee hours of the morning making his cake before the celebration, so I might as well have a few other projects to add to the last minute craziness. 

A Caption Without a Photo

"What are you doing?  We do not stand in the toilet."

(The words of my husband tonight as he walked into the bathroom to check on E.  Alternative post title:  Things You Thought You Would Never Say)

Wet Willy

As I was snuggling with E at bedtime, I watched as she slobbered all over her index finger and quickly inserted it into the opening of my left ear.  Naturally, she proceeded to giggle uncontrollably.

Me:  Who taught you that?

E:  J

I intercepted her little hand as she was trying to repeat this naughty little trick.

Me:  Stop that! 

E:  Why?

Me:  Because that's gross.

E:  Dat's not gwoss.  Dat's funny!

The Whole Story

A picture may be worth a thousand words,



but it doesn't always tell the whole story.

Heavenly Peace

I’ve had a few days to reflect upon the life of a sweet cousin of mine. He certainly was a young man full of one-liners and seemingly had perfect timing with his “oh, my!” He was the welcoming committee at our family gatherings and was definitely at the center of every celebration he attended. He delighted in life’s simplicities. He dared to be the hugger in a family of non-huggers.


But most of all, I’ve realized that he truly was the best living example of love that I’ve ever witnessed. Real love, true love…unselfish, kind, not boastful, and keeping no record of wrongs. He displayed his love just as we are called to do in chapter 13 of 1 Corinthians. What a blessing to have had the opportunity to see and feel this love in this life!

There’s great sadness in me knowing that a mom and dad, brother, and sisters had to quickly bid their son and brother an earthly farewell. However, I know with certainty that this young man passed on without regrets or guilt and is rejoicing face-to-face with Jesus. I know he is resting in heavenly peace.

Peace as in contentment. Peace as in quiet…no way!

Heaven got a lot louder last week, and just the thought of this makes my heart leap for joy.

Let's Start 2011 On a Happy Note

Nothing like a sweet baby to bring a smile to my face.

If he could talk, E IV would surely be asking, "Why me?"

 

The answer is simple...because he is so darn cute!

(and his mom let me)

Flexing for the camera already!  Such a boy...

  Of course, he wasn't strong enough to escape my ridiculous hats.

He's going to need those muscles to survive with these two sisters.

They just can't get enough of him,

and neither can I.

 Obviously.  I have about 800 pictures to prove it.

Definitely, the cutest New Year's baby I've ever seen...even if he looks like he has a mangy opossum overtaking his little head.  Kudos to my dear husband for sharing his opinion of my crochet creation.

However, he didn't seem to mind. 

Love him!

Here's to a peaceful 2011!