Day 4: Part of your daily routine that you enjoy

I have to say I thoroughly enjoy bedtime.  No, really.  I love going about my business whether it be watching TV, cleaning up the house, etc. knowing my kids are tucked safe in their beds and went to sleep knowing that I love them.  Mushy, huh?

Sonce Daddy has been home, bedtime has become a little more lax.  In fact, Daddy + sick Mommy + spring break = sh*t ain't gettin' done.  I had grand plans for this week too.  We were going to make sidewalk paint, make our own chalk, go to the zoo, etc.  I even planned on taking pictures to share with the blogging world and, therefore, make myself feel superior for actually DOING some of the things I've pinned.  Thus far, since being sick, I've managed dinner out, cleaned up a poop explosion, finished the Hunger Games trilogy, napped, and produced at least a vat of mucus while causing myself severe chest pain.  Not exactly the most productive week.  On the plus side, I get a whole day alone with my husband this weekend and, hopefully, will come out of it with a Coach purse!!

Until then,

AC 'n' Rory's Mom

Hide your crayons...

AC is a little devious and decided that her brown crayon rock looked enough like a turdlet, that her dad might believe it just happened to fall out of Rory's diaper and into his shoe...

We skipped church this evening to go out for BBQ, which, I think, is only acceptable in Kansas City, Texas, and some parts of Georgia and Tennessee.  Before bringing Daddy his shoes, AC dropped said crayon surreptitiously into one of his shoes.  I was in the kitchen making sure I had a sufficient baggie full of Cheerios in my purse in the event the natives get restless.  The conversation went as follows:

AC:  You might want to check your shoe, Daddy.

Daddy:  Really?  (Laughing)  What is this??

AC: It's a turd!  Rory pooped in your shoe!!

Okay, this is where things got quiet and I wondered what in the hell was going on until...

Daddy:  This tastes awful...

Mommy (yelling from the kitchen):  It's a CRAYON!!!!!

At this point I hear violent retching and Clayton hauls ass into the kitchen coughing and gagging into the sink.  Yeah, he ate the crayon...  I was flabbergasted, never in a million years had I imagined this turn of events when AC initially approached me with the idea.

Why, WHY would he eat it??  His response was that he thought it was chocolate and his intent was to gross the girls out...  I have two problems with this: 1. When he popped it into his mouth and didn't taste chocolate, why didn't he spit it out, and 2. Why in the hell would you eat something that came out of your SHOE??  I'm married to this man, I KNOW what his feet smell like...

Needless to say, I continued to snicker at him the whole way to the restaurant as he attempted to nonchalantly remove bits of crayon from his teeth.  The best part of the night, however, was when AC needed the restaurant kid menu crayon package opened and I told her to let me do it, Daddy might get hungry and try to eat them...  She and I laughed uproariously while he gave us a banal smile and ignored us.  I tell ya, that man is NO fun to tease...

Until then,

AC 'n' Rory's Mom

Hi, honey, I'm home!

Yesterday Clayton's flight was supposed to get in at 2:30 in the afternoon.  After two delays I knew about (and one I didn't) we finally got Daddy home at 7 p.m.  It was pandemonium last night trying to get the kids in jammies, teeth brushed, and in bed with all the excitement.

Rory was a little unsure of that big bearded guy AC was hugging at the airport, but was choosing Daddy over Mommy by the time we got home.  She even woke up this morning yelling for "Dada".  I'm definitely not upset about it either since it resulted in Daddy doing the tucking in, diaper changing, etc. The only thing I won't let him do is the picking out of clothes nor the doing of hair.  I've learned that is a BAD idea from experience.  Seriously, after Rory was born, he sent AC to school in a shirt of her choosing, denim cut offs, and red cowboy boots...  I was horrified.

Not the worst case, but definitely a "Daddy dressed me" day.

Until then,

AC 'n' Rory's Mom

FYI

I can't talk, I'm reading The Hunger Games...

A new level of uncool

I was driving AC to her ballet class this past week and a catchy song came on the radio (We Won't Give Up by The Afters for those who care).  I was in a good mood, feeling goofy, and started pumping my fist in the air while chanting the chorus to the song.  The conversation went as follows:

AC: Mom, don't do that.
Me: Why?
AC: Just don't do that, ok?
Me: But why?
AC: Mom...you look kinda dorky.

This, of course, as any mother knows, was a surefire way to ensure I was going to continue said behavior for the rest of the song (or longer if I'm feeling ornery).  As I continued to "look dorky", AC was shooting me death glares in the rearview mirror.  This made me laugh...HARD her response to which was to cover her eyes and ignore me until we arrived at dance.

There is a time in your life that you realize you will never be cool again.  For most people, this epiphany comes sometime after high school or college.  (I realize some NEVER grasp this nugget of truth, hence 40 year olds in cut off shorts and 80's muscle cars.)  I've made peace with not ever being cool again.  It's all good.  I realized, however, as a result of the above conversation, that I've reached a new level of uncool...I'm now "mom uncool".  Some fight hard against it, but I, like my mother, plan to embrace it.  This means taking every opportunity to dance like a freak, misuse popular slang, and pretty much do everything I can to illicit eye rolls and sighs from my offspring.  So, come on, moms!  Drop your kids off in your bathrobe!  Roll down the windows and sing loudly and off-key!  Dance like a fool at any and every opportunity!  Uncool moms rock!

Until then,

AC 'n' Rory's Mom

Day 3: Something with which you struggle

Oh, how I struggle, let me count the ways...

1. I have no and I mean NO self-control when it comes to food.  If it's good, I eat it.  If it's mediocre, I eat it.  If it's subpar, I'll probably eat it.  If it's fallen on the floor, I probably won't eat it, but I can't make any promises.

2. I'm ashamed to say, I don't read my Bible with any sort of consistency.  I can go months without cracking it open, in fact, I don't even know where it is at the moment.  This is where the YouVersion app has come to the rescue.  I love that app, but even having multiple versions of the Bible in multiple languages with search options at my fingertips, I have no excuse.

3. Depression.  I've talked about this before and the subject is, well, depressing...

4. Dermatillomania...look it up.

5. Keeping up with the laundry.  Ok, it's not so much the actual laundry, it's putting it away.  I HATE putting laundry away and it's not uncommon to find piles of clean clothes in my room that I conveniently disregard as I riffle through them to find particular items of clothing.

6. My hair used to be curly and has gotten progressively less so with each pregnancy.  For real, it took me 25 years to figure out what to do with it only for it to change.  I used to hate my curly hair and now I find myself begging God to give it back.

7.  Weirdest thing ever, I know, but I struggle big time staying hydrated.  I am constantly in a state of dehydration and will even get dizzy and develop migraines because of it.  I don't get thirsty.  I just don't, don't know why.

8. Finding topics to blog about.  My life isn't all that interesting nor is it very exciting.  A play by play of loading the dishwasher isn't all too riveting.

I was going to go all the way to 10, but I'm getting tired and my big girl is falling asleep next to me.  I say it's high time for some snuggling.

Until then,

AC 'n' Rory's Mom

Short post this evening

I'm part of a group for stay-at-home moms.  I showed up to the playdate this evening without my girls as they were at my in-law's house.  Seeing as I've been running around all day, I showed up in the same comfy clothes I wore to yoga this morning...and because I'm a good friend of the hostess of said playdate, I also showed up in my houseslippers.  Don't judge, I don't wear them to Wal-Mart or anything, but I knew I wasn't getting out of the car before getting to her house, I figured it wasn't a big deal.  I also knew said hostess had spent the day babysitting someone else's kids only to then open her house that very evening...did I also mention she's trying to SELL her house??  Yeah, she totally needed the alcoholic slushy I picked up for her before heading over (alcoholic slushies available at a drive-through...sometimes I think God really did bless Texas).

So, here I am, in my nasty yoga clothes, minimal make-up, slippers, bearing two 32oz alcoholic slushies...only to walk into a playdate full of potential and/or new members.  Hooray.  As the Membership Vice President of our organization, I am the first person these people contact in order to get more information...and THIS is my first impression.

We had a great time in spite of my less than stellar entrance and I *hope* these ladies and their sweet babies will be back.  At least they know our group isn't very uptight!

Until then,

AC 'n' Rory's Mom