Nature Playdate

This weekend we did as those who have gone before us...

We rode some ponies...

                

We caught some fish...

We played in the water...

       

You know... really "bonded" with nature....

mmm... delicious river rocks...

And we got scraped up, bruised, and covered in bug bites.

Smiles all around...

     Now, don't get me wrong.  I want my children to be able to negotiate a tablet full of apps and find the good programs on TV.  I want them to understand the wealth of information that is at their fingertips and to use it.  I want them to be able to navigate the world we are creating for them competently and confidently.  But I also want them to know what river water tastes like, how to bait a hook, and how to live without www.whatever.com for a while.  I want them to understand the power of a quiet day outside and why we need to make sure and save some of the nature for our future folks.  SO now is the time for sun-reddened faces and muddy little knees... we can always play "Angry Birds" or watch "Octonauts" the next rainy day!

OO7 Sass-style.

So... Sass has a new... um... trick?... game?... that Hubbs falls for every.  single.   time.

     Before book and bed at night, Sass watches a cartoon.  Sometimes it's Jake and the Neverland Pirates, sometimes it's *shudder* Bubble Guppies, but most of the time it is Octonauts (But never the Whale Shark ones.  Sass is TERRIFIED of the Whale Shark ones.).  Hubbs and I usually use this time to begin the vegging and play on our phones.  (There are only so many times one can watch "The Snot Sea Cucumber" or "The Comb-toothed Blenny".)  It's been a great tool in "Calm Yourself, Monkey Boy" time and sets him up nicely for a pee, a book, and bed.  That is, until...

Me:  "Okay, buddy.  Octonauts is over.  Time to go upstairs."
Sass:  "Just one more?  One more Octonauts?  Please?"
Me:  "Nope... you know the drill.  Let's go."
Sass:  "Hold on, Mommy.  I want to ask Daddy someding."
Me:  "He's going to tell you the same thing, buddy."
Sass:  *already squirming into Daddy's lap* "Come here Daddy.  I want to tewl you someding secret."  *places a hand on either side of Daddy's face and turns to whisper in his ear*

     Except he doesn't whisper.  He licks all the way up the side of Dad's poor, old noggin.  Chin.  Ear.  Hair.  All of it.  And so quickly, all Hubbs had time to do is looked shocked and gag a little.  Sass and I then proceeded to laugh like maniacs for about 3 minutes while Dad digs the drool out of his ear.

The thing is, this hasn't just happened once or even just twice.  It has happened 3 or 4 times.  Sass varies his approach and waits for days before trying it again.  He's crafty.  And scary.  After his guerrilla-tongue attack, Hubbs lamented, "But I was going to get HIM this time!".

*sniff*  

My little man is growing up and plotting like a big boy.  

*blows nose loudly*  

I took this photo right after his sneak attack.  Just look at that sweet little face so filled with self-satisfaction... *sigh*

She. Her. Sister. That child....

SHE is my messy child.

SHE is my diaper-diving, dirt-eating, mess-making wunderkind.  No puddle is too deep.  No poop shall go unmolested.  No food shall remain unsmeared.  

Brother is our clean one.  He doesn't like sticky hands or face and I never once found him spelunking in his diaper or playing in the toilet.  Just this morning, Hubbs caught Sprinkles elbow deep in the crapper with a water cup.  The jury is out on whether or not she actually drank any H2-NO!  Hubbs would like to remain blissfully ignorant while my vote is yes, she did.  Luckily it was freshly flushed... this time.

Brother has always treated food as food.  You know, a substance that is supposed to make it in or near the mouth.  Sprinkles sees it more as an artistic medium to get stuck in her ears and inbetween her toes.

Bubba is not a fan of mud while Sissy applies it liberally to all surfaces... hers and yours.

Sass Monkey's super powers are speed, agility, and unstoppable speech.  Sprinkles' are brute force, fashion sense, and unholy mess.

I wonder what a third will bring?  And... will putting all three together create a time and space sucking vortex of doom?  

Only time will tell....

I am "Inside the Blogger's Studio" today!

Hey guys!

Check me out over with Danielle Herzog at Martinis and Minivans today!  I am super happy dance excited that she knows I exist let alone that she actually associated with me on her blog.  Whoot!  *more dancing ensues*

I can die happy... I have been featured on BlogHer!

Whoa... yeah.  I know, right?  Yeek!  *nervous giggle*  There I am.  Right there.  On BlogHer.  And not because I posted it myself and then shamelessly pimped myself (which sounds like a real personal problem, doesn't it?).  I'm there because... they wanted me there.

*Shocked Silence*

Let the "fun" begin!

   

A bird's eye view of Mt. Synnøvius.

     I have hit the halfway point in my pregnancy and we are now 20 weeks along.  Yay, right!?!?!  Maybe it's because I know what I'm in for, but my enthusiasm is... slightly less than some of those ladies on their first go 'round.  I say let them live in blissful ignorance... I don't want to be anyone's bubble popper.  36 weeks should do that for me just fine.  Don't get me wrong, though.  I am excited to meet our new baby girl!  Juuuust maybe not so excited about what's right around the gestational bend.  For example:

Things that are going to happen no matter how many goats I sacrifice I have to look forward to:

1.  Back/hip/joint pain - The kind of pain grown men take drugs for... except I can take drugs.... yet.
2.  Cankles - Are those white tree trunks?  Oh... nope.  Just a pregnant lady lumbering into the doughnut shop.  "Where are her feet?" strangers will wonder as I waddle past.  Somewhere under there, I promise you... I can feel my toes wiggling.
3.  THE FEAR - Is the baby kicking enough?  Is it kicking too much?  Was that a contraction?  Did I just pee on myself or did my water break?  YEEK!
4.  Boobs - Now, what is wrong with increasing ones bust size, you ask?  If you start off modestly, nothing.  But 2 previous breastfeeding stints, and a passel of genetics with an unkind sense of humor later and you end up with mammoth mams that will outweigh your newborn... individually.  I am afraid to lay on my back while I sleep because, if those puppies decide to head north, I am going to asphyxiate.
5.  Sweat - Ewww, right?  Ewww but undeniable.  Growing a baby has some unfortunate byproducts... one of those is heat!  (there are others but even I have limits)  If I lived in the arctic in January, this would be fine.  But I don't.  I live in the south and it's July.  Damnit.
6.  Peeing - Hold on a sec... I'll be right back.  I have to pee... again. *five minutes later*  Okay, now where were we?
7.  Uncontrollable hunger - I know it's not an issue for everyone, but I can feel it coming.  My entire life will become one long hunt for things I probably shouldn't eat a sh*t-ton of but will anyway.  Like chili cheese fries and doughnuts...  Food commercials will make me salivate like a bloodhound on a fresh trail and the FOOD Network is completely banned from our channel line-up... unless Hubbs WANTS to go find me collard greens and fried chicken at 10 o'clock at night... on a Tuesday.

Food Crimes I am already guilty of...

8.  Questions - If you are going to ask "When are you due?", have the decency to NOT looked shocked and cross yourself when I answer.  It's not like you have to BE there...
9. Exhaustion - There is no such thing as "enough sleep".  It's the effing unicorn of raising kids.  It doesn't exist.
10.  Itchy effing stretch marks - "Tiger Stripes" my ass.  Tigers never catch themselves scratching at their bellies like they've got something communicable while slathering on everything from Shea butter to cooking oil, muttering pleas for sweet release under their breath.

It's all so glamorous, isn't it?  And to top it all off, I get felt up by a stranger in increasingly shrinking intervals! Score!

But despite all the "fun" stuff, it is the only way to get those adorable little heathens that have completely and irrevocably changed our lives for the super better so it's worth it.  *sniff*  Ow!  Oh sh*t... did my milk just drop?  *sigh*

He defies logic... and all rules of proper sanitation....

I don't even know how to start this one out so I'll just go on and jump right in...

It is bedtime and Sass is SUPPOSED to be stripping down for a quick hose off before stories and sleep.  Like I said... SUPPOSED to be...

Instead I hear, "Mooooommy!  Come look!  I'm in da bathroom!".  As I walk in, I see my 4 year old son crammed cross-legged into the c.1983 shell-shaped bathroom sink like a crumpled up spider, grinning furiously.  And I hear the water running...  Why do I hear the water running but the tap isn't on?

"Hey Mommy!  I'm peeing on my feet!" *giggle*

Oh... THAT'S why.  Silly me.

No really... how did this all happen?

     As we prepare for arrival of our third (AND FINAL!) child I often stop and wonder... well... how did this all happen?  Don't get me wrong, I know HOW this happened (yeah!) I just sometimes have moments where I am floored by all the havoc wreaked changes to our lives in the last 4 or 5 years.  I mean, life gets boring when you get old, right?  Heheheheheeee.  Shows what you know, silly teenage me.  :)

But... how DID this all happen?  How did it start?  Who are we?  Where are my car keys?

*Ahem*

Well... it all started on Halloween Night of 2001 in a frat house...

     Romantic, no?  *snort*  Me and the girls got all dressed up (I was probably some version of a scantily clad fairy/lady bug in calf-length leather high-heeled boots covered in sparkly eye shadow.  Remember that stuff?) and headed down to a Halloween Party at our favorite free-beer haunt.  I will spare you the gory details of what a house full of 18-25 year olds looks like during a party involving kegs, costumes, and pulsating hormones.  Lets just leave it at "Somebody get a pressure washer and a Hazmat Suit!".  Gawd, we had fun...

Anyway, I digress...

     As the ladies and I were making our rounds, red solo cups in hand, this blurry blue ball of energy came hurtling down the stairs in front of us.  When it paused at the bottom we realised it wasn't a blue ball of energy at all!  It was a handsome young man, vodka-pink high in his cheeks, wearing a blue tee-shirt with... cotton balls glued to the front of it?  And why was he carrying around a water gun?  It was too much, I just had to ask what his costume was all about.

"I'm partly cloudy with a chance of rain... except this isn't water." he grinned, obviously incredibly pleased with himself.  He then aimed the gun at his mouth and squirted the clear not-water a couple of times.  We all laughed and he raced off to complete whatever mission he was on originally.

     Now... I didn't think to myself  "I'm gonna marry that man." because I was only 20 years old totally old enough to drink at the time, but he had definitely piqued my interest.  It was a plus he was all soccer-boy hair, green eyes, and testosterone (Oh, and it turned out he was smart too!).  Because of mutual friends, we ended hanging out all that summer and then into fall.... and then he finally split with the girlfriend he'd had since he was sixteen and I got my chance.

The rest is history, fate, and pure dumb luck....  :)

My poor eye-lids circa 2000-2001.

So... no early relationship pics to share as they are none of them digital (because we are old).  Or full of well-dressed sober people...  SO instead I thought I'd share a pic of what I hoped was the long gone glitter eye creams we used allthedamntime "back in the day"...  I found this pic labeled "Prom Make-Up".  Really?  REALLY?  Prom Make-Up?  When did "worn out stripper" become "coming of age" couture?  Wait... I just answered my own question....  Nevermind.

*Little tip for you girls...  this sh*t sticks to EVERYTHING!  You, your boyfriend, the guy you danced with while your boyfriend was in the bathroom.... just sayin'.  Watch yerself...

And now all has been revealed!

Our currently equal testosterone/estrogen ratio is about to skew... in favor of estrogen!  That's right!  Bun #3 is a girl!  The Hubbs and I are very excited and also a bit in shock.  We were convinced it was a boy... but it's not so that means more pretty, sparkly girl clothes are in my future.  Yay!

*sigh* 

Bur poor Sass Monkey.  We will need to stop by the grocery store for some "emotional support" cupcakes to liberally apply after we drop this bomb on him.  He was insistent we have a boy and that we name it "Gunman".  He was adamant about "No more sisters."  Tough breaks, buddy.  Here... let the buttercreme make it better.

But.... just maybe.... it's the universe looking out for me.  Because you see, last night, as a freshly bathed Sass Monkey ninja-style tea-bagged my woefully unprotected knee caps while laughing maniacally (knowing full well that Mommy was a sitting duck because she was very roundly stuck in a giant, leather bean bag chair) I thought to myself "Oh gawd.... what if it's another boy?"... and then "Ug... that is uncomfortably warm...".

*deeper sigh*

Just a thought.  Just a thought.

Not-So WW: The awful truth... in pictures.

It's "funnier" *ahem* for me because I know that,  much to the horror of her older brother, my sweet Sprinkles finds warm bathwater quite...um... stimulating.

Want to pass mah WISDOM along and add to my all around out-of-control head-puffery?  You can Pin It here!  I will be your best friend, if you are into that sort of thing.  ;)