The Crocs of the Baby Seat Sector

Emme thinks Bumbos are funny. . .

 . . .do you?

Also funny: When Emme is sitting in here, Olivia calls her a Bumbobee.
Are Bumbos your baby seat bff? [__] yes or [__]no.

Humble Pie

Dear big sister Wendy: Remember that time I judged you when your daughter Hannah crawled her nap deprived self under a bench and fell asleep?

Behold, exhibit A:

 Four children has humbled me to the very dust.

I can no longer control: when my house is clean or messy, what time dinner will be served (if it is served), when I will take my next shower (if I take my next shower), the volume my mom voice will assume at any given moment, whether this week's laundry will be put away or just sifted through when we're out of clean underthings, bedtime, spouse time, me time, certainly not nap time. I took my winter sweatpants and cut them off into shorts, so now I'm good to go for summer. Today without thinking I ate a cheerio off the floor of my minivan. It was stale. That was the only thing I ate before 3 pm.

Forgive me, I was so clueless.

-Love, your little sister.

P.S. Strangely, life is still so very good.

Dear readers: judge if you will, unless you plan to have more kids.

Birthday Boy

This guy turned 30.
And since it's been, like, a decade since the last time he turned a decade,
we decided to go big and surprise party him. Here are some sneak peeks. . .

The grub, courtesy of my talented chef sister Juli (recipes), and my helpful kitchen staff Jenn, Sarah, Kelli, and Jaime:

 fresh mango salsa

chicken tortilla soup

Also on the menu: carnitas and pineapple slush. Try them, you'll be so glad you did.

The ambiance:

 The roast: Mark serenaded him. Oh my, so funny. I cried.

 The swag, courtesy of Rick & Sarah: a cunning pink steelers hat and the book caleb has been dying to get his paws on-

"I love you, you idiot" from the Gilmore Girls. NICE! Our friends are the best.
Birthday shirt from me:

 Good food, good fun, good folks- it was a pretty perfect night.

I tell you what, this man rocks my world.
They don't make 'em like this anymore and I love him a lot.
Happy thirty years, babe.

Planting Day

We finally had a day without rain and managed to get our hands (and feet) dirty. . .

Feels so good to have things growing again.

Kilroy was Here

Dresser Monkey

Do you have one of these at your house?
Olivia knows that perching precariously on lofty objects will immediately garner attention from Mom and Dad.
If the mere act of perching doesn't, her loud cry of "Mom! Dad! I fall and die!" always does.
Pretty clever, this one.

Only Our Vehichles are High Maintenance

We've had car trouble lately.
Tinkerbelle/Annie Oakley came with me to meet our new mechanic in this gettyup:

 I was a little worried what he'd think of us until I saw the bathroom at his garage.

A man with a bathroom like that clearly doesn't make judgments of any kind. I couldn't bring myself to enter.
But luckily, plucky Jane had no reservations and marched in to do her business with an enthusiastic, "Hey! Spiders live in here!"

Good thing she had on her stompin' boots.

Hover Mother's Day

Last night, in honor of Mother's Day, I decided to be "Fun Mom." So when my two oldest girls asked for about the kajbillionth time if they could sleep outside in the playhouse, I thought about it. Reasons for saying "No": school night, it might rain, you'll be scared out there alone, spiders, too cold, you won't sleep well, lightning, bears, boogey men, you are just too little and I need you close where I can check on you and know you are safe and sound at all times!
But "Fun Mom" decided, despite these factors, it was time to say "Yes."

I was then told I am the best mom in the whole wide universe.

Certain the girls would run inside cold and terrified by 9:30, I left porch lights on and doors slightly ajar.
9:30 passed, and certain the girls would wake up cold and terrified by midnight, I sent Caleb out with extra blankets and opened all the back bedroom windows so I could hear their nocturnal screams and run to the rescue.
Midnight passed and I woke up, cold and terrified that I might have slept through shrieks or door pounding. I donned a robe and my glasses and peered out back windows into the darkness. Finding them peacefully asleep still, I returned to bed and dreamed fitfully until morning of outdoor slumber parties gone awry.

At 7:45 the girls ran in, giggling and exhilarated from their peaceful playhouse repose.

And it seems they need me less and less.
Or maybe they begin to need me differently.
Need me to hover less and to trust more. To rule less, and to teach more.
Definitely to love more, and allow them a little more room to grow.

Thanks to my mother, who loved me more, and allowed me room to grow.
Thanks to you women out there who may have slept fitfully a night or two over a child.

A special thanks to you beautiful women in my life who would love more than anything to have a fitful sleep over a child, and haven't had that blessing in your life yet. Thank you for the nurturing and love you give my children, I am grateful for it more than I can say. You know who you are, and you are in my prayers every day.

Happy Mother's Day.