Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Your guess is as good as mine

I don't know what's more disturbing -- the fact that Avery is pinning Ainsley down trying to freeze her with an ice pack, or that there's a bottle of liquid pain reliever just laying on the floor amidst the random toys.

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The man I love

There is nothing sexier than the man you love, holding your child, and a beer in his pocket.

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They just don't make them like they used to...

Friday night Girls' Nights Out, that is.

I was so relieved last Friday to go out to dinner/drinking with some of my oldest and bestest friends. I never used to plan my Friday nights a month in advance, but, due to obvious needy little offsprings (is that a word?) consuming my life at the moment, these things must be planned ahead of time to allow for me to work up my tolerance to alcohol and, oh yeah, to also make sure I have a babysitter (also known as daddy needs to come home from work early and quickly get debriefed on how much food to dole out, how many diaper changes should occur -- the bare minimum of course, and how long time outs should last).

The night was great fun, but the highlight of the events that occured was when my friend, who was the birthday girl for the night, called me the next morning to tell me she'd woken up where she had passed out -- in a sitting position in front of the TV... with a hamburger resting on her chest.

Ahhh yes, they just don't make Friday nights like they used to. Or maybe I don't make them like I used to.

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Sunday, May 27, 2007

Watching a squirrel

...outside the window.



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Wednesday, May 23, 2007

I wonder...

Do you think the Bible came from a Hilton hotel room? All I can say is, someone's publicist went a little overboard. This picture just cracks me up.

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Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Nine Months Old

I cannot believe that Ainsley May is nine months old. This time just goes too quickly. She's about 20 seconds from crawling, and sort of scoots everywhere, but once she's up on hands and knees, she's not sure what to do and when she tries to go forward, she falls onto her chest. It will happen anyday. She's almost pulling up, though, so I don't think the lapse in time between those two milestones will be very long.

She's also clapping, waving, and saying "woof" to the dogs. I am about 90% convinced she says "ball" and today I asked her to say "Dada" and she looked at him and said it. Her babble has taken a turn for the more unintelligible and she's making all kinds of sounds -- much more complicated than gaa and goo.

I jokingly told a few people that she said her first word the other day -- "Honolulu." Maybe she's trying to drop some vacation destination hints?

She's not sleeping through the night, but will usually go from about 7pm to 1am and then she'll wake about every 1 1/2 to 2 hours until she's up for the day any time between 5 and 6 am. She's further proof that the old cliche "sleeps like a baby" has serious negative implications in our household. This is why Ainsley and Avery will have no more siblings. No sleep = crazy mommy.

Here's a picture I took yesterday. I just love those lips!!!

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Monday, May 21, 2007

Dear Auntie Anna

My mommy says you'll take a picture with me in this very same spot in 18 1/2 years.

Love, Avery

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Thursday, May 17, 2007

Off for the weekend

We're off to Vegas again this weekend to hang out with some friends. The kids will be joining us, so probably no pictures of me double-fisting cans of Bud Light and flipping you off. Yes, YOU!

Here are a few pictures from this week. I have been horrible at taking pictures of the girls lately -- there was actually a 10-day gap in dates in my downloaded pictures folders. Yikes! My sister would kill me if she knew that, so please don't tell her.

Aww, they could almost be friends...


Must. Get. Hamburger. Bun!


Wow, when did she grow up so much?


"I'm too tired for this, mom!"

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Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Dear Terminix

Please, for the love of all that is good and decent, quit using your freaky scare tactics on my two-year-old. Your disembodied entomological wall face mutants are not helping my "there is no monster in your shutters/on your wall/in your closet/on your door" problems.


That is all.

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Sunday, May 13, 2007

Scaryland is becoming Tolerableland

Just for you Morgan :)

Our backyard used to be not-so-affectionately called "Scaryland." It was scary. It really is still pretty scary, but I've slowly been able to envision it become tolerable, so I guess I'm going to have to call it such.

We started out with overgrown plants/trees/bushes/you name it. We had wood decking, scary stairs, a scary hill with scary creatures burrowing into the side of it. We had smushy, muddy grass. 32 oleanders. 5 fruit trees. I could go on and on, but I would bore you to death.

We decided that if we're going to stay here a while, our kids needed somewhere safe to play, and since people drive 75 miles an hour up and down my street, the front yard won't be an option until they're old enough to understand to not play in traffic.

I've been documenting the progress by taking pictures often. My husband has been documenting it with a calculator and a red pen and lots of subtractions and deductions. Every now and then we look at each other with this sort of "Why did we do this?" kind of look and then choose not to talk about it in hopes that things will work out fine and we won't be sent to debtors' prison in the process.

So here is the progression so far. We're so close to the actual building up part of the yard being done, I can taste it. No really -- the wafting in of dust through my open windows and up into my throat and nasal passages is a constant reminder that these a-holes better get this project done soon or I am going to make them come in with some Swiffers and an air purifying machine.

From the beginning to today:

This was after the 32 oldeanders were removed, along with many other bushes and plants. We had no access to be able to take this picture prior to those oleanders being taken out. This was actually taken last summer, after those things were all removed, but before we decided to spend the kids' inheritance on retaining walls.


And how things have slowly changed since then:

After removal:


First retaining wall is built and filled:


Second one is built:


Second one is filled and third one is started:


Third one is built. It is not filled yet, but it will be in about a week.


From a different view, same progression:








Once that third and final retainer is dry, it will be filled up to make the dirt level. We will gain a lot of square footage to our yard. The part that we're getting hosed on, however, is that this process has eaten up so much more of our budget than we thought it would, once it's built up and ready to be landscaped, our landscaping is going to pale in comparison to what we originally wanted. Live and learn. We will be doing a lot of it ourselves, but the retaining walls were not something we were willing to attempt.

So, that's that! Now Morgan, tell Blake to book your tickets to come visit us later this summer and we can sit in the middle of the dirt on a blanket and have a picnic together! :)

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Saturday, May 12, 2007

Just one more

to file under "toilet humor."

Today I put Avery on the potty and then came back to the living room to talk with my husband and a man doing some wrought iron work for us. A minute later Avery came running out from the bathroom to tell me she made a poop. I took her around the corner to wipe her and told her we'd go flush the poop together in a minute.

The wrought iron guy left and we went about our business. After a while, Avery said to me, "Mom, can you check on my poop? I think he's getting lonely."

He was, indeed, so we flushed him down to be with his kind.

I know I'm probably boring some of you to death with this potty training 'crap' (pun intended) but it's hysterical to me, so you won't mind my blogging about it despite my used-to-be-loyal blog readers dropping like flies.

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Friday, May 11, 2007

I'm pretty sure this is it...

I know it will only get worse, and that terrifies me.

I'm talking about "The Most Embarrassing Moment" in my life as a parent.

About two weeks ago, Avery had just done her business on the potty and was running around celebrating her enormous turd by clapping and doing backflips and singing the praises of The Potty. She was naked and happy, so I let her run and have a little nakey time.

Then I realized she was standing in front of the sliding glass door, where outside, 6 or 8 men were working to build our monstrosity of a backyard construction project. I told her "Avery, come away from the window. The workers don't want to see you naked." She obliged and that was that.

Until this morning.

The foreman on the job, Don, wanted to talk about something with me, so I stood on the back patio with him and Avery wanted to follow. We chatted for a few minutes, and then he turned his attention to her and asked her how she was doing, blah blah. She told him she was eating her breakfast and then, with a perplexed face, asked him, "Don, you don't want to see me naked?"

You can imagine the look on my face as I looked at her with that "OH MY GOD NO YOU DITENT" kind of face, and then at him with that "I promise I don't tell her to say these things" kind of face. I felt the need to explain to him why she'd just said what she'd just said, lest he go on to believe that we have some weird stuff going on in our house and that's why she's offering to flash him and all of his hired help.

We're to the point in our house that we don't say anything in front of Avery unless we're comfortable with her repeating it to anyone and everyone.

Now there's a quaint little story for her scrapbook, no?

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Saturday, May 05, 2007

Surely I can't be the only one...

who had this picture instantly come to mind... I mean, minus the slash and the "Paris." I added those. But you know what I mean.

Save Paris!

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Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Snapshots

I cannot, in good conscience, label this post "Photography." Snapshots will have to do.

First swim for Ainsley:


Playing Peek-A-Boo:


Isn't she looking so much... older? I'm not sure that's the word, but she's changed a lot.


Sucking on oranges and making a huge, sticky mess:


Eat your heart out, Zsa Zsa...

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Yep, I do it...

After a few months, too. I am still doing it.

What is "it," you ask?

"It" is clapping for my daughter when she pees and poops on the potty chair. "It" is giving her gummy bears to keep her coming back for more pee and poop on the potty chair. "It" is reading her books about other fictitious toddlers who learned to go pee and poop on the potty chair and surely, she can do it too. "It" is getting so excited to see excrement in something more excrement receptacle-like and less excrement absorption-like that I sing the praises of The Potty. Receptacle=good. Absorbing contraption=bad.

For a while I felt so silly. I dreaded this time because it just seemed so dorky to clap for your kid when he/she took a dump in a plastic bowl. Then you change hundreds of diapers, and realize that, not only are you clapping for your child's accomplishment, but you're clapping, too, for the fact that HELL YES, I will not have to wipe this child's butt for much longer. Butt wiping is highly overrated.

At some point when the clapping started and the dorky feeling set in, I realized something. Someone (presumably my mother, father, and immediate family members) clapped and cheered and sang the praises of The Potty for me too. Someone squealed with delight when I took a dump in a plastic bowl for the first time too. Someone probably felt completely dorky that they were clapping for excrement and urine, just like I've felt.

Long live The Potty!

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