glutton for punishment

about 20 minutes after the girls arrived, we found this container of Vicks vapor rub (one that had been purchased the day before and had never been used..)

I was sure it was Simon because, in my opinion, little girls never get into trouble. But soon we found little Betty like so.

She had washed her hair with it.. and it was so much worse than vaseline because her head and eyes were burning! Poor little thing!

We bathed her upstairs and dressed her in Simon's room... which meant that we put Simon's clothes on her. Why? Because it was funny. Naturally, with Betty in boy clothes, we had to find a cute dress for Simon to wear. Yes, I did get in BIG trouble last month when I put mascara on my son. And yes, I did promise my husband that I would never put makeup on any of our kids again. But I NEVER promised that I wouldn't dress them in cute leggings or pink shoes. And besides, Deb was here to protect me/take the blame if I was worried about a beating later that night.

We took the kids out to dinner (Cafe Rio) because Aaron was working late. We laughed the entire time because Simon looked so cute. Everything he did was more darling. And Betty was definitely uglier in boy clothes. She was grumpy and dirty and just not so cute. Simon kept telling her to stop crying, but she was just not a happy camper wearing ugly clothes...

Simon was still boy, throwing rocks and eating like a monster. But he sure was a cutie! He had a black headband/bow for his spiky hair, but he wouldn't keep it on for nothin.

We rushed home-- hoping to make it back before Daddy, but luck wouldn't have it. I wish I would have taken a picture of Aaron's face when he saw Simon. I got into trouble, but I haven't been punished yet. I think he's waiting until the visitors to leave before he gives me a spanking.

the girls are back in town!

my sister and her FOUR GIRLS are visiting. We are having such a dramatic, emotional, estrogenic time! Love this weather! Love these cute kids!

hot dogs, baseball and dog poop.

For FHE last night we took advantage of the {absolutely gorgeous} weather and bbqed at the park. We had a truly balanced meal which consisted of hot dogs, cantaloupe & mango and Cheetos.. all of which left Simon's face looking a little orange.

After dinner (and zero dishes) we played baseball in the grass. It would have been a fabulous game had we not invited our dog. Anytime anyone hit the ball, she was the first to grab it... and it took us 10 minutes in between each hit to get it out of her mouth. The kids (and daddy) literally spent the whole time chasing her around, trying to get the ball. I was struggling with my new camera trying to find a way to take focused pictures without using the flash. Not easy to do when everyone is running around.

After it got dark, Sunny finally settled down and stopped hogging the ball. I was so proud of her and was about to tell her what a good girl she was being when she squatted right in the middle of our playing field and pooped. It became the new second base.

Having a dog has been quite the adventure-- but it's not as picture perfect as we had imagined. In fact, sometimes it's down right poopy. She can be a big fat stinker, but it's hart to stay mad at her for long.

Oh, yes and Zack came too, but it was really hard to keep him in one place. This is the only picture I got of him and it's not one to be proud of, but it is evidence that he was present (and happy to be alive!)

Ps. My husband is super sexy when he:
1. cooks dinner
2. wears cute "dad outfits" to the park
3. plays sports with my kids
4. doesn't complain when I take pictures
5. cleans up crap

muzeeum

last week we hit up the local children's museum. the kids always love it there and I think Jake and Cody were impressed too.

 

changed for the better

My baby had a nightmare last night. I can't be sure about it, because he doesn't say much, but he's never screamed like that before, especially at 3 am. I quickly jumped out of bed and ran into his room. He was immediately calm when he saw me & collapsed on my shoulder while I rocked him back to sleep. After ten minutes or so, I tried to put him back in his crib, but he wasn't having it. My feet were cold and I wanted to crawl back under my own covers, so I did what I never do... I brought him back to bed with me.

I've always been really picky about who I let in my bed. But last night was something special. Simon didn't want to lay next to me, he wanted to be right on top. He smothered his face into my neck and started snoring. I could feel his dandelion hair move each time I let out a breath. He was 28 lbs of dead weight-- his arms and legs wrapped tightly around my body. I was extremely tired, but I was afraid to fall asleep because I just couldn't let this pass me by. It felt too good.

As I laid there, my thoughts went back to one of the lowest times in my life. August 2008. We were waiting to close on our house, but got kicked out of our rental... which made us homeless. Two days before we moved, I miscarried. It was my third miscarriage in 12 months. My body was so confused, my hormones all over the place. I was trying to be grateful for what I had, but I felt empty inside. I couldn't talk to my husband about it and the last thing I wanted to do was announce it my friends and family because I didn't even know what I was going through myself. It was hard to put into words. I wanted another baby, but didn't want to continue getting pregnant only to miscarry again. I felt distant, hollow, alone.

Aaron was working while the boys and I stayed in a hotel and for some reason being away from "normal" life was a blessing. I didn't have to have real conversations, I didn't have to pretend like everything was okay when it wasn't. One week after the miscarriage, we traveled to California to stay with Aaron's brother and his wife. Moments after we arrived, they announced they were expecting their first baby. I was absolutely thrilled for them, but didn't know how to respond or what to say. I was afraid to show any emotion because if I allowed myself to FEEL, I was sure I would shatter into a million pieces.

We packed a lunch and headed to the beach. Everyone built a sandcastle while I laid a distance away, trying to survive. The beach doesn't seem like the best place to deal with the aftermath of a miscarriage, but it was exactly where I needed to be that day. I laid there quiet and listened to my breath, in and out, in and out. I felt as though 28 pounds of bricks were on my chest, but it felt good to be breathing. In the distance my children were laughing. My husband was throwing a frisbee with his brother and all was right in the world. It was the beginning of the healing process for me.

That night I told Aaron we needed to go out, just the two of us. He was hesitant because I was cramping regularly and needed to use the bathroom often. But I insisted. I need to do something, go some place where I could be free. His brother and sweet wife watched our boys and we went to see the Broadway musical WICKED. It was wickedly awesome and exactly what I needed... I sobbed through the entire show. My poor husband wasn't sure what to do with me and kept asking if I wanted to go home. But I couldn't miss a minute of it. It felt too good.

I look back to this picture and only feel love for that poor husband who didn't know what to say to his lost wife. I felt weak and small and I was absolutely terrified that I wouldn't be able to recover. I didn't realize how much strength I had inside of me. All I wanted was to turn back into the girl I used to be, but what I realized that night is that I had changed for good. This experience molded me into someone better-- a stronger, more courageous version of myself. I became grateful for the big things and not so worried about what I didn't have control over. I think this experience allowed me to see things for what they are. It allowed me to accept the fact that I didn't need anything more than what I already had.

Life throws curve balls, but we have to keep swinging. It's the difficult times that make us stronger and more grateful and eventually... better. Sometimes it takes a really trying experience for us to realize how GOOD we have it. Sometimes it takes a baby waking up in the middle of the night for me to realize how blessed I am.