Wordless Wednesday: See? I told you that you were the father of my baby!

Worthwhile Moments

You know those times when your kids help renew your commitment to birth control? Like when your son jumps on the tube of Desitin, thoroughly working it into the carpet, just because it feels cool. Or when your infant daughter decides to messily expel the contents of her colon, quickly exceeds her diaper's capacity, resulting in a goopy mess down your brand new white pants. Or the first time you get a call from your kid's teacher because of his/her new vocabulary choices.

And don't even get me started on what pregnancy does to a perfectly nice figure.

Well, I have some examples of those little moments when having kids around is actually pleasant, if not downright hilarious:

With my kids running around the room, I was talking with a hair stylist friend about a perm I'd gotten that, unfortunately, turned frizzy. When I asked her what I could do about it, her advice was to "condition the hell out of it."
Moments later, I was walking with Boo and noticed she had been usually quiet. So I asked her what was on her mind.
"Mom?" Boo asked, her eyes wide. "Does hell make your hair frizzy?"
Am I evil if I told her yes, so she could be careful about sinning?

---

During church, a teacher was explaining how Jesus is our shepherd and that we are His sheep. That was a bit too literal for the 3 and 4 year olds, who immediately began refuting the claim that they were wooly animals. But Baby thought for a moment.
"My dad has a hairy face and a hairy belly," she said, "so he could be a sheep."

---

As a surprise, I took the kids to McDonald's. After jumping out of the van, the Boy expressed his thanks through dance, specifically with the "Gangham Style" horse dance.
---

Baby was having a milkshake when she looked at us, completely stunned.
"Hey!" she said. "There's ice cream in this!"
As opposed to what? Broccoli?


Let's just see if they can keep it up...

The Great Turkey Escape

The Boy cane home with a school assignment where he was supposed to save a turkey. This particular turkey wasn't awaiting execution on death row or frozen solid. It was a cartoon turkey that needed a to escape hungry dinner guests. The task was to disguise him before Thanksgiving. We were encouraged to choose something that had special meaning to our family.

So the Boy turned his turkey into a ninja.

What better way to get past the holiday than by dressing as a master of invisibility?

Oh Boy, Oh Boy!

With only one boy child in the house, I am sometimes left confused as just what to do with him. He will join us for a tea party, but only of his Kung Zhu hamster can come, too. Usually, I throw some Legos at him while I fix the girls' hair. When I get the girls hair stuff or jewelry, I can't help but feel that I'm leaving him out, so I tend to give him the larger dessert or He didn't want to take a dance class but I still wanted him to be active, so I put in him soccer over the summer. Once soccer ended, I was stuck. Then, I found something else he would enjoy: Karate.

This is Boy, earning his white belt. After his first class, the instructor thought he was ready to move to a more advanced class, because he already seemed to know the stances and moves. She asked me where he took karate before. I just smiled like a proud momma and said this was his first lesson. There was no need explain that his skills most likely came from watching hours of Power Rangers.

Friday Confessional: Back to School

So…seems like I've only been posting lately when there's a meme to fill out or some other obligation. Hence, the "first day of school" post. Sure, we celebrated and it was a big deal and I've been admiring everyone else's adorable, backpack-bearing children and my blog has remained silent…except for the memes. Yeah, well…maybe I need to adjust my happy pills.






I confess…
I was really looking forward to the day when school started.

I confess…
I may have counted down the days. Just a little. Especially when the advertising, sales, and stacks of notebooks started showing up everywhere. Then came the planning for the annual party at the bus stop, where the families all meet together early, bringing juice and frosted carbs to celebrate the start of another year, before loading our offspring on a large, awkward metal conveyance that lack proper restraints.

I confess…
When Boo started school, I cried a little as she climbed on that bus, her tiny legs barely able to make it up the stairs. Then I cried a little bit more back at home, when she wasn't there for what seemed like a very, very long time. I fought the tears when she came home, tired but happy. Even laying out her clothes for the next day got me a little weepy.

I confess…
Boy's first day was met with much more enthusiasm. This change wasn't because the Boy was a difficult child; he's a pretty typical boy. Mainly, I was excited because he was so excited to hop on that bus. Finally, all those mornings spent with his nose pressed to the window, watching his sister make the long walk (half a block) to wait for the bus. He probably didn't sleep much the night before. Also? It's not nearly as scary the second time around.

I confess…
When Baby starts school, I will probably be a jiggly mess of sobbing and snot. It won't be pretty, folks.

I confess…

*sigh*

I love my little family. We are very blessed. And the best part? Is how much they love each other back. I'm not the only one that's addicted to the hugs and sloppy kisses.

A Mothering Moment: Packing

As a mother with growing children, you might be tempted to give your brood tasks in which they are entirely responsible - with very little checking on your part -  so those little people will learn about consequences.

This is not a good idea.

Carefully explain that the trip will last three days so your (highly intelligent, possibly genius) child will need three sets of clothes including: pants, shirt, underwear, and socks. Let him/her happily gather items and stash them in their own backpack. Then, send them on to another important task. But check the bag! Otherwise, this could be the scene in your hotel on the second day of your trip:

The Man: Boy, you really need to put on clean socks.
Boy: But I only have one clean sock.
The Man: Wait, what?
Boy: Mom said to bring three socks. I wore two yesterday so I only have one left.
The Man: Three pairs of socks.
Boy: Oh...that makes more sense.

How to Prevent Exploding Heads

The honeymoon is over. The thrill is gone. The shine is off the penny. Familiarity breeds contempt. The female of the species is more deadly than the male. Oh, wait...maybe not that last one.

In other words, the kids are bored. Not going to school is no longer any fun. And they aren't shy about letting me know.

The other day, while I attempted to neuter the stack of papers, mailers, statements, and assorted credit card offers that seems to double it's reproductive efforts during the night while the kids lounge in the living room. The day had started on the wrong foot, possibly even the entire leg. Before breakfast ended, petty arguments and whining had taken over all conversation. By the time I began filing away financial statements, my happy place wasn't answering my calls.

"Mom, I'm boooooooooooored!"
"What can I dooooooooo?"
"Mooooooooooooooooooooooom!"

I slam my binder shut and shove my chair back from the table, the legs squealing their protest on the linoleum.

"No more!" I roar, sure my eyes are about to spout fire. "The next kid who even hints at having nothing to do, will make my head explode and then you'll be forced to clean my brains off the floor.  Do I make myself clear?"

Two pairs of very wide eyes stare back at me, nods barely registering.

"If you need something to do, then go clean your room. Sweep the kitchen floor. Empty Baby's diapers. Pull the weeds out of the flower beds. I have no shortage of work to get done, so unless you would like to become indentured servants to a brain-splattered woman, then I suggest you Go. Find. Something."

They scurry from the room, blurs of blonde hair and flailing limbs, not sticking around to see if there's brain fluid leaking out of my ear. Returning the chair to it's designated spot, I continue my task in relative peace. And silence.

Maybe a little too much silence. Soon, the silence becomes the kind of quiet that all mothers fear. Once again leaving the mounds of randy tree fiber products unchaperoned, I seek out the children.

Well, at least they found something to do.

Bouncing through the years

Hey, so I have three kids. Sometimes I have to remind myself of that...seems that I keep forgetting one or the other. And we're not just talking about getting their names confused. My mom used to call us by every name (even the dog's) before she got the right one. What I mean is that the Boy had a birthday and I never even mentioned it.

When I was LARGE with child during Boo's 6th birthday, we let Build-A-Bear host it for us. A bit on the pricey side, yes, but so very worth it to a woman giving birth in a few weeks. Since the Boy's birthday was wedged between our Spring Break camping trip and my departure for a cruise, I needed something on the easy side. The Boy began campaigning for a local collection of bounce houses as his dream location. Kangaroo Zoo has always been popular with my kids. They have rooms for parties and offer special packages so I decided it might be worth it. Turns out that the party packages are much cheaper on a weekday and I found a $20 off coupon. That put it within my budget! They even provided custom-made invitations, complete with waivers for parents to sign before the kids could jump.

(And here's where I'm going to rant for just a moment...if your child is invited to a party, please call and RSVP! If your child is invited to a party at Kangaroo Zoo, Build-A-Bear, or another locale where the parents are forking over some serious cash in exchange for your child's entertainment, an RSVP is absolutely mandatory!! While we only had two kids who told me they were coming, we also had one kid that never responded and never showed. Since the party is for a set number of kids, it costs me the same if not all of them are there. So please drop this terrible habit that society has engendered of not responding to an invitation and call the hosts! Okay, rant over... for now...)

The party guest ran around like crazed baboons, jumping, sliding, and bouncing on every inflated surface. There was even a "party host" provided that chased them, taught them games on various structures and showed them the new attraction they recently installed:

Blaster guns! These are air-powered guns that shot foam balls. The goal was to get them in the black net bag in the middle of the room. That was soon abandoned in favor of other targets, such as the party host or the birthday boy. I got in a few good shots, too.

Then we had presents! Each party room has a special throne for the guest of honor. 

And just to make singing "Happy Birthday" a little more fun, I had the kids sing it as loud as they possibly could. The Boy loved that! For another picture (and explanation) of the cake, go to here.

A good time was had by all and the kids were very whiny when it came time to leave, which I always take as a sign of success. Added bonus? No after-party hurricane debris for me to clean up!

Happy (BELATED) Birthday, Boy!

Wordless Wednesday: Favorite Book Characters

Worn Out Welcome

You might have noticed that I'm an emotional person. That might be why I get sentimentally attached to inanimate objects. It took me nine months to box up Baby's infant clothes because I was going to miss seeing those little outfits, even if there was no way she could fit them. There are stacks of the kids' homework with cute mistakes or funny observations. Ticket stubs from movies the Man and I went to when we were dating, pictures from my crazy teenager years, broken jewelry, and shirts that are several sizes too small. I keep it all.

Sometimes, you just have to say goodbye.

And sometimes, you really, really want to say goodbye but your son won't let you.

Remember the Boy's security blanket, affectionately called the mee mee? Remember how we mourned the loss when his beloved item went missing a year and a half ago? Remember the rejoicing and jubilation that resulted when the mee mee reappeared? Yeah...

This is what the mee mee looks like now:

It's in scraps. I find little shreds of it all over the house. At this point, I think it's less cotton, more snot and dirt. Now, being sentimental, I've saved a couple fragments for the Boy's memory box (and also to use as fodder for his teenage angst). But seriously...the rest of it has to go. Ewwww.

Don't Quote Me On That

It's late. I can't sleep. So I'm gonna blog. Lucky you.

(I reserve the right to delete this post once I get some rest.)

Sometimes I have to watch what I say around the kids. It's not like I swear like a drunken sailor but it's the phrases, sometimes the seemingly innocent ones that the kids pick up on. Take this evening for example...

I took the kids out because I was feeling a little cabin fever from getting over a cold. Perhaps staying indoors so long had deluded me into thinking that this was a good idea. We were at a local bookstore. Boo found a joke book (See? Total lapse of judgement) and Baby found a flip-book. The Boy couldn't find anything he liked. There wasn't anything Lego. Or Star Wars. Or Lego Star Wars. So I let him get a bag of chocolate covered pretzels instead. As I swiped my credit card, I noticed that half of the pretzels were dipped in white chocolate. Suppressing a shudder (and perhaps a little bile in my throat), I signed the receipt and we were off.

Once the Boy had a couple of his treats, he was all smiles and beneficence. So he offered me one. A white chocolate pretzel. After I stopped foaming at the mouth, I then had to explain several of the words I'd used, such as "abomination" and "blasphemy." Care to place any bets on how quickly those little gems are going to stop popping up in conversation? Maybe they'll get bonus vocabulary points.

While the Boy acquired his passion for chocolate (however impure it might be) from me, he also got my temper. Just a little.

The Boy, like most boys his age, likes to build forts out of couch cushions and sheets. I usually don't mind as long as he abides by a my rules, like don't attempt to take the cushions I am currently seated on and he has to allow all siblings to enter. Which means Baby gets to come in.

Baby is not exactly gentle. Nor is she careful. And she doesn't pays attention to structural support. The fort fell down. A lot. Finally, the Boy let his frustration get to him.

"Baby!" he shouted. "You are gonna be the death of me!"

Hrmm. I wonder where he got that little quote? Why is it that he can't remember what I asked him to do two minutes ago, but he'll remember what I muttered under my breath last month? Maybe I ought to change my strategy. Starting tomorrow, I'll start mumbling when I want him to do something. Hey, asking nicely doesn't get me anywhere. Maybe my passive-aggressive grumblings will be the thing that gets him to clean his room. It's either that or using the Force.

Find the Boy

The Boy is a good kid, but can be a little on the sensitive side. Luckily for him, he knows when a situation might get quickly out of hand and tries to prepare for it (like attempting to smuggle the mee mee into church or getting a second package of fruit snacks so he doesn't have to share with his little sister). When it was time to watch a new movie, the Boy got everything ready, just in case things got scary: mee mee, his stuffed dog, and a nice safe place to peek out from.

The movie was Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Boo is reading the books and as a reward when she finishes one, she gets to watch the movie version. So far? She's not impressed with what the script writers did to the books. Aren't we all, though? (I'm tempted to have them watch The Never-ending Story or Dark Crystal, 'cuz I'm mean.)

Also, I've extended the sign-up date on the True Colors swap until Friday, October 8th. We're currently at an odd number so hopefully we can even things out a bit. Encourage your friends to sign up!

Obligatory First Day of School Posting and Evidence of How Cruel I Have Become

Wanna see da Boo on the first day of school? Of course, you do! Why else would you be here? My contest is closed and it's not like I post much of interest lately...

Anyway, here she is:


We had a bit of a clothing emergency the night before school started. See, I recently discovered Crazy 8's clothes and I really love them. I had an outfit all picked out for that big first impression, but when I went to lay it out for her...the skirt looked ginormous. She tried it on and it slid down her hips. Not exactly the look I was going for. Luckily for us, we were also out of bread and milk and baby wipes so a trip to the store was already essential. I joined the ranks of the forlorn, hunting for correct sizes amongst the picked-over racks in Target (since I'd much rather give them my money than Wally World). And since the mall was already closed. I found this ensemble still on sale. Crisis averted!


The Boy starts kindergarten this year but not until next week. He's looking forward to riding the bus but not actually going to school. I think it's because he's going to miss me. And you can't really tell from this picture but his shirt has a zombie on it, demanding "BRAAAAAINS!" Apparently I am not the only one anticipating an undead apocalypse. We just vary in how excited we are at that prospect.

One of the things I like about my community are the seasonal traditions we developed over the years. For instance, on the first day of school, parents and kiddos gather at the bus stop, bringing breakfast with them. We've turned it into a fun little party; a nice way to send the kids off to school, where we can give high-fives to other moms or maybe even hand over the tissues to the occasional teary-eyed ones, all while we munch on donuts and silently pray that our daughter doesn't dump that whole cup of chocolate milk down her shirt because boy howdy, would we be in a fix. Or at least, most people bring donuts....Remember how I am trying to trim down my fluffiness? And have I mentioned how we're getting much better at recycling? So I stroll up to the party carrying this:


Mmmm...totally drool-worthy. Oh, but wait! I haven't opened it yet! Inside? Are these:


Frozen grapes. Like popsicles without the sticks and in wrappers that you eat! Who wouldn't love 'em? Well, everyone who was expecting cream puffs, apparently. I think they're the perfect snack to eat just before the kids get home from school, you know, so you have the energy to finally get out of bed and get something done, other than determining if those teens shuffling down the street might be looking to increase their grades by eating your brains.

The Sweet Smell of School Bus Exhaust

It's that lovely time of year when the bugs are dying off, the weather is cooling in the evening, and the sun sets a little sooner. AND SCHOOL STARTS!

Oh, come on! You can't tell me you're not celebrating, too! And even if you don't have kids in school, those buy-one-get-one-1/2-off shoe sales are pretty awesome.

When da Boo started kindergarten, I got a little teary-eyed. My bay-bee! Now, she's a big, bad second-grader ready to reclaim her place as the best reader in the class (she's finishing up the first Harry Potter and only had to ask me about a handful of words; and those were things that are found mostly in England).

This time, it's the Boy's turn to climb the big yellow bus and start school. He's done well in preschool so I'm not worried about his skills. There are a few friends in his class so I'm not worried about him, socially. Kindergartners only go half the day so no worries about his uber picky eating habits. I got him really cool clothes and he can match his own shoes to what he's wearing so he'll be fine there.

So what am I worried about? No, really. I'm asking.

Nearly every night for the past two weeks, I've woken up at 4:40-ish. When I go back to sleep, I wake up again approximately every 20 minutes after having a nightmare - a vast majority of them feature my only son. The school bus eats him. He turns into a lizard-type creature and is kicked out of school but no one calls to tell me. The beloved principle is replaced by an android who absorbs small boys. And those are just the ones that have stuck with me...no telling how many others I've forgotten.

Maybe I'm not as prepared as I thought I was. Apparently, internally, I am a mess! Are there any words of wisdom from veteran moms or other anxiety-ridden folk? What am I so afraid of? I don't think it's androids...

What I Learned On My Summer Vacation

We've had a busy summer! I can blame my lackluster posting on the events going down amongst the heat and bugs. While soaking in the family time, I managed to actually learn a few things along the way.


Mario Kart on the Wii is really, really fun. Driving a real cart is even better! (Unless, of course, a younger cousin gets in the way...don't worry, he was fine!)

Kansas consists of sunflowers, cornfields, humidity, and bugs. Mostly the bugs.


Grandmas have magical abilities but Great-Grandma is even more beguiling, capable of soothing multiple babies at once.

Most of my cute tops require a shirt underneath (so I'm not scaring young children when I lean over). But layered shirts and high humidity are not friends. In fact, they pretty much hate each other and will make life miserable for anyone who dares to combine them.

Young boys would much rather sleep in a cave consisting of couch cushions and a table than share the pull-out sofa with their sister.

When visiting your cousins, you might discover you failed to pack an essential item: lipgloss. No worries, my Boo. Butter makes an excellent substitute. (And pay no attention to the odd looks you get from the other diners and wait staff...they're just envious that they didn't think of it first!)

(Baby + dumdum sucker)carseat = Impossibly Sticky Mess. I'm just glad she wasn't wearing white.

It's never too early to introduce your offspring to the finer things in life, like expensive cheese, trips to exotic locales, and massage chairs. Baby stayed in this chair for a solid hour, which is quite the feat when she's not asleep.

There you have it! Now you, too, can benefit from my knowledge and save yourself the two-day-one-way trip in a van with three small children. It's been a couple weeks since we've returned and I still haven't recovered...of course, it might help if I actually finished unpacking.

What did you learn this summer?

And if you haven't already done so, enter to win a $25 gift certificate!

I Suppose I Should Be Proud...

Due to the Boy's natural ability to utterly destroy objects simply by being in the same room with them, we are constantly repairing things from toys to eye glasses. His last pair of glasses broke so frequently that I became quite good friends with the gentleman at the eye clinic that repaired them. So when his prescription changed in January, I paid the heaps of extra money for better frames. These are so bendy that they can almost be wadded up and stuffed in your pocket. Nearly indestructible. I say nearly because...


*sigh*

The Boy Brings Me Joy

And yes, I like that my title is a cheesy little rhyme.

Here are two recent happenings that just make me want to squeeze my little mini man and never let go!

We were getting ready for a family trip and I had him pick out four favorite movies to bring in the car.

His selections:

Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Star Wars: A New Hope

My Little Pony: Friends Are Never Far Away

Then, just tonight, after the kids were in pajamas, we said family prayer. When the prayer ended, instead of saying "amen," the Boy indignantly pointed out that the little penguin tag was missing from his pajamas.

Boy: The penguin is gone!

Me: Boy -

Boy: It's supposed to be right here! (emphatically patting wrist)

Me: Boy -

Boy: It's gone! (Much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth)

Me: ...

Boy: (sniffles)

Me: First of all, your pajamas are on inside-out.

Boy: Oh.

Girls are fun but I sure am glad I have my Boy.

Work Hard For Your Money

I've decided to start giving the kids an allowance.

I know this is a hot topic with parents. Some don't think kids deserve payment for doing things they should already do. Others don't want their precious babies to get hurt feelings when they fail at something. Mainly, I want the kids to help out a little more and stop asking for toys whenever we go shopping. Still, there are some things that I won't pay them to do; that they should do anyway, simply because they belong to our herd.

So I'm putting together a chore chart. For the two older kids, I've got three daily chores, three weekly chores, and then a selection of optional chores for a little extra money. Here's where the Man and I have disagreed...he thinks the kids can do a whole lot more and I think they're kids! But I am willing to try it out and let them impress me.

Da Boo's daily chores consist of Bedroom Check (bed made, no clothes on the floor), Piano/Homework, and 5-Toy Pick Up. Weekly tasks are Hamster Cage, Smudge Patrol (disinfecting wipe and an area of wall space to clean), and setting the table. For a successful week of work, she can expect one dollar. I hesitated to add piano because that's more of a privilege than a chore but she doesn't always agree with that sentiment.

The Boy's chores were a little harder to come up with, but daily, he has Bedroom Check, Homework, and 5-Toy Pick Up. Every week, he gets to help clear the table one night, empty the Shoe Basket (where all our shoes seem to congregate when they're not on our feet), and feeding the Shredder (part of my paper-clearing strategy). And if the Boy manages to complete all this during the week, he'll get one dollar.

Optionals chores don't currently have price tags. I don't want to give them a quarter per job but a dime seems a little on the low side. But if they've completed their daily and weekly chores, they'll have the option to earn extra money by going on a Smudge Patrol, helping with Baby, sorting socks from the laundry (something I never get around to), finishing worksheets, and then various forms of torture encouragement that I devise spontaneously.

Now, here's where I'd normally open the floor to discussion amongst my readers (all three of you), but I should tell you that I reserve the right to ignore any and all criticism advice in the comments. However, I would like to hear what you do at your house...provided you agree with everything I'm planning and you tell me that I'm beautiful. And skinny. And incredibly talented. Good? Good.

Leggo My Legos!

I saw a friend's post about her son's birthday party and realized I never posted about the Boy's party! Oops!

Since the Boy is mildly obsessed with Lego Star Wars, Lego Indiana Jones, and Lego Batman games on the Wii, it was pretty easy to get him excited about having a Lego party. And they have some really cute shirts out right now so he got one to wear for his party. He asked me every day if he could wear, maybe thinking he'd catch me off-guard. He didn't.

This party, I was ready. The treat bags were filled and ready to go. The table was covered. My floor was even vacuum well before the guests arrived. I was dressed and wearing makeup; the kids were dressed and didn't have peanut butter smeared all over their faces. I was in rare form! And I have to brag a little bit...most of my plans for the party came from sites online, except for this little piece of genius:


It's a plastic table cover with matching plates from Wal-mart. I wish I had more plates so I could have made all the doors into Legos!

When the guests arrived, they got a seat at the table (now big enough that kids didn't have to share chairs!), a Lego coloring page, and lots of crayons.


I knew this would be tricky because some kids use lots of colors, take their time, and really enjoy coloring. Others stab at the paper with a crayon once or twice and call it good. So for the fast ones, I had them try to write their name or draw a picture on the back. That held their interest long enough for everyone to arrive and get a chance to color.


Next, the kids got a bag of Lego bricks (I got the big 650-piece set and used less than half for the party). They could build whatever they wanted using as many or as few of their Legos. Originally, I intended to give everyone an award for their creation, like "Most Colorful," "Tallest," "Most Deadly If It Were Real," etc. But at the last minute, I couldn't find my award ribbons, so we just skipped over that portion.

After building, it was time for the pinata!


I got this one from the local party store and thought that if we used our imaginations, squinted our eyes, and had recently suffered a head trauma of some sort, then it would look like the 5 was made from Legos instead of whatever stuff was leftover from making those Mexican llama pinatas.

And why is it that store-bought pinatas are impossible to break? We were heading into our fourth round of taking swings -- and I didn't even blindfold the kids or make them dizzy! -- before the Man used a box cutter to weaken the integrity a little. These ought to be recycled for a new maximum security prison facility. Inside, I had filled the pinata with Starbursts, Tootsie Rolls, and more Legos. 'Cuz it's not a real party unless I've worked the theme into every nook and cranny.

After using all their energy to break the pinata-that-wouldn't-die, it was time to refuel with some cake and ice cream!


For better pictures of the cake, check it out on my cake blog. And once again, there's diversity amongst eating styles but I was prepared! Each kid got a handful of candy building bricks (sold in bulk at my local grocery store). These went over so big that we spent more time at the table so they could build with them/suck on them until their tongues turned colors.

And I have to show you the lemonade:


I made these using the ice cube trays from the Lego stores.

After cake comes presents!


What a surprise...he mostly got Lego sets.

With almost perfect timing, the parents started to collect their little ones. Each guest was sent home with a balloon and a goody bag. This is what was inside the bags:

Homemade soap (which was surprisingly easy), molded crayons (which were agonizingly tedious), with more building brick candy and their Lego creations. Oh, and there was a kazoo, too. I'd like to apologize to all the parents...the Boy insisted.

While I didn't feel like the party was chaotic and out of control, I was still exhausted at the end. I really ought to consider changing these to every other year...

The Difference Between Boys and Girls: Hiking

On a daily basis, I am reminded that there is a distinct difference between boys and girls. Sure, Boo likes to play video games (and can beat most of the boys in her class) and the Boy doesn't mind a good tea party, but inevitably, the differences emerge.

For instance: Spring Break. This year, we went down to Moab. We hadn't been since the Boy was a toddler so we figured we were due another round.

And on the very first hike up to Delicate Arch, it started to show.


Boo strides down the carved staircase as elegantly as royalty. The Boy decides to turn it into a slide and make the trip on his bum. It didn't quite work, but he wasn't giving up on the idea.


Next hike, the Boy immediately scales the rocky portion of the path while Boo, after watching several other kids slip and slide their way upward, opts for the traditional method.


The kids were empty out their shoes after Sand Dune Arch. Boo brushes off a few pesky grains from between her toes. The Boy dumps out his own mini dune. See that sand on the pavement? Yeah. That's all from his shoes.