everything i need to know i learned from water babies...

rifle paper co.

It's been a little while since we've gone through teamBoo high/lows. So since we are SO interesting...lets recap the last month for us, shall we? 

-After weeks and countless hours of Helen Keller style training (where we put food in his hand, he avoids guided hand to his mouth like it is a steaming handful of poop) Sonny finally gave up the hungry baby bird act and put a piece of food in his own mouth!! = High Cockalorum!

-I thought i'd give my tailbone a break and buy an exercise ball for my long stints at my desk. But what is a giant rubber ball at a desk in the kitchen if not a giant wrecking object for my children to terrorize me with while i make food or try to clean in peace? Despite my constant threats of sitting sidesaddle on their backs (while the other fed me grapes?) if my ball chair wasn't there when i needed it, those little turds still managed to poke a hole in it and then nonchalantly place it back under my desk (tip of shoes tracing invisible circles on the ground "a hole you say?"). I half way read the directions of the inner tube repair kit (how hard can it be?) and my kids think they've dodged a bullet. Ten minutes later as i click away on my keyboard...BOOM! The ball explodes. And i am on my back on the cold tile faster than you can say "Child Protective Services". But how could i do anything but laugh? That's funny. Pathetic...but funny. I predict that story will go down in the books without the pre-hole disclaimer, but rather simply as "that time when mom was such a fat idiot that she sat on the seemingly indestructible exercise ball and completely smashed it to smitherines" = High, cause it's funny. Low cause i'm back to sitting on a hard chair :/

-Sheamus learned how to ride a two wheeler. But only after he and i got tangled up after a rogue wheel overcorrection and both came crashing spastically to the pavement (right in front of the only house on our street that has video surveillance cameras mind you)

-Sheamus swinging open the giant handicap accessible door that faces the dressing room entrance at Target while i am completely topless. yowza.

-a drizzly and saturday brunch where we ate bacon, listened to the sound of rain through the screen door, a little Billie Holiday on pandora and nobody tried to sabotage my fantasy by leaving the breakfast table so many times that i "jokingly" secured her in her seat with a tie chair. Nobody :) (A perfect sendoff to the nice AZ weather before it melts our faces.)

Hooray for kids that make life so entertaining...and a mother who has no shame! (since i am usually the butt of the joke ;) 

"Hey hey hey, we're on our way...."

team Boo ♥'s you

april FOOL

Elyott came up with the brilliant idea to throw an April fools day party. 

Her idea was Wednesday. 

The party was to be Friday :/

last minute supplies:

1. silly props

2. fake sushi

3. poop dessert

2 days, 10 kids, negative $ budget to spend coupled with her worthless attention span (which she gets from her mother) equals the joke was actually on me. There i was, all day before the party started hanging streamers, piping out fake piles of poop (brownies) and stuffing balloons with confetti all for a bunch of crazy kids who think parties grow on trees. TREES!! 


They ate pizza, they karate kicked each other on the trampoline, they told Jokes, they watched Yogi Bear. It turned out to be fun (ish). But that depends on who you ask. The kids with bellies full of fake food, or the mom who is one impromptu idea by Elyott away from banning children from my house forever! April Fools indeed sucker (me).

Thanks Elyott for being so enthusiastic, even if you suck at follow through, and thank you pregnant sister for helping me pull it off :)


team Boo ♥'s you

don't be a drag, just be a queen: Kelly

"Queen" #2: Kelly 

(a story of patience)

Alright this may be narcissism at its finest...me choosing a "favorite" mother of mine who happens to look like me (freckles, bangs, brunette :) As you guys all may have guessed I do enjoy myself a good laugh, and Kelly over at Whoopsy Vaisey is about as entertaining as they come. Get ready...she also births her babies at home AND makes her own baby food! Holy crap, right? But you won't catch her thinking she's a mothering profesh (although she is the queen of word shortening) for she has moments like the rest of us. But instead of begrudging her job as a mother, you'll more likely catch her making silly stories to go along with her crazy daily scenarios and being her own perfect combo of wit and wisdom..and that is why we love her so!

"I could come up with something profound and heartfelt, sincere and sentimental to say about motherhood and it would be easy to do. About how it immensely changed my life and made me want to be a better person (all those things true). But let's face it, most of my days are heavy and thick and full of bodily fluids, whinny voices, sibling WWF, a crying baby and tornado-like atmospheres. On the day to day scale of motherhood I found sometimes my only sanity is to laugh and breathe through it (and take lots of pictures!). 

Anyone who claims motherhood is a bon bon-eating errand-running breeze is drinking their bath water, but it has been and continues to be the very best ride of my life." -Kelly 

 Kelly's 8 step tutorial: What to do if your three year old comes prancing gleefully down the stairs covered head to toe in the entire contents of your makeup bag...

Step 1: Walk quickly out of the room to gather yourself and get a grip on the surge of rage charging through your being (I mean, you knew she was capable of such things, but still, somehow, some way, you find yourself surprised again and again at the catastrophes she masterminds).

Step 2: Come slowly back to the room to hear her say, "Don't I look beautiful, Mom?" At which point your red face slowly turns back to pink and you (might) chuckle at the display before your eyes. It's a sight to see after all: That rose colored bod and those mid 90s Brooke Shields brows.

wow.

(You take pictures because, as mad as you are right now, you're going to want to remember this one.)

Step 3: March her little fanny right upstairs and throw(help) her in the tub.

Fill the bath with less than comfortable waters (because THIS is not a fun bath)and commence scrubbing. At first realization that there is no way this stuff is coming off without a fight, head back downstairs for the grease fighting dish soap that is Dawn Dish Detergent and proceed to scrub. And scrub. And scrub. And scrub.

Step 4: It's out of the tub with her and into a towel, tears and all.

Once again, you pull out the camera to capture the aftermath that is the shame ridden face and the rose-tinted bath waters. You're trying to speak sternly because, this is no joking matter. (If you find yourself feeling very confused emotionally at this step, that's normal. Laughing hysterically, crying, feeling the need to stab yourself in the arm- all acceptable forms of emotion for such an occasion).

Step 5: Dress the offender.

Send her to her quarters with a light spank on the buns and a good talkin' to. (this could be replaced with other things such as: sending to the corner, a slightly harder spank to the bare buns, a toss out the window... whatever you and yours have come up with.)

Step 6: Asses the damage: It's medium to heavy.

Peering meekly into the room in which the crime took place, you behold the destruction: Tubes of oil-based cover-up and foundation coated and squeezed to the last drop, the last of the bronzing beads each broken and embedded strategically into the carpet, mascara carcass lying about with hair entangled in its semi-dried out wand, blush- obliterated (Deep breaths are helpful and may become necessary in step 6).

Step 7: You're almost finished (and so is your precious afternoon).

After closely capturing on film and surveying the damages, you make a list of the new makeup you will be in need of purchasing. Then you take the remains to the sink and commence scrubbing once again. As for the carpet where the dead makeup lay: make a mental note to buy a better stain remover (because chances are, you're going to need it in the future)

Step 8: Retrieve the perpetrator from punishment.

A kiss and a hug and an "I'm sorry" can go a long way. And if you've learned anything here today, it's patience. Patience and love for your little human that is begging (sometimes non-stop) to be disciplined and taught. Give yourself a pat on the back, because you just dealt with one (unscheduled for) doozie of an afternoon.

You survived! (Better yet, she survived and still loves you)

And best of all you learned that you ARE capable of being patient given you've had the right amount of practice. And lets face it, you've had plenty of practice.

That, and you need to find a higher, harder-to-reach spot for your new makeup.

team Boo ♥'s you
(and the Vaisey family)

this is me NOT blowing myself to the moon...

Instead of explaining the blackening of my soul that has been my last few days, I am going to pretend like my kids aren't currently pounding on my bedroom door taunting "you wanna piece of me!?" for no good reason...and instead *inject some sunny memories into my ice heart.

(plus then if my kids are reading this somewhere down the line they can remember the times mommy wasn't scary or threatening to tape their faces shut)

...as luck would have it, a few days prior to the few days that have turned my heart to stone, the kids and i decided to "embrace" the sun rather than resent it.  At 113 degrees the embracing was short lived, but we had fun experimenting with its ridiculously unrelenting rays.

*insert happiness here...

FYI: they just picked the lock.
aaaand i'm back.

team boo ♥'s you

(and my kids...usually)

touche'

For mother's day my kids went with Adam to pick out some sweet little things of their choice.

One trip to Walmart later, and my jewelry collection was $23 dollars improved.

A pearl "wedding ring" that my kids were so relieved to see on my usual bare hand

(...my original fell in the ocean only one month after purchase. wah wahhhh)

Some colorful earring studs...Elyott liked the star ones with diamonds inside, sure to make the scuzziest of mothers feel her fanciest

And finally a silver heart locket set engraved with "mom" (think sailor tattoo)

As we stepped out for church, i donned a little of everything, sure to impress, and asked Elyott and Sheamus in the hoitee toiteest voice i could do...

"How do I looook?!"

Elyott looked over at me straight faced, and very patronized, and said:

"Mom. you don't have to say it like that."

...and just like that I graduated from a mom to a MOOOOM.

team boo ♥'s you

picture this.

I thought for mothers day, the sisters could pool our offspring together for a cousins picture to give to the grandmas. With several identical experiences under my belt, i've decided from now on, it should be mandatory to also have someone to stand by and film a panoramic view all photo sessions, as they are so ridiculous it's retarded. 

Funny yes, but mostly stressful and frustrating for the parent.

What must our kids be thinking??
Its possible they are feeling a little scared...defiant....but probably mostly embarrased for us as we stand behind the camera clapping, jumping, yelling, indian chanting, rap video dancing. Any regard to our surroundings dissipate as we stoop lower and lower in an effort to get all the children looking in the same direction at the same time.

It is always clear who is really running the show, and it is never the crazy lady with no makeup, spitting her tongue and repetitively whooping names and noises all in the name of....memories(?)

Yet, all we ever have to show for what felt like a mini nervous breakdown, is a nanosecond in time where the stars aligned, and the kids seem to appear to be sweethearts ;)


basically kids are turds. and we are the crazy people who love and look after them unconditionaly.

kids 1, parents 0

team boo ♥'s you

"you never SEEM to amaze me" (bert)

today sheamus pooped on the driveway. 

and based on the unwritten rule that each blog address is allowed only one poop picture EVER, i'll spare you the visual (you can imagine though...it looked like...poop. on a driveway.)


just wanted to document how awesome it is to have little kids :)"

for British eyes only...

choice: 

1. an act or instance of choosing; selection 2. the right, power, or opportunity to choose; option: {Her choice to shower was made in deep regret that her husband had such a scuzzbag of a wife. The child's parents were not happy when he chose to poop on the basement floor.}

And so began my day of big decisions.  I chose to be clean by way of a shower, only to be covered in the feeling of that the poo smell has absorbed into my hand skin {even after the smell was vigorously scrubbed and gone}.  I chose to begin potty training my kid despite my major defeat with child #1.  This morning I chose a healthy breakfast instead of the traditional {and amazingly satisfying} Marshmellow Maties.  I chose to drive my daughter to school shoe and bra-less {even after forgetting that my car was parked down the my street due to overnight road repairs} because otherwise she would have been late, and I'm a good mom like that ;)  I chose to skip the gym today, because on day 1 {yesterday} of my body cleanse i got so low on blood sugar after my workout that, were it not for the emergency {and very un-cleanse worthy} hot pastrami and swiss from Schlotskys, i'd have passed out and veered into oncoming traffic. Also today I am choosing to vote, here's why....

a. i have never voted before 

b. i am blessed with a god that gives me the right to choose and a country who lets me do so.  

c. i needed an official reason to wash my hair.

**Show confidence in what you decide {for example...I am proud that i smell like soap instead of pastrami.  Try it}  And for heavens sakes, go vote!

won't you be my neighbor?

we have new neighbors. we had extra birthday cake...a seemingly perfect recipe for making a friend, right? After all, I could always hide behind my daughter's adorably friendly personality (and wouldn't even have to make a stitch of conversation) just incase they were nut-jobs. 

They weren't. 

In fact they trumped our leftover cake with a freshly made caramel apple for us to take home ('oh no, you shouldn't have....OKAY!') Thankfully (cause that apple was goo-oooood) that was before Elyott asked the very un-pregnant female if she had a baby in her tummy (simultaneously taking the liberty to give it a few pats) I spewed out some nervous laughter, and babbled something about her being in pajamas blah blah blegh! My social skills, or lack thereof, did not bail me out of this introduction to say the least.  

Now who's the nut-job?

(to top it off: i can't remember if i explained the content of this note either...)

Sweet Elyott...overflowing with charm, but still working on tact :)

*UPdate- the neighbor WAS expecting, but didn't know yet!!  HA...how's that for a sixth sense ;)

atta boy!

Oh Martha...you had me at knitted prison release poncho. I challenge any of you to find better authentic halloween inspiration.  With a kindergardener who recently learned her "months" it's literally impossible to put off the festivities. Lots of black, dead trees, and hours of halloween music on terminal repeat.

This sneaky munch got a head start on the sugar fest that is October during his "naptime". I was off scrambling in the attic, sweating my face off, to fish out the decor before the my holiday sidekick got home from school.

What now looks like meat loaf, was once a whole (untouched) chocolate cake. I guess with a hoover mouth for a mom, my children have adapted opportunistic instincts ;)

**also, thank you forces of nature for not letting my cake plate cover crash to the floor.