My Pinteresting Addiction

I love Pinterest.

I love seeing what other people are making, and getting ideas.

I love it even more when Pinterest shows me something so shockingly simple, but darling.


Like......

Seriously; how cute ARE these?  Teeny tiny cupcake toppers.  Made of Reese's minis, then decorated to match the cupcakes.

Then you just plop these little gems on top of your frosted cupcakes, and, voila!  (Or, "wahla" as Wiggle Man says, no matter how many times I explain the French to him.)

These are Wiggle Man's birthday cupcakes for school.  Yes, he is sampling one before his birthday.  Shhh....don't tell.

I let him eat the one that didn't get frosted properly.  :)

I'm Wiggle Man, and I approve this cupcake.

Kisses,

Ahh....Fall

I love fall.  Fall has been good to The Rev and His Missus.  Our family acquired this:

We tried it out locally this weekend for the first time.  There were some ups and downs.  Campfires are definitely ups.  Taking the baby home in the middle of the night because he woke up and screamed for an hour was definitely a down. 

Here the boys are exploring  Chicken Nugget's "crib."  We had to get a little creative, but it worked.  Well, it worked in that he fell asleep ok, but kept waking up at around 3 am in a rage that would not be calmed.  Hence me driving him home.  

Interestingly enough, our sleepy town is not as sleepy as you'd imagine at 4 am.

Anyway, it was a lot of work, we learned some things to do differently, and now we are "campers."  Woot.


We also celebrated The Rev's birthday, and I officially have a new favourite cake.  This is a pumpkin spice cake with a....wait for it.....wait for it.....salted caramel cream cheese frosting.  I know.  My blood sugar spiked just typing that.

 In other news, Wiggle Man started Kindergarten this year.  I can't believe he's big enough for "big boy" school.  Also, note the little brother photo bombing big bro's photo shoot.  Classic.

Finally, both my boys have birthdays coming up.  We're throwing one big party this weekend, so I made myself a schedule.  I won't tell you exactly how I'll be using these fondant colours on their birthday cakes, but there they are.

Kisses,

Ten

Ten.  Chicken Nugget is now ten months old.  Among other things, I'm starting to feel the need to plan a birthday party.  A birthday party that will be for TWO boys, this year.  (Wiggle Man and Nugget's birthdays are nine days apart, so I'm totally planning the double birthday party for as many years as the boys will let me get away with it.)

But, before I get ahead of myself, here's a message to my little man:

Chicken Nugget,

You are ten months old.

You've brought joy, sleeplessness, love, amazement, poop, frustration, and more love to our family.

You eat blueberries as fast as your tiny hands can shove them into your mouth.

You eat Cheerios as fast as your tiny hands can shove them into your mouth.

You eat bananas as fast as your tiny hands can shove them into your mouth.

If it's food (or even if it's not) you eat it as fast as your tiny hands can shove it into your mouth.  Once, I caught you trying to eat a stinkbug.

You love your big brother so much it squeezes my heart.

You're a Daddy's boy, and I love that, too.  (Cuz sometimes I get to pee alone that way.)

You totally have the old man look going with your hair.

You cock one eyebrow at me sometimes as if you know something I don't.

You dance like me.  Not very suave, but a lot of head bobbing.

You are super strong for a baby.  Perhaps we should be calling you Clark Kent.

You blow raspberries, and it makes you laugh as much as it does us.

You do not like me cheering loudly at the television.  Or being told, "No."  But I can tell when you're fake crying.

I love you more than I could have imagined.

Kisses,

Immunity

Today I changed a diaper that if life were fair would automatically grant me immunity from ever changing a diaper again.  I think I used half a tub of wipes.  Chicken Nugget managed to stick his foot in it, and insisted on arching his back the entire diaper change.

I don't think the Rev will sign on for that, though.

Kisses,

Growing Boys

Look at this guy.  He's all done pre-school.  (Sniff, sniff).  He'll start KINDERGARTEN, people.  Kindergarten.  I can't get my brain around that.  I expect I'll come to terms with his being in kindergarten around the time he graduates high school.

That picture, as you can clearly read in the background (I'd be an awful spy, or member of the witness relocation program) was taken at Dutch Wonderland, which we hit up while on a visit to New Jersey.  Wiggles got to decorate his own cookie.  (And he only licked one of the communal icing spreaders.)

Then there's this big man:

Yes, he's pulling himself up!  He crawls, ladies and gentlemen, but apparently that's not enough for him.  No, in order to keep up with Big Brother, he must walk, or preferably, run.

Oh, and did I mention he's talking?  Granted, most of it's babbling, but we've got one word that has a definite meaning:  "Bwa."  Sometimes, "Bwa-bwa."  It's brother, my friends.  Chicken nugget will ask for Big Brother by name.  This morning, he looked at Wiggles, said, "Bwa,", and then proceeded to make raspberries (one of his favourite things to have Wiggle Man do).

We've had a crazy couple of weeks around here, with trips and sick babies and sick kids, but maybe, just maybe, we can settle into normal for a while.  I've gone back to running, which I missed, but running brings with it the scheduling I have not missed.  Trying to find time for the Rev to be home when it's not dark out, or the heat of the day is hard.  I think I'm going to get some reflectors, or some blinkie lights so I'll be able to run in the dark.  The more I think about it, the  more I like that.  It's cooler out, and no one has to get a good visual of me huffing and puffing out there.

So, that's life around here lately.

Kisses,

Chicken Nugget

Chicken Nugget is 8 months old now.

He combat crawls with lightning speed.

He's already my little trouble maker, trying to see how many forbidden things he can cram into his mouth.

He still seems to have dairy issues, as I learned after I tried some yogurt melts with him.  And had reaffirmed after I mistakenly gave him lasagna...I forgot it had cheese in it.  Poor boy.

With the 2nd top tooth now through, Chicken Nugget officially has 4 teeth.

He loves big brother; no one makes him laugh quite like WM does. Even yesterday, in the grip of a fever (induced by the teething, I think...I hope...) he still giggled at WM's antics.

Blessings, by Laura Story, still calms him down when nothing else will.  In fact, it's playing right now while he naps.

And, while we wish he slept longer at night (le sigh), we're loving life with two sweet boys.

Here are my boys at (roughly) the same age:  (7, 8ish months.)

Chicken Nugget:

Wiggle Man:

Mudder's Day

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. "Mudder's Day", as Wiggle Man calls it. 

Except now I can't call him Wiggle Man.  He asked us, in a very big kid sort of way, if we could stop calling him that.  Le sigh.  So, we call him by his proper name now, and here, well, I guess I'll refer to him as W. 

Chicken Nugget is growing like crazy.  While he's average for weight, he's 80th percentile for height.  This means his onesies are super baggy around the middle, but barely button at the bottom.  Clearly, Mr. Tall and Lanky did not inherit my figure. 

He's also teething.  Again.  So between that and the constant growth spurts (are they spurts if it's all the time?) he's not really sleeping.  No, ladies and gentlemen, my baby who starting sleeping 8 hour stretches at 4 months is now waking every 3 hours.  And has been for almost 2 months.  If you see me with an eye twitch and glazed look, now you know why.

In the midst of the crazy, there's a card on the mantle.  W couldn't wait until tomorrow to give me the card he made in school.  There are thumbprint lady bugs, and fingerprint bees fly above foam sticker flowers and green marker grass. 

I think I'm going to frame it.

Mudderhood.  It's messy and joyful, heartbreaking and silly.  It makes me feel like a giant failure, and like the queen of the world. 
Happy Mother's Day,

Not Awesome

I'm sitting here waiting to see if Chicken Nugget is actually going to nap or not.   I gently laid him in his crib, drowsy but awake as per all the expert's suggestions.  Now we wait.  And I'm certainly not going to start anything productive until I know he's actually asleep.

So I thought I'd make you a list.  A list of things that are Not Awesome.  So here it is:

Things That Are Not Awesome:

Finding one of those hairy little spiders that look like teeny tarantulas in the car.

Losing him before you can squish him.

When your 4 year old walks in just as you've put the baby in the crib and loudly asks, "Whatcha doin', Mama?"

The face I make as I shoo him from the room.

Buying pj's for your 4 year-old's pajama day at school, because said 4 year-old only sleeps in his underwear.

Finding Scooby Doo jammies, only to find that the smallest size at Target is two sizes too big.

Buying them anyway.

Paying $17 for jammies that will, in all likelihood, get worn once.

Baby spit up.

Socks. 

Baby socks that never fit, but are darn cute anyway.

The fact that as soon as I finish this list and start doing something, Chicken Nugget will wake up. 

Kisses,

Little Comedian

Let me tell you--Wiggle Man has been on fire this week.  Just now, I picked him up to give him a kiss, and he informed me, "You smell like oven."  (Awesome.)

I asked him what he learned in Sunday School this week.  He told me his teacher taught him about clouds and storms, and that Jesus would protect him from "storms, and ghost-es and haunted houses."  (You should know at this point his favourite book right now is Scooby Doo and the Haunted House.)

So I said, "That's why we don't need to be afraid of those things, right?"
Wiggles:  "Nope.  But I don't think Shaggy and Scooby know that."

Me:  "Well, someone should tell them."

Wiggles:  "Maybe Fred."

Earlier this week, he asked me about breastfeeding.  Pointing to my chest, he asked, "Mama, did I sip out of those when I was a baby?"

Me:  "Yes, for a couple of weeks, and then you drank bottles."

Wiggles:  "Did Chicken Nugget sip out of those?"

Me:  "For a couple of days, and then he got bottles, too.

Wiggles:  "Oh.  Do you make chocolate milk?"

No, Wiggle Man.  Mama has enough trouble making regular milk with these things, let alone specialty varieties. 


Kisses,

Life With 2 Boys

I'm slowly adjusting to my new life as mommy to 2 boys.  Granted, one of them does a lot of sleeping, and the other has learned to, you know, poop in the potty and stuff, but still.  Mama to 2 of the little stinkers. 

Most of the time, they manage to make me laugh.  So what if that laughter occasionally verges on the maniacal, and I'm telling Wiggle Man that he may have to come visit me in the Asylum. 

Wiggles is at that lovely point in life where he knows enough about certain of life's, um, more delicate procedures, but not enough to understand when and where to talk about them.  For instance, a hushed furniture store is not the place to happily prance out of the restroom and loudly annouce, "Mama, I just made a GIANT poop!"  (Complete with hand gestures approximating size of said poop.)

Wiggle Man is convinced that the Rev's sinus issues have to do with rogue beard hair that has traveled up his Daddy's nose.  I'm not sure if he thinks the hair has grown upwards, or if it traveled there post-shave. 

Then there are his Wiggle-isms. 

"Mama, I want to eat with chomp-sticks, so I can be like Kai-lan."  (Thanks, Nick Jr. for your foray into multi-culturalism.)

"Don't leave fer-out me!"  (Oh, Wiggles.  We'd never leave home ferout you.)

"My day is RUINED!"  (He's a bit of a diva, what can I say.)

"Police la-di-da."  (Feliz Navidad, judging by the tune.) 

His baby brother, whose nickname we are still debating, has his share of humour, as well.  Cranky Man, as the Rev seems to think he should be called, causes fits of laughter every time he sticks out his sad, sad little lower lip to cry. 

Chicken Nugget, as I like to call him, still has a slightly odd shaped head.  I can't remember if that's normal still at 3 months, or due to the torticollis.  Regardless, it makes him look a little like a cartoonish evil genius.  So when he gets really angry (like, say, his bottle is 2.56 seconds later than he'd prefer) his face gets all red and he shakes with tiny, tiny rage, I keep waiting for him to shout, "Curse you, Perry the Platypus" or something like that.

Anyway, that's my life these days. Diapers, preschool, bottles, stories, and occasionally, to curl up on a chair with Wiggles and a Cranky Chicken Nugget, and have a bit of a nap. 

Police La-di-da, and Happy New Year, y'all. 

Kisses,