If The Kitchen Table Could Talk

We had an impromptu sundae party last week to start off Simon's preschool year and Jeff set up the tripod and filmed it. I fully realize this may be much more hilarious to us because they are our children, but if you have children, you can at the very least appreciate the shenanigans that often (always) conspires at the kitchen table. You won't be surprised at all to learn that Lena steals the show around minute 3:38 and on. This is my life people.

We're thinking about making this a dinner time series. We've got a stock pile of dinner time's past to work with now.

And when one day I'm locked away inside an insane asylum, I'll have legit video to back up my story while I'm tuckered in the corner staring blankly rocking back and forth back and forth.

The Sink and the Toilet:

two items of endless fascination

What's up with that?

Sometimes It Ain't Purdy

Can I get an amen?

please...can I get one?

and can I get a hand with all this laundry?

Confessions Of A Dirty Kitchen Floor

Because With Lena

It's never just coloring.

Idle Hands

hot chocolate hand mural on the powder room wall

Moon Dough Mother

Well, it's been over a week and I finally dragged myself back.

Miss me? Yes? No?

Thanksgiving was full of thanks and family. We stayed in town, and while I missed my brother and sister and mother and father in Indiana, I really enjoyed being with the Vaiseys. Those blessed Vaiseys sure do a lot for us, and for them, I am eternally thankful (That's thankful for all eternity).

This past week I have been actively trying (trying) to provide my children with a technology fast(much unlike the picture of Simon with the ipad and an ipod-geesh). I guess in doing so, I spent a little less time on the computer as well.

My children sass me less if they are engaged in some serious pretend play. Yours?

BabaJuje picked Lena up from preschool the other day, and when they got home she came bouncing through the doorway shrilling about something so exciting called Moon Dough.

Have you heard of this Moon Dough? Well in case you don't know, Moon Dough is a light and airy substance that is a tactile child's heavenly bliss and it also happens to be my arch-nemesis.

If I'm being completely honest- 4 year old Kelly would have loved it as much as 4 year-old Lena does.

I was truly excited for her to squish her fingers through it. To fulfill her constant need for sensory experiences. But as I sat there and watched the purple gob crumble its way ALL OVER THE PLACE, into the baby's mouth, on the bottom of shoes, in the carpet, I had a miniature breakdown.

So you see, I am trying (trying) really hard to become a Moon Dough Mother.

The kind that tolerates messes and prioritizes duties. The kind that lets her children play in the bins of wheat in the kitchen because I think it would be fun for them. The kind that welcomes out-of-the-ordinary experiences for her children instead of evaluating what they get to do based on how long it takes for me to clean up. The kind that doesn't have miniature breakdowns daily.

So even though, for now, I think our recent acquiring of Moon Dough will have to be declared a Juje's house activity (only fair since she bought it, right?:)

I'm getting there.

I want to be there.

I know there's happiness brewing on the other side of learning to just let go.

And I guess the point is, at the end of the day I'm really just trying (trying) to live, and by live I mean embrace a disaster or two or thousand for my children today regardless of the piles of laundry and dirty floors that never seem to disappear.

No small feat.

Should We Discuss the Two Week Hiatus?

Alright just for you, for a limited time I expose the crazy.

Here are the deets of the past two weeks:

the house looking like this, her acting like this

insomniac's midnight stair sleep

projects looming and left for dead in their unfinished state

I believe she called this "messamole (pronounced like guacamole) soup"

this is exactly what you think it is

not all of our distractions were bad, but most of them were.

the long road to Virginia

someone's cutting teeth and it isn't me

insomniac's midnight visit take two(hundred)

Not pictured:

-the destruction that is unpacking

-the midnight oil Esq. has been burning due to his very newly recent job endeavor(more on that later)

-the noise L & S make as they wake up the baby for the 3rd time of the day(why i otta...)

-our lawn

But, I'm not complaining. I think I did enough of that on the phone last week to Esq.

Coming soon: SVU Homecoming 2010 in pictures!

Stay tuned, and don't abandon us,

that would be like kicking us while we're down.

What Did Simon Do

The classic behind-the-chair guilty peek.

What To Do If: An 8 Step Tutorial

What to do if your three year old comes prancing gleefully down the stairs beaming, 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.

Peering meekly into the room in which the crime took place, you behold the destruction.

It's medium to heavy.

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 during assessment).

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.

From The Classroom of Mother Vaisey

Instead of getting angry about this:

...

we did this:

and that is how I became one day closer to the gentle, kind, patient mother they desire.

the end.

A Disaster a Day: 2nd Edition

You give 'em an inch, and they dump snack food all over your living room. {warning: picture is deceiving}

Here Lena can be seen modeling her and Simon's latest disaster of the day* and I have a feeling my future holds some doozies.

So beware if you're ever invited over for cheese and crackers, chances are those crackers have been on an amazing journey.

(may I also note Lena's outfit of her own choosing-rainbow striped tank top dress tucked into a pintuck floral skirt- against my protest. This is my life folks, and it's a sweet one)

*from my living room to yours by Triscuits

Where There's a Will

They always manage to find a way...

*Today's disaster was brought to you by Goya Plantain Chips