An update…

Life is funny. Just when I think I have a good routine down and things are smoothly sailing along…BAM. Life happens. And for us, that means a new life–I’m pregnant! Baby number #3 is due in the end of September. Basically this means, I’ve been a COMPLETE slacker in 99% of the areas of my life–my house is a mess, my boys watch too much TV, I avoid cooking, and all I want to do is sleep. Last week I finally felt more “myself” and a lot less nauseous, so I’m hoping my slobbish slacking will come to end and I’ll find some motivation to get my act together.

Here are some pictures of the boys that we used to announce on social media…C is pretty excited about the new baby, and of course H has no clue what is happening and just how much his world is going to be rocked.

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number 3

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Well, poop.

Almost four years ago, I was expecting my first child. With that came certain expectations–in all honesty, I wanted a girl. I wanted a dainty, precious, tender-hearted sweet girl who would sleep on a schedule, never get into anything dirty, play with dolls, and paint nails. God has a sense of humor, and at times it seems a little twisted to me. Four years and two boys later there is nothing dainty about our house, and there is LOTS. OF. DIRT. See this precious face….would you guess that this face has to be washed EVERY night because it’s usually covered in dirt, snot, food, and who knows what else?

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That sweet face, well, he ate poop. The hubby and I were sanding and cleaning off the siding on the house in an effort to get ready to sell (whole other post), and the boys were playing at their sand table. I glanced to do a check and make sure they were still getting along somewhat peacefully. I was puzzled when I noticed H was chewing something with a rather disgusted look on his face. Immediate panic set in when I crammed my fish-hook finger in his mouth to scrape out what he was chewing…poop. Dang dog poop. In four years we’ve had our fair share of poop encounters, but this was the grossest to me…my child was eating poop. I debated googling what to do, but figured that would just end in the assumption that he was going to die from it, so cringing, I broke out the water hose, did my best to scrape any remains of feces out of his precious mouth, and let him guzzle water.

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Thank you God for your sense of humor, precious boys who eat dirt and poop, but thank you most of all for letting them survive it! Also, if my little guy ever argues with me about trying a new food, I’m going to remind him that he was willing to try dog poop, so he sure as heck can try anything!

 

Brownie Baking {also known as the time I realized my baby isn’t a baby}

So, my hubby took some fun pictures of C licking the brownie bowl. (Sorry, Betty Crocker, I know you have a note on the back of your box saying never to consume raw brownie batter, but c’mon! In my world, 87% of the reason I make brownies is so I can lick the bowl and/or spoon.) Anyway, when I uploaded these images, I may have gotten a little teary. My baby is not a baby, and I’ve known this for a while, but now he doesn’t even look like a toddler! He is a boy! A small man-child!

Random side-note: we have been ruined and can no longer make brownies without adding Reese’s peanut butter chips.

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I.T.S. {Irrational Toddler Syndrome}

My kid has ITS. I don’t need a doctor’s diagnosis. I just know. Sometimes I wish there was a “quick fix,” a pill, or anything other than my desperate R E P E A T E D attempts to bestow some sort of logic or reason into my child. Don’t misunderstand, my boy is a JOY, a BLESSING, and I wouldn’t give him up for all the world…however, there are times when I think it is SO odd that a person of such small stature can have such strong, absolutely INSANE opinions. And without fail, his irrationality can cause me to lose my mind and become irrational as well. Is ITS contagious?!? I’m sure my baby will catch on soon.

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Some irrational behaviors include:

  • any drop of water on any article of clothing means ALL clothes must come off IMMEDIATELY. (perhaps he’ll melt if not?)
  • related to water on clothing…washing his hair. I’ve been afraid that the neighbors will report us for disturbing the peace or domestic disturbance. If you listen in on a hair washing, you would probably assume he’s being murdered.
  • tags on clothing…remove all the tags! (if not extreme whining and somewhat comical attempts at removing the clothing will ensue)
  • a deathly fear of spiders (but he’ll kill a fly or squish a worm with his bare hands)
  • if he’s cold, then a blanket must cover E V E R Y inch of him up to his neck. If any appendage is peeking out from under said blanket, prepare for wailing and gnashing of teeth.
  • swings and slides–he must be coaxed to do any of them alone, but if he’s playing with friends, he’ll be quick to find the top of the slide. (We’re still trying to convince him that he’s “too big” for the baby swing. Pops attempted a little over Easter weekend. He LOVED it on Pops’ lap, but HATED it on his own.)

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If anyone knows of a cure for ITS, I’d love to hear it. For now, we use bribery, distraction, discipline, prayer…and we cut tags out of clothing, avoid spiders and wet shirts, and rarely wash hair.DSC_6071web

I’m sure someday we’ll look back and laugh at this. In the meantime, we’re gonna work on explaining 1 Timothy 1:7 “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a SOUND MIND.”

It’s a Rainy Day

{Random side note: I cannot type a post having anything to do with rain without humming Singing in the Rain.} 

We’ve had a couple days over the past few weeks with the fun kind of April showers you can play in. It’s fun to see the difference in my boys–one throws fits to be outside, loves the rain, and refuses to come in even if it’s a torrential downpour. The other demands all clothes off if there’s even one drop of water making him “wet!” and if he runs through the rain or a sprinkler, he begs for a towel over his head.

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I’m constantly amazed at our Creator in how He gives us all unique personalities even when we come from the same genes!

My Chill Boy {16 Months}

An ode to 16 months…

Climbing, whining, teething, clinging.

Smiles, Brown Bear, Brown Bear,  brothers laughing, chasing…thuds, screaming!

“Puppy!” “Doggy!” “Izzy!” belly laughs.

Applesauce pouches, pasta, FRUIT, goldfish crackers, Momma’s milk.

Raspberries on my belly, gap-toothed grins, chasing bubbles.

“Nana” “Papa” “lalalala” “Dadda,” dimpled cheeks.

Squirmy, running, exploring, spinning, ear-tugging.

Water play, eating dirt, dirt in hair, running in rain, chin-quivering grins.

Sweet snuggles, lap-sitting, airplane-watching,

up

and

down

up

and

down

stairs, couches, steps, beds.

Bouncing, bouncing, Momma’s songs….lean to the left, itsy bitsy spider, VEGGIE TALES.

Climbing, whining, teething, clinging.

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My sweet chill boy (when you’re not teething),

I love you so! You bring us such joy and laughter. Your big brother loves to play (and sometimes torture) you. Your daddy loves to make you laugh, and I count you as one of God’s greatest gifts.

You are a treasure, worth more than anything under the sun or the moon.

Love, Momma

 

Epic Parenting Quote #3

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You know, because brothers enjoy fighting more than eating.