Thanksgiving revisited

Here are two of my nieces decorating what would become one of the tablecloths (the one for the kids table). All 5 kids helped out. It was adorable.


B, L and my 3 nieces hamming it up while I cooked. It was amazing how well entertained L was just by the mere presence of the girls. R was still napping.


Now R is up and giving his mommy some love.


Here is one of the few pictures of me cooking. My mom is trying to entertain R -- who was desperate for mommy's attention when he wasn't playing with his cousins or brother.


Here is the spread. Yep -- I CAN cook. When I want to of course, which isn't often.

And here is the whole family. I can't believe I got everyone to look at the same time on the first shot.

What has become

of me?

Ok. I love sleep. I am not a morning person. Heck, I am not really a night person either. I am a nap person. I like my sleep. A lot.

So, why the hell am I awake at 3:33 AM the morning after Thanksgiving (which, thank you very much was totally hitch-less and actually came out awesome. I will have pictures to share soon). Oh that is right -- another cockamamie idea my sister and I came up with that involves getting up too damn early the morning after we stayed up late.

See the Saint -- she did L's birthday party cake last night. Great right. Sure. Crawled in bed at 11.

My day -- black friday shopping, 9 am pedi appointments (with shots) for BOTH boys, home, lunch, nap, WAKE THE KIDS UP EARLY, L's birthday party and whamo a fundraiser tonight for a Navy Seal I was good friends with and who died.

So, no sleep last night. None projected for tonight. Next to no sleep on Monday night due to L being sick, etc. I seriously want to know where all my sleep went.

Goble, goble

Yesterday, my house looked a lot like the Michael Phelps commercial where he is chopping veggies and food is flying everywhere. Everything that can be chopped and prepped is ready to go. My house is like the set of the Food Network with all the spices and such in little bowls, pre-measured and just ready to be dumped.

Ok, so it isn't that crazy, but it is close.

We host Thanksgiving every year. Usually my sister and I do the prep work on Wed. This year she didn't come up until late Wed night. So I got to do all the prep myself.

This dinner has become quite possessive of me now. I actually think I may be able to pull off the whole thing with little to no help.

Wish me luck. I will let you know in a few hours if I lost my mind during the attempt or if it came off without a hitch.

Three

Three is an important number here today.

Three is the number of loads of laundry I did last night after L started throwing up.

Three is the number of hours of sleep I got -- I think, although talking to B is sounds like it was closer to 2.

Three is the number of days L has until his party

And three -- that is the number of years he is today. Three. What a way to celebrate your birthday -- with a tummy bug.

Happy birthday baby boy. How did you end up so old? Get better soon. Although you are already torturing your mom, so maybe you are well on the way to recovery.

Oh... gross

So, I guess three is the age of more gross things to happen with L.

I am used to the runny noses, the dirty/smelly behinds, the vomiting. Those are the things I was expecting when I started this venture into motherhood.

What I was hoping to avoid was the eating of boogers.

It happened this morning. After a few minutes of trying to explain to him why it was gross and he should do it, he still continued to insist that he must eat his boogers. I don't know what I am going to do to stop that.

And yes, I handle poop on a daily basis - dumping and swishing cloth diapers. I wash the cloth diapers here at the house. And no, that doesn't even come close to the grossness that eating boogers is.

L and his pee pee

L informed me this morning that he needs to go to the doctor.

I asked him why? He then told me that the doctor needs to take off his mole.

Ok -- he has a mole on his groin. Right on what a woman would call her bikini line. It isn't raised or anything, just a black dot. He has known about his mole and feels free to tell others about it.

So I tried to convince him that he didn't need it removed and that the doctor would have to use a knife and cut and it would be ouchies.

To which he responded "Mole hurt my pee pee. No doctor cut off my pee pee"

I thought it was hilarious. First that he thinks the mole will hurt his penis, and that he is already horrified about losing his penis at the age of THREE! So I had to call B and made L repeat the whole story to his father. Apparently, L has already told B this story. Last night in fact.

Now, in retrospect, I am a little concerned. First of all -- who is giving my child the idea that the mole needs to go. As I said he has known about his mole for the better part of a year now and never been concerned about it. And second - who has seen the mole to give him that idea. Granted, to the uninitiated it looks a lot like poop is stuck on his groin, but no one new should be helping him with the potty. In fact there is next to no need to help L with the potty at all. I mean down to wiping, he is totally independent in that area at home.

So, do I continue to find this hilarious or do I get more concerned?

The big sigh

The kids -- they are driving me bonkers! I don't know why. Loud. They are very very loud.

They like to scream like banshees. And race in circles chasing each other.

And fight -- over everything. We got R a new set of tractors (because he has practically no new toys himself) and L has decided that every last one belongs to him.

Then tonight it was wonderful. We came home, I made dinner, we played and then we sat down to eat.

All was wonderful. Until B got home.

And then the beast was on the loose.

How is it that they both favor their dad and yet he is the reason they are driving me bonkers.