Monday, December 31, 2012

Come here let me stick this to your head...

So, along with a spray paint addiction I also have this compulsion to make millions of hairbows and force my daughter (or sons if their willing) to model them around. You may actually follow me on facebook so you occasionally get to see pictures of the ribbon-ee awesomeness. You might not follow me on facebook so you sadly you have been bereft of the bedazzled sunshine which is my daughters forehead. So here you go, enjoy, you can thank me in the comments below...

Have you ever seen such a festive baby?!! I don't want Christmas to be over just because she looks so cute in this outfit!

Oh yeah, I made a collage, be jealous. So much cuteness one picture didn't cut it, I needed 5 at minimum.

This is one of my all time favorite pictures of Tillie (and the only time she'll be appearing topless on the internet). 

Ok, that was a lie, as I wrote it I remembered this other cute naked picture where she's squishing her pudge... while wearing a cute headband. 

Sunday, December 30, 2012

Spray Paint

So I think I have a problem... I'm in love with spray paint... I want to spray paint everything. EVERYTHING.  I've been collecting all sorts of junk just so I can spend hours on Pinterest trying to decide what my next project will be. You know, not everything on Pinterest turns out like you would think, also sometimes there are too many directions and WAY too much prep. I have ZERO patience, when I get something to paint I can barely control myself, if it gets any worse I'll be waving a spray can around inside thrift stores. So this year I'll be working on my self control issues and buying primer, sandpaper, and other lame prep tools. Anyway, here are some things that I will be painting in the new year,

This AWESOME mirror I picked up out in the middle of no where at an antique shop. Now before you freak out and start yelling "take the paint away from that crazy lady before she starts defacing antiques!!!" I want you to know it's actually plastic. The antique dealer was shocked I even wanted it, he called it "old junk" and seemed a little embarrassed to charge $2 for it. I slyly ordered my husband to crack open his wallet and pay the man post haste then strolled out with the giant, gold, plastic hulk, stroking it and muttering "my precious" under my breath.

This thang I bought today off craigslist and I can't stop staring at it. I've been wanting a huge frame to hang in our "art room" so we had something to stick the boys pictures to. I think I'm going to paint it either royal blue or fire engine red and turn it into a cork board, or a chalk board..... aaaahhhhhh craft ADD!!!! I can't even decide I just love it so much!!!

So that's what I'm going to be working on soon, here's something I finished a couple weeks ago. 

This is an old brass lamp I got for 4 bucks at a thrift store. I really should have cleaned it and then ran some steel wool over it before I started painting but I couldn't help myself and just went to town on it as soon as I got home. Bad idea, took me a lot longer to strip the messed up paint, clean, steel wool, and then primer and paint.... damn me!!!! Now I love it though! I even learned how to take a lamp apart and re-wire it thanks to Nic's dad. 

I'll post to show ya how the frames turn out, this could turn into a hilarious but also crafty blog... or an epic Pinterest failure blog.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Astronauts Wear Diapers

Potty training is the bane of my existence. I'm so tired of wiping poop out of tiny butt cracks and literally throwing all our disposable income away. I could do so much with the 40 bucks Beau craps on every month, my Pinterest is filling up with ideas that NEED funding. Seriously child, you're sharting all over my dreams of turning this into a home improvement blog.

So today we took a little trip on down to Walmart town and Beau picked an Elmo potty and brand spanking new big boy panties. He picked Elmo and I'm hoping he gets excited to poop on that furry little monster and stops leaving me nasty butt presents. He also picked his awesome underwear. Why can I never find Buzz Lightyear in my size?! Ok, as I wrote that I realized how creepy it sounds, meh whatevs.

So we get home and unload all our stuff, Beau poops himself with excitement. So we change that diaper and talk about where poop is supposed to go (right there in front of Elmo's smiling face). Then we pull out the big boy pants! I carefully explain to the child that his favorite characters from Monsters Inc. don't want him to pee on their faces, it hurts their feelings. Everyone got that? So pee on Elmo, don't pee on Sully. Clear. CLEAR?!!!

Well, not clear for Beau. He climbed inside the box the toilet came in and happily took a pretend rocket ship ride to the moon, crapping himself as he left earth's atmosphere. It happens to even the most experienced astronauts I hear, except their mom's don't have to scoop it out of their tiny Disney underpants. Screw you potty training, and I'll take this chance to apologize to Beau's future life partner because it is possible he still will not know how to use a toilet.

Elmo you creeper, why are you scuba diving in a toilet tank?!!

Monday, December 17, 2012

the fireball that got away...

Sometimes I go a while and think I have nothing funny or interesting to write about and my blog sort of putters to a stop. Sorry about that. Hilarious stuff happens to me every day, sometimes it takes a little time to register how funny. This is something that happened to me today, if you are raising boys maybe this type of thing has happened to you too.

Conner has this ball type toy that he loves to throw around; it has a long fabric tail that comes off it  so it can be pretended into a million awesome things. Mostly he likes to yell “FIREBALL” while swinging it around his head and launching it at stuff. Today I’m sitting on the ground playing dress up with Tillie, you know, doin’ girl stuff, when I hear:

“Have you seen a fireball like DIS!!!”

Before I can even turn my head three things happen simultaneously. The “fireball” goes flying past my face, a large plastic drinking cup smacks me upside the head, and Tillie and I are both splashed in the face with the ice water that used to be in the cup. Dumbstruck I turn to look at Conner who has both hands over his mouth, eyes wide with surprise as he starts to say,

“You know how you always say ‘accidents do happen’? “

Tillie and I stare at him dumbfounded, she has water dripping down her face and her once perky feathered headband is waterlogged.  Calmly I reply,

“Yes, I’ve said that before.”

“Well, this was soooo an accident. I did not mean to do that. I was not in control of that fireball.”

What do you even say to that? I had no words. I was laughing so hard I thought I might pee myself. My head still hurts, every time I feel a little sore I giggle silently. I’m writing this at school and I look so creepy silently giggling, gesturing, and typing. Have you ever been blasted by a fireball that got away?  

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Christmas Memories

My favorite Christmas memory growing up was the inevitable frustration and hassle of putting lights on the tree. I remember as a kid my Dad would pull out our fake tree (bought one year after our tree topper almost caught fire) and enough Christmas lights to stretch around the Earth... twice. No matter how carefully they were put up the year before they always came out of the box looking like they'd been put through the spin cycle on an old washing machine. One giant clump of lights that had to be detangled, tested, repaired, and finally, hung.

This caused my Dad no end of frustration and we'd organize into groups to get it all sorted. Mom would sit on the couch slowly working through snarls and knots until she had a clean string of lights for someone to test in an outlet. Everyone cheered when they lit up on the first try.  When they didn't work they were passed off to one of us kids to start plugging in a working bulb until we found the broken one. You remember those strings of light where if one burned out the whole strand went dark and you had to go through every one to find the problem. That was my personal, awesome, Christmas contribution. I am GREAT at finding those little broken plugs, a gift that is definitely under appreciated.

Sometimes this process took hours, and after all that work we would get to hang ornaments. I love this part. All those little pieces of history, packed away for 11 months of the year and in December they get to speak. Ornaments that were handmade, a few that were breakable and lucky enough to have survived us kids. Mom was really good at marking years and names so you could map out your whole life in ornaments, from "Baby's  First Christmas" to the previous year's popsicle stick creation. Each decoration was a reminder of where we had been Christmases past, making us appreciate where we were now. At the end we had this amazing tree that couldn't exist if we weren't all a part of putting it up.

Now I have my own kids and I'll never buy a pre-lit tree. Maybe someday when my kids get older they'll look back and remember the crazy process of getting our tree put together. Their Dad yelling things like "Lights are $1 a box! Let's throw these out and just get new ones!!!" me yelling things like "I'm trying to make magical memories with you!!! Stop ruining Christmas!!!". In the end when the dust and pine needles settle, we'll have a tree, each other, and the excitement of another Christmas slowly approaching.

This year's treeChris

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

The worst part of parenting... - elbowdeepinsomeoneelsess*ht that's an adorable carrier of sickness and disease you've got there! 

So obviously there are some things about having kids that aren't awesome, like waking up soaked in someone else's pee or searching for hidden poos. At least you can look back on these and laugh, come one there will always be humor in poop. One thing that just straight up, flat out SUCKS, though is being sick when you're a parent.

Children are like tiny disease ridden carrier monkeys and when they're sick they are so cute and docile you just want to hug them up and make them feel all better. They bounce back quick from colds because of your loving, nurturing attention and recover with twice the energy they had before. That is the awful part, once they've spread their disease and your're lying half dead on the couch begging for the end, who is left to take care of you?!! No one, that's who.

Who are you going to call to come get your little germ spreaders? Anyone want to babysit three snot covered, yet exuberant, little petri dishes? I'm a REALLY nice person but even I'm not volunteering to take someone else's sickies.

So here I am on my couch, eating the cheese sticks the boys bring me from the fridge while Beau tries to braid my hair with his toes, contemplating ordering a pizza and offering the kids as payment. I bet it wouldn't even take my kids until snack time to start eating my body if I perished, they're worse than cats sometimes. Ugh, come on white blood cells get it together!!!