tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7148997108082902622024-03-13T02:02:19.222-07:00Elbow Deep in Someone Else's Sh*tThe opposite of a lifestyle blog
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-14877404171543916652017-01-14T14:44:00.002-08:002017-01-14T14:44:26.962-08:00DIY Lace Crown Tutorial<div style="text-align: center;">
Hey!!!</div>
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I recently made this for my sister who is expecting her first baby. I'm just a little bit excited to be having a baby niece... just a little... ok I'm flat ecstatic!!</div>
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Anyway, I had a lot of requests for how to make this, so here's is my quick attempt at a tutorial, it really is super easy.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsmxXo7srHvbLz5Y9_4EITp6UzZIpLR_q5rG-3cTfuZUk5SXBeQ4ChvT829JWpPDwkrc6b9xUZWOeGpTHnpgQpl8EiLHEM9VDjb4o1qdjzttfX_V60lrF4huSwi4Go5vzN4PMCQBXEpGbB/s1600/IMG_5604.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsmxXo7srHvbLz5Y9_4EITp6UzZIpLR_q5rG-3cTfuZUk5SXBeQ4ChvT829JWpPDwkrc6b9xUZWOeGpTHnpgQpl8EiLHEM9VDjb4o1qdjzttfX_V60lrF4huSwi4Go5vzN4PMCQBXEpGbB/s320/IMG_5604.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
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First thing you need is supplies:</div>
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Gold crochet lace<br />3/8" grosgrain ribbon of your choice<br />pretty diamond or button accents<br />spray starch (heavy)<br />hot glue gun<br />hot glue sticks<br />scissors</div>
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I was able to find everything I needed at Hobby Lobby, with the exception of the spray starch (honestly they might have that too, but I forgot to look. I bought mine at the grocery store for 1.69)</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEZ81BZaOThMQCyEodl_0P2DXJN8KbEKNFQtsjuj76E7FRqJeqJwsxJJokCyDxHXRPwXW3Npv8hP2MGITJpHLCZ0F6TmTLI_UKEpTySR5791KTYSQISAbaY1w3LShl0yM82uLPrMkSx5tf/s1600/IMG_5583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEZ81BZaOThMQCyEodl_0P2DXJN8KbEKNFQtsjuj76E7FRqJeqJwsxJJokCyDxHXRPwXW3Npv8hP2MGITJpHLCZ0F6TmTLI_UKEpTySR5791KTYSQISAbaY1w3LShl0yM82uLPrMkSx5tf/s320/IMG_5583.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the accent pieces were an after thought, I just had some from another project, but they really added a little sumpin sumpin </td></tr>
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Step 1: cut the lace your desired length and lay out on a cookie sheet, I covered mine with parchment paper because I happened to have some around. </div>
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Step 2: Spray the crap outta it with spray starch, I'm talking soaked, flip it over and really soak both sides.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhBavsRWDS6cOT4dCkwpqoKgX4a8vZB8PHdFGaiJMujGXuIckg1zmXhVLqTIEOdm3MBzCUK_BzRZgc_a-l7Dph18zdKIKjDxW365kw-pBzMqONM1hOcqxOfBHbjVVdFDrobyByWz_pgcB/s1600/IMG_5587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhBavsRWDS6cOT4dCkwpqoKgX4a8vZB8PHdFGaiJMujGXuIckg1zmXhVLqTIEOdm3MBzCUK_BzRZgc_a-l7Dph18zdKIKjDxW365kw-pBzMqONM1hOcqxOfBHbjVVdFDrobyByWz_pgcB/s320/IMG_5587.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">because we're friends, you'll disregard the embarrassing state of my cookie sheet right?</td></tr>
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Step 3: The starch has to dry... you could do this and let it sit over night, or you can turn your oven on at 200 degrees and lightly toast it. It's up to you, both methods seem to be effective. <div>
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The goal is to get it stiff enough it can stand on it's own when you make it into a ring, but not so stiff that you could accidentally (or on purpose) shank someone with it. </div>
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Step 4: Once the starch has dried completely remove it from the oven, and now we're going to apply a ribbon trim to the bottom.</div>
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Hello hot glue gun, you buddy old pal. Here is where you measure a strip of ribbon that matches the bottom of your crown and with a small bead of hot glue you attach it the bottom of the lace.</div>
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I recommend doing on a surface that you will not be upset if hot glue gets stuck to, I glue mine to the table every time. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScPhc77ae4hsngT4HYInFzUOT11AliP8dlVptplPJ8LRwy7Gv9yef43wRrLXy9DpdgZQkpgOt5444i0JrJA60umJkxs3zQscnc0fW3htTp38JWc4BVCnerybtBj_F4LXuDiO52kF3cjRg/s1600/IMG_5590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScPhc77ae4hsngT4HYInFzUOT11AliP8dlVptplPJ8LRwy7Gv9yef43wRrLXy9DpdgZQkpgOt5444i0JrJA60umJkxs3zQscnc0fW3htTp38JWc4BVCnerybtBj_F4LXuDiO52kF3cjRg/s320/IMG_5590.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Step 5: Now here's where we bring both ends around and create the ring of the crown. You want to run a bead of hot glue here too, and overlap the ends by about a 1/4- 1/2 inch.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEcMi6cuVJUvvrGBzA4l-xHUVzn7OESwTI2NcmAYgvWWg4DX-kLUz921FEKiDCm6uvqIiJqvtsmQaDoSM7C2UmVAFylEeQkrlyYsYsqfZflxp1M3AzCKSmJwQBSq8f8CVxx6nWzXXk9BAV/s1600/IMG_5627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEcMi6cuVJUvvrGBzA4l-xHUVzn7OESwTI2NcmAYgvWWg4DX-kLUz921FEKiDCm6uvqIiJqvtsmQaDoSM7C2UmVAFylEeQkrlyYsYsqfZflxp1M3AzCKSmJwQBSq8f8CVxx6nWzXXk9BAV/s320/IMG_5627.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Step 6: Create a tiny bow for the front and attach the gemstone of your choice. I took a piece of ribbon about 2" long and glued the ends in to create a small bow, I then glued it to the front of the ribbon trim on the crown. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkosfth0bF9k6UBi3hWCrhVN5QH3ElbZGDNSZh7b9hE-OwMPV1naWSM0PDzdneYJOyZPguSFqZ9_9GkdU-C7Y8d2aaFbGK287iqbLpahWrC22io9ClwVU5SPAF-wR9aniTVkqBdoL-zm-P/s1600/IMG_5594.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkosfth0bF9k6UBi3hWCrhVN5QH3ElbZGDNSZh7b9hE-OwMPV1naWSM0PDzdneYJOyZPguSFqZ9_9GkdU-C7Y8d2aaFbGK287iqbLpahWrC22io9ClwVU5SPAF-wR9aniTVkqBdoL-zm-P/s200/IMG_5594.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">step 1: cut ribbon strip</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Jt1a6Q5JuwUGKIuVO3NSbKG6tWBJQl8TJu20wVT7xCyaz95RjqUCSEU-vW0k5vMuj_8ADmPBJA1cOzGmYrSQJKzi49cyinfKbTq-GvlGuvj7Cmn4KNFdTS__5P7d4d_iCbrfZQ_mi1R-/s1600/IMG_5596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Jt1a6Q5JuwUGKIuVO3NSbKG6tWBJQl8TJu20wVT7xCyaz95RjqUCSEU-vW0k5vMuj_8ADmPBJA1cOzGmYrSQJKzi49cyinfKbTq-GvlGuvj7Cmn4KNFdTS__5P7d4d_iCbrfZQ_mi1R-/s200/IMG_5596.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Step 2: fold ends in to create small bow</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNx4Z7RXF6vQkq4XPLAOwtdxZRHffCkCpCpvBxR4L7VwDzk2-Fv3czH2OfIzWdwaDc2y6SSMNCvs6laHlUpcfa6VUPqQ5pk1hnxNLvS_LdtSL8oos42qRLB7PZYagFMo8xTxGtJ3d_bdQc/s1600/IMG_5595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNx4Z7RXF6vQkq4XPLAOwtdxZRHffCkCpCpvBxR4L7VwDzk2-Fv3czH2OfIzWdwaDc2y6SSMNCvs6laHlUpcfa6VUPqQ5pk1hnxNLvS_LdtSL8oos42qRLB7PZYagFMo8xTxGtJ3d_bdQc/s200/IMG_5595.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Step 3: Marvel at the magnitude of your creativity</td></tr>
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Step 7: Boom! You are complete! Let the glue cool and enjoy your new crown</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Uh2epqbJ4nJw0wIOPcYb-e86PwcWGTB7UXuHWU_RAm58ayDDY_EK9r1vJoWxgB_v_eSKQiX2bWFDH267Yr5RTGj7oh5oe9xwRnNZGcYZIdRD0rvQWAsh53uCl7s08PRloxBj5YrMhkpk/s1600/IMG_5603.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Uh2epqbJ4nJw0wIOPcYb-e86PwcWGTB7UXuHWU_RAm58ayDDY_EK9r1vJoWxgB_v_eSKQiX2bWFDH267Yr5RTGj7oh5oe9xwRnNZGcYZIdRD0rvQWAsh53uCl7s08PRloxBj5YrMhkpk/s320/IMG_5603.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
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If you followed this and loved it please tag me in your pictures on facebook! I would love to see what you create!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-71254075481527606472016-04-30T03:47:00.002-07:002016-04-30T03:47:44.234-07:00Crockpot Greek Chicken with Easy Tzatziki<span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is a recipe that I have found many variations of on Pinterest, I've tried a couple different versions and this is what I found came together to make it UH-MAH-ZING!</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is one of my favorite summer meals since it can be light on the stomach. You can toss in a crockpot in the morning then relax outside after work instead of slaving away in the kitchen. The secret is really in the cucumber, under no circumstances should you skip the cukes!</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ingredients</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">2-3 chicken breasts</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">3 cups of water or chicken broth</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">(if you do water, add one bouillon cube)</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">1/2 teaspoon Oregano</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">1/2 teaspoon Allspice</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">1 Pich of Dill</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">3 Tablespoons Lemon Juice</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">1/2 teaspoon black pepper</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">1/2 yellow onion</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">1 single serving container of plain greek yogurt</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Add all of the contents to the crock pot, except the yogurt... we have other plans for that little guy muahahahaha!</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I set my crockpot for eight hours on low so it cooks all day while I work. If you are home during the day you could probably do 4-6 hours. I leave it up to your discretion as I would not want you to burn your house down with a crockpot or eat partially uncooked chicken.</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">After it's done pull out the chicken and shred, take the remaining juice and add to the Greek yogurt. Mix until it makes a creamy sauce, sprinkle in some dill and a little finely chopped cucumber.</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.870588); font-family: 'Roboto Slab', 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Add chicken, lettuce, and cucumber to pita pocket and drizzle with sauce... munch... crunch... repeat.</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-5183212366411273332015-10-11T06:15:00.001-07:002015-10-11T06:15:58.953-07:00Urban Pumpkin PatchingSo, the house that we bought in December is on a moderately busy road, actually a we're on a double yellow line road. The neighbor we know the best is the Chinese restaurant two houses down and across the street. So when I say we went Urban Pumpkin Patching know that I mean we walked like four houses down and across a kind of busy intersection.<br />
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So let me tell you about pumpkin picking with the kids, from the first second we announced we were going Conner was crying. At almost seven he has a million other things he would rather be doing and they all involve youtube videos of random people opening Easter eggs. Tough shit.<br />
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Now Beau, he was ecstatic. He ran to throw on his crocs and jacket and was ready in about three seconds, and the same for Tillie. I grabbed the wagon out of the garage and we started on our way. Conner begged to ride with his sister and wiped away tears as he coped with the unimaginable turn his life had taken.<br />
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Everyone not in a wagon held hands, Beau skipped happily along. Now unfortunately happy skipping is does not work out well when you're a middle child who always seems to be in hand me down crocs that are a little on the large side. He lost a shoe twice before we reached the intersection across from the pumpkin patch, and so nonchalantly, I mean we were literally standing at the light and he says "My shoe is back there" pointing 50 feet behind him.<br />
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We took a minute to collect shoes and get everyone's head in the game before crossing the street. We realized once at the intersection that there is no crosswalk, because our city is stupid like that. So we had to wait for some kind of break and in traffic and light change combo to run like crazy across this street. Which we totally did, and wouldn't you believe Beau made it to the other side... without a shoe.<br />
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Beau had lost his shoe in the middle of the intersection, and there was no way we could immediately go back. We all stood on the sidewalk and watched his hand me down croc get run over three or four times while all the kids screamed and the adults reassured him that crocs are squishy, it would be fine. Spoiler alert, I was right and the croc totally survived... the jibbitz not so much... but he hasn't noticed yet.<br />
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We collected ourselves once again and strolled into the pumpkin patch, where everyone's mood was vastly improved with stickers and festive gourds. I took photographic evidence.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7yqhBzuVa6-vuJhc_PzN1quNmrTJyzHxMaRnXJmt0Yj4HaEFwv7sRH2RdhhojI9kl5lPsmcQ1CnoWCBWfe0U88CP-KZ6GBQHU7VH4-cepQ9SuKn_upKC99UxFi_9qK3DC_fFe-24RW0oy/s1600/IMG_0136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7yqhBzuVa6-vuJhc_PzN1quNmrTJyzHxMaRnXJmt0Yj4HaEFwv7sRH2RdhhojI9kl5lPsmcQ1CnoWCBWfe0U88CP-KZ6GBQHU7VH4-cepQ9SuKn_upKC99UxFi_9qK3DC_fFe-24RW0oy/s400/IMG_0136.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Conner not quite in the pumpkin patch spirit yet</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4QB8R9tFeVFKcR27DUKUrfDIAonEriIw4v4ZrXaqctOeOLKwsubMLnODlk43kmwPyGMROINVay-eC7HYjCTAWCfrnE5VraEN5HRCB3pZfc5Kpmp0kveKUCbNIDM_PULJR733yWceXKt15/s1600/IMG_0138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4QB8R9tFeVFKcR27DUKUrfDIAonEriIw4v4ZrXaqctOeOLKwsubMLnODlk43kmwPyGMROINVay-eC7HYjCTAWCfrnE5VraEN5HRCB3pZfc5Kpmp0kveKUCbNIDM_PULJR733yWceXKt15/s400/IMG_0138.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjztiA4wX-iX7t_zzzbc_5RL5V02JJ_JwHSHBDD5qZbcHo_egYiZeBbvRv0QZ67LELUa_8D3-YwkTTZnnw78ZoMOMVNR8i2BfDPEQL6M9ZwTcFIbnVNfnvfi9Rj3m83_IkrNq73lGQVNhzg/s1600/IMG_0140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjztiA4wX-iX7t_zzzbc_5RL5V02JJ_JwHSHBDD5qZbcHo_egYiZeBbvRv0QZ67LELUa_8D3-YwkTTZnnw78ZoMOMVNR8i2BfDPEQL6M9ZwTcFIbnVNfnvfi9Rj3m83_IkrNq73lGQVNhzg/s400/IMG_0140.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think this picture shows their varying levels of excitement perfectly.</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-26401857243475546942015-09-17T19:01:00.003-07:002015-09-17T19:01:44.747-07:00The house with the yellow doorI've always wanted to paint my front door red. That was the first thing I promised myself I would do once I owned my own place. I've literally been pinning door painting tutorials for years in anticipation, and finally after being in the new house for six months all my dreams are coming true!<br />
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Except... picking a paint color is a difficult task... like pretty much impossible. So I went to the hardware store and picked up a million color sample papers and taped them all over my front door... and decided that red was the color for me. Definitely red, because as much as I love turquoise it wasn't quite working, and yellow was a little too much. It took weeks to decide, and the papers remained taped and countless innocents were harassed for honest opinions... a winner was picked and that winner was red.<br />
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Then I went to the hardware store and saw the most amazing yellow... and bought a pint... and painted both front doors before I could even question my current life decision. You know what? It turned out amazing!<br />
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I mean, I wouldn't look super close at the lines if I were you, and it could probably use one more good coat (I feel like every paint job always needs one more coat than I have the patience to give). I would say it is not only good, it is good enough... and isn't that the point of DIY? I figure everyone's DIY is kind of crappy if you look close enough... it's just that some people are photographing it better and have superior lighting.<br />
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I added a vinyl sticker to the front door, also a dream fulfilled. So pinterest it hurts. My favorite thing about the new front is getting to tell people things like "We're the third house on the right, the one with the yellow door". I basically have the Mt Rushmore of front doors on our street YOU CAN NOT MISS IT.</div>
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My other favorite thing about the front door... it's a nice backdrop for serious cuteness.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-31206640883075182242015-07-10T04:57:00.005-07:002015-07-10T04:57:45.999-07:004th of July Weekend<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
To celebrate this fourth this year we spent the weekend at a friend’s lake house. I mean not actually in the house so much as in a camper with Nic’s parents but either way it. Was. Awesome. I seriously could get used to living in nature, and the kids agree, three days spent pretending lake floating qualified as bathing really agreed with us.<u></u><u></u></div>
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I took a ton of pictures, never of all three kids together because that would just be insanity apparently. Actually I completely forgot to photograph one of them whatsoever, so all the cool things Conner did jumping off of boats and docks… not documented. On the plus side of that my middle child can no longer complain that he is always forgotten, I have the pics to prove that is simply not true… at least for this weekend.<u></u><u></u></div>
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Peruse the picture of that awesome middle baby Beau back floating around the pond. Isn’t he awesome? All the little guys got a quick “how to survive in the deeper than you end” training session and the main tool in their belt is the back float. Big shout out to my littlest who waded out too deep within the first 15 minutes of being in the water, thus necessitating the swim lesson.<u></u><u></u></div>
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I’ve saved each kid’s life at least once, if she learns from the first experience she’ll be way ahead of her brothers who I’ve had to rescue multiple times. Beau seems to be a little less adventurous this year, and it’s about effing time, he mostly took it upon himself to alert us when other children were danger. In a shrill voice that suddenly takes on an accent thicker than Scarlet O’Hara’s he would yell “Mah sistah! Mah sistah, someone halp her! Oh mah goodness she cain’t swem!” Never mind that he was literally a foot from her and had an extra four inches of height she lacked in the shallow water… I guess we’ll have to work on emergency response skills later.<u></u><u></u></div>
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Although I did not get any good pictures of Conner over the weekend he did take like 30 pictures of me, sitting on the deck… apparently suffering from a bad case of Resting Bitch Face. I mean I didn’t even know I suffered from the condition, but I have the photos to prove it now I guess. Did people know this about me? How have I never realized. I’m working on a more pleasant resting face as we speak… maybe something like this…</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-90580375881832488162015-07-07T11:11:00.000-07:002015-07-07T11:11:37.975-07:00learning to runAlmost exactly a year ago I went shopping with Kohl's cash and picked up a pair of Nike's. My thought was that maybe this time I could start running and things would be different than the last 20 times I tried to start running. I thought maybe with the right shoes on my feet I could wrap my head around a Couch to 5k plan, maybe I could be a runner.<br />
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Yeah, I mean I kinda had an excuse to be out of shape, having three kids in four years isn't exactly gentle on the core. Realistically speaking the kids only did half the damaged, I averaged a 15 minute mile in 6th grade so I didn't even have an athletic past to fall back on. I remember having to run a mile every spring as part of our final grade and developing what felt like an allergy to the sport. Pretty much I hated it, it made my teeth hurt, my head ache, and lungs felt like they were on fire and just in general I wanted to die.<br />
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So, flash forward all those years and why in the world would I want to get into running? Honestly, because the cool kids were doing it. I watched my friends doing fun 5ks, and eventually going on to do crazier distances. I started thinking maybe that could be me smiling in a sweaty group at the end of a finish line. I feel like half my frantic get healthy spurts stem from some kind of implied peer pressure generated by Facebook and Instagram, but whatever.<br />
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Despite the obvious issues I have with stalking the online profiles of friends and acquaintances at least it kind of led to a healthy hobby in the end. I downloaded Couch to 5k on my phone, paid a race entry fee, and got myself a running buddy. You know what, it sucked almost every bit as much as I had expected it to. There were days I actually hated it, there are still days I hate it and question any decision I ever made to start. Sometimes I rationalize quitting, and I do quit for a whole day... or two. For some reason though I come back.<br />
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With all my complicated emotions in tow I learned a lot about myself training for that first race. I remember when I ran my first full mile on the treadmill at my work's gym, I threw my arms in the air and cheered like a maniac... and maybe cried a little with pride. That was probably the point at which I became hooked, and definitely the point at which I realized I was a lot stronger than I had ever given myself credit. Over the next several miles of training I learned to be kind, to forgive myself when I sucked and quit halfway through a run because sometimes that whole one foot in front of the other thing just ain't gonna happen. I would pick up the next day and this time do better. Some runs were awesome, I felt like a million bucks after, and some were frustrating and made me hate everything.<br />
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I trained and showed up on race day and finished that run with a jubilant display of triumph so intense I peed myself. No really, three kids later my bladder is not what it used to be and I totally did pee myself from dancing around and yelling at the finish. With soggy pants I claimed my participant medal and it was pretty much the best thing ever. I am 100% a fan of participation trophies, especially for myself.<br />
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That race was the one that changed everything, and it wasn't just because of the bling. Now I'm looking at a 1/2 marathon training schedule (one that I made myself no less...woopwoop) and prepping for 13.1 miles in September. That may end up being the furthest I go, or maybe not, who knows. I hope if there's anyone out there who's questioning their ability to get running, or walking, or moving whatsoever you stop wondering and just go. Doesn't matter what speed, you're awesome and you can do it, I promise.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-49257178515548282472015-06-27T05:36:00.002-07:002015-06-27T05:36:46.159-07:00extreme spinning is not for meThis week was a crazy ride. After finishing the first season of Grace and Frankie on Netflix I decided that we have definitely been doing home decor wrong, also I can't wait to be 70. If you haven't seen the show I recommend you check it out, the two characters live in a beach house that obviously cost millions of dollars to decorate. After some googling I found it is a style called "Coastal" I have informed my husband I am changing our decorating theme. I mean our current theme is kind of "mid century mod meets kindergarten classroom and last months birthday decorations" with a whole lot of empty space we hope to someday have enough furniture to fill. I think if I add some deep blues, starfish, and texture we will definitely be pulling. it. off.<div>
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Anyway, thinking about decor distracted my mind from all the other things I've been working so hard on lately. I think my brain basically has two directions of focus on any subject 1. completely obsessed and 2. don't give a crap. So if I'm obsessed with decor, that means six weeks into half marathon training I no longer gave a crap about running. Damn it. I've been trying to talk myself back into it... I'm almost there... I think if I just paint a couple walls I can relax and refocus my brain back on running.</div>
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I also tried a new spin class this week, because after the <a href="http://elbowdeepinsomeoneelsesshit.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-longest-90-minutes-of-my-life_21.html" target="_blank">Bikram hot yoga fiasco</a> I have for some reason been drawn to extreme fitness classes. I took Spinbata on Monday... and I can still feel it in muscles I didn't know I had.</div>
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Let me give you a brief overview. Spinbata is a spin class that seems to focus mostly on the upper body, and that should be your first clue that it is insane. Your legs do not stop moving on that bike for a full hour, unless, like me, your foot accidentally comes flying free of the clip on the pedal and you almost die (but also get a 15 second break while you sort that situation out). While your legs are flying in circles, your arms are doing push ups in all sorts of forms, lots and lots of them. You bend from the front, and from the side, you tap your butt back on the seat, you yell WOOO! when prompted. You watch sweat pool under your bike and wonder if you heard wrong and this class is longer than an hour because surely, surely you have been here for more than 60 minutes!!!!!! </div>
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The last 10 minutes of the class you pick up hand weights and do a series of shoulder exercises that were basically impossible due to the noodle arms I now had attached to my body. It took all my strength not to accidentally punch my coworker next to me off her bike, I was basically pushing weights around with little to no control over where my arms went. I think for the sake of everyone I will stick to my regular spin classes from now on.</div>
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I'll finish up the post with some photos, one of which was taken with a selfie stick because that is just how I role and there is no shame in my selfie stick game.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhglMb8l5qYRltVLkdubOS_rfUHgVoTeGCmUPrszYUOVQsbwXVyUaYFLr10zrosCVNbxwA-k04HdVErWrO60xcqe9SfvO9rlI675MRwEB3ri8N_1RN28LJUNGrn7bjiVjbUBa1jloUXMfme/s1600/IMG_6107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhglMb8l5qYRltVLkdubOS_rfUHgVoTeGCmUPrszYUOVQsbwXVyUaYFLr10zrosCVNbxwA-k04HdVErWrO60xcqe9SfvO9rlI675MRwEB3ri8N_1RN28LJUNGrn7bjiVjbUBa1jloUXMfme/s400/IMG_6107.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on occasion this rogue mini shopping cart gang roams the local Kroger wreaking havoc on the ankles of innocent shoppers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD68owLuQL6_W14_Ao7tYSEt_uFoi04YfK2UFOyA3FkDq9-eORAwWKaR8537bnJAkucAX3ij8N36hemA2j6X5J5Lwo1l_3IcHDCZfuLry1zNkyAq1pNLmtvd12fuFX7399KwGTzak80mh8/s1600/IMG_6117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD68owLuQL6_W14_Ao7tYSEt_uFoi04YfK2UFOyA3FkDq9-eORAwWKaR8537bnJAkucAX3ij8N36hemA2j6X5J5Lwo1l_3IcHDCZfuLry1zNkyAq1pNLmtvd12fuFX7399KwGTzak80mh8/s400/IMG_6117.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh yeah, it was totally our anniversary on Monday, is it just me or are we getting better looking with age</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-44897240631305937152015-05-12T19:38:00.000-07:002015-05-12T19:38:20.033-07:00the only pets we have are flushable<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
You may remember an earlier post about the possibility of a family pet, we really wanted a dog but would settle for a <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=714899710808290262#editor/target=post;postID=425026951631301562;onPublishedMenu=posts;onClosedMenu=posts;postNum=19;src=postname" target="_blank">cheetah</a>. Unfortunately for everyone involved Conner seems to be extremely allergic to dogs, and cats, and pretty much anything with fur that licks itself. Which leaves us with only a couple options, and cute and cuddly isn’t one of them.<u></u><u></u></div>
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This is where I introduce you to our family pets, a little late actually as this is a posthumous introduction for all of them actually. Beau my danger baby received three gold fish for Christmas and a fishy habitat to go with them. He quickly named them Nemo, Goldie, and Orangey. His brother just as quickly renamed the last two Stinky and Doodoo. His mother accidentally killed all of them within the first 24 hours, so we are currently working with body doubles. That's right, literally the day after Christmas and we were already sneaking in replacements. With an air of I-told-you-so that was probably inherited from me Conner told us " you guys thought those fish were dead, but I knew all along they were just sleeping."</div>
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Now lets fast forward a couple weeks, Stinky, Doodoo, and Nemo have now funked up the tank to a shade of green so thick I could have bottled it and started hawking my own brand of green smoothies. So we introduce a new friend to the tank, a Plako named Wowo. Who is not so great at keeping the tank clean but super good at playing dead. So good in fact he gets flushed, but springs back to life in the middle of our three second long funeral. He woke up just in time to be sucked out the toilet hole, sent on his way to the "ocean" with the horrified screams of three traumatized children following behind.</div>
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In remembrance of Wowo we adopt a new Plako, Wowo Jr. I have now learned they are not the most active fish, and we have not accidentally flushed our new friend. However things aren't going to well for Stinky and Doodoo, who have actually at this point been renamed again and Conner insists we all refer to them as Twindo and Twindo Jr. Both of whom were found stuck to the bottom of the filter this week, not sleeping but actually super dead. I gave the kids the option of a small burial plot in the back yard or quick burial at sea via the porcelain portal to fish heaven. They chose the water option, and like any grieving fish owner would do, Conner performed a quick courtesy flush to make sure his beloved friends had some clean water to make their exit in. The boys sobbed quietly over the toilet together, Conner assured Beau that every time they went to the beach they would remember Twindo and Twindo Jr.</div>
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So, it seems we may be in for an interesting summer if every trip to the beach comes with a memorial for our flushed friends. We have two fish left in the tank, however that plays out. Could be by next week the marbles and fake ferns are the only pets left. All I know is, it's definitely a good thing Nic never bought us that Cheetah we begged for.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-32380303170358441772014-06-01T14:05:00.001-07:002014-06-01T14:05:27.731-07:00When Shit Hits the Fan: A Tale of FriendshipWell, if you want to know what is new in our house these last couple of weeks I would have to say it is Tillie's potty training routine. Now that she has turned two I can finally see the light at the end of the diaper tunnel, my last baby is almost potty trained! I bought her some Sophia the First undies from Target and ever since then it has been game on, I'm happy to report that she manages not to pee on "Phia" like 75% of the time. The other 25% of her underwear clad days she spends peeing in random locations... and occasionally creating horrifying poop predicaments (tales I will regale you with in a few minutes). For now let me drop a little urine wisdom bomb on y'all,<br />
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Sometimes we spend so much time searching for someone else's pee, when all you really had to do from the beginning was slow down and look at your feet... you've been standing in it all along.<br />
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I'll just let you absorb that for a minute before I go on.....<br />
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Now I will tell you a tale of friendship. I'll start it off with a quick warning, never brag about your child's amazing potty training abilities, I promise you the second you say "My little protege has basically potty trained herself" you have put a curse on your head. You will not know the time or date but poop is coming for you, and that poop will not make it into the toilet, free range feces are headed your way.<br />
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This literally just happened to me the other day when we were entertaining guests. Adam and Sarah, two parents we met through soccer a few seasons ago, came over to hang out. Thankfully they're awesome and have two kids of their own so they listened to my potty training braggery and still helped me clean up more than a few messes. Then things took a turn for the awful.<br />
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Tillie took herself to the bathroom, alone, and was discovered staring into a toilet full of poop. Without even blinking Sarah helped her wipe up her butt and congratulated her on making it to the potty, I walked in a minute later, almost dying from the horrifying smell. Sarah explained that Tillie must have pooped on her own, and helped Tillie pull up her undies... when suddenly we both noticed poop smeared all over Tillie's legs and falling out of the underoos. Purely out of shock and dismay Sarah and I simultaneously start screaming<br />
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"Oh My GAAWWWDDDD, OHHH SHIT!!!!"<br />
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Tillie had not made it to the toilet, her pants were actually filled to the brim with steaming fresh poo nuggets, and to top it off she was holding a giant HANDFUL of poop as well. A handful of poop that in a panicked response to our screaming she began shaking all over the place until the brown glob finally flew out of her hand and landed right next to Sarah's foot. Scrambling like wild animals, and cursing like sailors, together we hoisted Tillie into the bathtub to begin the decontamination process... poo was everywhere, EVERYWHERE I tell you. Poo flinging toddlers are seriously like the worst.<br />
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So there you have it, a cautionary tale yet a story of friendship as well. I don't think there's any going back from this, once you've done time in the trenches together, scooping poop, tossing toddlers, and sniffing each other to make sure you're both "clean", long term friendship is kind of inevitable.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjm4Gd2KwOnOSTYdUNn-VxprbfeS7J5jKkmQhjk-gnmUQ6rdf4p3b_D8hSqdkLpDoZ_DzOIzkLBBYs1-V-BZLps3wb8qQx1_xyM_XsKsVIswflikuNFx-7FBE2OggEcDg3z022da0Fh3e/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjm4Gd2KwOnOSTYdUNn-VxprbfeS7J5jKkmQhjk-gnmUQ6rdf4p3b_D8hSqdkLpDoZ_DzOIzkLBBYs1-V-BZLps3wb8qQx1_xyM_XsKsVIswflikuNFx-7FBE2OggEcDg3z022da0Fh3e/s1600/photo.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tillie: "Shhhh Beau, Beau. I wuv you, no cry.. ok"</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-48467143256253580412014-05-18T16:31:00.000-07:002014-05-18T16:31:15.454-07:00Tillie Boo BooSo... while we were out in Colorado a few weeks ago Tillie had her second birthday and we were very, very lucky to get to celebrate with our in town family. One of the amazing presents Tillie received was this adorable flamingo dress from my wonderful Aunt Kathi. Now this dress is pretty much to die for, over the top, tutu fabulous... I mean this dress is DA BOMB!!! I've posted a picture below for your verification,<br />
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So now that you've seen the awesomeness that is this flamingo dress, I have a confession to make. After seeing Tillie in this dress I felt like I couldn't just keep her undeniable cuteness all to myself anymore... and I signed her up for a fashion show next month. It's a local vendor that is hosting the show to display her clothes and accessories all I have to provide are flip flops... which is the only shoe Tillie doesn't have so I'm gonna get to go shooooping!!!<br />
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Alright, seriously though, I'm trying to contain my excitement... and also teach Tillie some tricks... you know there ain't nothin' cuter than small well trained children (slight sarcasm here). Anyway, we've been working all weekend on a little routine that goes like this,<br />
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walk down the runway... twirl... throw her arms out and yell "Ta-Da!!"... then blow a kiss.<br />
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Totally beyond adorable, and she totally pulls it off about 50% of the time. So based on those statistics I see this fashion show going one of two ways:<br />
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1. She does her routine and the crowd goes crazy, chanting "Tillie! Tillie! Tillie!!!" Nickelodeon and Disney get into a heated bidding war over the rights to a show about her cuteness.... we turn them down of course (we're not those kind of people who are going to sell their kid's childhood to the highest bidder ppsssh) Tillie grows up "small town famous" and we all live happily ever after<br />
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2. Tillie walks to the end of the runway, twirls violently several times before stumbling to a stop and yelling "TA DAAAAAA!!!!" unfortunately all those twirls give her the balance of a soccer mom three margaritas in (that's me) and she falls sideways off the stage. Luckily she is nothing if not durable and she hops back up to gruffly yell "KISSIESSSS!!! KISSIESSSS!!" while smacking herself in the mouth and blowing spit everywhere.<br />
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I have to say either way I'll be super proud... and I'll write about it here.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-78276161747442963922014-05-17T06:41:00.001-07:002014-05-17T06:41:08.884-07:00The Beach RevisitedAnyone out there who is still reading the occasional post I put out on this blog may remember my post from last summer about <a href="http://elbowdeepinsomeoneelsesshit.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-beach.html" target="_blank">the beach</a>. Last summer beach visits were rough, not so much for the kids, but for the parents lugging them around it was a misery. Set aside the fact that three small, hot, sweaty children are hard to handle you throw in sand and I thought I would lose my mind.<br />
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Well this year everyone is a little older, weather is not at it's hottest, and after a long winter sand seems a small price to pay for some SUNSHINE!! So for Mother's Day I asked to go to the beach, and we packed towels and a cooler (and some margaritas for me) and we met up with Nic's family.<br />
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Let me tell you what, that looooong winter made a difference a big, big difference. For whatever reason (maybe it was the margaritas) this year the beach was awesome! The boys were big enough to play down in the water without having their hand held for every single second. Tillie was totally terrified of the water so she spent her time happily making sand castles and not actively trying to drown. That was a huge plus!<br />
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The best part was that the sand didn't bother me so much. I mean I'm not trying to set out a picnic at the beach and eat in a whole bed of sand or anything but as far as kicking back and enjoying some beverages while not stressing my sand covered legs... well that I can handle. I even sat with my butt in the sand... not in a chair... my WHOLE BUTT in the sand!!<br />
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It was a great day. Makes me wonder what else we should retry with the kids.<br />
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Having three little kids around has been the happiest thing in my life but it also sucked joy out of a lot the things that I used to like doing. Which is fine, it's a phase it's just a part of life that you get through, I wouldn't trade my crew for a million beaches. It is nice every year to see more things open up for us though, I feel like we're taking back our lives a little and all the fun stuff we get to enjoy the kids get to come along too. So that leaves me feelin' good... it's gonna be a good year :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-63510681718806255252014-04-20T11:07:00.003-07:002014-04-20T11:07:54.906-07:00Loose TeethThis week marked a pretty important milestone for Conner, after weeks of wiggling and waiting his very first loose tooth came out while he was eating a bowl of cereal. Now let me tell you, for a five year old loose teeth bring with them an overwhelming sense of pride and losing that tooth was an accomplishment like no other.<br />
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Because I'm a mom of course I had to update friends, family, and Facebook acquaintances immediately, there are pictures and of course there is a YouTube video. There were Tooth Fairy preparations to make and single dollar bills to acquire, Conner's dreams had come true... he was now a young man with an income. <br />
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When you're a kid losing teeth there is nothing but excitement involved, when you're a parent suddenly you are met with an unanswerable question. What the hell do parents do with baby teeth? I used to think that parents who packed away the first teeth of their offspring like tiny white treasures were weirdos. I imagined cleaning out someone's house and finding a bag filled with tiny human teeth and puked a little in my mouth, seriously it's the stuff of nightmares.<br />
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Then suddenly I was forced to think about what I would do with this tooth and a part of me just couldn't get rid of it. I mean I made that tooth, it took me nine months and it sat in his round little head for 5 1/2 years, smiling in all our family photos, eating my cooking (which has progressively gotten MUCH better over 5 years). I stayed up late holding that kid while he screamed, because when that tooth came in it was BITCH and he was miserable. He bit me with that tooth when he was two and I bit him back and felt so guilty and then we were friends and neither of us ever bit anyone ever again.<br />
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When he first grew that tooth his god father Ben was still alive, and I'm sad he isn't here to watch him lose these teeth because my Conner is amazing and they would have loved each other so much. I've had two more babies and Conner has just kept growing. Sometimes I feel like somewhere between morning sickness and colicky newborns I missed some little parts of his life and it makes those growing up milestones all the more bittersweet.<br />
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So I guess when it comes down to it I wasn't ready for him to lose that tooth and I wasn't prepared to get rid of it once it was out. In all truthfulness, if I'm speaking from the top of my experience and the bottom of my heart, I will never be ready to let go. Time can be cruel and relentless but, it is first and foremost constant and I will most likely be shocked each and every time I am reminded of it's passing. That's just who I am, a non-letter-goer.<br />
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So now you're probably wondering where I hide the tiny human teeth at my house. Well, the answer to that is I don't, Conner's tooth was left in a tiny glass of water, which was later placed next to the sink by my husband, and unknowingly dumped down the sink by yours truly as I did dishes. Proving once again that procrastination can solve all problems.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-65160078648181213132014-04-06T11:39:00.000-07:002014-04-06T11:42:13.602-07:00the flu has landed...Hey Y'all,<br />
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I am blogging here today from the land of the influenza infected, just in case you're not familiar, allow me to paint a picture for you. We woke up early Thursday morning to the sound of an unhappy Tillie, groggily responding to her angry cries, we found that she was not just unhappy she was also covered in vomit. Now, not that I'm bragging but, 5 1/2 years into parenthood we got this barf thang down! The trick is to contain, contain, contain... so we wrapped her up in the her cute little puke covered bed things and unwrapped the whole vomit bomb in the bathtub. We had one toddler down and while the other two kiddos were still sleeping peacefully, I could see the possibility of more stomach chunks in our future.</div>
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Now that I'm working there's always a decision to be made when a kid shows signs of disease. Should I take off form work? Can Nic stay home? Are some of the kids healthy enough to still go to the sitter? I opted to work from home and hastily called the daycare, begging, pleading... ok, maybe that's a little dramatic. The two puke free kids were good to go, for about 6 hours, than I got the call... Beau had a fever of 102. </div>
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So that's basically how it began, now we're four days into this whole flu thing, and the kids are getting some of their energy back... but not any kind of cheerful energy... more like deviant, snot-filled defiance. Tillie is a curly haired terror, she has the voice of an 80 year old lounge singer, and angrily demands "More LET IT GO!!!". I've watched Frozen maybe ten times... maybe 40 I don't know I've lost count. When Tillie's sleeping the boys get a Pokemon marathon going... that was fine until they only wanted to watch it in Spanish, the same episode over and over again... in Spanish. My sanity is barely hangin' on.</div>
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I'm hoping a recovery is in sight... or margaritas... </div>
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Pitiful sick child Tillie</div>
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He's still pretty cute even when he's a pukester</div>
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Some BFFs right here!</div>
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We got that sweet vomit bucket from the urgent care, stoked that it matches my decor</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-15724040801356015052014-01-29T18:38:00.001-08:002017-01-15T05:16:21.893-08:00Antler Canvas DIY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhHy4Yoekmgx2id6o-RX1XUWAY1mzJXsZwNhUAqZEUTITfoyQ0n1w0_naoKWPm9tz7N6SZZY3hkoJVBNnFy_nEsxfTbNHh0ASaszNU3qtgXlReLH9KsW1s6cVCt-M1UE6psNud3nj-pQ7/s1600/IMG_5644.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhHy4Yoekmgx2id6o-RX1XUWAY1mzJXsZwNhUAqZEUTITfoyQ0n1w0_naoKWPm9tz7N6SZZY3hkoJVBNnFy_nEsxfTbNHh0ASaszNU3qtgXlReLH9KsW1s6cVCt-M1UE6psNud3nj-pQ7/s320/IMG_5644.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
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At my new job I work on a floor that has some serious, serious cubicle decor going on. No kidding, you should see the way my coworkers decorate, they're AMAZING. I joke that they should sell tickets to let the other floors in the building come through for a tour, like a Cube-a-Rama type event. So after spending a few months with my new team I've been working on my own cubicle decor, because nothing motivates me to work like being surrounded by sparkley and spangley do dahs!<br />
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I saw some antlers on pinterest that were painted gold and started to fall in love with the idea. So I started looking on Craigslist for some antlers I could decorate, but most of them came with deer pieces still attached sooooo.... that didn't work out. Then I had an idea to draw my own gold antlers on a canvas and decorate them and voila!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhem2UUvquEkVU7ahgbRgCVZymmBgX1NomdaWwm3aiyoqwNF3LOBkk7gvHucDv6ovGQ_rDW1xHVcsdDtdtTGRm42CI9Xdo160B2dwkBAyh3nwhJhVscPla4LtpOlAFIFCn4obidvRmCyIEA/s1600/Snapseed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhem2UUvquEkVU7ahgbRgCVZymmBgX1NomdaWwm3aiyoqwNF3LOBkk7gvHucDv6ovGQ_rDW1xHVcsdDtdtTGRm42CI9Xdo160B2dwkBAyh3nwhJhVscPla4LtpOlAFIFCn4obidvRmCyIEA/s320/Snapseed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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So here's a quick sorta-tutorial to show anyone interested how to make the same thing!</div>
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Michael's had a sale on canvases and bought a bunch in various sizes, along with some silk flowers, Martha Stewart gold craft paint, and 1 inch foam paint brushes. </div>
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To start I drew the shape of an antler on cardboard and cut it out to use as a stencil (you can see the "antler" in the picture below)</div>
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Next, I traced the antler onto a blank canvas and started filling in the lines with Marth Stewart gold craft paint. </div>
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I let them dry for a little while and then pulled out my glue gun and some silk flowers to add a final touch to the canvas. </div>
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I broke off the flowers from the wire stems and cut the plastic as close to the petals as possible, and glued them to the antlers. </div>
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ba bam! Some awesome art!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-23323400769717353012014-01-19T05:57:00.001-08:002014-01-19T05:57:53.065-08:00Tillie the Queen of ToddlerhoodI would like to take a moment to briefly pop in here and talk about Tillie’s sudden onset of toddlerhood. For her first year I thought she was going to be my calm kid, my go with the flow and cause minimal trouble kid. Actually she was, and while battling with Beau through some horrific three year old mood swings and a feces filled bout of potty training, I needed that calm little cherub. Then one day, as seems to happen with the little people in my house, Tillie turned a corner and we woke to find we had a toddler.<br />
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What happens, you ask, when a baby becomes a toddler? Well, everything in your house stops being yours and without warning becomes theirs. My toothbrush, my dinner, my shoes…. all became Tillie’s. Conner’s power wheels and Beau’s best bedtime jammies… now belong to Tillie. This tiny tutu clad tyrant only has to point and declare “MINE!” and h<span id="goog_1524430059"></span><span id="goog_1524430060"></span>er poor brothers are reduced to tears. Nothing is safe… literally NOTHING.<br />
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Tillie has also developed a flair for fashion, she will dress herself in any accessory she finds. Her favorite item of clothing is her brother’s discarded underwear. At any point you could find her with 3-5 pairs pulled on over top of her diaper, graciously informing anyone who dares question her “MINNNEEEEEE!”. Yes, all of the things… even the underwear is Tillie’s. She also enjoys shoes, some she can put on herself… other’s she needs help… still others aren’t for humans but she’ll try anyway. How do you explain to your boss that you are late because Tillie found GI Joe’s boot in the toy box and wanted to wear it to daycare? No other shoes could work as a replacement… and Joe wears a size 1 1/2 inches.<br />
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Tillie also seems to have lost her sense of danger along the way as well. She watches the boys jump from furniture piece to furniture piece and naturally wants to join in. She hasn’t learned how to jump yet, but she can stand on her tip toes and throw herself bodily at the furniture… and people… and occasionally the floor. I would have to say if Tillie had a natural enemy it would be gravity. The sound of Tillie “jumping” echoes loudly through the whole house giving Conner his new favorite phrase “She did not stick that landing”.<br />
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Finally, one last mark of her toddler change, Tillie is full of tiny, boisterous, and slightly drool filled displays of love. She wakes up every morning full of hugs, and charges though her day offering up kisses. Diplomatically healing the hurt feelings of older brothers who’s things are no longer their own, and parents who may have taken a head to face injury when she “jumped” unexpectedly into their arms. She crashes around her little world like she's been here all along and her chaos and crazy fits right in. Sometimes I wonder… whatever did we do before we had a Tillie.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-57727302281031833792013-12-24T14:49:00.000-08:002013-12-24T14:49:28.710-08:00Holiday PrintablesSo did you know you can edit pictures AND create printables on <a href="http://www.picmonkey.com/" target="_blank">picmonkey</a>?! I've been editing photos there for about a year now, but I just realized that you can do printables too. So I made some... for the holidays. I'm posting them here, so if anyone wants to use them they can.<br />
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I'm not gonna lie, I'm pretty excited about Christmas this year. I feel like some years the holidays sneak up on me and I'm never quite ready, but these year 'twas I did the sneaking. I started buying Christmas presents in August so I think it's safe to say, I'm winning the holidays this year, straight winnin' them!!! I have to enjoy it while it lasts... because I know I'll probably miss the boat on the next three or five Christmases. Instead of getting my shit together early I'll be wandering Walmart on Christmas Eve trying to buy whatever they have left and hoping the kids think travel size deodorants are AWESOME stocking stuffers.<br />
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So anyway, here's some lovely festive printables so you too can get ahead of the Christmas curve... if you weren't already there when the decorations went out in stores the week before Halloween. Just click on the Link/Title below each of them to open as a .jpg.<br />
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<a href="https://www.dropbox.com/s/zfkqdv2rmrypm0a/let%20it%20snow.jpg" target="_blank">Let it Snow</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.dropbox.com/s/p2265wgok4akexm/let%20them%20eat%20snow.jpg" target="_blank">Let Them Eat Snow</a></div>
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(it's funny... because some of the snowflakes are yellow)</div>
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<a href="https://www.dropbox.com/s/vedxfibsjadivj0/ornaments.jpg" target="_blank">Ornaments</a></div>
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Merry Christmas!!</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-71157023671141454162013-11-12T18:46:00.000-08:002013-11-12T18:46:09.021-08:00Oh poop, you got me againUgh, you know what kind of sucks when you're a parent... not being able to kick back for a few minutes and trust that the house won't go straight to hell the second your back is turned. Instead you can almost guarantee that any moments of peaceful laziness spent with children out of your direct line of sight will only end in tears... and sometimes poop. This lesson I have learned many times... but times are different... I'm a working mom now, and for the past few weeks I've been nostalgic for the old days. Remembering with sweet sadness how wonderful it was to be a stay at home mom, in yoga pants all day.<br />
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So yesterday I took a half day and spent some time with my little angels. I was only out of the room for a few minutes while I changed into my yoga attire... but that's all it took. I came out of my room to find Beau with FIVE unwrapped dum-dums stuffed in his face, Conner running in circles yelling like he was possessed... and where you ask was Tillie? Oh, she was in the hall bathroom, fishing in the toilet with her brother's tooth brush. Joy.<br />
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Tonight I came home, with a whole bag full of good intentions. I made the kids cracker pizzas, because I ROCK, they ate dinner before 7pm... and they loved it. You know what though, all that time spent having my shit together was exhausting. So, I hid for a few minutes in my bedroom... and then I heard yelling. Conner was yelling that Tillie was getting yogurt everywhere, which didn't make sense, because I hadn't given the children any yogurt. Which was kind of a horrible realization, because it meant they had been climbing in the fridge and OH MY GOD the only yogurt we had was in a half gallon jug!!!<br />
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I ran into the living screaming nonsense and burst upon Tillie two fists deep in a bucket-o-yogurt slammin' her face full of goo like the little lactose junkie she is. As I continue to scream Nic runs out, grabs her and sets her with clothes on in the tub... then runs out the door because his Dad was here to pick him up and go out. So now alone, and probably experiencing one the top ten most intense freak outs of my life, I strip Tillie and start some water going in the tub. I let her just splash in the stream while I run into the living room and mop yogurt out of the carpet... and off the couch... and out of the entertainment center... and off some clean laundry... like holy shit she touched everything she possibly could before she got caught.<br />
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I finally get most of it up, and run back to the bathroom to give Tillers a good rinse... when she starts to make the poop face. So I begin screaming... but then I notice something... swirling amid the bath toys are some brown chunks. I am too late, she has already pooped in the tub... and I've probably already touched it. I grab a cup and begin scooping poo bits out from the toys, praying she doesn't clog the drain. I look down and realize that she had already begun scooping poop out of the tub herself, actually I'm standing in it. <br />
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So there you go... I love the heck out of those kids, but damn, they make going to work feel like a vacation... and if work feels like a vacation I can't even imagine how awesome a vacation would be.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-68163028196121105222013-11-01T04:25:00.000-07:002013-11-01T04:25:09.163-07:00Halloween 2013Now, if there's anything I've learned in the few years I've been a mother, it's that given the means small children can take something fun and turn it into misery. I'm not being a debbie downer, I'm not being mean, it's a skill really. One minute you're excited to celebrate a wonderful holiday with your favorite little dumplings... and the next you're crouched in the fetal position, covered in candy drool, praying for a straight jacket... or a beer.<br />
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This Halloween 2013 was just one of those nights. I picked the kiddos up early from daycare so we could get into some costumes, and get good pictures while it was still daylight. I imagined a perfect evening of sweet, polite, adorable children... and candy... possibly hugs even. Instead I brought home three monsters, already picking up a sugar buzz, and out of their minds with excitement. I had walked into, the perfect storm.<br />
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After spending an hour chasing the boys while Tillie held my leg and cried, I somehow had everyone in costumes. Conner was taking the chaotic evening as the perfect time to repeat everything I said. Beau was taking everything I said as a personal insult to himself and softly whimpering over his shoes. Tillie, well she had found a tootsie roll and was chewing and drooling chocolate sludge all over herself... and my leg which she was still clinging to.<br />
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I think maybe that was the point my mind gave out. I was yelling at the kids to pull it together, we were going out on the porch to take some damn pictures!! Everyone, get outside and smile DAMMIT!!! Actually this is when Conner stopped being a copy cat, once Mom starts swearing... well, he knows not to repeat those words.<br />
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Apparently once I released the wild things back into nature, they were much happier. Our Halloween pictures turned out really well. I posted it on Facebook... so everyone could see my adorable well behaved children... gotta keep up the front ya know.<br />
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We moved on to trick or treating in Nic's sister's neighborhood...<br />
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Tillie fell asleep before we got to the first house, so we were hauling little princess in the stroller and having her brother's beg for extra candy. Nic and I argued angrily in front of his parents over which direction to go once we got going... so awkward. Turned into another "it's Halloween DAMMIT can we please have FUN" moment... delightful.<br />
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We decided to head back to our neighborhood...<br />
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Tillie woke up, jonesin' for more candy. Beau fell asleep holding his bag of candy tight up to his chest. We decided to do a lap in our neighborhood, I'm hauling Beau in the stroller. Conner is being cute and behaved... a true delight... really repping the family well to the rest of the street. Tillie has become an adorable sugar fueled monster. She won't sit in any stroller, she's running up to houses, hands out, demanding candy... then shoving the candy into her mouth and running on to the next house. She ain't got time for no trick or treat bag, no wrappers, no kindly words of "Peaseeee". I'm chasing behind her, fishing chewed up candy wads out of her mouth, trying to unwrap as fast as I can... she's covered in sticky... I'm covered in sticky. At some point I stop trying to wide and clean, I just embrace the sticky as a permanent state... it's who I am now, that sticky lady with the crazy child.<br />
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Finally, thank sweet lord, it's over!! I pick up Tillie, actually she sticks to me like a fly to flypaper, and book my ass home. I'm done... over and done. Oh wait, except for the part where we divide up the candy, and cry over the candy, and put the candy away because we're not eating it all tonight. I explained to the children, I put the candy up high so the candy elves don't steal any, but if they see some missing that's what happened... it was elves. This damn house is infested.<br />
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So there you have it, that is Halloween, I feel like I was hit by a train. I feel hungover... and I barely even got to finish a single hard cider, despite the fact I'm pretty sure I earned a couple shots of Tequila. Oh, and as I'm up at the butt crack of dawn typing this... I remember... I was supposed to buy coffee yesterday.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-28137347506892736472013-10-31T19:33:00.001-07:002013-10-31T19:36:31.427-07:00Tillie's CostumesHello, hello, HELLO! I haven’t been on lately… it seems like my inspiration for blog posts hits me while I’m in the car and obviously I can’t be typin’ and drivin’. Maybe I should get a tape recorder…<br />
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Anyway, here we are at the end of October, Halloween is today and of course I bet you are all wondering about Tillie’s amazing costume choices this year. Let me tell you, Tillie has worn a different costume to every party we’ve gone, and her cuteness is at levels so high they’re almost lethal. Fair warning, if you have a heart condition best you sit that candy on the porch and hide inside because tiny little Princess Tillie ain’t messin’ around.<br />
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Here she is in her little mermaid princess dress, look at all the poof… I die I tell you.<br />
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Last week we went to a friend’s Halloween party and I was able to put one of our tutu outfits to good use. She was a tiny ballerina… it’s official chubby ballerinas are my new favorite… little dancers with cute little rolls of chub.<br />
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Here she is, sitting with daddy, eating a treat… maybe using him as a napkin on occasion. When you’re daddy’s number one girl he’s happy to be your napkin, princess wipes where ever she wills.<br />
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Our last and most heart poppingly adorable outfit is…. A pumpkin. I mean seriously, SERIOUSLY, that is one gourd so cute I think Halloween needs to be year round. To top it off she carries her little candy bucket and holds it up saying “bees, bees, BBEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!” Obviously that means please in Tillie land, and it wouldn’t be polite to take candy from strangers without both shoving a bucket into their face and screaming gibberish.<br />
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I'll have an update about our night of trick or treating tomorrow... maybe... we'll see if I've recovered.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-22775989951023612632013-09-30T12:56:00.001-07:002013-10-01T17:28:11.329-07:00Work these days...<div class="s4" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You haven’t heard from me much in the last few months because I’ve been working the family into a new routine, one where I’m working 40 hours a week. I have to say that a full time job is no joke, I don’t love it or hate it, but I do like not having to stress about bill payments every month. The ideal situation would be for me to somehow be independently wealthy. I could be home with the kids and also have employees to deal with them before nap time and any random rough patches during the day… like a tantrum butler. Now that would be living the dream. Anyway, since this is real life, I thought I would tell you about what it’s like to be my coworker.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">Just to start out I have to tell you about the curse, I don’t know why but I have this issue where about a week into any new job something colossally stupid happens to me. Not something so crazy I lose my job, but definitely bad enough to make them question hiring me. This one time my car was booted within my first week of work, making me three hours late to my fourth shift… nothing says “I’m a responsible adult” like getting nabbed for nonpayment of parking tickets. </span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">This new gig I’ve got going on isn’t so bad, and I had hoped that the curse was behind me… but two days in this happened,</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I was sitting in my cube waiting for my giant cup of coffee to cool, and decided to take a quick sip. I went to hot yoga that morning, so of course I had limp noodle arms and my for a second my wrist crapped out and I dumped the entire cup of coffee straight into my lap. When I say straight now, I want you to know that thing flipped over in front of me and the cup landed upside down on my crotch with so much force coffee blasted down the entirety of my pants. I'm pretty sure coworkers for three cubes round could hear the explosion. With a burst of whispered obscenities I jumped out of my chair, but there really wasn’t much I could do, I was wearing every damn drop.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">I waddled over to the cube of a coworker, my corner of the building is pretty cold and I’m pretty sure sitting in wet coffee clothes could cause hypothermia.</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15"> </span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">The nice thing about a grown up job is that I got to take off, change, and come back. Once I made it back to my desk an IM from one of my new team members popped up, she expressed her happiness that I had come back and asked what I thought of the job so far. Surprised that word of my coffee spill had traveled so quickly, I joked about liking the job despite my “drinking problem” and had only had to change my clothes once today. What I didn’t realize was th</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">at this particular coworker was working out of office</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">, so she had no idea I had spilled coffee, she did however now think I was very open and honest about my alcohol problem. We continued to talk, and as we approached the end of the text conversation she awkwardly stated “well, as long as you can still function at work…” to which I replied “as long as I have a few cups in the morning I’m usually good to go”.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">Eventually I caught on to the fact that she wasn’t talking about coffee</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">, </span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">so the situation was downgraded to a slightly less embarrassing subject… like involuntary arm spasms. So in brief, if you work with me, expect the unexpected, listen to half of what I say</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">…</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15"> seriously only half. Most i</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">mportantly if we’re conversing and you can’t understand what the heck I’m talking about… I probably don’t know either, that’s just how I roll.</span></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-4250269516313015622013-09-23T16:03:00.001-07:002013-09-23T16:03:12.861-07:00Let's get a pet...<div class="s4" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">Me and the kids have been trying to convince Nic to get a pet for a while now. I’ve tried teaching Tillie to sign, “I want a puppy, daddy” with her lip pushed out and her big blue eyes, how can he say no to that! </span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">However, a</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">ll Tillie has been able to sign so far is “eat more” and then she growls the word “puppppayssss”, it’s a little off putting and hasn't earned us a dog.</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15"> The</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">n the</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15"> other d</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">ay on the way to soccer </span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">Conner ran some ideas by me for a slightly more exotic family pet… a cheetah.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">I guess he had put a lot of thought into</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15"> it</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15"> because he opened with an argument about all the good qualities Cheetah’s have,</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">1. They’re really fast, maybe the fastest animal in the world</span><br />
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<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">2. T</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">hey’re really good guard cats</span></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Now, I know a good idea when I hear one, so I let him know that I was sold on the whole Cheetah thing as long as he cleaned up the poop. That’s when he remembered the one bad quality a Cheetah has… it might eat us if it got hungry.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So bummer… no cheetah… but wait he knew another animal that might be a good fit, how about a gazelle. They also have lots of good qualities,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">1. They’re just as fast as cheetahs</span></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">2. You can ride them</span></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">3. They eat grass, so it would mow the lawn</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15">I have to say, that was a totally legit list of attributes, I would LOVE a gazelle. I think he</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15"> could definitely</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15"> would fill that soft furry animal shaped hole in our family.</span></span><span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15"> So I tell Conner I’m down, let’s go to Petsmart and see what they have in the Safari aisle, maybe bring ourselves home an African deer… but wait… he has a better idea.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">“Mom!!! If we get a cheetah AND a gazelle, we can have two really cool pets and if the cheetah gets hungry he’ll eat the gazelle instead of us!!”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Well, that’s some logic right there. I guess that could work… except, I explain, I don’t think I can afford to buy a gazelle every week to feed our pet cheetah. Money doesn't grow on trees after all…</span></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">“Oh mom, you’re so silly… you can’t BUY a gazelle! They’re WILD animals… you’ll just have to go to Africa every week and pick one up.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Oh is that all? Well in that case, how about we start naming the lint balls that come out of the dryer… because it looks like it’s as close to a pet as we’re going to get.</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-31558758192833606912013-08-21T10:13:00.001-07:002013-08-21T10:13:26.513-07:00the longest 90 minutes of my life<p class=""><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If there’s one thing you probably don’t know about me, it’s this… I will without a doubt always and eventually succumb to peer pressure. Actually there doesn’t even have to be pressure involved, just a casual mention works too. If enough people casually mention something, well damn it I will buy a Groupon and I will try it out. This is how, despite the warnings of my Mother-in-law, I ended up in a hot yoga class last night.</span></p><p class=""><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I don’t know if you’ve ever been to hot yoga, or just plain old regular temperature yoga, but let me tell you… it ain’t easy. Since I have a happy trigger finger when it comes to Groupon deals, I’m sitting on a 5 class package and last night I cashed in class number one. I got to the studio early and the instructor walked me through a list of rules, no water until after the 4<sup>th</sup> posture, if you have an emergency its ok to leave, no cell phones in the studio and so on. Actually this kind of confused me a little, I mean how do you know if there’s an emergency if you don’t have your cell phone?</span></p><p class=""><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I went into the yoga studio shook my mat out and looked around at the other yoga people. Of course I was sitting next to the tiniest, bendiest, bikini clad yoga chic ever, the class hadn’t even started and she was already doing back bends down the back wall. Not to be outdone I fell into a pose that is my personal favorite, corpse pose. The heat was intense, like so intense I had a new found respect for Frodo, it must have been damn oppressive up there on Mount Doom. Then the class started.</span></p><p class=""><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It took me about 15 minutes to realize what kind of emergency could make you leave the room, the kind of emergency you don’t get a cell phone call for. Like I’m going to vomit, maybe poop myself, and I’m pretty sure my heart is exploding… holy shit I’m having heat induced hallucinations kind of emergencies. Yeah, it was that hot and that awful. I think the worst part is that there is no clock, you have no sense of time, no understanding of how close you are to the end. I started thinking about all the things I had taken for granted in my life, like fresh air, refrigeration, breezes… ice cubes. I drank some water, I thought about volcanoes, how horrible it would be if one erupted right now and I never felt cool air again. We did a pose where I tucked my chin up to my knees, and the sushi I had for lunch made a spontaneous appearance in my mouth. I choked back the vomit and kept going.</span></p><p class=""><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I worked and worked, and thought about all the people outside the studio, I thought of the future. I thought, holy shit, what if global warming makes the whole planet this hot all the time and every day is like doing hot yoga for the rest of our lives. That was kind of the point I started crying, I was so sweaty I don’t think you could see the tears, but I’m pretty sure everyone could hear me sobbing. Yeah, hot yoga pretzel lady had front row seats to my whole freak show. After crying for 10-15 minutes the class was finally over, the instructor brought us cold wet towels, I cried for a few more minutes, then rolled up my sweat soaked mat and made my way out.</span></p><p class=""><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I will tell you this, I am so glad I didn’t buy the 10 class package. I think there is a possibility I will go back, because I’m cheap and the classes are non-transferable. I now I will not be eating sushi for lunch the day of a class ever again.</span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-75274888447737864102013-08-20T20:04:00.001-07:002013-08-20T20:04:21.585-07:00on the subject of fossilized nuggetsYou know you're a mom when... your car looks more like the back of a trash truck halfway through the neighborhood pickup than the fresh vehicle you purchased years ago. Between work, daycare, soccer, and weekend trips to thrift shops my car has become a catch all for the whole family's crap. I've let the junk build up until I can't possibly go another day without cleaning it out. Lately the car has developed into a health hazard, like if we were in a car accident last months chicken nuggets would probably act as shrapnel and cause serious bodily harm.<br />
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So this week I decided to suck it up and clean out the wagon. Actually the final push came when I was leaving work on a hot day. As I slowly rolled up to the stoplight outside work, a can of Dr Pepper tapped the back hatch of my car and exploded. A soft, warm, mist of fizzy soda settled over my head and I realized at that moment I had hit my rock bottom, and it was time to turn things around.<br />
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So I went home and pulled out handfuls of trash, toys and fossilized chicken nuggets from the floorboards. I found missing action figures, close to a trillion sippy cups, and good lord did I find a lot of shoes. Once I reached the final level of muck I discovered the blackened remains of a banana and... a smell. A horrible, noxious, unshakable stench. Somehow the layers of toys, clothes, shoes, sippies, and other junk was acting as a filter for the evil smell, and now there is nothing to contain it. The car is clean but any drive spent sitting in that smell leaves you feeling slightly unwashed.<br />
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I'm working on a plan to get rid of the smell, it's a fool proof plan, all I need to do is convince Nic to let me buy a new car.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-84892299534014117292013-08-10T09:55:00.001-07:002013-08-10T09:55:28.170-07:00Mom's WienerI always had this idea that when I had kids I might someday in the future get a tattoo for them. I know, I know, me and the rest of the world it seems like. Well, my idea was super original, I was going to save their first picture of an actual person and get that as a tattoo. Maybe one day have a whole little family portrait drawn by my kids one my arm or leg or something. I don’t know, I never really considered placement, it just seemed like a really good idea at the time.<br />
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Well, when Conner was three he drew a picture of me for the first time. He actually described everything for me as he drew it, I was thrilled. Now I don’t mean to brag but my kids are AMAZING artists, seriously, I would wallpaper my house with their scribbles if I could. So when he began drawing this picture, my heart melted, my mind exploded and I waited breathlessly as he added each adorable detail.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jZGXKdhFEPAvy3tkOH7xoqvyY98M_UbKKqwPVkFcC7HR4QtZ72jhDH_41MJFONDpT4H3obt1BVQU5XciJDvG77vBpIGIQU-f7uShLOn3uTuXGoSZlictFXUEm148PB3VyEr1jX1uxudd/s1600/Conner.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jZGXKdhFEPAvy3tkOH7xoqvyY98M_UbKKqwPVkFcC7HR4QtZ72jhDH_41MJFONDpT4H3obt1BVQU5XciJDvG77vBpIGIQU-f7uShLOn3uTuXGoSZlictFXUEm148PB3VyEr1jX1uxudd/s400/Conner.JPG" width="297" /></a></div>
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He began with a large oval, and then he drew my little feet. He came back and added little eyes and a smile, and just to make my heart explode a little more he drew a tiny person inside of me… his baby sister who I was pregnant with at the time. He drew something floating around me, maybe it was a spaceship maybe it was aura given off by my glowing personality. I don’t know, but I know he was my favorite child in the whole universe for a while. Then as he finished up glowing with pride in his own amazing artistic ability he added one final detail… a GIANT WIENER. I guess it never occurred to him there was a reason I sat to pee, or maybe that if I had a wiener longer than my legs he would have noticed by now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtRruZmaFmPq1-lTPFA5pH3BOd7JEkGo5MZHfGR4vYsurPBfu5RUTcIY4paz5_GR71d7KVSVYDGCvs6JaQ4ujglz-UvLpdPK3ciDesHlpNe2gjl178eiwHLULUdyzSrdVyr1nezRAYLnqg/s1600/Conner.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtRruZmaFmPq1-lTPFA5pH3BOd7JEkGo5MZHfGR4vYsurPBfu5RUTcIY4paz5_GR71d7KVSVYDGCvs6JaQ4ujglz-UvLpdPK3ciDesHlpNe2gjl178eiwHLULUdyzSrdVyr1nezRAYLnqg/s640/Conner.JPG" width="478" /></a></div>
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I’ve revised my tattoo idea… I think I’d rather not have a picture of my schlong tattooed on my body for the rest of my life. However, it is NEVER leaving my fridge… EVER..<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-714899710808290262.post-3390435716988589442013-07-30T19:38:00.001-07:002013-07-30T19:38:53.641-07:00DIY Ombré Dresser<div style="text-align: center;">
So, this weekend I was surfing Pinterest and had some sudden inspiration, the kind that starts by driving my husband crazy and ends with my house covered in pieces of craft supplies. I've been trying to put Tillie's room together for a while, going back and forth, to paint or not to paint, super girly or kinda subtle. I've had a dresser for her sitting in my garage for a while and this weekend I made my final decision. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgec6N0KNvM-F86Wak9mIh-pfCISuzreBCPaLLzDhhR4u7AadNjoZxHMb2yDihdjh4Ui9Krb1yc9Gdtor90n3BcTHN-emYHZ8E5xql6xxnplumtFERhbNTcktzi3OTTsP6HxzMohiwU2BiF/s1600/photo+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgec6N0KNvM-F86Wak9mIh-pfCISuzreBCPaLLzDhhR4u7AadNjoZxHMb2yDihdjh4Ui9Krb1yc9Gdtor90n3BcTHN-emYHZ8E5xql6xxnplumtFERhbNTcktzi3OTTsP6HxzMohiwU2BiF/s640/photo+8.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lVGt-iO4fzkvslrBvbMU0bg54GSsu9zslTtTlNHDsW2JnO22N1rBSuvfY8vH5uMdmgb8ZxBH9_gSGvENqsoxkhRZU93eM99PqQ93Q50c4qwiJerqkXdIxu06mlsKus0PqhAsqVKWG9gq/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lVGt-iO4fzkvslrBvbMU0bg54GSsu9zslTtTlNHDsW2JnO22N1rBSuvfY8vH5uMdmgb8ZxBH9_gSGvENqsoxkhRZU93eM99PqQ93Q50c4qwiJerqkXdIxu06mlsKus0PqhAsqVKWG9gq/s640/photo.JPG" width="478" /></a></div>
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I went with blue ombre, because bright blue is my new favorite color for basically everything. I don't really have a good plan for gradually tinting the paint for the ombre, I just eyeballed it. I will warn you though, if you try it yourself keep a little of each shade handy after afterwards, I didn't so it really sucked when Beau knocked one of the drawers over and it got scratched... but oh well. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRESrR6TPBvod_Q5R5gNE8HCy7mZdJFLJ8j-0snRJbOLuRCo-wNyhLIFrCvOzgU9Q5yb83ogj2mtVaysa2t0W6gOtPHw1Bq_6a3Fa39kdC3WUK2ad4Wo2W7NvOTYxpSRE2Ko11QA6QGfh/s1600/photo+%25285%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRESrR6TPBvod_Q5R5gNE8HCy7mZdJFLJ8j-0snRJbOLuRCo-wNyhLIFrCvOzgU9Q5yb83ogj2mtVaysa2t0W6gOtPHw1Bq_6a3Fa39kdC3WUK2ad4Wo2W7NvOTYxpSRE2Ko11QA6QGfh/s640/photo+%25285%2529.JPG" width="476" /></a></div>
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I spray painted the original hardware with brushed nickel metallic spray paint (they used to be a gross brass color). The white on the outside actually has a mercury glaze over it, so it looks sparkly and kind of metallic in the sun.</div>
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I love it! I just want to lay in Tillie's room and stare at it all day like a kook. Definitely my most favorite furniture piece at the moment.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12267593710101868186noreply@blogger.com8