Blogging Hiatus

I've been in a blogging bog.  I have not been able to motivate myself to turn on the computer, down load the photos, think of something to say, type the words and create a post.  Much more interesting and easy, I might add, to read all of yours.  Still, I claim when I need to justify my piece of cyber-world that this blog is my family journal.  I've been known to even spout in self-righteous overtones that it counts as my journal and I can cross that to-do off my list.  Still my life isn't as shiny or photographed as beautifully as other blogs--and gosh darn it those lives are attractive, interesting and distracting.  Sometimes it is just more fun to read about what YOU do or what YOU made or what tantrum YOUR kid threw.  Nevertheless, my alter-ego, Mrs. Guilt-o-maniac has intervened in my unconscious or at least unintentional blogging strike and I am ready to begin anew.  Or at least start and stop several times and be wholly inconsistent...

We had some crazy hair days.  Or a sneak peek at how my children may look in 3-10 years during a rebellious phase.

We had some crazy food for April 1st.  This is a cake or rather  Bisquick, pepperoni & sausage, red-sauce-filling with mozzarella cheese on top.

I'm afraid this is more acting than true consternation but still a good part of the fun.

Green cookies for dessert--the trick was they were actually good!

These were my own April Fool's joke.  They were suppose to be hot dog cookies.  I ask you, do they look like hot dogs to you?  Yeah, I had to improvise with the green cookies.  Kind of disappointing.  

Jello juice.  Max was the only one kind of tricked.  He couldn't figure out why his "juice" wouldn't come up the straw and he was thirsty.  And it wasn't a laughing matter.

Next year Kate, that expression is going to be real!   It's on!

Another one bites the dust...

Or could also be titled:  I thought we were over this Max!

Dear Kate,

You climbed in bed with me last night--a bad dream.  You said the book you were reading, A Wrinkle in Time, "freaked" you out.  I reached out and pulled you in bed.  I held you close and listened to your breathing as you fell asleep.  It's been awhile.  I remembered when you were first born and we would sleep together.  You would lay curled up on my chest.  You fit neatly between my chest and my belly button.  I liked to have you there. Your Dad would wake up and tease me because you were never in the bassinet that I insisted was essential.  I would watch your chest rise and fall, rise and fall.  I would marvel at your tiny legs tucked so neatly underneath you.  I would gently run my index finger down the length of your back and stroke your head, your ear, your cheek. I would stare at your sweet face and wonder who you would be come.  Sometimes I would cry--loving you so much hurt.  I felt so vulnerable.  I realized I would do anything--and more than I thought I was capable of-- for you.     I wondered...would you ever twirl around for me in a pink tutu?  Would that fuzz on your head grow long?  Would you be stubborn?  Would we giggle over a chocolate chip cookie one wintry afternoon?  I would imagine us together--older.  But I could never really see.  It was beyond the scope of possibility in those quiet moments that you would grow or change.
You made me--reinvented me--a newly minted mother.  Last night, you could not fit on my chest.  I put my arm around you and held you close.  You needed me.  I layed awake and marveled at the beauty of you--arms, legs, ears, fingers, dirty nails--inhaling your "stink" as you would call it.   I find I am astonished at how much I love you.  It still hurts.

Assorted ramblings.

Writers block/laziness or trying to accomplish all my 2011 goals in January (because we all know that is about how long I remember them.) All decent, if I say so myself, excuses for the sad lack of blogging this month.  I do have some pictures and things that only Grandparents appreciate so I will post those one of these days when January is over and I have accomplished the following:

1) Turn spaghetti arms with Relief Society flab into She-ra worthy examples of perfection.
2) Organize entire house.  Clean out closets.  Attack the junk drawer and junk cupboard and junk closet and that other junk drawer, the one I pretend doesn't exist.
3) Teach children exceptional organizational and bathroom habits.  No more pee on the floor!
4) Re-decorate girls' room, master bedroom, family room and Max's room.
5) Lose 10lbs.  Eat right. Figure out how to run and pay bills at same time.
6) Write The Great American novel and win Pulitzer.  Write thank-you speech.
7) Achieve perfection.  Make life look like blog pictures.
8) Figure out how to have more energy on less sleep.
9) No new wrinkles.

I'm looking forward to the end of January.



Overheard in the elementary school front office while waiting for Max to finish speech therapy:

Woman#1:  When I got pregnant, I gained 55lbs.  I only weighed 90lbs (May I interject here that 20lbs of that must have been boobs.) so I guess the baby needed it or something.


Woman #2: Wow!  That must have been hard.


Woman#1:  Not really.  I was in my skinny jeans 2 months after the pregnancy.  I didn't even have to work out or anything,  It just fell off me.


Woman#2:  (Mouth gaping open) 


Me: Looking for something to throw at her.


Woman #1: (Continuing) I didn't even have one stretch mark, thank God.  I did have some vaginal reconstructive surgery though.  My doctor called it plastic surgery but I don't know why.  It was so necessary.

I have this funny feeling that me and Woman #1 with her brand-spanking new ahem will never be friends.

The mother of melt-downs--mine.

With a title like that, I feel like I must set the stage a bit, you know show you why I felt the need to melt. My day started at 5:30a.m. with an hour long sweat-fest at the gym. It seemed like the way to go since exercise had be nil over the weekend and eating had been in the abundance category. I arrived home at 7:10, in plenty of time to make breakfast, pack lunches, search for lost socks, argue the merits of brushing vs. mouthwash, explain in detail what was in their lunch for the day, find the lost homework stashed in the bathroom and gel the hair.

It's my turn to drive carpool and it is an auspicious day for it, as the roads in the neighborhood are closed for a slurry seal. What is that you ask? I think it's just more asphalt but really I couldn't care less because it's kept the neighborhood association off my back for a week, and that means they haven't had time to notice the dead plant in my front yard. It's number 97 on my list of things to get done in my lifetime, in case you were wondering. Actually, this slurry seal is more than a little annoying as I have to park a couple streets away. That means dragging the neighborhood children to the bus the old-fashioned way: walking.

I rush because I have to get home to shower the stink off me before I take Kate to the doctor at 9:30a.m. I also need to wipe Max's nose, fix his wayward hair and change him out of his pajamas that have soggy Golden Grahams glued in various locations. I shower, apply a coat of mascara and lip-gloss and manage to stick the milk in the fridge before we leave. We are late.

Max said poo-poo as I was buckling his car-seat so we retraced our steps at lightening speed. A successful plop was made and our lateness was solidified.

We wait, wait, wait while Max checks out the floor with his tongue, names all the colors in the room, turns on and off the light switch until time out, climbs on the chairs, rips the paper on the table, plays cars, kicks the wall, and sings songs. Katie is diagnosed and it's not one of the two horrible diseases that I was sure (from my internet research) she had. I am relieved and so it's back in the car to drive her across town and back to school.

After a quick stop at the pharmacy, it's time to go home and feed Max lunch. I only have a half-hour to get him to eat before his nap. This may seem like plenty of time but really, you probably don't have a toddler who feels that eating at meal time is optional. Why eat what's placed in front of me when I'm perfectly capable of opening the fridge whenever I'm hungry or climbing the shelves in the pantry for the good stuff? He eats satisfactorily and I wrestle him down for his nap because he has (drum roll) his very first speech therapy appointment.

I have been anticipating this for a month. I have! You see, I am frustrated. My sweet, yummy Max is clever and I can tell he has a fabulous personality but I can't understand him. I want to be able to write down all the cute baby things he says and thinks but really most of the time I have no idea. The clock is ticking, he's getting older (almost 3) and I'm missing how he is discovering and understanding the world. This is a gigantic tragedy in my book and I really want to get him some help.

I have prepared for this day. I have negotiated with Robert to be home (not easy) AND to pick up the neighborhood kids from the bus stop. He's more than willing to do these things but it comes at a busy time for him and I realize that I am not going to be able to hold him to his end of our only gone 3-nights-a- week deal (this week) because of this. Sigh. More time to blog and blog and bore everyone with my stories. I have looked up the address, map quested it and am ready to go. I even wake Max up early from his nap so I can arrive on time.

I get lost. Really. It's in a part of town that I rarely venture. I blame Map Quest but I'm not positive it's the map. A recipe for disaster in my family is Robert at the wheel and me in the passenger seat, map in hand, directing. I frustrate Robert with my creative interpertations of maps, signs, roads, etc. He always asks, " But WHY did you think that?" I can't explain it. It always seems like a reasonable option at the time.

Anyway, I made so many u-turns with my car, I was starting to get sick. I called to let them know I was running a little late. I apologized and even laughed with receptionist about Map quest. Two minutes later I pull into the parking lot and my phone is buzzing. It was her. The receptionist but without the friendliness in her voice. She's all business now.

"I'm afraid we are going to have to reschedule your appointment. You are 15 minutes late and we can't accomodate you now."

"Whaaat?" I sputter. "But I'm here. RIGHT NOW."

"I'm sorry, we need the full hour to do an evaluation of Max."

"Okay, so can we do half of the appointment now and then I can come back later. I just drove a long ways to get here. I left in plenty of time, I just got lost."

In her best screw-you voice she answered, "You were late and not we can't do half now and half later. It doesn't work like that. We are on a tight schedule and have an appointment at 3:30p.m."

"Okay, could we see if this next appointment would mind starting a little bit later since I am HERE NOW?" I ask.

The conversation begins to deteriorate from there. She is unwilling to do anything to help me or be sympathetic to my situation. I get really upset and before I start to cry I tell her in my wobbliest voice that we will have to discuss this later. She answers, "Fine," and slams the phone down like I deserve to live life without speech therapy because I was 15 minutes late. I start to cry. I think about the day I've had, the week, the busy, busy, the awful, awful and the unfair. I sob. I get home and scare the crap out of Robert. He can't understand why I am so upset. I can't explain it to him. Except that I really just want to clean my car alone. In peace.

I want to scrub the dirt off the seats and wipe the windows because you see, I feel like I am my mini-van. I am dented, scratched and need a new paint job. On the inside, I'm not much better. I have kid finger prints, clutter and a broken windshield wiper. So he watches the kids and I clean. It's cathartic and practical as I am the one driving tonight for our monthly GNO and I am embarrassed for anyone, even a friend, to see the state of me and my mini-van. Thank goodness I had a night off. I think that if I hadn't, Robert might have had genuine cause for concern. And yes, I do realize there are bigger problems and worse days, but that line of reasoning has yet to work on any of my kids in the middle of a melt-down. The same holds true for me.

Am I a bad person if I wish that receptionist a couple of bad hair days and a huge zit on her nose?

13 Years and Alligator teeth

I have yet to train him. Or kill him. (I might have thrown a pillow at him once.) And I still quite enjoy his company. I guess it's a good thing I love him. I think I'm in for the long haul.

Jackson and the Alligator tooth caper

We found the perfect gift for Jackson: real, certified-Florida Alligator teeth. He was overcome with excitement and declared the teeth, "the best gift ever". He proceeded to show them around the neighborhood and insert them into water balloons and blow them up. Who would have thought one could have such fun with decaying teeth? A few days later, Jackson got to thinking. He had a whole bag full of these teeth and you can only insert so many into a balloon at a time... so he wondered, perhaps the Tooth Fairy might be interested in them. Perhaps, he could make a little dough on the side. This seemed a brilliant scheme to him. The tooth fairy likes teeth, right? Why wouldn't she pay some good money for the Alligator teeth? Besides, he was tired of waiting for his teeth to come out...

I thought nothing of it, until the next morning when I walked into his room and I saw his tooth fairy under his pillow with a few Alligator teeth strewn around it. Do you think his plan will work?

Good news: My Sister snagged herself a M-A-N.

(Picture stolen from afore mentioned Sister's blog at night while lurking.)

Congratulations! I love you. Now, when do we get to see the "hardware"?

(May I respectfully suggest that you view this post while listening to the classic Weather Girls' song, "It's raining men.")

Random, saturday night thoughts with guilty, chocolate colored feelings.

I'm obsessed with these: :) and these: !!! I never considered myself a person for which an exclamation point or a visual cue would be necessary communication devices! :) See??? I am extremely concerned with what this says about me! Why, oh, why do I feel that I need these two? :) Perhaps my vocabulary isn't as stellar as it once was? Maybe I need to proclaim to the world that I feel happy? :) Maybe as my mother once said, (at least I think it was her...oh, that should be a post of it's own. All the things my mother used to say. Okay, sorry back to my point. :)) "You can say anything with a smile." It's true that I have precious little in the way of an edit button when it comes to the words that come out of my mouth or frankly from my typing fingers! :) This madness must stop! It must! :)

Jackson's Leapster (think educational, electronic babysitter) has been MIA for the last couple of weeks. Today he decided he was on a search and rescue mission. He would not stop until it was found! (Or at least until his attention was diverted elsewhere: lunch, more interesting toy, snack, underwear, book, ball, why does____?,---you get the idea.) Okay, okay, he was fairly diligent about looking for it. He spent about an hour tearing the toy closet apart to find it. (I spent two trying to put it back together, in case you were wondering.) Amazingly, it was found tonight underneath the couch or as I call it the black hole abyss. (I'm just glad it wasn't one of Max's curdled milk sippy cups like I found last time I looked under there. Seriously, EW!) The discovery of the Leapster affected Jackson so greatly that he took time tonight in his prayers to thank Heavenly Father: "Thank you for helping me find my Leapster. That was very nice of you." I smiled to myself at his colloquial way of speaking to God, you know, as if he were a nice uncle or the neighbor down the street. Then I realized how differently we must think of God. You see, I've prayed and prayed for something for years. I am not exaggerating, literally years and not "found" it. I'm not sure if I ever will "find" it. But Jackson made me think. Perhaps, I am approaching Him in the wrong way. I am so caught up in what I want, what I need, what my family/friends need, I am praying but not thinking of Him. I am not thinking of His all encompassing perfect love and goodness. Maybe if I was better at my end of this relationship, I would be more inclined to say, "Thank you, that was very nice of you."

Word to the wise: While trying to lose weight, do not eat milk chocolate brownies...especially 5 of them. Also, do not have fat rolls bigger than your boobs.

Sorry, about the self indulgent post Mom and Dad. I'll have Katie's Kidshine pics/video up tomorrow. Promise.

Fool me once...

So I really got the kids good this year-- I fooled them the night before April Fools day. Ha! Ha! This year we had chocolate/Raspberry pie for dinner disguised as hamburger meat and mashed potatoes colored with pureed beets and jello juice with straws. The jello juice was the most convincing because I poured dye to match the kids jello juice into our water. When the kids had trouble sucking up their "juice"--Robert and I drank ours with no problem. It was funny because Max actually got pretty frustrated and wanted to drink out of my cup instead of his. For dessert we had, grilled "cheese" sandwiches and sushi. The sandwiches were made with orange colored frosting and pound cake. The sushi really was rice-krispy treats with gummy worms rolled in between them and wrapped in fruit-roll ups. It was a lot of fun.

I also threw in a few photos of the kids making cupcakes on Sunday. If you need a sugar-high, stop by, we can help!

It's complicated...

So I was tossing my husband's stinky socks into the washer reflecting on what to tell all of you about my trip to Hawaii. It was good, it really was! But sometimes, I feel like good is to general an answer. I think it's complicated might be more accurate. Do you ever say what you really mean? Do you ever tell people how you truly are? Was my trip perfect? Does it live up to what you imagine? Probably not but I guess that depends on your imagination.

But can I really tell you, the unsuspecting blog reader, who simply wants to live their own lives and dream of their own sunny, blue, sand-themed vacation the actual, nitty-gritty truth? It's much simpler to say that it was good. If I say, it was complicated, one would naturally assume that it was bad. But it wasn't. It really was complicated. I would them be forced to mention that instead of many sand-filled, sunny days that we only had one and a whole 24 hours was spent by my partner for whom I desired romantic time with building a chicken coop. Chicken coop does not spell romance by any stretch of the imagination. Maybe for some? I could mention the family friend who took a day off work to spend time with us after already spending the weekend... That was nice except when you want to be two not three and you didn't ask the friend to take time off! Now I worry that you think I am complaining. I'm not, really. It's Hawaii for goodness sake. It's beautiful! We discovered a gorgeous beach and hiked to a magnificent waterfall.

It's like when you see someone and they ask how you are and you answer in the standard, "Good" or "fine." But really, you have a hang nail that is bothering the heck out of you or you're sad because you daughter told you a huge lie or you have been dealing with circumstances beyond your control for years and sometimes you feel sad or your husband would decided to build a chicken coop instead of sitting in the hot tub. But see, I would normally never tell you this. I would simply say that my Hawaii trip was good and all that it should be and we would move on. I wonder what is better? But never fear, to paraphrase Jane Austen: "The feeling will pass and most likely quicker than it should." But in case it doesn't, consider yourself warned, if you pass me in the hall at church and ask me how I am, you might get more than you bargained. I might feel inclined to start a long diatribe on how irritated I am by all the silly romantic ninny's who think they can write books about becoming Jane Austen or finding their Mr. Darcy! Argh!

The dichotomy of Motherhood.

The other night, I was laying in bed thinking about the day and I couldn't help but giggle about two moments that I had with Jackson that perfectly capture my experience with motherhood.

Scene #1: Jackson rushes in from playing outdoors. He hollers, "Mom, don't look at me!" I, of course, immediately picture him covered in mud with only his blue eye-balls peering out of the big brown glob that used to be my son. I am upstairs and so I yell back, "Why?" He answers,"Because, you don't want to look at me, Mom!" I sigh as his answer is not particularly descriptive and gear myself up for the second scenario I have imagined. What's worse than mud? Permanent Marker! I imagine his sweet little face with a villain-esque moustache or worse, a goatee like his dad! I am practically running to him by this time thinking it best to arrive on the scene and control the damage. And that's when I see him, his hands covering his forehead and tears threatening. He didn't want me to see the enormous bump on his head because he knew that I would as he put it "freak out." I tried to keep my "freak" to a minimum and quickly got him some ice. He explained that he got beaned in the head on the trampoline by the rock his friend kept in his pocket. Ouch!

Jackson wanted to spare my feelings. He intuitively knew that I would be hurt by his being hurt. His sweetness felt like an earthquake to my heart. How I love him!

(This picture was taken per Jackson's request. Apparently, once the pain wears off, it's pretty cool to have a gigantic lump on your head.)

Scene#2-(2 hours later) A white, smelly bottom with bits of dried poo stuck to it. I was alerted to the problem by his sister Ella who could not stand to be around the stench. Ostensibly, intuition does not teach you how to properly wipe your bottom. And so, I found myself a few hours after the above incident with a baby wipe in hand, demonstrating to my five year-old how it is done. All the mushy feelings I had towards Jackson earlier were hiding in the recesses of my heart, while I explained how you should keep wiping until the toilet paper comes back clean.

And there you have it folks, motherhood in all its sweetness and its poo. Like I said, "Perfect."

Valentine's Day Feast or How to gain 5 pounds in one day!

Katie made us some fabulous, hand drawings to get us in a celebratory mood. Sadly, she spent most of the day sick after a lovely night with the stomach flu, fever, chills and body aches. But with a little Tylenol she was able to muster up enough enthusiasm to share her drawing talents with us.
Ella was enchanted with my candy heart table decorations. "You can eat them," she was overheard exclaiming. Thank goodness, I was channeling Martha Stewart that day.
Grilled Lobster tails were the main event at our Valentine fete. (I had to tell Jackson that swords were not allowed at the table before and after the picture! He had trouble grasping the concept. Why shouldn't a 5 year-old be allowed to eat with his sword at the table? Well, for one look at the picture. He looks positively devilish.)
My very first (probably last) red velvet cake. A bottle and a half of red food coloring and a pound of butter, in case you were wondering. (Yikes!)
Robert surprised me with red roses. I fainted dead away and had to be revived with smelling salts. Just kidding. Oh, but sometimes that man can charm me! :)

Disneyland

Max had a thing for Goofy.

We waited way to long for this pic.

You can't go to Disneyland and not ride the teacups. Unless you are already sick from riding Space Mountain. :)

Kate training to be a Jedi. She successfully defeated Darth Mal. The force is strong with her.

G.G. and Mickey Mouse. It took a little convincing to get this picture.

This trip to Disneyland was wonderful. Robert was suppose to be in Singapore but surprised us at our hotel the night before so he could come with us. My Grandma came with us just like old times. The park was not crowded. The kids were happy. It was seriously awesome! I have to say that my Grandma went on Space Mountain. Yep, she's pretty cool. Jackson held Grandpa's hand on the scary rides, just like I used to hold my Grandpa's hand. I have such happy memories of good times at Disney land. This is one of them now.

A little bit of fancy, and an excuse...

So, I know that everyone (all 5 of you) who reads my blog wanted to see pictures of my dress. I am wearing it in a couple of the following photos but it is hard to see. I was going to have someone take a picture of me in the dress at the reception but I ended up chasing my toddler/5 year old around. Max had a great time grabbing strangers legs, helping himself to food, crawling under tables and following babies around. He also liked throwing himself on the floor at random feet and rolling. On a positive note, he played his role as a human lint roller well and kept the floor spotless! I guess that is what 2 days of no naps and a late bedtime will do and since I was sans husband there was no one else to chase the little beggar. Sorry, I do my best. :)

Isn't my sister beautiful? You can't even tell that her 3 year old daughter woke up at 5 a.m.

My sister's handsome little guy. Can you tell I'm about ready to take those cheeks on!

The wedding riff-raff.

The whole family minus a Robert.

I'm glad he can relax!

Top five reasons why I am AWESOME!

5) I gain five pounds whenever I go to Hawaii. I think this fact makes me more likable and helps people get over the "Hawaii" part.

4) I brush my teeth 3 times a day. I also shave my pits. (Your welcome!)

3) I am impervious to smelly, poop-filled diapers. Doesn't bother me AT ALL.

2) I am good with chocolate: eating, cooking, licking, smelling, stealing/borrowing, hiding, etc.

And the #1 reason why I am THE BOMB: I set my brother up with his future wife. They are engaged! Oh, yeah! (Imagine me pirouetting and singing out loud the following: I am the queen of Mormon matchmaking! I am a matchmaker extraordinaire! )

Don't they give medals in Heaven for this kind of thing?

Seriously, I can't take too much credit. It's kind of a no-brainer when you introduce two wonderful, intelligent, attractive people. It's not hard to guess the ending. Still, I reserve the right to feel smug for at least a few more days. :)

I "heart" Jeff & Merzy!

Some favs from this weekend...

One of my favorite moments: my sweet Ella and my new sister-in-law's nephew hit it off. They liked each other. It must be the genes. With my husband's brother (Harry) marrying his Aunt (Sarah) and my brother (Jeff) dating his other Aunt (Meredith). Are you following me, people? These two really had no choice.
This is Jackson. He helped himself to a chocolate covered marshmallow confection before they were offered for public consumption. At first, I was mad. Then I figured that this was an improvement from Mac & Julie's wedding. He ran his finger through their gorgeous (obviously expensive) wedding cake, licked his finger and went back for seconds before I caught him. Needless to say, I did not take a picture of that catastrophe!
I posted this picture so you could see the attractive bride and groom but also for revenge. Note the expression on the face of my SIL, Annie. That's right, Annie. It's on! I saw the picture that you posted with Max throwing a fit in the back ground on your blog. I have spent years blogging about what a perfect mom I am, explaining in detail how my children never, ever tantrum because I've read every parenting book ever written. You've spoiled it all! Now, what will I blog about? Seriously, I may be forced to start publishing my spiritual experiences (there are like thousands!) BORING. Who wants to read that, when they can read about what an awesome parent I am? Sigh.

Cute, right?

My Brother. He's popular with the ladies.

So much to post and so little time before the ham is done.

While in Utah, I had a chance to get together with my college roomies.  They aren't as wild and crazy as they used to be...there wasn't any dancing on beds to Soft Cell but then again, we all have four kids now.  Maybe we have learned dignity or maybe it was just a public place.  Oh, and thanks Jodi for reminding me to take off my glasses for the picture.  I will be eternally grateful.  I look hideous in my glasses.   Case in point, scroll down to the Easter pic.  

Yes, Kate is beautiful.  I am not biased at all. 

J is actually happier than he looks.  He's in to pulling weird faces for pictures now.  I hope it is a phase.  

Hi, I'm Max.  I don't wear shirts because I get them soaking wet.  My mom says three shirts a day is my limit.   I also have no interest in Easter, eggs or candy.  I prefer to pull a chair over to the counter while my mother is not looking and steal her cell phone.  I like to text "pfdjskl" 23 times to all her friends.  I also like to call her friends.  She wishes I would get some of my own friends, but it is hard to make friends when you don't like to share.  

Sadly, this was the best shot.   I get to wear my glasses for the next 10 days because my eyes decided they don't like silicone contact lenses and I have--to quote the doctor, "road rash" on my eyes.  Besides hurting my pride to appear in these horrible spectacles, it hurts like----.

While in Utah, we visited the Children's museum. 

It was a tough news day.

He may look cute but don't, I repeat, DON'T try and separate him from his cop car.  He will fight back.  

We also visited the Zoo.  It was a zoo.  

We visited the G.G.'s.  Sorry, Kendra you got sacrificed in the search for a half-way decent picture.

Hayes cousins' plus one mom.  

And my favorite reason to watch baseball.  Actually, my only reason. 

The ham is done and I forgot to cook the asparagus.   I also forgot how to spell it.  That's what happens when you stay up late at night and eat your kids easter candy.  One for the egg, one for me.  You get the idea.  Look forward to angry diet-induced posts.