True Story

Henry lost my night guard today... Like after I wore it for one night... It's hiding with my keys somewhere in our Bermuda Triangle- cant find it anywhere. Thanks bud.

I have a disorder called bruxism. Haha.

Two ways to know it's summer.

1. The AC war has officially begun.  I set the AC schedule so that it is constantly set to 74, only to have Matt change it so it is constantly set to 75... You'd think I wouldn't notice that one degree, but oh, I notice.  And, I know people who want their (AAAH I originally had that word as "THERE" = so humiliating!) house at 68, so come on babe, throw me a bone here! 74? Not bad.  Matt also likes to pump the AC up to like 78 when we leave the house...

2. I sweat stinkin' bullets when I walk outside and I'm not exaggerating.  I sweat like a mad woman.  My dermatologist said that means I have a high metabolism?  I had NEVER heard that before, but she's a dermatologist so shouldn't I believe her?

On that note, I'm gonna go ahead and say that I DO have a high metabolism because based purely on the way I eat ALONE, I should probably weigh at least 30 more pounds than I do.  I am not kidding people.  I can pack down some food - some good food. Anyway, I'm not bragging.  I'm what they call "skinny fat" and I'm pretty sure I could successfully teach a course called, "How to Be Skinny Fat 101."  Okay, enough about that.

Next.  I have a dentist appointment tomorrow, and I seriously just absolutely hate going to the dentist, as I explained here and here. (Rabbit trail - those posts were from the glory days... I had 13 comments on one of those bad boys! That hasn't happened in ages.)  Anyway...I rescheduled my original appointment from a month ago, and then I was very close to rescheduling tomorrow's, but I figured let's just get this thing over with for cryin out loud.  One thing I guaranteeeeeeeeee will happen, and I am already just a TAD bit anxious about it.  Dentist is going to ask me if I've been wearing my mouth guard.  And guess what!  The answer = NO.  I lost it while I was pregnant (not that I looked too hard), and by the time I found it again, my teeth had shifted and it hurt to wear it, and I should have gone and got it re-fitted at that point, but I didn't so now I have to face the wrath of dentist tomorrow.  I'm fully expecting a guilt trip. Ugh.  I'll be feeling better when it's over.

Sometimes I just wonder if I could get an epidural in my mouth... it would be a little bit of a problem as far as eating, talking, swallowing, smiling, and looking like a normal human being goes... but I mean, my jaw just naturally clenches down.  I have to concentrate to UN-CLENCH it!!  That's a problem my friends... let's get me on some tranquilizers, some muscle relaxers... Okay, so I just googled "clenching jaw" and found this article.  Apparently this is a SLEEP DISORDER called bruxism and it's a learned behavior... interesting to me though because Henry is TWO and he already grinds his teeth.  (Poor guy.)  You gonna tell me my two year old has subconscious stress?  I guess it's not impossible.  That article is scary... apparently I should take my recurring dream where all my teeth fall out seriously??

Well there's more than you ever wanted to know about me.  Here's to me MAYBE learning my lesson and wearing my night guard from here on out.  I'll wear it tonight so when dentist asks I can just say, "I wore it last night." :) Ha.

Cereal time!

Sam drools and stares when he sees us eating, so I decided to give it a go with the rice cereal which, with Henry, was a little anticlimactic. Sam on the other hand- totally excited. On our first go-round, I mixed the cereal with formula and after tasting it Sammy became disappointed and gagged it all up. We got an awesome video which I might get around to posting... These pictures are second attempt with milk instead. Then I terrorized him by putting his bottle on the high chair and telling him to try to pick it up- poor kiddo, he tried really hard. I added some other pics just for fun! Oh, and check out that kid's man hands! Apologies, posting from my phone so pics are not in any order.

Picture post- Two Peas in a Pod

Henry and Sam have a mutual affection for each other- as pictured below. (Forgive me, I did not fix red eyes.)

Two seconds before he tackled Sam.

Swinging together at the park.

Sammy is a rollin' machine!  This was after I found Henry riding on Sam's back "like a horse."

No room for mommy and daddy in this bed.

H got a little carried away sharing his toys with Sam.

Apparently we hang out on the bed a lot...

Henry thought Sam needed a blanket... he proceeded to hold it over Sam's head.  Sam thinks it's great.

Almost sitting up all the time!  H likes to climb in Sammy's crib - it's only a problem when Sam is sleeping.

Just call me Elaine...

I can't dance.  It is a fact.  I did not like going to dances in high school or college. I did not want to be required to stand in a circle and try to look cool while dancing.  Because for me, looking cool and dancing do not go together.

However, sometime when I was pregnant with Sam, Henry and I started having our own private dance parties cause I figured an almost two year old wouldn't make fun of me for my dancing skills.  Henry LOVES to dance to the song "Tonight, Tonight" by Hot Chelle Ray. 

Anyway, we often have these little dance parties, where for once in my life, I don't hold back.  Recently, Matt pointed out that Henry looks like he's doing the chicken dance with his arms while he is dancing.  "Where did he get that?"  Matt asked.  I have no idea.

But then I paid attention to what I was doing when I danced with him.  Apparently whatever it is I do with my arms - to Henry it looks like I am flapping chicken wings.  So when he dances, he also flaps his chicken wings. Umm... yeah.

Honestly, Matt needs to be the one to teach our kids their dance moves.  Otherwise, Junior High has the potential to be more traumatizing than it already is.

Here's a little Elaine clip, while we are on the topic.

his wife could eat no lean...

So after the last post, I'm sure you guys are all wondering what happened with my little "my fitness pal" endeavor.

Here's what happened: Nursing a child.

Yeah.  The same thing happened with Henry.  Basically, rapid and awesome weight loss until I get to about seven pounds above what I consider normal... then I can eat the right amount of calories all day long, but that self-discipline results in not enough milk for the babes.  So it's either lose weight and use formula or hang onto weight and nurse him.  Since I'm pretty much the only person in the world who cares that I weigh seven pounds more than normal, I've chosen the latter... at least for another month-ish.

The upside to this is that it seems like I can't really gain weight either.  Literally, I can almost eat anything and maybe fluctuate one or two pounds... I think the extra calories typically result in extra milk.  Sam is cool with that.

Anyway, if I'm being honest, I don't particularly love eating healthy.  It works out. 

On that note, we read to Henry from a nursery rhyme book of his. Wait, why don't I just show you...

 

Matt was reading that to Henry the other night and he (jokingly, Ladies) said, "Look Henry, that's mommy and daddy!"  A little true.  And just in case I get in trouble for posting that picture, I should note that the illustrator's name is Hannah Wood.

about five minutes away from a sugar crash

There are times when I literally feel like I need my mom to come over and make decisions on my behalf like she did when I was two.  "No sweetie, you've already had enough cake today."  "No, it really wouldn't be wise of you to get addicted to another reality TV show.  Maybe you should read a book instead."  "Maybe don't keep a package of peanut butter M&Ms in the pantry." And "We really shouldn't spend money on that right now."

Seriously.  Henry doesn't know how good he has it... how unloving would it be if I gave him everything he wanted all the time?  He'd be one really messed up adult.

Today, my awesome friend Ashley, totally spoiled our mom's group with two different kinds of really delicious cake.  Then she spoiled us further by sending home some of the leftovers.  So I ate two pieces of cake when I was hanging out with my mom friends this morning, and then when I got home... well, yes, I ate the THIRD piece of cake.  And we are talking like full sized pieces of cake with really rich icing.

These are the times when I kind of just would like an authority figure to be there saying, "You're gonna get a tummy ache and your blood sugar is gonna spike and then plummet rendering you USELESS for the rest of the afternoon."  Actually, let's be honest - I don't need an authority figure to tell me that.  I KNOW that.  I need an authority figure to rip the cake out of my hands and save me from my destructive little self. Hahaha.

While I know I could make this post deep and meaningful, you know, by teaching you about the authority of Jesus and the role of my awesome hubby and analyzing my childish behavior (and trust me, I've thought it through)... my brain is not really up for the task of trying to write it all out.  Deep thinker.  Shallow writer.

HAPPY TUESDAY.  And Happy Birthday to my favorite brother!

if it wasn't for insomnia...

If it wasn't for insomnia, I am quite sure I would not have a blog.  Although, I am pretty sure this is the first insomnia post since I was pregnant, and no worries, NOT PREGNANT.

I have three reasons for insomnia. One - I went running after 5 PM.  Two- I drank a large diet coke at 9 PM.  Three - I am so excited because my old friend from High School, Kim, WON the Reality TV show, Survivor, tonight!  I have tried to play it cool all season long and not tell the whole world that I know her, but I can't play it cool any longer... and well, thanks to her awesome victory, I can't sleep.

Did I mention I can't sleep?  This guarantees a few things for me... GUARANTEES.  One, once I do fall asleep, at least one of my children will wake up.  Two, tomorrow, my kids either won't nap or they will nap at two different times.  Three, I will need coffee injected into my veins tomorrow.  I'm also an optimist.

That's all I got.  It is officially Monday!  Hope you have a wonderful Monday.

or maybe I win after all?

I have an unspoken motto that I sort of live by.  And that is- Why do something when a machine can do it for you? (I guess that motto is now officially "spoken.")

Why wash your car by hand if you can drive through a car wash?  Why scrub a pot if it fits in the dishwasher?  And the latest... Why spot clean your 5X8 rug when you can make it fit in the washing machine?

The thing about kids and carpet and/or rugs is that if they spill something on it, or color all over it with their markers, or if you spill your coffee on it... you have to be vigilant about getting that mess up.  You have to drop everything and clean it up.  Matt and I got a cheap (but cute) rug sometime in January.  It is now mid May, and let's just say I had skipped a couple dozen spot cleaning opportunities.

I had been entertaining the idea of putting it in the washing machine for weeks.  I asked Matt what he thought and he said he didn't think it would fit.  I knew it would fit, but I thought it could unravel or something.  But, since I live by the previously mentioned motto, and the spots all over it were starting to bother me, I went ahead and stuck it in the washer.  I know, I know... such a risk taker!

But it gets better.  Had it not been raining outside, I probably would have let it hang to dry on the deck out back.  But it was raining... and let's be honest, trying to find something to hang it on may have been a little more work than I was willing to put into it. Soooooo...

Into the dryer you go, rug.  Two runs through the dryer and... wait for it...

Yeah, so in case you couldn't tell... that rug pad is supposed to be SMALLER than the rug.  Or, as Matt would say... our 5X8 rug is now a 3X5.  But it's a very clean 3X5!!

So, let's be honest.  Matt loses something every now and then.  Big deal.  My record is stacked up against me.  I win the airhead award!

In other news, to say Matt is excited about the weather right now - well that would be a severe understatement!

I think Matt wins...

There have been no shortage of airhead moves by me in the last five months.  No shortage.  Like you all know I can't find my car keys.  But on top of that, I've "lost" the milk by putting it in the freezer.  I have tried to teach Henry his letters, but accidentally drew a "J" backwards.  I borrowed a bottle warmer from a friend and returned it to her, apologizing because I thought I had broken it... only to have her plug it in RIGHT in front of me, press a button and BOOM - it worked.  (I didn't know you had to press a button.)

But apparently Matt still wins the airhead award in our family.

He's been looking for the mailbox key since Monday.  I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "I have no idea where it could be."  Retracing his steps. Etc.  He checked to make sure he didn't leave it in the mailbox.  He rummaged through my purse and my car.  He rummaged through the strollers, his desk, etc.  And apparently he emptied out his glove compartment at least ten times looking for this key.  So today he gets home from work and says, "On Saturday, I am going to go to the post office and see what I can do about getting a new mail key."  This is all really funny, ESPECIALLY if you know my husband well.

Since I had only put about .02 seconds worth of effort into finding this key, I decided to do a little investigating and see if I could find it... you know, before he wasted his time and our Saturday trying to get a new one.  "Where did you have it last?" I asked.  "In my car, on the way home from the park."

So, I grab his keys, head out to the car, and then come back in the house two seconds later.  Literally, like two seconds (okay maybe 30). "ARE YOU KIDDING ME, MATT?"

Matt says, "NO WAY, YOU FOUND THE KEY. NO WAY!"  And then he looks in disbelief as I hold the key up between my thumb and index finger.  VICTORY.

I kid you not, it was in his glove compartment on the very top of everything else, in plain view... I did not have to even move anything out of the way to find it.  I basically spotted it the second I opened the door to the car.

I needed a confidence booster today.  This was it. Thanks babe.

fooled you

If you only know me through this blog, then you probably can tell that I am not exactly "laid back."  I mean, if you read, you know that I tend to be a little feisty, I am a little bit of a control freak, and I don't really go with the flow...

But, if you know me in real life, and you don't read this blog (so, none of you), then most likely, you are under the (pretty much false) impression that I am cool, calm, and collected.  I don't know why.  People seriously think I am chill and relaxed.

At one point when Henry was a baby (he was relatively easy going), my father-in-law tried to attribute that to my perceived laid-backness.  Not gonna lie, I let him go on thinking that I really am relaxed, but I think over the last two years my in-laws have probably realized that I am not so chill.  (I try really hard not to leave extremely specific instructions regarding food and sleep every single time they babysit.)

True story. I actually THOUGHT I was a decently easy-going, adaptable person (which, if you ask pretty much anyone in my immediate family they'd laugh at you)... but then I had kids, and turns out I am high strung, control freak, easily frustrated, etc... (All it really should have taken was me sitting in the passenger seat of a car to come to this realization but oh well.)

Here's the fun part.  I for some unknown reason appear to be laid back but totally am not.  Matt, on the other hand, appears to be a little rigid, but he actually IS laid back.  BUTTTTTTTTT... Matt, according to his parents, was not a laid back baby or child.  And I... well I was a perfectly laid back child and baby, of course.  ANALYZE THAT.

Five months??

How is it possible that I have a 5 month old? Sweet baby is such a delight.

Like a light switch

I snapped these pics of Henry being so sweet to Sam... Then literally two seconds later he chunked Sam's paci across the room and kicked him in the ribs on purpose. So fun, right!? Sam didn't seem to mind.

I just love my little poopers!

There are some days that I literally just deal with poop all day long!  Today is one of those days.  It's just like one trip to the changing table after another.  And today both of my boys thought it would be fun to get poop all over their clothes.  They are taking turns.  Sam will be next.

When I was just changing Henry's diaper I said, "Eww. What did you eat?!" Rhetorical question, but he responded with enthusiasm, "GOLDFISH!"  And he was telling the truth, although I don't think the goldfish were responsible for that nasty diaper.  It was probably the healthy smoothie I made for him yesterday...

On that note, Henry has taken a step forward (or backward) in the veggie department.  It appears he will eat anything as long as it is pureed - also known as baby food.  Last night he told Matt he wanted baby food for dinner.  And baby food he got. I just love him so much!