My great ephipany

I have come to a realization about my life.

One might think I would have come to this conclusion before now, however, I guess I have been living in denial.

Are you ready for my epiphany?:

I must do laundry every. single. day. 

I remember a time, way back in the day, when I would come home from college with many weeks' worth of laundry to do. And although it was quite a mountain... it is absolutely comparable in size to the massive pile I have on my laundry room floor as I type this. And I promise you, that pile is no where near a weeks' worth of soiled clothing.

I don't assume much responsibility for the mountain, after all, I am the woman who has been known to wear a shirt, sleep in a shirt, and find herself wearing it the next day at Target because I just threw on some jeans in the morning and off I went.

I blame these critters:

They are making Sundaes in this photo, but honestly, it doesn't matter what they are doing... they will always dribble, smear, spill, or wipe something on themselves.

I am constantly asking myself... "Is that chocolate or poo?... Chocolate or poo?" (100 meaningless points if you can name that movie).

Anywho. I clearly have little to write about today since I am talking about laundry and poo. So, I will spare you and sign off for the night.

Maranda

Summuh time...

I love this time of year...

Kiddie Pool time... Sassy always thinks I am saying, "Kitty Pool" and it gets very confusing for everyone. "Where are the kitties mommy? Kitties don't like water. Silly mommy, it's not a kitty pool. "

Chilli bean sitting in the window sill. I love it that we can have the windows open and the AC off. It won't be long before the true smothering heat of a Georgia Summer will be upon us. 

Sportin' some mommy made shades...

Lookin' good!

Maranda

I feel dirty

Seriously.

I am shamed to share this, but it is consuming my every thought.

We have an infestation.

Of moths.

IN. MY. MINIVAN.

Let's be honest. It's not like my van is super clean.

You have read my blog before, haven't you?

And we do eat in the car.

However.

I have never considered myself to be a total pig. At least not until recently when I realized that I am apparently so filthy that I breed moths in the crevices of my car.

Bleeeechhh.

It gives me the pee shivers just thinking about it.

Fear not. I am on a mission to eradicate the cursed pantry...errr... mini van moth from its existence in my life.

I have conducted a thorough cleaning of the van, so violently beating the crumbs out of Sassy's car seat that I actually broke it.

No worries. I am made of money.

I jest.

Thankfully, I did find a replacement car seat at the consignment store that had not even been used! Holla!

Back to the van... I removed everything, and I mean everything from the van... I even found my favorite lip balm that had gone MIA a while back. How's that for finding the silver lining?

I then disinfected every possible surface I could scrub, washed all cloth items (car seat covers, seat protectors, kid's extra change of clothing, etc...) and THEN took it to the professional car wash place for yet another once over.

You know, 'cause I'm made of money.

Seriously. Dave Ramsey is gonna have to cut a girl some slack 'cause I HAVE to get rid of these suckers.


I've ordered pheromone traps... they are in the mail.


I brought the van home, parked it in the garage and I'm not driving it until I see if I have prevailed.


I'm gonna wait those little beasts out.

Until. They. All. Die.


I'll let you know how it goes.

Maranda

Pants on the ground

It got oddly quiet during "rest time" today.

During a typical afternoon "rest time" there is much squealing and giggling... and often a few fights to break up along with an injury or two.

But today, around the time I expected to the bedroom door bust wide open and hear the pitter patter elephant stampede down the stairs, there was just the sweet sound of silence.

Wanting to insure that one of the aforementioned fights had not broken out leaving someone unconscious, I tip toed up to the room to discover a miracle:

Two sleeping children.

Please pay no attention to the state of the blinds. I don't want to talk about it.

Also, you may note; Mr. Jenkins is not wearing pants.

Did I mention yet that we are potty training? Well, Mr. Jenkins is pretty much potty training himself because Brent forbid me to even try potty training the boy until he was 3 because of the nightmare which was potty training Sassy.

Seriously, I think potty training day one for Jenkins was infinitely better than potty training day 296 for Sassy.

Anyway, Jesus clearly felt sorry for me and the ordeal with Sassy, so he blessed me with a willing potty training participant in Mr. Jenkins. We still don't really have the poop thing down yet, but the boy has not had a pee pee accident since he initiated this whole business a couple of days ago.

The only issue (besides the poop) is he isn't too great at putting his britches back on after the...ahem...event.

I knew he got up to potty during rest time because I heard the toilet lid slam.

I held my breath and listened for Chilli to be awakened by it. Hearing nothing, and being the responsible mother I am, I continued eating my sandwhich.

I however forgot that the boy would probably not be inclined to put on his drawers after the deed.

So consequently, the poor, pants-less child must have hopped back into the bed where upon he pressed his butt cheek up against the glass and fell asleep.

I hope the neighbors enjoyed the view.

Maranda

Foul play?

While out planting some tomatoes this evening, I found something disturbing in my galvanized wash tub.

I think Mr. Jenkins and "Tinky-bell" may have had a falling out.

Either that, or he treated her to a day at the spa (which must have included a mud bath), and just hadn't gotten around to picking her up yet.


Maranda

Flip Flops of Shame

Am I the only mom who loads up the kids in the van, insuring that I have remembered sippy cups, snacks, diapers, wipes, my purse, my phone, my Diet Dr. Pepper, my bag of returns to Target, my grocery list, my kitchen sink...Only arrive at Target to realize that some child has arrived without shoes?

I will not even admit to how often this happens to me.
At least once a week.

Sassy is the worst offender.

Consequently, I have begun to keep a pair of flip flops in the car that I refer to as:

The flip flops of shame.
(Not to be confused with The Pants of Judgement).

I had hopes that their hideousness would be a motivator for my child to remember her shoes.

Surely having to wear these ugly, uncomfortable, plastic shoes (which I literally purchased at the Dollar Tree when - SHOCKER - Sassy forgot to wear her shoes to a restaurant) would encourage her to remember to put on her shoes before we leave the house.

No such luck.

Of course they are now her favorites.

What am I going to do with that child?

Maranda

Inappropriate bug names

We went to Fernbank a few weeks ago for a dinosaur egg hunt.

I haven't had a chance to post about this because I was in conference planning Hades, but I thought I'd capture a few memories from our day.

Here is Mr. Jenkins waiting for the egg hunt to begin. Most of the mom's dressed their children in smart little Easter get-ups and provided them with precious little egg baskets.

You'll note my kid has a reusable grocery bag for his eggs.

'Cause that's how we roll.

Add caption

Not really sure what is going on here... but I am pretty sure he is discussing his "buttons" (which is what Mr. Jenkins calls nipples).

After the egg hunt which lasted an astounding 2.5 minutes. We headed inside the museum.

These things always make me chuckle:

The kids also got dinosaur tattoos.

We visited several other exhibits and even ate lunch outside on the patio in the perfect spring weather. It was delightful. Included in the kids meal was a toy.

One child received a praying mantis.

The other...

A cockchafer?

I'm sorry. But what is that?!

Who were the marketers who came up with this one? "Let's see... we've got the mantis, the dragon fly, the ant, the bee, the lady bug... and we just need one more.... Oh, I know... let's include the cockchafer!

This is a family blog, and I'm not trying to take it to a gutter level, but seriously... I am disturbed.


Maranda