So...I have tried really hard. Really, really hard. Every sensible bone in my body says I am being silly and it is the wisest choice. But it all comes down to one emotion.
I hate our local Wal-mart.
Up until now it has just been based on stories of gang activity in the parking lot, insane drivers, incompetent workers, terrible parking, and smooshed grapes littering the produce area. Yet the prices ARE the lowest.
But now I have all the ammo I need to assuage my former guilt. Prepare yourselves readers. Put down what you are eating because our horrific tale begins on a lovely breezy afternoon not unlike today...
Hubby and I loaded up our two kids to go in search of "Woody" sunglasses for our two year old son. He kept fighting with his sister over her princess ones so it was clearly time for his own. Hubby, who had no problem with the local Wal-mart, suggested we look there as he needed some sporting clays as well. Upon our arrival and mile trek to the front door, a pair of Toy Story sunglasses were found and comfiscated by our son. On to the hunting aisle and where our casual afternoon takes a dark and squishy turn.
I was tagging behind since my companions A) have legs two feet or less in length and B)discovered the toy aisle. The timing could not have been more perfect as I turned to meet hubby in the hunting aisle only to see the look of total shock on his face followed by a strong whiff of the problem.
He had stepped in a log of poop.
Human poop.
Trust me. We know what animal poop looks and smells like at our house and this wasn't it!
I would have found the situation pretty funny except for a couple of facts:
1. I could smell it.
2. I was driving my car.
I will spare you the subsequent nausea-inducing details of getting home and hosing down the offending shoe.
Let's just end our story on the happy note that a few extra dollars at Target is worth not stepping in a log of human feces.
The End.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Wyatt's Princess Party
One of Wyatt's sweet little preschool friends invited him to her party. Now he is the only boy in his class so you can go ahead and assume that the party was not full of camo or anything of that ilk. Yep, pinkity-pink princess ruled the day. Wyatt felt right at home since he already knew all their names. Shelby would be so proud. She has trained him well.
Here is why I never have to worry too much about Wyatt falling down the stairs or leaping from the roof...
Ta-da! Dismount solved! No double-bounced facial carpet burn for him. He even started a trend as all the other kids thought it looked like great fun.
A proud moment for us all as Wyatt fans his princess plate shouting "Aweel" (translation: Ariel).
Here is why I never have to worry too much about Wyatt falling down the stairs or leaping from the roof...
Ta-da! Dismount solved! No double-bounced facial carpet burn for him. He even started a trend as all the other kids thought it looked like great fun.
A proud moment for us all as Wyatt fans his princess plate shouting "Aweel" (translation: Ariel).
Re-Discovery
I have come up with a brilliant way to save money and prevent clutter build up.
Hide your kid's toys.
Case in point. Shelby's sunglasses had fallen between the cracks of the seat where they communed with a stale chicken nugget and a broken princess earring for, let's say, a few months.
Stop being grossed out at the 3 month old chicken nugget under my seat. You are really getting bogged down with unimportant details and my son went through a little projectile anti-nugget phase ok?!
Anyway, after a cleaning of my car, the re-discovery process happened. Despite the dust accumulated in the edges and the chipped white daisy on the side, the glasses had magically become new again!
No need to spend money or endure the agony of the Target princess aisle. Ta-da! Instant "new" toy. Now, some parents may selectively choose toys to disappear, but I say why add another thing to your to do list when they select themselves so readily. Instead, every few months clean out your car/couch/closet/miscellaneous drawer, etc. and "Voila!".
Pics with her "new" glasses
"Is this how Fancy Nancy wears them?"-her exact question :)
*sigh*
"I know I make it look easy but it really can be lonely at the top."
Hide your kid's toys.
Case in point. Shelby's sunglasses had fallen between the cracks of the seat where they communed with a stale chicken nugget and a broken princess earring for, let's say, a few months.
Stop being grossed out at the 3 month old chicken nugget under my seat. You are really getting bogged down with unimportant details and my son went through a little projectile anti-nugget phase ok?!
Anyway, after a cleaning of my car, the re-discovery process happened. Despite the dust accumulated in the edges and the chipped white daisy on the side, the glasses had magically become new again!
No need to spend money or endure the agony of the Target princess aisle. Ta-da! Instant "new" toy. Now, some parents may selectively choose toys to disappear, but I say why add another thing to your to do list when they select themselves so readily. Instead, every few months clean out your car/couch/closet/miscellaneous drawer, etc. and "Voila!".
Pics with her "new" glasses
"Is this how Fancy Nancy wears them?"-her exact question :)
*sigh*
"I know I make it look easy but it really can be lonely at the top."
Saturday, February 26, 2011
I Remember...
I think remembering these moments with our children are so temporary and fleeting only makes them that much more precious (& sometimes more endurable but let's focus on the positive).
For instance, I will choose to wax nostalgic someday about how my little girl loves to curl up in my lap & NOT remember the tantrum when cuddle time was over.
I will choose to remember the over-excited two year old tearing out the door, boots in hand, to go w/ Daddy to Lowe's & I will NOT remember the giant booger I had to extract before he was deemed fit for public.
I will choose to remember how excited the kids were to eat by the fire pit last night & NOT remember the tears as the dog ate not one, not two, but three of Wyatt's tortillas. Shelby has learned to defend her food much more effectively over the years.
I will choose to remember the pride of watching my son drive his tractor all the way to the park & NOT remember the eerie feeling of every child slow and zombie-like gather around the new toy like right before a feeding frenzy.
I will remember my daughter's white-blonde curls erratically bouncing behind her as she whips by on her princess bike, ringing her bell & NOT remember her whipping through a stop sign w/ me shouting at her and the ensuing yelling and tears.
I will remember when Shelby learned to pump her legs on the swing. I will remember when Wyatt learned to reach over and turn on his light and fan...at 1:00 am. I will remember how Shelby felt it her duty to report back to me every school day on who was bad, what they did, and their just punishment received. I will remember how Wyatt accidentally whacked my rear with his broom & then gave it a kiss and pat. I will remember how they both loved to jump on Daddy & I's bed. I will remember how offended Wyatt was getting his 2 year old shots and Shelby's fascination with the whole process. I will remember how my daughter wanted to wear only dress pj's preferably with a princess. I will remember the heavy, limp form of my sleeping son as I removed him from his car seat after a late lunch with Daddy.
Just like the pangs of labor so quickly erased from our memories, I'll forget the tears, and the time-outs, and the constant repetition, and the "no you cannot wear that out," and the worry over developmental milestones, and the second guessing my choices.
I'll remember the sweet voices of my young children playing in the backyard on a beautiful spring day, choosing to treasure and remember the moment amidst the chaos of life.
For instance, I will choose to wax nostalgic someday about how my little girl loves to curl up in my lap & NOT remember the tantrum when cuddle time was over.
I will choose to remember the over-excited two year old tearing out the door, boots in hand, to go w/ Daddy to Lowe's & I will NOT remember the giant booger I had to extract before he was deemed fit for public.
I will choose to remember how excited the kids were to eat by the fire pit last night & NOT remember the tears as the dog ate not one, not two, but three of Wyatt's tortillas. Shelby has learned to defend her food much more effectively over the years.
I will choose to remember the pride of watching my son drive his tractor all the way to the park & NOT remember the eerie feeling of every child slow and zombie-like gather around the new toy like right before a feeding frenzy.
I will remember my daughter's white-blonde curls erratically bouncing behind her as she whips by on her princess bike, ringing her bell & NOT remember her whipping through a stop sign w/ me shouting at her and the ensuing yelling and tears.
I will remember when Shelby learned to pump her legs on the swing. I will remember when Wyatt learned to reach over and turn on his light and fan...at 1:00 am. I will remember how Shelby felt it her duty to report back to me every school day on who was bad, what they did, and their just punishment received. I will remember how Wyatt accidentally whacked my rear with his broom & then gave it a kiss and pat. I will remember how they both loved to jump on Daddy & I's bed. I will remember how offended Wyatt was getting his 2 year old shots and Shelby's fascination with the whole process. I will remember how my daughter wanted to wear only dress pj's preferably with a princess. I will remember the heavy, limp form of my sleeping son as I removed him from his car seat after a late lunch with Daddy.
Just like the pangs of labor so quickly erased from our memories, I'll forget the tears, and the time-outs, and the constant repetition, and the "no you cannot wear that out," and the worry over developmental milestones, and the second guessing my choices.
I'll remember the sweet voices of my young children playing in the backyard on a beautiful spring day, choosing to treasure and remember the moment amidst the chaos of life.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Checca Sauce
Oh Giada...Master of Simplicity. I uncovered this recipe and randomly tried it. Holy Moly! Who would have thought that such common ingredients lightly pulsed together and tossed w/ hot pasta would we so so so so so delicious?!?!
I think what elevates this dish is the freshness. Fresh basil, fresh cherry tomatoes, fresh garlic...with the two cheeses added in and ever so slightly clinging to the hot pasta in one glorious mouthful.
I simply make this SUPER fast dish a meal by slicing cooked chicken and laying it on top. No laborious slicing and dicing. Also, I use penne instead of spaghetti b/c my kids can eat it easier:).
2 lbs cherry tomatoes
3 scallions (white and pale green parts only)
1 (1oz) piece of Parmesan cheese, coarsely chopped
3 garlic cloves
8 fresh basil leaves
4 Tbsp olive oil
4 oz fresh Mozzarella cheese, cut into 1/2 inch cubes (I used the pre-shredded)
1/2 tsp each salt and pepper
(+ more to taste, if desired)
Food processor REQUIRED
Directions
In the bowl of a food processor, pulse the scallions, garlic, Parmesan, basil and oil. Add cherry tomatoes just until the tomatoes are coarsely chopped (do not puree).
(I throw in the pre-shredded mozzarella with all the other ingredients. If you get fresh just stir it in after pulsing everything else.
Add salt and pepper.
Toss the sauce immediately with your choice of freshly cooked pasta.
I think what elevates this dish is the freshness. Fresh basil, fresh cherry tomatoes, fresh garlic...with the two cheeses added in and ever so slightly clinging to the hot pasta in one glorious mouthful.
I simply make this SUPER fast dish a meal by slicing cooked chicken and laying it on top. No laborious slicing and dicing. Also, I use penne instead of spaghetti b/c my kids can eat it easier:).
2 lbs cherry tomatoes
3 scallions (white and pale green parts only)
1 (1oz) piece of Parmesan cheese, coarsely chopped
3 garlic cloves
8 fresh basil leaves
4 Tbsp olive oil
4 oz fresh Mozzarella cheese, cut into 1/2 inch cubes (I used the pre-shredded)
1/2 tsp each salt and pepper
(+ more to taste, if desired)
Food processor REQUIRED
Directions
In the bowl of a food processor, pulse the scallions, garlic, Parmesan, basil and oil. Add cherry tomatoes just until the tomatoes are coarsely chopped (do not puree).
(I throw in the pre-shredded mozzarella with all the other ingredients. If you get fresh just stir it in after pulsing everything else.
Add salt and pepper.
Toss the sauce immediately with your choice of freshly cooked pasta.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
New Shoes
So my son really likes crocs.
I mean really, really, really likes them.
Beware if your children come around him wearing them b/c they have a strange way of reappearing on his feet.
Anyway, he has been croc-less for a few months over winter (large holes in shoes tend to not keep the feet as warm) and I wasn't sure if he had gotten over his shoe obsession.
And then we went to Target...
I saw some knock-off crocs with little froggie faces and succumbed to temptation. What was the result of my downfall. I now must hide the froggie crocs or that is all he wants to wear, fully lamenting when I insist on another pair.
He sure is proud of his new shoes.
I mean really, really, really likes them.
Beware if your children come around him wearing them b/c they have a strange way of reappearing on his feet.
Anyway, he has been croc-less for a few months over winter (large holes in shoes tend to not keep the feet as warm) and I wasn't sure if he had gotten over his shoe obsession.
And then we went to Target...
I saw some knock-off crocs with little froggie faces and succumbed to temptation. What was the result of my downfall. I now must hide the froggie crocs or that is all he wants to wear, fully lamenting when I insist on another pair.
He sure is proud of his new shoes.
Monday, February 21, 2011
And Mother of the Year Goes To...
So let me set the scene-
It had been a crazy day. Seth and I decided somewhat last minute to go out to my parents' place in Millican on Friday night instead of just driving up Saturday. Well, every mother knows that overnight trips involving children and spontaneous decisions DO NOT GO WELL TOGETHER! I was doing some very last minute shopping for Wyatt's birthday on Saturday (not that he knows or cares that much), but, still, you like to set a precedent for the future. Anyhoo, blah blah I was busy all morning and when the kids woke up I had to run a cake into town and tried a last ditch shopping trip to Target near our house. I hadn't packed ANY clothes yet. Why? you ask. Well, because about two hours earlier all my children's clothing was dirty. Moving on. At least Wyatt's present had been purchased and the clothes were all clean albeit in a pile on our dining room table. While I am checking out of Target (with Shelby in HEAVY negotiations for the candy oh-so-convenienty at her eye level), Seth calls and I realize he is about to get off work. I CAN DO THIS!
*pause for breathing*
So I have set the frantic scene so that you might excuse my slight lapse later. I whip into the driveway unbuckle Wyatt (not needed w/ BIG girl Shelby "I CAN DO IT MYSELF!"). I run inside and change a suspicious smelling diaper and begin to frantically search for socks, underwear, pacifiers, blankets, pjs, etc. ALL of which are not in the same place. The whole time I am tearing from room to room I hear an occasional honk of my car horn.
I'll deal with Shelby's new little discovery as soon as I can find Wyatt's other sock!
In the meantime, hubby pulls in the drive and begins to load the dogs up in the bed of his truck. However, something is amiss. On one of his trips into the garage he hears a very muffled "Daddy!".
Strange he thinks. And begins to look around.
(muffled)"Daddy! I'm stuck in the car!"
A somewhat distraught Shelby was retrieved from Mommy's car where APPARENTLY she can work the seat belt but not the door latch.
Ah well, at least it wasn't as traumatic as the time I locked her in the car at HEB. Now there's a story...
It had been a crazy day. Seth and I decided somewhat last minute to go out to my parents' place in Millican on Friday night instead of just driving up Saturday. Well, every mother knows that overnight trips involving children and spontaneous decisions DO NOT GO WELL TOGETHER! I was doing some very last minute shopping for Wyatt's birthday on Saturday (not that he knows or cares that much), but, still, you like to set a precedent for the future. Anyhoo, blah blah I was busy all morning and when the kids woke up I had to run a cake into town and tried a last ditch shopping trip to Target near our house. I hadn't packed ANY clothes yet. Why? you ask. Well, because about two hours earlier all my children's clothing was dirty. Moving on. At least Wyatt's present had been purchased and the clothes were all clean albeit in a pile on our dining room table. While I am checking out of Target (with Shelby in HEAVY negotiations for the candy oh-so-convenienty at her eye level), Seth calls and I realize he is about to get off work. I CAN DO THIS!
*pause for breathing*
So I have set the frantic scene so that you might excuse my slight lapse later. I whip into the driveway unbuckle Wyatt (not needed w/ BIG girl Shelby "I CAN DO IT MYSELF!"). I run inside and change a suspicious smelling diaper and begin to frantically search for socks, underwear, pacifiers, blankets, pjs, etc. ALL of which are not in the same place. The whole time I am tearing from room to room I hear an occasional honk of my car horn.
I'll deal with Shelby's new little discovery as soon as I can find Wyatt's other sock!
In the meantime, hubby pulls in the drive and begins to load the dogs up in the bed of his truck. However, something is amiss. On one of his trips into the garage he hears a very muffled "Daddy!".
Strange he thinks. And begins to look around.
(muffled)"Daddy! I'm stuck in the car!"
A somewhat distraught Shelby was retrieved from Mommy's car where APPARENTLY she can work the seat belt but not the door latch.
Ah well, at least it wasn't as traumatic as the time I locked her in the car at HEB. Now there's a story...
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