Squishy*Baby*Lips

That is all.

Sing a Song of Sixpence Red Bull and Vodkas

Karaoke!

Emidio (I have no idea what we were singing, or even if I was singing for that matter. Maybe I'm just dancing?)

Lacy and Kendra

Keng and Emidio

Lace and Keng

Josephine, Keng, and Mike in the background

Jess, Josephizzle, and Keng

I'm hungover. Didn't I say I was never going to drink again? Oh yeah. I forgot.

Mommy's Little Helper and Her New Bestie... Plus Crafty, Injured Momma, all in One Post...Plus More. Long Title, huh? Haha.

Madelynn is 100% involved in everything I do. Everything. She takes spoons out of the dishwasher for me, smacks the tub with her own little cloth while I scrub, and flushes the toilet after I pee. OK, so she's a little too helpful. I can poop all by myself thank.you.very.much.

Usually I enjoy having a little helper, but for some tasks, she's more like a 'little hinderer' than a helpful bonus. Let's take laundry for instance.

I fold...

She unfolds.

I re-fold...

She unfolds.

It's a vicious cycle that makes my most-hated chore just a bit harder. She's cute though, right?

After I successfully shooed Mads away from the laundry pile, I got to serious work and folded my little heart out. As I finished, I realized that I hadn't seen, nor heard from the little bugger in almost five whole minutes. I must have been in the zone or something. I called her name, and seconds later she emerged from her room carrying her new best friend.

(LOVE that crazy hair, right?)

Cheap baby wipes? But wait Mads, I'll trade you one pack of wipes for one brown teddy. Good trade, huh?

Err, I guess not. She carried those wipes around all day long, chewing the corner and giving it hugs. Kind of a nontraditional lovey, wouldn't you say? Whatever makes you happy, Kiddo. Whatever.

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Yesterday was craft day with a couple friends. We spent an insane amount of time perusing the aisles at Micheal's, the most amazing craft store in the world. I couldn't decide where my creative energy would best be used, so I settled on a wooden mirror that I planned to mosaic with broken glass. I had no idea what I was doing, but instead of buying a kit with simple, clear directions, I bought out the whole mosaic aisle and figured I'd just wing it. Hmm. That was not a good plan. I suffered my very first craft day injury.

Did I cut myself on a glass tile? No. That would just make too much sense. I cut myself on the corkscrew while I was opening the "craft day" bottle of wine. Damn wine keys. :)

I'll show you my super-cool-mosaic-mirror after I grout it. I'm very proud of my uber-craftiness. Aside from my weekly Martha Stewart-esque attempts, I also joined a bowling league. Yes, a bowling league. My first tournament was on Thursday, and I bowled a 108, 97, and 103. I hope I don't pull their average down too much. I never said I was good at bowling, just that I had joined a league.

In totally unrelated news, my washing machine committed appliance suicide a couple days ago. I was doing a load of baby clothes, when all of a sudden the washer just stopped doing what it does. I was left with a washing machine full of water and baby clothes. In passing, I told Mum that my washer had taken a shit, and that I was headed to the laundromat... again. While I was drinking wine crafting yesterday, Mum and Daddy broke into my apartment, disposed of my old washer, and installed a brand-spankin'-new one from Home Depot. It's gorgeous, and my parents are the coolest, most wonderful people I have ever met. There was even pizza in the fridge.

That's it.

Another Self-Portrait Attempt

Good, quality, family photos are totally overrated.

Lost Keys and "Who are You Calling?"

Madelynn hides things. Last week, Jeffrey and I hunted high and low for the remote control. We practically tore this place apart. I blamed him, he blamed me, and Madelynn played quietly on the floor with a spoon. Two days later, I found it in "her" cupboard, tucked inside a colander and covered with a pot lid. A few days ago, I captured this video:

And now, Jeffrey's keys are missing. In fact, they've been missing for the past three days. Can you guess who had them last? That's right, Jeffrey handed them to Babe so she'd leave him alone for a second. I crawled around the apartment, trying to view the world from Mads' level, but my attempt was fruitless. The keys are gone.

On a semi-related note, I almost had a heart attack while I was doing my make-up this morning. Imagine being home alone with your baby, when all of a sudden during mascara, an eerie voice is speaking from the hallway. My first thought was "INTRUDER" and yes, just like that. All caps. When I ran out to the hallway (carrying my curling iron like a club), I found Babe on the floor with my phone, chatting with someone (I have no idea who) on speaker phone. I didn't even know I had speaker phone! The woman hung up before I could explain, but hopefully she had children, and no explanation was needed.

Tenth month, week three. Be careful when handing your child a non-toy. You may never see it again.

*Well, on the 'glass half full' end, you may find out something you didn't know before. Speaker phone? Really?

ETA: I can't find my phone.

Wordless Wednesday -The *3 Whole Hours after Bedtime* Edition-

What the eff happened to 7pm bedtime? Seriously. Ugh.

I'm Drowning, but Dressed Well for the Event

I hate laundry. It's one of those chores that just never ends. The washing isn't so bad, drying doesn't really bother me, but folding and putting away is like stabbing myself in the forehead with a fork... over and over and over and over. Just not something I want to do all day. I try to keep up, I really do. And for a couple months, I can keep up. But then something will happen, a hurricane or a power outage, alien abductions or choosing sex instead, whatever it may be, and I'll miss one week. One week. That's all it takes to ruin my life. After one week, I have 4 loads to do, and I never, ever want to do 4 loads in our washer and dryer. So... I just let it pile up and pile up, I mean hell, my family has enough clothing that we can manage well over a month without doing laundry. Lord, that sounds awful. I would show you a picture of my laundry room, but it's just too embarrassing (the rest of my house is spotless, I swear. And babe isn't alowed anywhere near the laundry room [she would be lost in there forever]).

The inability to open the laundry room door doesn't force me to do laundry. I would just push and shove and pile forever if it were possible. But there is one event that always occurs right around the 12 load mark (I'm not kidding) and it's something that I just can't deny.

That's a bikini bottom. I've run out of underwear, including the holies, the stretched outs, and the grannies. I've used them all. All that's left is bathing suits, and I only have about 14 of them, so you know what that tells me?

I need to go to the laundromat within 14 days, 20 if I buy a six pack of cotton unders from Wally World...

I promise, I'll go tomorrow... or maybe Thursday. Definitely Friday, if not before. Promise.

Berries and Waffles

Sure, it sounds like a good idea...

But what looks good in your head...

Usually doesn't look as good staining your child...

Or coming back out. Yuck. (You don't need a picture of that, right?)

A Swing Built for Two

Mads loves that baby.

Whoa, Genius!

No, she doesn't play 'Magnificat' on the oboe, but you have to admit, that's a pretty cool trick.

I've Been Wondering Why the Screen is Always Smudged

**It's like a blog flip-book!**

Kinda sorta, right?

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You do. But seriously, keep them off the Compaq. Kthx:)

A Blog Scream

This is going to be a very honest post, perhaps too honest. I may just shatter my super-mommy facade with this one, but after I get it out, it'll totally be worth it.

Madelynn. Darling. Sweet-Baby-Cakers... you annoyed the shit out of me today. You... ugh.

It's not that she doesn't have her moments, yes the days of constant whining and leg pulling get to me, but by the time I get behind the computer to blog about the day, I've forgotten those moments and only remember the smiles and happy times. It has to be some kind of Mommy programming or something. But today. Oh good lord.

No Madelynn, you do not shit rainbows and sunshine every day. I know this blog shows otherwise, but it's true, you have picked up the most annoying habit that I have ever experienced, and it makes me suicidal every time I hear it. You gag yourself, Kid. ALL DAY. All frickin' day long, your fingers are down your throat. Like, are you baby bulimic or something?? I mean seriously. You did it once or twice the past couple days, but today, Oh.Em.GEE today, ALL DAY I was ripping your hand out of your frickin' mouth! I pull it out, she puts it back in. I pull it out, she puts it back in, gag.gag.gag!!

I don't know what it is about the gagging sound, but when I hear it, my whole body stiffens and I just want to scream. No, not scream, SHRIEK. I want to growl, high-pitched and animalistic. You know how people talk about "grating my nerves" or whatever the saying is? It's just like that, like a frickin' cheese grater is being scraped over my nervous system, causing temporary paralysis and headache. It makes me wince/cringe/shrivel/whatever and it actually hurts. I'm being serious. I want to scream because it literally hurts my brain.

But I don't let it out even though I really need to. Why? Because I wouldn't want the neighbors to call me "the screaming lady" for the rest of our stay here. It's not because I don't want to scare you Mads, that logic and reasoning flew out the window by 3pm today (five hours after your ONLY nap of the day). Yup, I would totally shriek right in the living room, right in front of you, if only we didn't have such thin walls. Lucky you.

I try to reason with myself, she's only a baby, she's just learning cause and effect, she isn't doing it just to bug me... Are you sure she isn't doing it just to bug me? It sure feels that way. She IS bugging me.

At 8pm, one whole hour after bedtime, while I was listening to Madelynn gag right in my frickin' ear (and cry when I pulled her fingers out for the millionth time), I threw my hands up in the air and thought "I can't do this. I cannot do this for seventeen years and two months. I cannot be a Mommy forever. I can't do it without screaming". And then I felt like the worst mother ever because a day of gagging was all it took to push me to that point.

Someone PLEASE tell me this gagging thing is a phase that will end like, tomorrow. Two days, I can handle two days, but no more than that. I'm in mental distress here. I'm selling you on the black market if you don't stop gagging yourself in two days, Kiddo. I'm not kidding, beautiful babies are easy to sell. DON'T TEST ME.

You know who else I'm selling? The neighbors frickin' dog. That stupid mutt has been barking non-stop all day. I don't mean "nonstop" as in, 30 minutes straight, or once or twice every hour, I mean NON-STOP since 8am. As in, BARKING THE WHOLE TIME. Between the gagging and the barking, omigosh I'm serious, I'm about to have a breakdown. I need a whole pack of cigarettes. Why would I ever quit smoking? Why would anyone quit smoking??

I do feel better. This was a good vent. I don't need to be committed or anything, but I may kill the neighbors dog. I'm gonna post that sucker to their door with a screwdriver Secret Window style. Okay, no. I wouldn't do that. But geez, the dog obviously needs something. Maybe he/she has to pee, did they ever think that maybe the dog would need to frickin' pee once in a day? A dog should not be locked in a bathroom to bark for ten hours straight. I mean, that can't be healthy. That poor, frickin' annoying dog.

In my dream house, there's a sound-proof room where I can hide away and yell profanities until my lungs hurt. Oh to dream.

I Forgot to Show You My Mady's New Car Seat

I can't believe I didn't blog about this the second the humungo box was delivered. The transition from infant carrier to big-girl-seat is a milestone that should not be ignored, especially when that move lands you in an uber-fabulous Britax Marathon:

I used to dream about this car seat, no lie. I wanted one, I needed one, and when I finally opened it, I was not disappointed. I love that seat. Real, true love. It's soft, it's comfy, and it will keep my baby rear-facing so long that all of her friends will make fun of her. ::sigh::

Madelynn? She doesn't know the difference between a Marathon and a Nautilus, nor would she care. But damn, I'm a happy Momma, and a happy Momma makes a happy baby. She looks pretty darn happy, right? It could possibly just be gas, but I'm thinking it's the car seat.

Thankful Thursday

I'm thankful that we don't keep anything sharp in those drawers. I still wish she'd just leave them closed though.

Big Boy and Babe at the Park

Megan and I went out for St. Patty's Day. We spent the majority of the night in the bathroom, so that Megan could play psychologist to all the blubbering drunk girls in the bar. Ugh, drunk girls. They're so ugly when they cry.

Next morning, I woke up to find my ankle swollen to the size of a football. Either someone stepped on me (possible), or I fell off of my heels (more likely), which left me with a multi-colored foot. I'll probably never drink again...

Yesterday was a whopping 70 degrees, and even with a massive hangover, I couldn't deprive my child of all that sunshine. Megan (equally hungover) and I took the kiddos to the park:

Mads and Mase were seemingly unaware of the immense pain that their Mommies were suffering, and they didn't try to take it easy on us one bit.

I went to bed at 7pm last night. I still feel like crap today. The recovery period for one night out just seems to get longer and longer. Am I getting old, or just out of practice? Like I said, I'll never drink again...