How about a knuckle sandwich?

Ready for two kids stories? Ignore me if you've heard them.

The kids got to watch a movie the other day. Aubrey says in her most sincere, altruistic voice, "Nathan, you can pick out the movie." I congratulate her on her willingness to put others first and selflessness. Nathan graciously accepts the offer. He walks downstairs. He innocently looks up and says, "I'd like to watch Tarzan." Aubrey responds by SCREAMING "I HATE TARZAN!!!!!" and smacking Nathan as hard as she can. I had to leave the room because I was laughing so hard from the absurdity of it all. She spent the next ten minutes in time out, shrieking until she was out of breath. Then she came up and watched Tarzan with nary a complaint. Today she told me, "If Dane wants to watch Tarzan that would be fine with me."

Later that same day Greg was bathing the kids. He stepped into the other room to get their pajamas and Nathan began to yell, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Greg and I both fly in there and he is crying deep, shuddering sobs. "Aubrey won't play 'Keep hitting yourself' with me!" Translation: Nathan was using Aubrey's own hand to whack her repeatedly in the face and then told on her when she said she would NOT play that game anymore. Obviously.

I'm so glad I never hit my sisters and only treated them with loving kindness and gentle respect. KayLynn, Lianna, and Hannah, you're welcome.

A tutorial: where laundry comes from

This is what Dane wore today:

1. Ate breakfast in his jammies. Spilled milk all over them. Must be washed.

2. Got dressed for church. That outfit made it through lunch. Covered in lunch. (Bibs never work well enough.) Stripped down for nap time. Pants and shirt must be washed.

3. Up from nap. Put on clothes. He spilled milk on himself. New outfit must be washed.

4. Took the kids swimming. Put on his swim shirt and swim trunks and another freaking outfit on over this.

5. Went swimming. Chlorine saturated swim clothes require washing.

6. Took kids out to McDonalds for dinner. (They deserved our attention and treats today after all the cleaning we did yesterday.) Dane got caramel dipping sauce on both pants and shirt. Guess what? That needs washed too.

Add two more kids to this, parents, and all the swim wear. I promise that I meant is sweetly when I told Greg that Mojo was going to be another laundry producing sleep stealer. You know, a really CUTE laundry producing sleep stealer.

Mojo has a sparkling personality

Wouldn't you agree? Mojo is also healthy, happy, measuring the right age, has all the right parts in the right quantities, and enjoys an aged wine with meaty undertones and citrus top notes (or is that perfume?).

The baby's feet also look straight and narrow. Or is that the road less traveled? That was good news, although our Danish with the not quite straight feet is about as perfect as they come.

Greg and I giggled like middle schoolers through both the ultrasound and appointment. I said he was acting punchy. Is that as dated as "the bees' knees?" We think it's because it was like a date. You know, a date. Where you spend one on one time with your significant other. I know, we had forgotten too. Greg said he was twitterpated. AAAAHHHHHH....

As the icing on the cake my lovely baby-sitter Shone, who watched all three kids while Greg and I were wild and irresponsible at the OB's office, presented me with two Papa Murphy's pizzas when I picked up the kids. Shone, there aren't words enough to describe to you how nice that was. I'll go with thank you for now.

BED TIME.

Oh, and in case you thought I had taken leave of my senses, we didn't find out the baby's gender. We never do. I'm 100% sure it's a boy or a girl though.

How a Danish turns two

Things around here continue to move at a frantic pace but not so frantic that I cannot acknowledge that our current baby turned two! Dane celebrated as any good two year old does. He knew he was awesome, he knew he deserved presents and cake, and he knew that he could say things like "Sing mo happy" and everyone would sing him Happy Birthday once again. He is still our snuggly little boy, a lover of his daddy, a lover of airplanes (hence the cake), a master at the art of apologizing ("Soey brover. Give me?" (Sorry brother, forgive me?) ), and an increasingly adept pest. WE LOVE YOU DANE!!!!!!

Because we couldn't just have a birthday party this weekend, we also conned most of our family members into helping us paint our new house. Greg and I did the prep work over the last week and a half so Greg, my dad, my sister Lianna, and my brother-in-law Matt tackled, and finished, all the painting on Saturday. My father-in-law did other work on the house, helped paint on Saturday, and helped us, along with my mother-in-law, take down all the tape on Sunday. Yeah! Job DONE! My mom hung out with the kids and me (Mojo doesn't like paint fumes) and helped me do birthday party prep and scrub out my utility room. You guessed it, Greg and I are indentured servants to every member of our family for as long as we shall live.

Come to me all who are weary and burdened...

...and I will give you rest.

Ever since we moved Dane out of his crib I have found him asleep at nap time in a variety of unique places. Today was under the bunk beds, four "nummy nummies" clutched tightly in his hands.

Me and my boys

Today while Aubrey was at school I just hung out with two of my three main men. We have been working at the new house a lot lately and all the kids are in need of some attention. This is what we did.

I bathed the boys. I tried very hard to replicate Greg's "Mrs. Shmoochy" voice, the voice of their hand puppet washcloth. Nathan flatly said, "That's not what she sounds like, call Daddy." I did. Greg though this was hilarious. He also refused to do the voice over the phone in the office he was currently sharing with three other people. Sissy. I settled for screaming, "OH THE HUMANITY!" while the boys bit me with plastic sharks. It did the trick.

We read four books. It has to be an even number because they take turns sitting on my lap and the wrath of hell awaits the mom who lets one boy sit on her lap once while the other one gets to twice. As if there was much of a lap these days to fight about. Dane chose "Curious George" and this hideous picture books where you just name random items found in a house. I can't believe I haven't accidentally packed that book yet. Nathan likes all books and is just happy sitting on my lap and hold my hand.

I let Nathan and Dane watch the opening credits to "Top Gun." No, they do not watch any further where there is profanity and death and MATURE AUDIENCE only stuff. But oh, that opening scene with jets. FIGHTER JETS. MOM, CAN WE WATCH MORE FIGHTER JETS?!??!?! LOOK AT THE JETS!!! They then ran their own jets around the room while Nathan yelled, "Incoming Bogey, incoming bogey!" Dad, are you proud?

It was a great morning.

Vanity and other sins

I would hate for anyone to think I was vain. That's why I give you this, Sara's untouched bed head. You're welcome.

It's okay kids, mommy's just moved to wackadoo land

These are things that happened today:

I came to the realization that maintaining and deep cleaning my house for this move while children inhabit it is sure to make all my hair fall out. And more importantly, is impossible.

I came to this realization while attempting to scrub off my stove. Nathan took all the bedding off our bed and Dane emptied two boxes that I had just packed.

Aubrey loves to color but it always involves cutting paper and glitter. These are things that make a huge mess. I am tired of huge messes.

I reached into my dryer to remove a clean load of clothing. I had turned the dryer off hours before and left the door ajar. When I reached it my hands touched SOMETHING WET and it took but a moment to realize that a cat had jumped in and peed on my clean clothes.

I locked both cats out in the rain and wished for hail.

I don't like going to Home Depot. It is less fun to go with children. It is a true misery to go if you must go and have to go with children and have something you must get done.

While at Home Depot I was explaining to the washer/dryer salesman why I didn't want to own a front loading washer that had to have the door left ajar because it was a safety issue with the kids. This is while Nathan and Dane were spitting at one another and trying to leave shoe imprints on the other child's face. I think the man wondered why I even cared.

I made a chicken pot pie for our friends who just had twins. (Yes, the type of dinner matters to the story.) I put it on the passenger side floor of the van. Then I had to run back inside for something I had forgotten. When I came back out I found Dane in the front seat and he had STEPPED IN THE POT PIE. I yelled like a banshee and sat on the floor of the van and cried. The kids were stunned into submission for the rest of the car ride.

I need a raise.

Something good happened today but I didn't want to list it above and remove any doubt that today was a misery. I started potty training Dane today. Woke up and stuck him in underwear. He didn't have an accident ALL DAY LONG and told me when he had to go. He even told me during Greg's basketball game. Since I have bragged about this he is sure to poop his pants three times tomorrow but hey, I'll take what I can get.

In defense of "It's the bees knees."

I have heard rumblings of discontent regarding my use of "bees knees". What is it? What on earth does it mean? How come I'm not cool enough to have used it? And most importantly, do bees actually have knees?

I used this phrase after a dear, Bozeman dwelling, aunt of mine used it in an email to me and I was blown over by her vintage creativity and humor. So worth copying! I now try to use it once daily in a sentence to keep this beloved phrase from entering eternal obscurity.

You're welcome to all of those whom I've so thoughtfully introduced to the wonder and power of this humble, yet powerful, phrase. You are all the bees knees.

I like to move it, move it

Christmas is over. The decorations are put away, our fake tree is in a box which may very well be a sin, and Greg took down our front yard blow up Santa carousel. Greg also forced me to hide the rest of the Christmas candy as he gears up for our second annual Biggest Loser Contest. Mojo has eaten more cheese dip and popcorn balls than any fetus should and the kids have already broken a Christmas toy. You know what this means? It's time to move.

Okay, we're not quite there but now the real work begins. We have been making weekly van loads of stuff to the new house and it was embarrassing how long it took before we even noticed the difference. Things are starting to clear out though and we're entering the phase of home repair and deep cleaning. I am not impressed with the cleaning part and overwhelmed by messes that I just didn't even see. If you have been to my house lately sorry that I didn't notice the chocolate milk splatters IN THE FAMILY ROOM BEHIND THE FILING CABINET. How did they get there? What spill explosion made that happen, how long have they been there and how unfortunate that I now have to care. Both the front door and the garage door were upgraded from "Deep Clean!" to "Paint!". One room at a time girl, one room at a time.

On the new home front, things are happening. Doug, my father-in-law, has nearly finished the front bathroom and I am overwhelmed. It's just so much more than I imagined. I knew about paint and new sink and new flooring. But a fully tiled bathtub with an inlayed design? Tile floor instead of vinyl? A tile wainscot? (Thank you on line dictionary for spelling that word for me.) New cabinet doors and drawers? We didn't even know about these things and the bathroom is stunning. I cannot wait to post after pictures. THANK YOU!

Two weekends from now we are also having a painting party. My folks are coming to watch the kids for us all weekend while Greg and I con some kind, unsuspecting souls into helping us paint the new house. We went to Home Depot today to get samples and this is all I have to say: more isn't always better. I do not know if Peanut Butter or English Toffee is better for the kitchen and, let's not kid ourselves here, don't really care. An interior decorator I am not.

So, let the games begin. The sooner this house is on the market the better and we are hoping by mid February to get it listed. That is if I ever manage to clean out all the dirt from the slider door tracks. Or get the stickers off the window. Or wash all the curtains. Or remember that most light fixtures aren't coated in an inch of dust. Or.....

What does your New Year hold??

p.s. I feel Mojo kick now. It's the bees knees.