Friday, July 25, 2014

manly essentials.

"Mommmaaa, I'm suck."
"Stuck, huh? How'd you get up there?"
"Cwimbed dis cabinet."
"Whatcha need?"
"Deese boots and a protein bar. Kiss me befoe I jump."

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

10 ways to horrify a 2.5 year old.

1. Assume he wants his banana peeled.
2. Pick up a sibling. Ever.
3. Sing along with him.
4. Help him put on his shoes.
5. Suggest he has a last name.
6. Buckle his car seat.
7. Gently recommend he not approach an ice cream cone bottom first.
8. Embark upon any painless endeavor of his basic hygiene which must be repeated multiple times per day, including, but not limited to: face wiping, diaper changing, tooth brushing and hair combing.
9. Pick him up.
10. Put him down.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Defying physics and other talents.

By now, y'all know I'm always game for a gimmicky diet or workout. It should come as no shock that I'm nearly done with T25 and headed for P90X. It is for real. I can do push-ups again. Real ones.

Admittedly, I am somewhat concerned that if I maintain this sort of ..manly Jazzercize, our ceiling downstairs will collapse, because.. high jumps. Hopefully, I will land on the couch.

As usual, I've gained weight. It's just what I do. It's a gift. I like to think that I'm built for survival. I would survive as long as any teenage heroine in any popular young adult literature series on which I've binged this summer.

But since I'm not trying to climb out of the Grand Canyon carrying a boat, eating only apples grown by long gone farmers of the Rising, my jeans are tight.

It's a delicate balance, jump squats and coffee cake.

Today, I bought a bag of chocolate Shakeology.

I read a lot about it before I did, because the price is unspeakable.

In the end, I decided to try it because eating healthy food is expensive, anyway.

 Concerned it would be like.. chocolate water (that's how it looks in commercials).., I mixed it with 12 oz. of coconut milk, a half cup of crushed ice and, much to Henry's annoyance, pulled out the immersion blender.

I say all of that - even the anecdotal rambling - to say, it's really thick. Maybe because of the chia seeds or one of the many other fancypants ingredients. I don't know. I know coffee cake made with cream cheese. It's what brung me.


I struggled through the first half, feeling somewhat defeated. ..but then, in a texture-driven near heave, a moment of clarity prevailed over beer-bonging strategies of yore:

It's like drinking chocolate pudding.


And lastly, I read somewhere that good photography is essential for successful blogging. Ha!

This is after the ice melted. . . I stuck my phone in and tilted the shake down, so it's slowly lolling its way down through Brandon's Phil Robertson Happy Happy Happy Tervis tumbler, looking like the mouth of Hell. But in a good way.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

on breaking the first rule of fight club.

..commercial district of Raeford Road, 8:30 a.m...

Henry: Where we goin', Momma?
Me: I can't decide between Walmart and Target.
Harper: Walmart!
Henry: Yeah, Walmart!
Me: ((huge Walmart-hating sigh)). Ok. But you know they don't have many kid carts and you'll have to get in a regular one together. And Harper, you have to ride since you have a splinter in your foot. Can y'all do that without fighting? In the same cart?
Henry: We not fighting.
Harper: We can fight nice.
Me: Impossible. No fighting. Understand?
Harper: Yes.
Henry: I don't need to be in duh cart.
Me: You will be in the cart. No fighting.
Henry: ((sigh)) Can we listen to Puff Daddy?


Harper: Can we go in another store after Walmart so we can fight?

Monday, June 2, 2014

In defense of Bloom's Taxonomy.

Harper's Book Club currently recommends:

There are more life lessons than you can shake a stick at.

Bless her heart, she even understands some of them.

I feel a stab in my heart when I realize she's old enough to "get" it and I spend our discussion probing for understanding and marveling at surprisingly apt answers.

I will the time to slow.

..just then,

Harper, why is this your favorite book?
Harper: His NAKED BUTT! ((attempts to moon me, Henry falls down laughing)) 

The end.

Friday, May 30, 2014

On horrifying the nearly 5-year-old.

Suggest she jump into the pool in a cotton dress rather than spend an hour unearthing her bathing suit, goggles, coordinating towel and flip flops. "NEVER!" ((hysterically, throws self on bed))

Attempt to explain the concept of a word scramble. "BUT WHAT DOES THE MESSED UP WORD SAY?"

Play the video of the real Macarena from 15 years ago. "Who are these grandpas?!"

Explain that Puff Daddy is a real person. "When I'm 10, I'll have a big cat named Puff Daddy. Puffy if I'm in a hurry."

Verify that the Ninja Turtles are not of this realm. "Are they in our land? Will they ever attack danger at the grocery store when we're there? The grocery store does have pizza."

Admit that you don't know who Santa's mom is. .."But Mom?.. Mrs. Klaus.. She's not his mom, she's his lady, right?"

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

never trust a wayfarer-wearing hipster.

After an especially tantrum-filled morning, Henry earned the rare nap.

He didn't sleep. Like usual.

After 45 minutes of boisterous play plus some intermittent rage straight into the monitor, walkie-talkie-style, **YOU KNOW I DON'T NAP. OVER.**, I gave up.

I found him pantsless, diaperless, but nonetheless, bePolo-ed.

"Haaay, Momma!"

Hey bud! Where are your pants and diaper?

"Over there. Diaper just flew off!"