Just one of those days.

Okay, so I know we all have them, but seriously. "One of those days." Yesterday was something else. My body is falling apart. I have this lame sinus infection (self-diagnosed, but I'm pretty sure I'm right) and therefore have used up about 8 boxes of tissue in the past 48 hours, a consequent throbbing and continuous migraine headache that rolls into spasms at every movement or loud noise (heh...perfect for a mother of 2 toddlers, no?), dried and cracking skin under my nose from blowing it, zits galore in the most strategically prominent places possible, a cracked and borderline infected lip from when my darling child head-butted me that splits every time I talk or smile. I'm sure there's more, but even the typing hurts my head. I'm very pretty and fun to be around, ask my family.

Believe me, I know I shouldn't complain - I'm well aware that my troubles are miniscule in the grand scheme of things. And I know I should be grateful for times like this that make me appreciate the good ones. But every once in a while (i.e., today), this girl's going to throw herself a fine pity party before moving on to more uplifting topics. Just "keepin' it real" (thanks, Randy Jackson).

Who's with me?

WANTED:

A 20-month-old who will get better so she will sleep through the night so her parents, who are also not feeling at their peak after weeks of related sleep deprivation, can also return to their normal state of good health.

At least she's still cute.

(Thanks to Julie Kirby for the photos!)

Oh Christmas Tree

Last Friday we went up into the mountains to chop down our Christmas tree with Paul's family (tradition). Carson was way excited to wear his snow get-up, including marshmallow-esque snow pants, moon boots, hat, scarf, mittens, the works. Never mind the fact that there was no snow.

It was a beautiful day, though, and Carson loved "exploring on an adventure" through the forest. (Layla, of course, preferred to be carried, Princess-style.) We found a great tree, and Paul used his brute strength to saw it down...

...and, upon setting it up at home, Carson promptly decorated the tree (or, shall I say, branch) to his liking:

One thing led to another, and before we knew it, we had all our Christmas decorations out and set up around the house. So cozy, with the twinkling of Christmas lights here and there. And interesting, the discussions the decorations have brought about ("Was baby Jesus afraid of duh dinosaurs?" "Was I born before baby Jesus?" "Duh little drummer boy didn't bring Jesus a present?!?! Just a drum-song?!?!" "We have to set out a WHOLE plate of cookies for Santa. Santa LOVES cookies, just like you!" etc. etc.).

Anyway. Merry Christmas-time. It seriously is the most wonderful time of the year, and it's not even December.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Carson and Layla's turkeys (named Charlie and Bean-gum [editor's note: don't ask me, I just write it down]) wish you and yours the happiest of Thanksgivings.

And may the best man or woman win in tomorrow's absurdly-early-hour-morning rush to secure the perfect gift at the lowest price and with the fewest (or is it most?) casualties. Tis the season...

A silly bunch

In the car ride home tonight, Carson declared, "Girls talk too much." Apparently, he and the boy cousins (ages 3-8, I think) had discussed this and unanimously agreed. I'm not too offended, though, from this complaint coming from a guy who looked like this for half the morning:



Oh, and I believe I may have mentioned this once or twice already, but Layla is 800% girl. Case-in-point: See photo below. She has a total of three hairs on her head, to which she insisted I beautify with curlers after I'd done my own (while she sat and gushed, "pitty, mommy! soo pitty!"). Paul says we're two peas in a pod...a point he especially likes to drive home when she's being naughty. What can I say? Girl power, man.

Fashion bugs

You're probably taking one look at these and asking yourself, "WHERE is these poor children's mother??!?!"

That's a fair question. The answer? She's laughing hysterically behind the camera.

Tom the Thankful Turkey

I read a comic the other day that showed a turkey lying on a psychiatrist's couch, looking worried, while the doctor was saying something like, "it's not uncommon to feel anxious during the fall, with the weather getting colder, days getting shorter..." Poor turkeys. But, I must confess, delicious.

ANYway, continuing the tradition of my childhood, this is Tom the Thankful Turkey 2007. Tom appears a week or two before Thanksgiving, and we write things that we're thankful for on feathers and glue them onto his back, "to help keep him warm," as Carson has decided. (Paul has come to hate the arrival of Tom every year and, to show his disdain, writes things like, "delicious turkey dinners" and stuff on his feathers. Mean.)

It's a fun tradition, at least for me and the kids. :) So far, three of Layla's feathers say "toys," one says "daddy-o," and one of Carson's says "the Book of Mormon and the other stuff" (???). [Editor's note: Yes, verbatim documentation.]

Happy upcoming Thanksgiving, everybody.

Siblings

smack "ouch!" whack "waaaaa" "mooo-oooom!!!" thump "help me" shove yell hit "NO" "nonononononono" snatch plop "no don't!" "DON'T!!" "don't" "don't" "don't" "mine" run chase fall wail "MINE" "no, mine!" "MOMMY" cry tumble wimper "stop it" bonk "PLEEEEEASE don't. DON'T!!!!!" drop splash giggle "wet!" stir climb balance "be tareful" "okay" laugh smile share "tanks!"

"Mom, Layla and I sure are good friends. We're SUCH good friends!"

And so it goes.

new van

That's right. Yesterday we bought ourselves a new minivan (photo forthcoming). Okay, "new" as in "new to us," not as in "new and hot off the factory line and so beautiful you'll cry when your kids spill milk and wipe their chocolate-melted fingertips on the new seat covers." It's been a great vehicle for us for the last 19 hours. Other than the fact that I just added 15 years and about 5 kids onto my life in the transaction (isn't that the target minivan demographic?), I love it. Bring on the grocery trips, the soccer games, the cross-country family vacations...we're ready.

big plans & everyday life

We're just about done with remodeling our master bathroom (which began August 2006...I wish I were joking); we have great ideas for our other upstairs bathroom (I've already peeled off the old wallpaper; Paul reminds me to "not get ahead of yourself," but I just can't help it when I make up my mind to change something, I want to get started NOW), the kitchen, and dining room. Stay tuned for project completion in 2012!!

Layla, not surprisingly, LOVES shoes. She'll putter around all day in Paul's, Carson's, or my shoes (they're conveniently big, because inevitably she's already wearing her own). In fact, it must be contagious, because yesterday Paul and I heard giggles from our room and glanced down the hall to see both of our children tromping, carefully, out in some of my high heels. (Sadly, they had better balance than I do sometimes...)

Carson's reached the"why?" stage in life...except he's modified it to be "why not?", which usually makes no sense. (for example: "Carson, time to get in the car." "Why not?")

A conversation between Carson and Paul and me in the car after returning from my niece Kayleigh's baptism; we'd been talking about how Uncle Kevin baptised me also, and then the discussion moved to ALL his uncles:
Carson: (proudly) My uncle Brad is a soldier! He fights duh bad dies (guys) ebby (every) day and ebby night!
Me: Yes, he did. He's safe at home with Aunt Linnea now. But, you're right, other soldiers are still fighting the bad guys.
Carson: (brief pause) So, when will all duh bad dies be dead?
Me: (taken aback, not sure how to answser this one) Um...
Paul: The real bad guys will die when Jesus comes again.
Carson: Oooooooh. (another brief, processing pause) So, when will Jesus come again, Dad?

We don't know the answer to that one, but we feel pretty lucky to know what we do know. As Carson would say, "why not?"

Spooky ooky

From left to right: Batgirl, a "depressed, extinct bird" (Paul's own words...he hates dressing up), an intimidating karate white-belt Sensay, and Cap'n Carson, RPE (real pirate extraordinaire).

I wish I could claim some method to our madness. Can't.

A picture is worth 1000...um...calories

It was a successful Halloween. Exhibit A: this morning's untampered photo from the garbage can near my computer. Exhibit B: rendered unnecessary.


Carson was a great pirate; Layla was an energetic bat. Carson LOVED trick-or-treating; Layla thought it was a cruel joke, as she was handed candy and not allowed to eat every stinking morsel right then and there. Carson politely said "trick-or-treat" before and "thank you" after being handed each piece of candy; Layla simply stared down the candy-giver until s/he was frightened into practically dumping the entire candy bowl contents into Layla's bag, which her personal bag-holder (guess who) was distractedly holding while trying, usually unsuccessfully, to coax out a smile, a "please," or a "thank you" from the bat-woman.

Both were bone-tired by the end from their efforts, but Carson declared the day to be his "fabe-rut Halloween ebber!!" and is already asking when the next Halloween is. My thighs can hardly wait.