Welcome, Sophia Joy!

This is my brand, new niece Sophia Joy! Isn't she a cutie? She was born Wednesday, September 19th to Cory and Sarah. Everything went perfectly and everyone is healthy. Congrats, you guys! Welcome to the family, Sophie!

Setting the Record Straight

First, my dear, beautiful wife is a saint.

Yes, the boys made a mess. Here is a video of the initial cleanup:

Yes, I am a slave driver. Standing made me fell sicker, but after a heroic struggle to get most of the mess up with towels we went upstairs to watch Jake Long American Dragon on Netflix. Midway through the second episode I tossed the boys on the bed. rushed for the bathroom, and after leaving my dinner for the fishes, lay prone on the hallway floor. In my vulnerable state the boys attacked. They mercilously jumped on me and tattooed me with ball point pens. Luckily, seeing as I wasn't worthy prey they quickly turned on each other.

I don't remember when Katie got home. I just remember the relief. So here's to her.

it never rains, but it pours...

grape juice.

So, we had another episode involving two people around three feet tall and a mess. Only this time, instead of eggs, it involved a freshly made pitcher of grape juice. I wasn't there for the actual mess making, I was at a Enrichment activity (hurray for Midnight Madness crafts), but was called home early because Zach is violently ill and, well, the boys had destroyed our house.

Luckily, the juice was spilled on the linoleum this time. Unluckily, it seeped under most of our large appliances (i.e. washer, dryer, stove). And this mess only took me about half an hour to clean up! Huzzah for small victories! I did have to move the washer and dryer around though. If I was truly into full disclosure and honesty, I would have taken a picture of exactly what was under the dryer, in addition to the grape juice. But, I'm not. I will tell you that lots of lint, two fridge magnets spelling "HO", and a chicken bone were involved.

Next order of business: Toddler Proof the Fridge. Like, last week.

you can't make an omlette...

Before I delve into the horrors that have transpired under our roof, I'd like to first say, that I had two days in a row last week that where almost perfect. The boys were well behaved (mostly), the house was clean (mostly), and I got some of the things on my to-do list done. It was great. I just wanted to let everyone out there know that it's not always crazy insane at our house.

Now, moving on.

I was upstairs looking for recipes for Thanksgiving. And I heard the boys laughing. And I thought, "ah, they are so cute!" and I continued looking. But the laughing continued. In our house, too much laughter like that needs investigated. Because the boys get a wild thrill out of doing things they are not suppose to. So I head downstairs and see this...


And this...

And a whole lot more. That's right, folks. The boys broke eggs all over our carpet. And then they rubbed them around with their hands and ran through them, leaving little yolky foot prints all over the floor.

I was livid. Absolutely livid.

But, in spite of my almost blind rage, I was in control of myself enough to remember that I loved them and did not sell the boys to the circus, and had the presence of mind to take pictures of this wretched event, even though they don't really do it justice. Because I wanted to share it with everyone. And I want evidence for later.

So, it took me a full hour to clean this mess up, scraping egg goo out of the carpet with a rice paddle and a soup spoon, scrubbing the whole area with Zote soap (which is awesome), rinsing it with water and padding the area dry and then vacuumed up the masses of egg shell. And since I didn't want the boys handling raw egg anymore than they already had, this is what they did the whole time:

They had the longest time-out of their lives. I had to keep reminding them that they were in a time-out and that I was still mad and that this was not the time to play. I think they felt punished.

So, besides piles of books weighing down the towels on the floor, this was all that remained. As I was cleaning it all up, I started thinking about some of the other terror stories I've heard of little kids shenanigans; like dumping out several boxes of cereal onto the floor and pouring milk all over it or pouring honey all over the piano keys, and I thought, this little egg event is right up there. Our egg catastrophe will live on... in infamy.

Stamped and Ready to Go

Here, Ben has prepared himself for shipment. I think he is planning on labeling himself, as well. Terribly efficient, really. I didn't get it out of him where he was going, but it's going to cost him $3.36 to get there. Ya, that's right. And we're cleaned out of stamps. Unless I peel them off the windowsill, which is where they all ended up.

So, what do you think? Would you like to find this little boy outside your door?

Well, sorry, I'm keepin' him.

stuck in my head

When I was a young and innocent college sophomore, I did a study abroad in Vienna, Austria. It was a glorious, mind-boggling, and all-around good experience. But that is not really why I'm bringing it up. No, in fact, the reason I mention it at all is because of my Viennese roommate, Sara. Sara and I had a lot of adventures and good times together whilst living in Frau Alfon's Haus in the twenty-third district of Vienna (which is way out there, by the way), but we also had our trials. One of these trials was that I am an unconscious singer. This is true. I often sing two or three lines of a song over and over for a few minutes or hours or days and then forget that it ever happened. For instance, the theme music from Mario Brothers was stuck in my head for aboooooout.... five years. So, as Sara and I were getting ready in the morning I would unconsciously sing a couple of verses of some song or other that was stuck in my head. Then when I saw Sara later in the day she would be singing the song. This happened probably 75% of the time. Truly. And she didn't like it. At all. And told me so. A lot.

So, I would apologize, and make a futile attempt to not sing. But, those of you out there that are plagued with songs stuck in your head know that there is no permanent cure. The only possible solution is to get a different song stuck in your head, but this is a dangerous procedure that is only successful approximately 58% of the time with a multitude of side effects. And anyway, I wasn't really sorry. I just didn't want to get yelled at (which is not an uncommon reason for saying sorry). In fact, I thought it was pretty funny. I still do. In fact, I'm laughing a little just thinking about it.

The reason I bring any of this up is that I've had a new song stuck in my head since Thursday morning. And, I played it for Zach and have managed to get it stuck in his head (this is especially funny, since one line is "I'm just a little girl caught in the moment." Hilarious to hear Zach singing that). So, I'm going to try and get it stuck in your heads too. Because its a fun song and I want to share the joy and spread the disease around a bit.

And, if I'm really lucky, maybe Sara will find it.

Click HERE to hear the music and see the music video

A quick story of the dynamic duo

Their love of the dynamic duo goes beyond paper action figures and movie watching. They both climbed in the tiny, blue recycle bin the other night Ben called Sam Batman and Sam called Ben Robin. I think Robin was calling the shots on this one. They kept falling out and saying "Oh, no. Batman, are you OK?"