Happy Father's Day!

The Shoes

Shaun's brother got married about three weeks ago, and in honor of this much-anticipated event I just had to buy a new pair of shoes. Like most mothers, I spent the bulk of my time on the day of the event behind a camera taking photos of my own children (come on, I can't be expected to resist the lure of flower girl dresses and tiny little tuxes), so only a few hastily-snapped partial photos of what I was wearing that day exist. However, I believe my beautiful wedding shoes deserve a shout-out. Now I just need to invent another occasion to wear them...

Sunglasses, Shorts, and Suntans

You'll notice that I've changed the picture behind my blog title. You'll also notice that my children are wearing shorts and sunglasses, and you will have deduced that since it's May that picture can't possibly have been taken in Newfoundland. That's right, people, we have returned from our Easter Break adventure to Massachusetts and the Florida Keys. The picture was taken during a day trip to Key West. If you haven't been there I highly recommend it. I also recommend leaving the kids at home rather than taking them with you since, while I had fun with my kids, I imagine Key West would be a lot more fun without them.

Well, Let Me Go Get My Time Machine

Last night at dinner we were all discussing the fact that Natalie and Brandon both have birthdays next month when Brandon turned to me and said, "Mom, your birthday is really far away."

I replied, "Yup, August is a pretty far away."

Brandon looked at me and said, "Well, you should get in your car and drive there then. And I will bring you a Toy Story cake for your party."

Well, thank you, Brandon. Why didn't I think of that? I'll just go get in my time-traveling car and drive to my birthday. I didn't have the heart to tell him that if I had a time machine I definitely wouldn't be driving it anywhere that made me older.

I Didn't Even Know What I Was Missing

I've been hearing wonderful things about Etsy for years now, and I've been trying as hard as my little online-shopping-loving heart would let me to avoid it. Why did I need one more website to add to all my usual virtual haunts? Unfortunately, I've become mildly obsessed with admiring cute clutches and handbags lately, and I've spent several months admiring one friend's ruffled handbag in particular. My online shopping addiction and my yearning for a ruffled purse of my own collided one cold, depressing afternoon in early February when I ran out of websites to look at and the idea of searching for a ruffled purse on Etsy popped into my head. Let me tell you, folks, that I don't believe my life will ever be the same.

Here's a little shop I found, called Davie & Chiyo:

And here's what I bought:

And it wasn't even ruffled. But this one is, and I think I might have to have one of these next:

Insert sigh of contentment. I really hope Spring comes soon or Visa is going to love me.

How's My Hair?

November? Really? That's the last time I blogged? November was, like, four months ago! In the last four months not a single thing has happened that inspired me to set aside a few moments of time for blogging. You'll be ecstatic to read, my dear followers, that something of import has finally happened. Not birthdays or Christmas or visitors or even snowmen. Wait for it...

Kyle has refused to let us buzz his hair and has asked us to allow him to grow it out. Because he wants to spike it in the front. With hair gel. That's right, hair gel.

My little boy has suddenly turned into a regular boy with hairstyling preferences.

Some one should have warned me that six-year-old boys care about their hair. I was completely unprepared for this development. What's next? A girlfriend? Comments along the lines of, "You're not wearing that to take me to school are you, Mom?" Acne? Wait... he's going to stop kissing me goodbye in the mornings, isn't he?!

That's My Boy

Kyle is definitely ours. I present you with the work of art he produced in his computer class the other day:

Oh, Kyle, you are absolutely ours.

The Return of the Snow Log

Some of you might recall this post, Retiring the Snow Log--For Now, from June. I fully expected to break the snow log out again in October, and I was considering it a small victory that we hadn't had so much as a flurry until a couple of days ago. Then yesterday morning I was going about my business...

"Kids, eat your breakfast... Natalie, please stop talking to Brandon while he's supposed to be eating... Kyle, burping is disgusting. Saying 'excuse me' afterwards is great, but I'd rather you didn't do it at all... Brandon, eat your banana--don't play with it... Get dressed!... What do you want for a school snack today?... Please go brush your teeth... Stop playing in the water, and brush your teeth!... I don't care if this isn't 'pretty' enough to wear to school, Natalie, because it's what I got out, and you're wearing it... Kyle, stop reading long enough to put your shoes on..."

...when I looked through the kitchen window as the sky started to lighten, and I froze in place. Snow. Half an inch of snow covering everything in sight. And I'll admit it... I was a little excited. Apparently, living in a place where it snows regularly from November through April does nothing to diminish the feeling of joy that accompanies the first snowfall of the winter.

I know by the time April rolls around--or let's be honest, by the time February rolls around--I'll be sick and tired of the snow and shoveling and snowboots and snowsuits and scraping windshields. But for now I'm happy to bring back my little snow log. Let's see what Newfoundland has in store for us this winter.

Betsy...

Betsy really needs to blog but can't find time to write anything longer than a Facebook status update.

Betsy has traveled back to the U.S. twice in the past month, once for a sad occasion, and once for a happy occasion.

Betsy's house has fallen apart due to all her traveling, and the dustbunnies are starting to boss the kids around.

Betsy underestimated the number of meetings that she would be involved in as Home & School Committee Secretary.

Betsy also underestimated the number of meetings she would end up having to take a four-year-old and a two-year-old to, and therefore she also underestimated the amount of sweating she'd have to endure.

Betsy always knew she was a perfectionist, but she didn't realize she could spend so much time perfecting the school's charity auction ad booklet.

Betsy's plan for the next few days is to exterminate the aforementioned dustbunnies since the husband is out of town working (golfing), and then she will attempt to resume blogging in paragraphs. Once she gets Halloween out of the way.

I'm Glad That's Over

You know how the last couple of long blog posts ended on a nostalgic note? Oh, I'm so sad my baby's growing up and needs to be potty trained. Boo hoo. I'm so sad that my little Brandon doesn't need naps anymore. Well, guess what? I am over it. So over it.

I just spent the last week entertaining the demon who took over the body of my two-year-old. The doctor tells me Brandon was suffering from strep throat, but I really don't care what he had. I'm just glad it's over.

It's never fun when your one of your kids is sick, but there are degrees of 'not fun.' Sick babies are sad but manageable. Sick babies sleep and want you to hold them. Whatever. Sick kids are fine, too. Sick kids curl up on the couch under a blanket and watch a SpongeBob marathon. Easy peasy. Sick husbands kind of fall under the category of 'sick kids' because they whine and fuss and ask for you to bring them apple juice boxes and the remote control, but you don't really feel too bad for them. (Your husband does this, too, right? Because the only thing keeping me from kicking Shaun when he's sick is my belief that all men act like babies when they're sick. If I find out different he's getting a nasty surprise the next time he's not feeling well.)

I had forgotten what it's like to have a sick toddler or preschooler. Sick toddlers are complete monsters. I could do nothing to make Brandon happy for about three days straight. He wouldn't eat, but he was hungry and kept begging for snacks. He wouldn't sleep, but he was exhausted. He wouldn't sit still because he was restless. If he dropped a toy he'd wail like the world had just ended. When we'd wake up in the morning he would cry like he'd just been orphaned if Shaun or I forgot to carry him down the stairs--what kind of parents were we to expect him to walk down by himself?

As a result, I didn't sleep for three nights straight, and barely got a chance to sit down for three days. Every conversation with Brandon was like navigating an emotional minefield. I had to use my entire store of fake enthusiastic voices. "Brandon! Doesn't this yogurt look yummy?! Let's try some yogurt!" I was beat after the first day, so you can just imagine my condition after three days. I'm pretty sure I couldn't even form complete sentences by the time Shaun got home from work each evening.

The silver lining to this cloud is that now I am not at all sad that Brandon is growing up. You just keep right on growing up, little man. Because Mommy is not cut out for all-nighters any more. No more inconsolable crying, meals that take three hours or late nights for me. Bring on eleven hours of sleep at at time and kids who play by themselves. I have come to my senses--courtesy of the Strep Throat Monster. (That's our new name for the kid formerly known as The Best Baby Ever.)