a little routine.

There's a lot about parenting I don't know.  How long do you have?  Did you want to go to bed before midnight tonight...because I could get started with my list. 
(We all know how much I love lists!). 

But one thing I do know is that a kid loves a routine.  At least my kids do.  And their Mama, well she loves a routine too. 

How about this for a routine...I drink two cups of coffee with vanilla creamer, eat cinnamon and sugar toast, and a banana, every single morning...of my life.  I totally empathize with IV drug users.  I get it.

I want to be the cool, go with the flow, parent that throws their nose in the air to bedtime.  But I'm not.  And for that reason, my kids are not either.

As much as I try to be 'Type B', I am a whole lotta 'A'.  With a capital 'A'. 

But when a routine looks like this...seriously, who would ever wanna miss it.

...followed by a book and a bottsie.

Night night buddy.



over the mountains and thru the woods.

Headed to the cabin this weekend to do a little of this...

and some of that...

maybe this...

some more of that...

and a whole lotta this...

six month love letter.

Carson Ryan Quinn,

You're six months old baby boy.  This doesn't even feel possible.  Time is absolutely flying by...and I so desperately want to slow it down.  If you could just press the 'pause' button on yourself that would be great.  I promise to give you all the pureed food your big tummy can handle if you will do me this one tiny favor.  PUHLEASE. 

You've changed A LOT in these six months.  That fat little face is reminding me more and more of your big sis everyday.  But more than you just growing big, you have become a different baby.  YOU ARE SO HAPPY!  Ugh, those first four months, I seriously thought you were broken.  And trust me, I was looking for my receipt so I could return you.  But how glad am I that there is a 'no return policy' at Evergreen Hospital (I looked into it)...because what a little love you have turned into.  It's like a switch was flipped (or maybe it's because we starting giving you formula, or maybe because you started sleeping through the night, or maybe because I went back to work and you just needed some space from your super crazy, overbearing, mother).  Whatever it is...don't change...stay sweet...and every other nice thing I can think of to write in your 7th grade year book. 

You literally smile from the minute you wake up till the minute we put you to bed at night.  You are a doll baby.  A living, breathing, smiling, drooling, pooping doll.  I love absolutely every thing about you.  I love that your fist is ALWAYS in your mouth.  I love that you drool like a drunken sailor.  I love that you whip your head around at light speed whenever you hear your sister come in the room (and trust me, it's never quietly).  I love that you barely fit into your 3-6 month clothes.  I love that you are too long for all your 9 months footie jammies.  I love that you never fail to poop up your back.  I love that you squawk...loudly...when you're bored.  I love that you hate to face 'inwards' when you are being held, and always throw yourself away when I won't turn you around to face the world.  I love that you figured out how to roll from tummy to back now, because it was getting really annoying when you'd roll from back to tummy in your crib at...say 2am...and cry until someone flipped you back over.  Like really, really annoying.  I love how much you move and roll and reach for anything.  I love how much it makes your dad and I laugh that we ever thought it was normal that your sister never did any of this.  I love how much you love your bananas.  I love how ticklish you are.  Oh, and don't even get me started on your giggle.  I love how when you see your bottsie you absolutely lose your mind.  I love your false eyelashes.  I love that you're a good sleeper and a good napper.  I love that you always have your blankie over your head when I peek on you.  I love how you kick your fat little legs like crazy in the tub.  I love your smell.  I love that you are a binky boy.  I love when you wrap your drool covered little hands around me and nuzzle into my neck.  I love that you you could sit in your johnny jump all day long.  I love that you don't mind that you do.  I love that I could seriously sit here and type for 10 hours about all the stuff I love about you.  I love that your smile moves mountains.  No, seriously, ever since you started smiling Mt. Rainier is now about 6 feet to the left.  I love how much everyone else loves you.  And most of all I love that you are our 'bruddy'. 

You are something pretty special little man.  And just how your sis will always be our first baby, our first love, our first everything.  Well...you get to be our last.  The one we're truly grateful for.  The one that made us realize what a miracle a healthy babe is all about.  The one who helped mend our very broken hearts.  And most importantly, the one we could never imagine this family without.  You changed us.  You fixed us.  You completed us.  And we thank you.

xoxo

Your bursting at the seams Mama.

freeze.

Anyone have a freeze gun? 

Because I would like to freeze these two, at these ages...

for the rest of their lives.

Four year olds and six month olds rule.

Take that O'Doyle.

winner. winner.

She's become a bona-fide one. 

Maybe it's because I make out with Carson from the minute he wakes up till the minute he goes to sleep (he's just at that oh-so- kissable age).  Don't worry, no tongue.

Or maybe it's because last week I yelled at her to "STOP YELLING!"  Literally, I got in her face, and yelled at her to stop yelling.  Then I started laughing.  Because I realized how ridiculous and awful my parenting was.  Who yells at someone to stop yelling?

Boy was she confused.

Regardless, she stopped.

I think the only good part of my parenting is making my kids think that I am actually borderline crazy.  And could possibly kill them at any minute.

Oooooh, I would love to be a fly on the wall at her first therapy session.

She's a smart girl.  I'd pick Ryan over me too...any day of the week.  He's so mild mannered.

BORING!

hawaii five-o.

We sunbathed.  We shopped til we dropped.  We ran everyday.  We went to coffee everyday.  We fell in love again.  We stayed out late.  We slept in.  We took naps.  We burned our feet on the sand.  We read books.  We talked, and talked, and talked...with no interruptions.  We relaxed.  We missed the babies.  We people watched.  We were on 'island time'.  We puked in the bushes (okay, only one of us).  We ate so much sushi we should have probably had our mercury levels checked.  We paid way too much for cocktails.  We laughed our heads off.  We met Phil Dunphy.  We partied with Phil Dunphy. 

Fiona slept with Phil Dunphy. 

And most importantly, we saw one of the most beautiful brides I've ever laid eyes on marry her beau, in one of the most beautiful places I've ever been to.

It was nothing short of amazing.

A wise friend once told me 'you are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.' Well, if I'm the average of these five people. I've got it made.

get with it already.

I'm in a bloggin' slump.

So chew on this for now.

I promise to get it together.

Soon.

(I'm sure you're on pins & needles).

mom's day.

I had to work Mother's Day.  Isn't that the saddest?  I mean what a cruddy way to celebrate a day all about Mama's and ALL we do (which is everything...duh).  Insert sob here. 

But don't feel too bad for me...because here's the best part (or the worst part)...it was my most favorite Mother's Day to date.  Isn't that awful? 

 No it's not...because I am THE worst at getting my hopes up.  I always think these days are going to be filled with endless excitement, well behaved children, butterflies and rainbows, and champagne will be falling from the skies (I'd prefer beer, but champagne sounds fancier).  And I'm always let down.  Not because people don't do enough, not because I don't feel loved and appreciated, it's because my expectations are not realistic...ever. 
Here's a little example:

When Ryan and I were in Hawaii we went to this very fancy mall that had some very fancy shops.  One of them being Louis Vuitton.  There has been a bag I have always wanted at Louis' shop, so I made Ry go in with me to check it out.  He humored me.  I tried it on, tried to sell him on it, checked the price tag (yowza), took another stab at the trying to sell him part, batted my eyelashes, stuck my booty out a little, explained why it would make so much sense for us to invest in this fine piece of leather...and we walked out empty handed.  So a few days later, as I was lying by the pool, Ry went for a run and told me he was going to have a surprise for me when he got back.  Instantly, I thought he would surely run to L.V., buy me my dream bag, and we would pull our champagne flutes out, hold them up to the sky,  and start drinking.  He came back from his run...

with a Cosmopolitan Magazine. 

Mind you, I haven't read Cosmo since I was 17. 
My life is one big self inflicted disappointment after another.

So this is the long (very long) winded reason why this was my favorite Mom's Day thus far.  My expectations were low...and all were exceeded. 

Beyond exceeded.

It started with Hadley coming in our room at 4:30am to wish me a Happy Mother's Day, she was quickly escorted out, as I gumpily told her we would celebrate later.  Then we met up again when she came running downstairs (now it's 5:30am...and I have had a cup of coffee, and my mood is improving) to wish me a Happy Mother's Day (again) and give me the two presents she had been hiding under her bed since Wednesday.  I have never seen her so excited.  She was absolutely giddy.  I loved it.  What a way to start the day.

Handmade with love (and a little help from Zaides).

This flower handmade with love (with a little help from Miss Michelle).

Next, Ry and the kiddos met me at work and were my cutest little lunch dates.  They brought me my favorite sandwich from Specialties Cafe, a soda, and a bag of Sea Salt and Vinegar chips.  This would totally be my 'last supper' meal.  Then I paraded them around the ward, beaming with pride, as my coworkers ooooh'd and ahhhhh'd over each of them.

And last but not least (actually it's the icing on the cake) I came home to a clean house, all the laundry done and folded, my favorite candle burning, dinner made, a cold beer (with a lime nontheless), a countertop full of presents, a LOT of homemade cards, and an up way past her bedtime 4 year old who could not have been more excited to shower her Mama in love, hugs, and kisses. 

Yeah, I'm pretty lucky.

It was absolute perfection.

(but I still don't have the f*ing purse).

'Happy MoTHErs day Mama

carson

dada dad daddy

HadLEy

PrEnTicE

LovE LovE'