no brothers allowed.

"Hey Mama, when I am gone be sure Carson doesn't go in my room.  Just keep the door closed.  And if he does try to go in my room, then maybe lock the door.  But if you can't lock it, then tell him he can look at my things but he definitely can't touch them.  Especially my babies.  I don't want him playing with any of their things or waking them up.  And I don't want him in my make-up...actually, I don't even want him to play at my make-up table.  If he doesn't listen, just give him a time-out.  But not in my reading chair.  He gets drool on it.  So give him a time-out on the stairs.  And make sure he doesn't mess up my 'work' chart.  He always pulls off the stars and then I don't know what I did that day.  And don't let him rip my books.  My books are special.  Actually Mama, how about we just don't let Carson in my room while I am gone.  Maybe put a sign on the door."

Guess he can't read.

da booty.

Wonder if the Betty Ford Center has a ward for Pirates Booty addicts?

If so...we better reserve this kid a room.

disneyland...take two.

She got her golden ticket.

She packed her bags.

And her baby's bags.

And her baby's baby's bags.

And off she went.

For a four day trip with Zaide, Baba, & Maddie to the happiest place on earth.

She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, and she couldn't smile any bigger.

I can guarantee she's eaten doughnuts for breakfast, churros for lunch, and ice cream for dinner.  

Daily.

And I couldn't be happier for her.

four eyes.

Someone got glasses.

We found out she was blind at her five year appointment.

Is it bad that I was a tad excited?

I am a sucker for people in glasses.

When I look at her I seriously can't stop smiling.

I also can't stop humming the words to 'Stay' by Lisa Loeb.

18 month love letter.

Dear Carson.

My oh my has someone stormed into toddler hood.
Actually, you're not a storm...you're a tsunami.
But kid, you are happy.  And I like happy.
(although I could do without the messy...I don't like messy).
You still wake up with the BIGGEST smile on your round little face, and instantly start 'talking'.  I haven't a clue what you are saying...but you say a lot of it.  And you say it loudly.  You're starting to put words together, and you completely understand everything we say.  It's always amazing to me that we tell you to do something, and your little body can actually go and do it.  Your favorite words are Mama, Hiya (Hi), Dada, Baba, Uh-Oh, All done, and Da-doo (doggy).  And you're adding more to the mix everyday.  You love to point out your belly button, your ears, your mouth, your nose, your eyes...and you get it right about 50% of the time.  This I love.
You love being outside.  Every time someone opens a door you make a bee-line for it.  And you completely lose your mind if you are not allowed out said door.  You hate the stroller, but love the backpack.  And your all time favorite thing to do is to just walk.  The other day you walked over a mile, up hill, both ways, in the snow, with Zaide.  You're a man on-the-go.
You are obsessed with cars, and airplanes, and any kind of ball.  You love to make your sister crazy...I can't believe you know how to do this so well already.  You love to be rocked to sleep, and I love to rock you because it's the only time you are ever still in a 12 hour day.  You love people.  You are so friendly and so endearing.  You are very, very animated and the more excited you get the cuter you get.  You always do a little jig, and tuck your little hands behind your back and yell "HIYA" at the top of your lungs.  I love that you're not shy. But, I also love the times you are shy and you cling onto my neck for dear life.  My friend, you can do no wrong.
You have settled in quite nicely to the tantrum throwing phase of life.  Anytime something doesn't go your way, you are instantly on the floor, thrashing around, convulsing, stomping your feet (I have started carrying rectal diastat in my purse).  And then you're done.  Just like that.  I kind of dig this about you.  You get mad...then you run to hit your head on something and/or throw a chair and/or hit the dog...and then you're over it.  Where as your sister would still be talking about her 'terrible injustice' five days later.  You two are making me see the profound difference between a girl and a boy.  And I love that I have one of each.
You love to get dirty.  You love every food you put in your mouth.  The other night at Chipotle you ate two entire kids meals by yourself.  You still drink milk from a bottle.  Your shirts are always destroyed by the end of the day.  You love to jump off things, and will stand on the coffee table and yell "DO, DO, DEE" (one, two, three), and then catapult yourself off.  You definitely can keep up with the big kids now.  You love tubbies.  You say 'no-no' to everything.  You lose your marbles when we put you in your carseat.  The other day you ate all of Frank's dog treats.  You do nothing gently.  You hit your head a minimum of 10 times a day...and never, ever cry about it.  But when you do get hurt, you always want your Mama.  Always.  You hate shopping carts.  You love Pirates Booty.  And you love to make a mess.  The bigger the mess, the happier you are.
You are like a blender with the lid off pal.  You are a whole lot of crazy.
And I am absolutely crazy about you.
xoxo
Your, boy lovin', Mama. 

parkin' it up.

Hey, rain... 

Leave us alone.

We've got some parks to get back to.

dream a little dream.

This picture proves that miracles really do happen.

For two reasons.

One.

These two have never, ever both fallen asleep on me while I've rocked them at night.

This I loved.

Two.

Ry grabbed a camera and took a picture of it.

This I loved just as much.

I need to buy a lottery ticket.

sharing 101.

These two need a crash course.

happy everything day.

My mom's birthday almost always falls on Mother's Day.

And sometimes she gets 'rooked'.

But this year she didn't.

And she had her four biggest fans to cheer her on.

And nothing, I mean nothing, makes her happier than these four little people.

Except maybe a pan of Rice Krispie treats.

HAPPY {late} BIRHTDAY ZAIDE!!!

xoxo

from your four little Princesses.

mama's day.

Mother's Day.

Five years into this gig and I finally got it down right.

I plan everything myself.

Started the morning off with a little run.

(and met every damn hill in Kirkland a long the way).

Then off for a massage with my Mama.

A quick stop at Molbak's.

(with every single other mother on the Greater Eastside).

Capped the day off with a BBQ and cold beers at Auntie Val's.

A lot of me time, with a potpourri of children.

Best. One. Yet.

Peace out.