On The First Official Day of Summer Break

We had a really good weekend.  The girls had field day/last day of school festivities on Friday.  I can't believe Hannah will be in Kindergarten next year!  And Camden moves on from Pre-preschool to just regular preschool.  SLOW DOWN TIME!!!  The field day activities were over at noon and the long weekend started.  Luckily, it was Heath's Friday off and we got to spend some really fun time together as a family at field day...minus Logan.  He was home and in very good hands with a dear friend.

Another brag about my man.  #1.  Look at him.  He melts my heart every time! His kids love him SO much.  #2.  He was one of the only Dads there and played non-stop with the kids.  One little boy was calling him Dad by the end of the day and told Heath he wanted him to come home with him.  He's quite a man.  And husband.  And Dad.  We sure lucked out!  He makes everything so much more fun!  #3.  SO much love.  Him for us.  Us for him.  Heart full.

Me and the girls.  I had to be the voice of reason.  I had to intervene a few times to get Heath and the playing kids on track with the teachers and games so no one got in trouble.  The kids had more fun with Heath than the scheduled games!

Moving on.  The weekend was full of playing outside and eating and spending time with friends.  I was having so much fun that I forgot to pick up the camera.  My bad!

Then, Tuesday rolled around.  Heath went back to work.  This is the first day of the kids being home with me all on our own.  It's going to happen a lot in the next few months.

I thought I'd be proactive about keeping them happy and asked what they wanted to do with the day as soon as they woke up.  Camden wanted to paint.  Unfortunately, we can only do this when Logan naps.  Even more unfortunately, he was up really early and was ready for his first nap at 8 a.m.  As soon as he went down, I made the painting dreams come true.  This was a good hour worth of fun!  It was all over by 9 a.m.  I was really hoping it would happen later in the day, but we take what we can get!

I asked Hannah what she wanted to do.  The girl wants to go to Disney World...TODAY!  After explaining why that couldn't happen, she settled on just playing outside and staying in her pajamas all day.  DONE!  By 9:30 a.m. the painting was over and so was the playing outside.

Hannah has a hard time playing what other people want her to play.  She wants everyone to do what she wants to do.  I was trying to get some cleaning done, which she didn't like. Camden was playing teacher...happily...all by herself, which Hannah didn't like because that's not what she wanted to play.  This left Hannah in the dust to entertain herself.  I thought she was better at this!  Apparently, I was mistaken.

Cue sulking 5-year-old hiding under a chair until someone wanted to play with her.  She really thinks this is punishment for us.  This could be a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG wait, sister!

Happy Camden playing teacher all by herself.

This day already feels like it should be drawing to a close.  It just started.  Only 11 more hours until bedtime!  No big deal!  I have a lot of ideas on what we can do, but I'm trying my best to save some for other days this summer.  I have a feeling my best ideas might all be used up on the first day of summer break.  HELP!  Comment and leave me some ideas on what to do with three kids ages 5 and under for a whole summer.  Gramma suggested baking cookies.  I think we may give that a try during Mr. Logan's afternoon nap.  I need more ideas, though, guys!  Give me your best shot!

On Being So Mad I Could Cut You!!!!

Ladies!!!  Listen to me!!!  STOP CUTTING EACH OTHER DOWN!!!  I am so sick of people feeling inadequate based on petty little crap that other women are saying about them.  I get it.  I do.  It's "in our nature".  I can guarantee you if you stop worrying about your hair and how your make up looks for one second that you might find a lifelong friend in someone you otherwise would have stayed away from because they don't "look right".  IT'S SO STUPID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  There are not enough exclamations points for that last sentence to express how I feel about this.

I have felt unworthy.  I have felt ugly.  I have felt fat.  I have felt unfashionable.  I have felt just plain not good enough so many times in my life that I have lost count.  And you know what?  That's on me.  Not on you.  I constantly compare myself to other people because I constantly hear from other women my age all of the critical crap that comes out of a woman's mouth about other women that DOESN'T MEAN A THING!!!!  We listen to the jabs that our friends make about other women.  We internalize that and vow to never do that so we don't look stupid in front of our friends.  It just now started boggling my mind...I'm a little slow.  Should it have started bugging me a LOOOOOOOOOONG time ago?  YUP!

I have a man who loves me just the way I am.  He claims he loves me best without make up.  He claims I look hottest in work out clothes (OK, maybe that's because this NEVER happens anymore).  He never mentions when I put on a full face and dress up in my best clothes.  This doesn't turn his head like I hope it will.  Know why?  He loves me when I am ME.  That's when I turn his head.  I am so done trying to impress other women.  Honestly, when it boils down to it, isn't that the root of most of this crap we do...botox, plastic surgery, starving ourselves, paying an arm and a leg for the "best" make-up and clothes?  It's not for our men!  It's so that other women will look at us and say, "I wish I was her!"  It's ridiculous!  I do not want my girls growing up with this pressure.  Here are some hard facts.

Let's get real.  I am a size 12.  I weight 155 pounds.  I have a crooked face.  I am getting older.  I have lines around my eyes.  I have cellulite.  I have had 3 babies in the past 5 years years.  Does that make a difference on the body?  NO!  OK.  I'm lying.  Yes, it does.  In so many ways I can't even being to count them.  Would I change it for a second?  NOPE! I am flabby because I can't find the energy in a day to work out right now when my babies still need so much of my time.  Do I care?  HELL yes I do.  Why?  Because all of you tell me I should.  And because the roll over the waistband of my pants when I sit down is a little uncomfortable.  Do you like me any less than you did before you read this paragraph?  If you do, I really think maybe we shouldn't be friends because I don't want to care and if being around you makes me care, I don't want anything to do with it.  Do you feel smug that you weigh less, wear a smaller size, have less wrinkles and less cellulite?  That makes me sad if it does.  THAT'S the exact problem I'm talking about!

I understand that a lot of you will read my stats in that last paragraph and die a little inside thinking about being this big.  I know that some of you might think "that's pretty good! I wouldn't mind being that size".  It's all relative and it's all so superficial!

Am I going to keep working out and keep trying to eat right and take vitamins, etc?  YUP!  Do I hope to be a smaller size someday?  YUP.  I actually just want to sit down in a pair of jeans and not have to pull the waistband up over my tummy roll?  Feel me?  Am I letting go of how much of my time this takes up and how much it matters?  YUP!  Because my main goal right now is to be healthy and happy with who I am.  That's the example I want to set for my girls.

I have met some people in this world who I am amazed by.  They are full figured and so confident that you don't even notice a little extra skin.  I am searching for that confidence.  Honestly, when I'm around them, I just see a confidence that I hope to have someday.  Not a number on a scale or a size marked on their clothes.  I would trade with them in a second to have that confidence.

Do I hate you because you are smaller than me?  Maybe a little...I mean NO!  Do I want to drag you down because you have time do your hair, make up, pick a cute outfit (and know how to put one together) everyday?  NO.  Am I jealous?  Maybe a little.  Want to come do that here!?!?!

Do I take whatever time I can find to make myself feel pretty?  You betcha.  But at this point, that's for me.  Not you.  I am going to wear what I feel pretty in and what I want to.  If I look a little lumpier than you, can you do me a favor?  Don't say anything to me or anyone else because I feel pretty.  So should you!

If working out is your thing.  You look AMAZING!  I do not want to take that away from you.  I know you are working hard for the body you have.  FLAUNT IT!  Enjoy it!!!  Just don't make the rest of us feel bad if that can't be a priority in our lives.

I feel like I'm all over the place.  I should put out there that I do not think I'm fat.  I eat right (most of the time).  I get my unconventional workout in when I chase my 3 kids around.  I get on my elliptical.  Shaun T has tried (and very seriously succeeded) in kicking my butt with T25.  I am not condoning an unhealthy lifestyle here.  I just want every to sit back and be thankful for what they have and to understand that not all bodies work the same.  I am the size I was in high school.  I have tried every diet under the sun.  You know what helped me lose weight?  Being pregnant.  Throwing up for 9 months definitely makes you smaller.  I gained 15 lbs with my last baby.  He was 8 lbs 9 oz at birth.  Was this ideal? ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!  Want to know what's sad?  I had that superior feeling when I would talk to other women who had babies.  I liked to brag about it.  I get that need to feel "better" about weight.  IT'S RIDICULOUS!!!  It ends now.

Do me a favor.  Stop worrying about what other people think.  Embrace yourself!  Flaunt what you have no matter what size you are.  And please!  PLEASE!!!  Stop finding fault in other women.  You want to know why you are doing that?  To make yourself feel better.  Is it really working?  I bet not.  Instead, why don't you compliment other women on what you see that looks beautiful about them.  Let's build each other up and stop tearing each other down.  At some point, it's time to leave the high school mentality behind.

Go.  Look in the mirror.  LOVE who you are.  Find 10 things about yourself you love and screw the rest.  Or work on the rest, but work on it for you...or your man.  Promise me NOT to do it for other women.  We will never be satisfied.  We will always judge and be judged.  Starting today, let that crap go!  

On Digging Deep

Some days as a parent, you just have to dig deep.  Dig for patience, energy, time, and yes, sometimes even "like".  We always, always LOVE our kids, but let's be honest, sometimes they are hard to like.  

This week, I got hit with my second go so far this year with a stomach bug.  Or food poisoning.  Whatever it was, it knocked me out for two days.  On top of that, I haven't been sleeping well.  Mommy monster wanted to rage her ugly head all day both days.  By eight o'clock in the morning yesterday, I knew if I heard one more whine or fight, my head was literally going to explode.  Luckily, the girls had school, so that saved the day.  Friday is their last day before summer break.  Say some prayers.  Things might get ugly around here next week.

Now, let's talk timing.  Kids are always ALWAYS going to ruin your timing.  For someone who is obsessed with time and routines, this throws me for a loop.  I've learned to calm down...somewhat...in the past five years.  My husband would completely disagree that I've chilled out.  I still have some work to do on this one.

Back to the story.  Monday afternoon around 2:15, I started feeling nauseous.  I mean really nauseous.  I also had to leave in 30 minutes to pick the girls up from school.  It was too late to call in Daddy to save the day.  So, off I went.  I literally ran through the school and hustled the kids out to the car as fast as possible.  The minute I walked in the door of the house, I got pretty sick.  Seriously?  Could it not have waited one more stinking hour?  On the bright side, at least I made it home in the nick of time.

Heath did come to the rescue at this point.  He rushed home and took over all the evening duties.  He's the best.  I really hit the jackpot.

The next day was a little better, but I still couldn't leave the house.  Or get off of the couch for too long.  Add a cranky, teething baby boy, and there I was, digging deep.  I cried at one point.  He cried...all day.  Neither of us napped well.  As my Grandma always says, everything gets over.  That's what I focused on.

As parents, we really can't get sick.  There is too much that depends on us.  I hope that all of you have a spouse like mine who rushes in and saves the day to get you through the worst of it.  Throwing up is always a fail, but we'll be positive and add this to the wins because I definitley won the husband lottery.  And he was in town when this all went down.  Major win!

On Inviting Your Kids To Help in the Kitchen

The thought of my kids in the kitchen makes me want to have a full blown panic attack.  Messes tend to send my stress level through the roof.  When the house is a mess and the kids are being crazy, I get a little (OK, A LOT...sorry for yelling) crazy, too.  I can handle crazy kids if there is some organization happening.  You're laughing at me because life with kids is a constant state of messy craziness, aren't you?  I'm working on finding patience and peace with this, so cut me a little slack.  Deal?

I have never been the type of Mom who invites their children to help out in the kitchen.  Kitchen messes are especially horrific for me.  Most nights, it's a rush to get dinner done and served.  Most nights, at least one of my children has a mental breakdown and cries through the whole dinner cooking process.  Most nights, I am ready for a sedative after the dinner process is finished.  I just figured that having little ones in there "helping" in the midst of the craziest hour of my day might send me right over the edge.  I might have been...I was...wrong.

One of my bigger mommy fails has been missing out on the fun of letting my kids help out in the kitchen.  I wish I would have learned this lesson sooner.  Before a few weeks ago, I bet I could count on one hand the number of times my girls had helped me cook or bake.  Gramma has always let them help her bake things, so I convinced myself it would just be a special Gramma thing.  That took care of the guilt of knowing I was intentionally keeping them out of my kitchen for my own selfish reasons.

Gramma making cookies with Hannah (age: almost 2) for the first time.

A few weeks ago, Hannah asked me if we could bake a chocolate cake together.  I told her of course, but that we would have to get a cake mix first.  You guys, I KNEW she would forget about it by the end of the day and I would be off of the hook.  I had no intention of actually making this happen.  For some reason, it stuck in my head and I got brave.  I bought a cake mix the next time I was at the store and both girls helped bake it.  

Look at those little faces!  They had SO much fun!  The biggest shocker for me was that I had just as much or more fun than they did.  I relaxed.  I let the messes happen.  I LET THEM CRACK EGGS.  It took a little extra time to clean it up, but it was so much more than worth it.  Camden enjoyed every part of this experience.  I think Hannah only stuck around so that she could help lick the bowl, but she had fun and that's what counts!

A week later, Camden helped make green chile chicken soup.  She LOVED it!  There was a point in the process where we had to let the soup simmer for ten minutes.  I told her she could go play and I would let her know when it was time for the next step.  She sat on her chair right by the ingredients and waited through the whole ten minutes.  She was totally engaged.  It was so much fun cooking with her.  She soaked in every part of the process.  From "reading" the recipe to dumping ingredients together to taste testing it at the end.

Little chef-in-training

My new goal is to let the kids help me cook once a week.  Cooking and baking with your kids is always a huge win.  I wish I would have relaxed and started doing this sooner.  Better late than never!  If you feel like I do about kitchen messes, let it go.  Invite your kids to help you bake or cook next time you are in the kitchen.  I promise you will both love it.  If you already do this with your kids, hats off to you!  You are winning!

On Trashy Babies

Babies are completely adorable!  I have always believed that they are as close to Heaven as we can possibly get here on Earth.  I swear Hannah saw angels when she was just a tiny little thing.  There was a corner in our first house that she would fixate on and smile the most beautiful, joy-filled smile.  I can still see that smile in my head.  It makes me smile.  It makes me feel peaceful.  I know she was seeing angels.  Does that make me crazy?  It's a happy crazy, so I'm going to stick with it.

                                                       Hannah and her Uncle Nate hanging out when she was 2 months old.  

                                                    She was looking at her corner smiling in this one.  We were all cracking 

                                                     up at her smiling at the angels!  Not so funny when you stop and think 

                                                                                   about it.  Pretty amazing, really!

Babies are also completely disgusting.  I could go on and on about the things that come out of their little bodies.  Usually, those nasty things end up all over me.  I can't remember what it's like to not be covered in baby yuck.  I will also admit that I wouldn't change a single disgusting second.  

In our house, our babies have always been drawn to disgusting places that adults try to avoid.  Toilets are completely fascinating.  Logan stuck his hand in one as Camden was peeing just the other day.  He was having a great time.  I was having a heart attack.  DISGUSTING!

A main focal point for babies in the Lynch house has ALWAYS been the trash can.  When Hannah was just barely one-year-old, we had to hide it in the laundry room because the minute she started walking, she became a dumpster diving trash can addict.  Luckily, in that house the laundry room was right next to the kitchen.  We very quickly moved the trash can behind that closed door.  Problem solved.  Camden ignored trash cans.  By the time she was old enough to find a trash can, we lived in a house where it had its own pull-out drawer in the kitchen.  Every house should come with this.  It should be required in the building permits.  Home inspections should fail unless there is trash can drawer that is in place and functional.  Logan became mobile when were once again in a house where the trash can didn't have its own home/drawer.  Our trash can is where we need it...in the kitchen.  It is too big to fit in a cabinet or the pantry, so it hangs out at the end of our island for all babies to discover and enjoy.

The boy spends all day touching it.

And throwing things in it.

And trying to figure out a way to get his treasures back out once he's thrown them in.  This usually ends up in Mom or Dad digging through the trash until we find his treasure and return it safely (after it has a bath) to him.

Please tell me my little weirdos aren't the only ones who do this!  If you know why, please enlighten me!  Is it because the can is shiny?  Because it has a really cool lid that opens and closes?  Because it's just the right (or wrong) height?

I'm adding this to the Mommy fail category.  After three kids, I still can't figure out the fascination.  I still haven't learned how to stop this disgustingness, short of hiding the trash can, which isn't an option in this house.  I am very ready for the day when he leaves this nasty piece of necessary household equipment alone.  I'm tired of dumpster diving, little buddy, but I will do it for the rest of my life if it makes you happy!  Let's just make sure we always have enough anti-bacterial soap, OK?

On Your Kids Being Upset When it's About You and Not Them

Yesterday was Mother's Day.  I love days that are all about me, and I'm not afraid to admit it.  My birthday used to be a really big deal.  I declared a long time ago that I do not have a birthDAY, I have a birthMONTH.  Like any wonderful set of parents, mine went along with this for some unknown reason for years.  I guess they like me.  My husband, however, has reigned me in quite a bit.  The man would forget his own birthday every year if I wasn't here to remind him and to try to make it a big deal.  The idea of a birthday going on for a whole month was a bit too much for him to deal with.

Anyway, back to Mother's Day and mad children.  I woke up at 7 a.m. to a quiet house.  No kids were up yet!  Unheard of.  The day was off to a great start.  I quietly tried to sneak out to the kitchen and get myself a cup of coffee, but was stopped in my tracks.  I was wrong.  Camden was up and was going to come surprise me, so I had to get back in bed before I ruined everything.  Back to bed I went, still desperately needing my coffee.  There is a rule in this house:  coffee before Camden.  I guess rules are meant to be broken on special days.

In walks this adorable little girl.  She had her head down and shy smile on her face.  She walked up to the side of the bed and whispered, "Happy Mother's Day" and then turned to walk out again.  I made her come hug me (yes, I had to MAKE her), and started getting out of bed.  She stopped me with a look of death (she's good at those) and in a stern voice said, "Mommy!  No!  Ms Michele and Ms Paloma (her preschool teachers) said that you have to stay in bed all day and let us bring you stuff".  There was no doubt in her mind that this is what was going to happen.  My brain couldn't handle calmly addressing this child with that look on her face without coffee.  WHERE WAS MY COFFEE?  The hero of this story, Heath, chose that moment to walk in with a huge mug of deliciousness.  Camden got her wish (sort of) because I stayed in bed until the coffee was gone.  I got my wish...coffee.  Crisis averted.

The next Lynch kid to grace us with their presence was the cutest baby boy I've ever laid eyes on (I might be completely biased on this one).  He gave me a huge grin and ran to me for a hug.  My heart may have melted.

Enter the last of the Lynch kids to wake up.  Sulky Hannah.  She refused to come near me.  Heath tried to convince her to give me a hug.  She shook her head no and beelined it for another room where she sat with a frown on her face for the better part of an hour.  This particular Lynch kid has a really hard time dealing with days that are about someone else.  The idea of her as a teenager terrifies me.  Luckily, she eventually got over it and her incredibly sweet side came out.  I finally got my huge hug and some I love you's.

I had a special breakfast made by my man and my Camden.

I forced the kids to smile and take a picture with me.  I'm trying to create memories here, kids, work with me, please!!!  After a few takes, we finally got one...

I didn't have to bathe a single child yesterday.  I didn't clean a single dish, pick up a single toy, or worry about a single mess.  I had some Mommy drinks and went to bed with a fuzzy head, smiling face, and full heart.  

On What it Means to be a Mother

We all know and love our Mothers.  At least, I hope we do.  They make mistakes, they get impatient, they yell, but under it all, they love us more than anyone else on this planet.  Right now, I want to take a minute for all of the Mothers who have lost a baby.  They are mothers with empty arms.

My story is short and not at all as heartbreaking as some I have heard.  I have 3 beautiful, healthy, annoying...I mean...sweet, and funny children.  They make my whole life worth living.  I would lay down my life for them without blinking.  

But....

Between my first and second little angel being born, we lost a baby.  It was very early.  I found out one week that I was pregnant and the next I was in an ER bleeding and being told I was having a miscarriage.  They told me I was lucky.  It was so early on that I shouldn't have much cramping and it would be like having a heavy period.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  I was lucky?!?  It doesn't matter how early or how late.  I wanted that baby with all of my being.  It's not one of those things you understand until it happens to you.  To me, that was the next Hannah.  The next piece of me and Heath that had my whole heart from the minute I found out the baby existed.

There is something about carrying a child and being the only one who knows it for nine months that is special.  It's a bond like no other.  I had lost it in an instant.  

Looking back, yes, I suppose I was lucky.  I didn't get to the point where I was showing or could feel the baby move.  It was too early to even know what we were having.  But my heart and soul ached and yearned for that baby.

Everyone I knew was trying to be supportive by telling me it was meant to be.  Obviously God wanted that baby with Him and not here with us for some reason.  Pregnancies don't take sometimes because there was something wrong.  It was OK.  I heard that from everyone.  My husband.  My Mom.  My friends.  They were trying to help, yet I sunk deeper in a hole.

I was in no way ok.  I was heartbroken.  I still am.  I am crying right now thinking about it.  I tried to forget about it.  It didn't work.  In my effort to be ok, I started drinking 3-4 beers...every day...for 2 weeks.  My system wasn't used to that and couldn't handle it, but it eased the ache for a short time.  It wasn't until I broke down crying and admitted to myself and everyone else that I was not OK, that I started to feel a little more like me again.  I had to mourn that baby who will be nameless, faceless, genderless to me until God calls me home.  Nothing about losing a baby is OK.

Mother's Day can be heartbreaking for those who aren't as lucky as I am.  Yes, I lost one, but I now have three!  The silver lining in losing that baby is that I would not have Camden if that baby had survived.  I wouldn't know what I was missing.  When I look in Camden's sweet little face and laugh yet again at something she is saying or doing, I am thankful for her, even if it meant facing a heartbreak like I'd never known before in my life and hope to never know again.

My prayer today is for all of those Mothers who have yet to hold a baby in their arms.  They are mothers just like me, but they are Mothers to little angels and are missing that piece of Heaven here on Earth.  Please, take a minute today to think about these Mothers and to say a prayer for them. Pray for those Mothers who carried a baby safely for months, only to have to say goodbye when something went wrong.  So many parents have to say goodbye before they even get a chance to say hello: stillborn babies, miscarriages, pregnancies that are abnormal and terminate themselves, the list goes on.   It isn't fair, but you are still Mothers!

Say one for the women who never even get the chance.  Women who hear that they will never have children of their own.  They can still be a Mom even if it isn't through carrying and giving birth themselves.  Adopted babies are just as important and even more special.  Pray for those girls right now who are pregnant and terrified and feel like they don't have options.  I don't want to get on my high horse.  I don't want to judge or rant.  I just want everyone who has the desire to be a mom to have that chance.  Think about adoption.  It changes lives.

There is no moral to this story other than be compassionate.  Be understanding.  Hug a Mom and let her know she is doing a great job.  It doesn't matter if she has a baby in her arms or a baby in her heart.  She is a Mother.  Hug her.  She deserves it.

I was out of town at the wedding of a dear friend when I found out I was pregnant.  I couldn't not tell Heath.  This is a picture of me letting him know another baby was on board.  I lost the baby before I even got back home to him.

On Stealing Candy from Kids

We are candy hoarders.  Every holiday that has anything to do with candy is huge around here.  I way over buy.  Every.  Single.  Time.  We are still working on candy from Halloween.  Not to mention everything from Valentine's Day and Easter!  Mmmmmmm....chocolate!

                                                                Massive tub of deliciousness

It's the Easter candy that takes center stage today.  I am a peep fanatic.  We call them chickamunks around here.  When Hannah (oldest baby) was two, she discovered the joy of the peep.  For some unknown reason, she called them chickamunks and that's what they've been called around here ever since!

                                        Hannah (age 2) getting that first, life-alterting taste of chickamunk

Hannah shares my intense love for these gooey marshmallows pieces of heaven.  Camden made it clear she did not.  She didn't hate them, but she didn't love them.  She ate one and put them away.  Who eats just one!?!  She is more interested in all things chocolate (that's my girl)!  These poor neglected blue peeps (the blue is important because it's her favorite color) sat in a ziplock bag for two weeks while she ignored them and chose other pieces of candy.  I was starting to feel panicky that these delicious bits of heaven were going to go stale.  It makes my blood pressure shoot up just thinking about it.  A stale peep is no peep at all.  We cannot be friends if you think a stale peep is the only good kind of peep.  Seriously, just walk away right now.

What was I to do?  What would you do?  Every time I ran a load of laundry, these delicious little sugar rushes were staring me in the face daring me to eat them.  Yes, we keep our candy in the laundry room.  So what?  It's brilliant, really!  Who likes to do laundry?  I do!  Every time I'm in there "doing laundry," I have a piece of candy.  Win!

Back to the chickamunks.  After two weeks, I just couldn't take it any more.  She left for school, I threw clothes in the washing machine, and grabbed the bag as I walked by the candy bowl.  I sat down on the table, debated putting them back and that's when I did it.  I ripped open the bag and devoured them!  Every delicious little peep.  I mean, come on, she'd never even notice they were gone,  right?  I can confidently add this one to the list of Mommy wins!  Child doesn't show much interest in peeps.  I give her two weeks to change her mind. She still ignores them like the cold-hearted little 3-year-old that she is.  I ate them.  WIN!

End of story.  Right?  That's what I thought, too!  But, like me, you are WRONG!

Fast forward another week.  The girls had a good day at school and suckered me in to letting them pick "just one piece of candy.  Please, Mom?  We were such good girls!"  Hannah immediately grabbed her bag of pink peeps and decided she would eat the last two in her bag.  Camden, like any little sister, has to do everything her big sister does.  With a smile on her face, she looked in the candy bowl.  Her smile slowly faded as panic set in.  She looked at me and wanted to know where her peeps went.  I apologized a million times and told her that I ate them.  You guys, I completely broke her heart.  Huge sobs came up from deep within her belly and tears were pouring down her face.  I did what any good mother would do and started laughing...hysterically...until tears were running down my face, as well.  Way to go, Mom.  I just couldn't help it.  I collected myself, hugged her, and apologized again.  It was at this point that a true act of motherly love happened.  I offered to give her all of my peeps.  EVERY ONE OF THEM.  A tear of saddness may have run down my cheek at this point.

                                                        If looks could kill, I would be a goner!

"But yours aren't blue!  I don't like the yellow ones.  I want my blue peeps!"

Cue hysterical crying and laughing...again.  Guess which I was doing.  I calmed her down by promising her three pieces of other candy instead of one.  Bribery works every time!

                                                          Smiling through the tears with her bag of chocolate

Huge fail on assuming she wouldn't notice the peeps were gone.  Big mistake laughing at her heartbreak (but, come on, you have to admit it's funny)!  Win with the bribery making her smile.

Moral of the story, ask your kid before you eat their candy in secret assuming they will never even notice.  THEY WILL NOTICE.

On waxing your face

I have to admit, I'm nervous about this.  I've been thinking about a blog for a long time.  I really just need an outlet that gives me something just for me.  For the past 5 years, it's been all about my kids, which is perfect.  It's what I chose to do with my life.  I am a stay-at-home Mom who gives everything (most days) to this family. But this one, it's just for me.  Any you, if you like it.  This is going to be a big, confusing compilation of things that run through my head.  Good luck to you...my head is a scary place!  It will be about ways I'm working it as a Mom, ways I'm failing, and things that have nothing to do with mothering, but seem important or just plain funny.  Today I'm starting with one of those topics that is just for you Mommies out there who no longer have time to get things done the professional way.

This is just a quick story on when waxing goes wrong.  Obviously, we can put this in the mistake column.

I used to have time for myself: time to get my hair done, get my nails done, have unwanted hair removed from my face.  While these things sometimes got tedious and even a little painful, it was comforting knowing I could just walk out my door and have someone else do it for me.  My hair has become a tragedy.  I remember the days when I went to the salon every 6 weeks to have it colored and cut.  Now, I'm lucky to make it every 3-4 months.  I'm trying to rock the ombre look.  Actually, I just have horrible roots.  Here's a tip.  Ready?  Chop your hair super short.  That way, you desperately want it to grow and the urge to go in every 6 weeks lessens.  I literally don't want anyone near this hair until it's at least another inch longer...and it's hasn't been cut since mid-February.  Tricky, right?  There is no way I'm taking on coloring my own hair, so it just has to limp through until the next time I have 2 spare hours to give to the wonderful lady at the salon...let me know if you have some spare time you can send my way!

I've taken my nails into my own hands.  Literally. I bought an at home gel nails kit. I have the UV light, the polish, the (mostly) steady hand, and the determination to get it right.  They don't look too bad when I finally get around to doing them, which is maybe once a month.  A for effort!  

Now to the real story and reason for this post.  My face.  My poor, neglected face.  If I remember, I break out the tweezers once a week and attack my eyebrows.  Usually, I don't notice them until it's about four days too late, and I'm starting to look like Sasquatch.

Let's move on from eyebrows to my accidental upper lip hair.  It is NOT a moustache.  Back off.  My upper lip hair, usually gets attention every 2 months.  You are cringing right now, aren't you?  Me, too!  I've tried several different things.  I like the creams that you let sit for 4-5 minutes and then remove.  They do a decent job.  This time, I thought, 4-5 minutes?  Ain't nobody got time for that!  So, I bought into a wax strip kit.  Easy peasy.  You warm it up between your hands, slap it on your face, yank, and voila!  The hair is gone.  

I put the first strip on, yanked, and there was still hair.  Naturally, I stuck another one on immediately, smashed it on there good, and RIIIIIIIIIIPPPPP!!!  No more hair, and a lot less lip.  I feel lied to in a way.  Yes, the hair is gone, BUT SO IS HALF OF MY LIP!!!  I had already done half of the job, so with tears streaming down my face, I went for the other half.  RIIIIIIIIIIPPPPP!  Mostly hair this time, but still a little piece of lip.  

The top picture is of the mangled lip.  Guys!  I don't have an upper lip to start with, so ripping off what little was there was devastating!  The bottom picture is a shout out to selfies...I mean...shows that a smile can hide the worst of the damage.  I look crazy right now.  I walk around with a permanent smile to hide the damage.  So weird.  

OH MY GOSH.  It's my kids!  How did they get in here?  There are no words for how much these babies melt my heart!  Beyond blessed!

Time to get back to the matter at hand...my lips...and a little bit of misinformation.  I got on Facebook and thought I'd be funny about ripping the hair and skin off of my face.  I lied, you guys.  I played it cool when someone actually commented. I told them my eyebrows would never be the same.  IT WASN'T MY EYEBROWS!!!  It was my lip.  I don't know why I thought I could cover my tracks and pretend I don't have unwanted upper lip hair, but I just went for it.  Hindsight.  The next morning, there was no covering up the true story.  I have nice crusty scabs on the sides of my lips. Well played, God.  I know it's not OK to lie.  Thank you for calling me out on that one! They hurt any time I talk...or smile...or eat something salty.  Especially when I eat something salty.  Moral of the story...have someone else wax your accidental upper lip hair!!!!  Or just be way more competent than I am at this particular beauty undertaking!  Better yet, stick with the 4-5 minute cream!