Swingers

Last Thursday, after being very patient while I drove by a lot of garage sales, the kids and I went to a newly discovered park in Shakopee. The sign on the park read "most fun park in Shakopee" (or something like that, you don't expect me to remember what it acutallly said, do you?) and it was right. Granted, I haven't been to all the parks in Shakopee, but given that I've been to many parks in other parts of the Twin Cities and this one ranks right up there among the best, I think it's safe to say it's the most fun in Shakopee.















And now for something completely different...

Oops

In a home with three children age three and younger (oh yeah and two adults) who do you think would be responsible for the first major damage to the brand new house? One of the kids? Crayons on the wall, perhaps? Or a hole in the wall caused by careless use of a toy? Certainly it wouldn't be one of the responsible, ever-so-careful adults. Not possible!

Or...er...maybe it is possible.

Step 1: Open car door for preschooler to climb in
Step 2: Close door
Step 3: Don't notice that the garage door opener release is closed in car door
Step 4: Start car and back up
Step 5: Hear loud scrape
Step 6: Feel resistance
Step 7: See husband at door to house with bewildered look on his face
Step 8: Exit car to find out WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED
Step 9: Notice released garage door closed slightly before you were able to get out of the garage
Step 10: Subsequently notice the dent in the garage door and the bent track preventing said garage door from going up (or down or anywhere for that matter)
Step 11: Leave preschooler buckled into car, go inside to tend to other small children while no-longer-bewildered husband fixes the problem
Step 12: Apologize to said husband over and over for breaking the new house
Step 13: Back out of garage (again) very very slowly
Step 14: Go to work to pay for repairs to garage door

Snakes and Birds and Such

Perhaps Jack was on to something when he first referred to his baby sister as "Snake."

The legend of the Strawberry Bird...

It all began with a nest of pillows and some innocent parental prodding (what kind of bird are you? a flamingo? can you stand on one leg? can you hop? no? oh, you're a different kind of bird now? a strawberry bird? hmm,what do they do?) and ended with an ever expanding nest of couch cushions and a little flapping and running around the kitchen. Soon both of our sons were panting and sweating as they gleefully went from room to room "tweeting."

Pardon the blurry hands. They were just flapping too fast.

Perched

Take a peak at the Strawberry Birds in action...

He's Kind of a Heavy Sleeper

Jack didn't have a nap today. So he fell asleep in the car on the way home from my dad's birthday celebration. After repeated attempts, I finally roused him enough so that he could slide out of his booster seat...he nearly flopped onto the center console (right in front of his seat). He walked over to the car door (he sits in the middle) and promptly fell asleep with his head on my shoulder. I was holding Elise as well so I only picked him up enough to get him on the ground. While holding my hand (I was kind of afraid to let go) he stumbled backward, which must of woken him up enough to realize that he just needed to get inside. He made a bee line for the door, opened it up, took off his shoes and crawled up onto the bench to go to sleep. Seeing as I had two other children to get in to bed, I let him stay there until I was ready to deal with him.

Happy Birthday Grampa

We helped Grampa celebrate his birthday yesterday and today.

After donning the gift bag costume Jack said, "I'm a present. Anybody want me?"

Wes liked the cake:

Love Thy Neighbor

Last Thursday the window guy was coming and I didn't remember exactly what time so we opted to stay home and wait for him. While the little kids were sleeping, Jack and I made some chocolate chip cookies. The Martha Stewart in me (time rarely allows her to show herself anymore) thought "we should make little packages of cookies for the neighbors and attach our contact information." I had visions of delivering brightly colored chinese-takeout-style containers complete with coordinating tissue paper and hand written cards to each of our neighbors, welcoming them to the neighborhood, congratulating them on pregnancies, new babies, etc. Given that I don't have the time or courage (remember this adventure?) to take my children into a Michael's to find those oh-so-adorable containers let alone write personalized cards for each of the neighbors, we ended up with 6 cookies (my original goal was a dozen each, but we didn't have enough chocolate chips and/or we have too many new neighbors) in a Ziploc with a 1/4 sheet of paper stapled on the top. It doesn't even have a bow or a picture or anything. The final result does not live up to my expectations at all.

Despite that, it has provided a good lesson for Jack who thinks we should keep all the cookies. As I was packaging up the cookies he kept whining about how we needed some for us and we couldn't give them all away. The first scripture he memorized was Mark 12:30 - Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. This gives me a chance to teach him the next verse - Love your neighbor as yourself.

Carefully measuring and packing the brown sugar

Showing off his apron

Getting ready to scoop dough onto the cookie sheet

Before anyone thinks I'm a terribly mean mother making my son give away the cookies he worked so hard to make, I should let you know that I let him enjoy one of the most delicious things life has to offer...licking the beater.

Someone Needs an Anatomy Lesson

Who allows their daughter to play with bulldozers?

Or dresses her in a onesie that has #1 Boy written on the front?

And then takes a picture of it?

And then posts it on the internet?

In my defense, as I was going through the clothes that could be reused, I just saw the yellow onesie. I didn't open it to see that it actually had #1 Boy written on it.

The Effects of Hot Sauce

I know some people use a drop of hot sauce on the tongue as a punishment for lying; a creative deterrent that I was going to use myself. Until...

I think I failed to mention in this post that we had someone coming to look at the house to give us a quote on finishing the basement and installing a deck at 4:00 Saturday afternoon. So between the adventure that was Saturday and the estimate that lasted an hour, there wasn't much time for dinner prep. It took a lot of convincing, but Sean agreed to go to Qdoba for dinner (please read the previous sentence with as much sarcasm as you can muster since Sean lives for burritos and free food and Qdoba happens to have both - kids eat free on the weekends). Sean is looking forward to the day when he can take the boys there and they can race to see who can finish their burrito first. Okay, I might have made up the racing part, but he really is excited about the boys enjoying burritos. I don't think it will be long - the boys seemed to enjoy their kids meals and the hot sauce that is a necessary condiment added to each bite of everything at Qdoba. Take a look.

A little background before you watch:

• The orange sauce in the small plastic tray on the table is hot sauce
• Wesley enjoyed dipping nearly every chip into the sauce and subsequently "dancing" in the video to Wham!'s Everything She Wants
• Jack is dipping his quesadilla in the sauce and then licking it off.

It's also worth mentioning that shortly after this video was taken our older son expressed some digestive upset complete with "hand on belly" gestures. We weren't sure if it was the hot sauce or all the dancing.

We are no longer worried about sugar or caffeine having ill effects on our children*...just don't give them any hot sauce!

*Grandparents: the statement above was made for dramatic effect only; please do not construe this to mean that the children should be given sugar and/or caffeine.