Snippets.

Call me crazy, but wasn't Halloween last week? 

I can't believe how fast life is moving.  December may be IS one of my most favorite months of the year.  The smells, the baking, the music, the spirit and the magic, hot chocolate by the fire, the lights, warm slippers and cozy blankets, memories in the making. 

Please, December, I beg of you....s  l  o  w    d  o  w  n.

We traveled to San Francisco for Thanksgiving this year.  17 people under one roof for 5 nights and no one even moved into a hotel.  There were threats (believe me, there were), but we stuck it out and lived happily and closely with one another.  We had an amazing time.

Many thanks to Dec and Lorie for putting up with us.  They were gracious hosts and made us feel as though we were staying in a 5 star resort.  Declan even risked his life frying a turkey for us. 

Yes, that IS a sandbox lid resting atop the ladder. Knowing that water and hot oil do not mix, Dec took the proper precautions to deflect the rain.  Protecting his loved ones in case of an accidental explosion was his top priority. We always feel safe when he's around. 

The boys miss their cousins, and are still adjusting to the withdrawal they are feeling without them.  It's especially hard to be without the family princess, Miss Madyson.

Goodbye, California.  Until next time.

In other news, and speaking of snippets, this kid has a new look...

Let me know what you think.

My house feels warm and inviting and smells of pine.  My two favorite things to look at are this-

                                                                        My mantel
And this-

The tiny tree that sits in the corner of our family room, and proudly displays all the ornaments my little men have created over the years.  It's the best thing in my house.  Seriously.

As a side note, I am starting a new holiday contest.  I am sending a prize to the person/family who sends us the first Christmas card.  The only rule is, it must come through the mail....I like to keep things old fashioned. Better hustle.  I'm anxiously awaiting.

And one more thing.  I want another puppy.  And I'm not up for hearing crap about it from my husband, my Mom, My Dad, my brother, or anyone else who is opposed to my animal addiction.

There.  I said it.  It's no longer a secret.

I haven't felt this free in years.

It's not my fault he wouldn't hold still...

A few days ago, I took advantage of some spare time and lined the boys up for haircuts.  This wasn't the first time I've cut their hair.  In fact, I have been the only stylist they have known (other than a few random trips to the barber).

Things were going fine, and one by one, the boys emerged from the kitchen looking more dapper than ever.

Logan was last to get a trim.  He's usually the one that needs to be forced or bribed when it comes to cutting his hair.  With a sucker in both hands, he climbed up onto the stool and happily kind of happily obliged.

Things were going fine until I came around to his bangs. 

Despite the fact that I have NEVER even come close to cutting him, he's terrified that I will, and cannot hold still.  As I attempted to cut neatly across his forehead, he quickly turned to his left, and this is what we ended up with-

This picture does not do his hair-mishap justice.  It really is much worse in person.

I've been doing my best to get him to wear hats when we go out (he hates hats), and I've also been using mad amounts of gel in an attempt to give him a comb over....because even that would look better.

So until it grows back, we're enjoying his new claim to fame.  Tell me there isn't a striking resemblance!

Our little man is famous.

Jack is 6!

Happy, Happy Birthday to the best 6 year old in the universe!

We love you so very much!

Love,

Mommy, Daddy, Evan, Luke, Logan & Wes



Should I Be Selfish?

(This post is dedicated to Angie, who may be the only faithful reader I have.  Thanks, Ang.)

My husband will be the first to tell you that I have a really, really, REALLY hard time saying no when it comes to the boys. To me, there are two kinds of no. The first, is when your kids are being bratty, rude, mean, disrespectful, or unruly. I'm actually good at that kind of no. In fact, I think I'm even better at that kind of no than hubby is. 

Just don't tell him I said so.

The type of no I struggle with, involves giving the boys anything and everything I own. My iphone, the food on my plate, the tea I just sat down to enjoy....the list is endless.  At the drop of a hat, what was once mine, has quickly become theirs. The thing I miss most?

My bed.

Imagine being sound asleep, and having an adorable little boy crawl into bed with you and begin to snuggle.  They get right up close, and press their tiny feet onto your legs.  They sigh a deep sigh, for they are now safe and warm.  You look at their precious face, and wonder how you ever got so lucky.  You cover them up and snuggle back. It's bliss.

It's bliss that lasts 5 minutes.

The next several hours until daylight are seldom restful or enjoyable. 

I've been slapped
smacked
kicked
punched
poked
elbowed
and kneed.

I've been bloodied and bruised, and occasionally, I get peed on. 

There is one boy in particular, that comes to my bed at 11:30 every night.  He's sweet as sugar as he settles in, but once he falls back into a slumber, he quickly turns into Chuck Norris and the abuse begins.  Last night, he elbowed me in the back of the head three times.  "Logan!" I said.  "What are you doing to Mommy?"

"I have to hurt you." he replied.  "You tattled on me."  And then he rolled over.

In the past week, I've resorted to sleeping on the floor, and have even gone in search of the many empty beds that lie unclaimed in the boys' rooms.  I take what I can get.

But I feel like I can finally take no more.  I'm tired.  I'm achy.  I'm grouchy. 

You see, if hubby had it his way, he'd march them back to their beds each and every time they tried to claim territory on ours.  However, hubby could sleep through a cyclone, and is rarely aware of our midnight visitors.  That leaves the dirty work up to me.  What am I supposed to do?  Stop them at bedside and 'tattle' to their father, who will scoop them up and return them where they came from?  In my mind, I can see their sad, watery eyes staring back at me as he carried them out of our room.

I'm not built to withstand that type of image.  And if I can't even picture what it would be like, I'm surely not strong enough to make it a reality.

Which is why I feel as though I have no choice, but to continue being the punching bag for my boys, and the bad dreams they bring with them.  I'd rather be hurt, than hurt them. 

So if you text or call me, and I don't answer for a few days....or weeks, my boys must have my phone.

And if you ladies have been searching for my favorite beauty product (Well-Rested Eye Concealer), and you can't seem to find it, I apologize.  I must have bought the last one.

This mom is far from well-rested. 

If you're reading this, and you've proudly reclaimed your bed, do me a solid and tell me how you did it.

YAWN....please?

To this and that, I SAY...

Since I've been MIA forever, this should get us caught up again.  Try your best to follow along.

To Halloween, I SAY:  We planned, we decorated, we conquered.  You were in and out like a flash.  See you next year.

To my son who turns 6 in less than a week, I SAY:  I promise I'm doing my best at scraping together a fabulous last-minute birthday party.  You won't be disappointed.

To my house (especially MY room and the bathrooms), I SAY:  You win.  Try as I might, I can't keep up.

To the boy who sneaks into the bathroom every morning and munches on Halloween candy, then ditches his rubbish behind the potty, I SAY:  Time for a new hiding place.  I'm on to you.

To my cupboards, I SAY:  I apologize that you are so bare.  As I type this, I'm trying to plan dinner, but for the life of me, I can't think of anything to make with beef broth, black beans, and Reece's peanut butter cups.

To my 10 year old son, I SAY:  I will never forget the way you looked as you went out the door today.  I hope the kids on the playground didn't give you the business.  We'll get you new pants this weekend....promise.

To my garden, I SAY:  It saddens me to see you all covered in snow.  Sleep well, you've earned your rest.

To my new little niece, I SAY:  Only 17 more days until I can wallow in your new baby smell and cuddle you for hours.  

To M & D, I SAY: Thank you for taking me with you to be there for little M's arrival.  It was an amazing trip!

To the best husband IN THE WORLD, I SAY:  Thank you for holding down the fort while I was gone.  You have earned a complete day of doing nothing but watch football.  I'll even bring you a few beers, and clear any empties while I'm at it.

To my sister in-law, I SAY: Only 17 more days until you'll have 17 people living in your house...for 5 days.  Brace yourself.

To Christmas, I SAY:  You are only 51 days, 7 hours, and 41 minutes away.  I'm counting.

To School, I SAY:  Due to circumstances beyond my control, I won't be seeing you next semester.  Want to know a secret?  You won't be missed.  You don't fit into any of my holiday plans, anyway.

And last, but not least, to the person stalking my blog (you know who you are), I SAY:  Have you had your fill?  Good.  Time to move on.

Love,
Amy