A New Excuse

Me: Girls, you guys need to clean all these crayons and books off of the table if you are wanting to decorate these cookies.

Reese: Mom, just wait one minute. Avery has to save the world.

I wonder how long that takes...I mean, should I just clean the dadgum table myself?

The Biker Bar

Yes, they are pretending that they are in a biker bar. When they asked if they could move furniture, those words were not used. As a parent, I know I should discourage them from pretending they are in a bar. I wrestled with the "good parent" side of my brain for a good 5 minutes before I decided to just keep my mouth shut and see how this thing plays out. When I was a kid we had candy cigarettes. And BB guns that worked. Plus, I think it's funny. And hey, it's better than TV or video games. At least they are using their imagination. So I let it go.
I have no idea how they know anything about biker bars. Honestly. I don't go to biker bars, my husband doesn't go to biker bars, we aren't related to any bikers or people that frequent biker bars. I am 99.9% sure we haven't had a discussion about biker bars. Nevertheless, here we are. In a biker bar. Avery and Rhett are both bikers. I can see it in Avery. She's wearing a leather jacket and a do-rag with flames on it. And a black and silver belt that you cannot see. She looks tough and biker-ish. What I do not understand is why Rhett is wearing a windbreaker zipped to the top, hood tight around his face. I have never, EVER seen a biker wearing a windbreaker with the hood up. For that matter, I don't think I've ever seen a tough, macho type wearing a windbreaker with the hood up. But he tells me he's a tough guy named "Crayon," so there.
Reese is dressed as Snow White. Because of this, obviously, she wasn't allowed in at first. She cried and wailed about the injustice, but the bikers weren't budging. They finally told her that if she put on a tough jacket and didn't talk about girl stuff, she could come in. She brought her stuffed cat and wore a crown, but she didn't breathe a word of princess-y, girly chatter. In fact, she even came up with the idea of getting Cokes and pretending they were beers. Yes, I let them. I know, I know. Bad parenting. But I said no at first...and I reminded them that beer was for grown ups, 21 and over. And remember? We had candy cigarettes. And I don't smoke. I even once snorted Pixy Stix (80's party scenes on TV all the time) and pretended it was cocaine and I've never done cocaine in my life. So they'll be ok. Right?
Don't answer. And do not, under any circumstance, tell me about it if you someday see one of these children in a bar, or on a motorcycle or drinking beer. I don't want to know.

What is this little weirdo doing????

He is looking at our family pictures, saying "I wuff you Reese, I wuff you Avery, I wuff me, I wuff Mommy and Daddy. And I wuff God." Awwwwwww...kinda makes you feel bad for calling him a little weirdo, huh?

P.S. I need to document why the pictures are no longer on the wall. Last weekend, Aaron went on a boys' trip to the Jersey Shore (he swears there was no fist pumping, but I'm not convinced). Not only was I home alone with all three kids for three nights and four days, but I painted our hallway. I did it right, too, just like my Dad taught me. Cleaned the baseboards, taped them off, cleaned the walls, etc. I worked so hard, and now, I'm having a hard time knowing what i want to do in this newly clean, unstained space. It really doesn't matter what I do with it. I will know (and more importantly, Aaron will know) every time I look at it that I did it all by myself. With three kids underfoot and no one to help with anything. I rock. (Sorry...there are so few times I can say that about myself, that I have to take every opportunity to do so.)

Remember These?

Remember these?

This is one of those little craft kits you can pick up at Hobby Lobby...I bought tons of little kits on that aisle at the beginning of the summer. The kids love stuff like this. I got this kit out yesterday morning and they have worked almost non-stop (we took breaks for meals and a brief water balloon fight this morning) on them ever since. After lunch today, Reese and Avery went right back to work on theirs. I was still arguing with Rhett over eating the grilled cheese he asked me to make and then refused to eat. All of a sudden, he starts crying. At first, I thought it was over the food and I was about to send him to his room. Then I noticed that he's grabbing at his face. I asked what was wrong and he cries, "It hurts!" At that exact moment, a tiny pink bead came flying out of his nose. But he kept crying. And digging in his nose. "Are there any more up there?" I asked. He nodded his head yes. I said "Why?" and immediately dismissed the question and any answer that might have followed. I told him to blow his nose as hard as he could. Nothing. Well, not nothing, but no beads came out. I pinched his nose and felt something hard in there. He squealed even louder, yelling "Dat hurt, Momma!" Definitely still beads up his nose. I told him to keep blowing while I called the doctor's office. As snot flies all over the kitchen, the message service at the doctor's office answers. Great. They're on lunch break. I honestly don't know if this is an emergency or not. I hear about kids doing this all the time...so I know he's not going to die. But do I need to rush to an ER or can I wait for the doctor to eat lunch? I call my husband to see if he knows. (Rhett is still blowing) Of course, he doesn't answer. I hang up, tell the girls to finish their popsicles because we are going to the doctor. As I spin in circles wondering what to do first, Rhett yells, happily, "It's right there!" I look down and there, at his feet, is a tiny green bead, covered in snot. Whew. That was a close one. If you looked at him right now, you'd never know he was in the middle of a traumatic meltdown just 5 minutes ago. I'm glad we didn't have to go to the doctor and have some nasty probe shoved up Rhett's nostril, because you just know I would have had to hold him down. Yes, I am definitely relieved...and I think I'll just leave that "Why?" alone for now.

Gambling

I am sitting in the living room, watching my husband teach my children how to play poker. Reese delightedly tells me, "Momma, we are gambling!" I say, sort of jokingly, "You know, I don't think God likes for us to gamble." Avery responds with, "But I'm really good at it!"

Ok, so I know I need to spend a little more time on the importance of God's rules, but I must admit, I find it hilariously adorable when Avery holds up her hands and says "Whoa, I'm out...you got me this time," as if she knows what she is doing.