Archive for September, 2011

h1

Naan……..

September 25, 2011

Nick here, sorry it has been awhile.  If I have ever, in the past, claimed to be too busy for the blog, I take it back.  I’ve never been this busy.  Right now I do find myself in a rare situation.  The house is clean, errands have been run, and the kids are not home.  Deep breath, big smile, enjoy the sound of nothing.

In the time it took to upload these photos the entire crew came home.  More pictures soonish….

Advertisements
h1

Is it a closet or a boutique?

September 22, 2011

A. Is it really that hard to tell the difference between Jammies and Dresses or short sleeve and long sleeve shirts?

2. Who hangs up “Jammies”? What if our household calls them PJs?

C.  Are the inventors of this creative storage solution making a living off these things? Wow.

 

That first item in the picture is a Gerber onesie. They typically come in packs of 6. That’s a lot of miniature hangars.

I have a few things to say on this topic, but they are all snide and sarcastic and predictable. Just relax knowing that there are people out there who aren’t stressed out by the state of their child’s closet, thanks to these things. You’re welcome.

h1

Oh my God. Is that poop?

September 21, 2011

It’s been a while since either one of us has written new post. I guess we’ve been busy, but I’m not sure what with. I figure I may as well add one of those posts that if Alice were to show it to her boyfriend when she’s 20, she would regret every second of it.

[Had to walk away to clean up poop from baby #2. It got on my clothes. This side-note will be funnier in a minute.]

So we’re all outside in the backyard – playing ball over the fence with the cousins. Alice goes next door to play on the swingset. As I am picking up dog poop (yes, I dealt with crap from three different butts that weren’t my own), I hear Alice yelling for me and I look over and she’s got her pants pulled down. After I figured out where to put my beer (on top of the air conditioning unit), I headed next door to help her out. As I got closer, I realized this was no ordinary accident.

She had crapped her pants. These would have come in handy.

Those things can hold an entire gallon of iced tea. The commercial says so.

I picked her up because she refused to move and really, how do you climb down stairs when the pants around your ankles are filled with crap? Can’t argue with her there. But when I picked her  up I realized she had also crapped on her cousins’ swingset. Awesome. I got her to the bathroom, wiped up most of it, then handed bath duties over to dad. I had swingset doody duty.

I grabbed a container of Mr. Clean disinfecting wipes, a couple plastic bags, took a healthy swig from my beer (still sitting on the air conditioning unit), and headed over to clean up the mess. After I Mos Deftly scooped the crap into the bag, I realized this was no ordinary crap cleanup.

Just so you know, the swingset next door is actually a really nice Rainbow play set.

A slide, a climbing wall, a tire swing, and more. They’re made of wood, which means there are small gaps between the planks. You would be wise to assume the crap landed right over one of those small gaps. I did my best to fold the disinfecting wipe to better scoop the crap out of the crack and felt pretty satisfied with my work. Then I climbed up one more step and looked down. I was going to have to go after this from underneath. Awesome.

I tried the same technique from underneath and had no luck. I actually needed a tool to finish the cleanup. I found a tiny twig, wrapped it in the Mr. Clean wipe, and finished the task. Crap cleanup accomplished. Now return to the beginning of the post where I’m holding Anna as I begin this post and she craps on me. Awesome.

 

h1

Princesses Only

September 12, 2011

I swear, I was just checking my emails when I came across this gem. Any idea what it is?

Scroll down for the answer. You might want to rest your hand on your chin first, though. I don’t want you sending me bills from your ENT surgeon for having to tighten your jaw bone tendons.

 

 

 

I feel sorry for you, too, kid. But I can’t decide if it’s because of that thing on your head or what you’re wearing.

“Princesses only. When all her ball gowns are in the wash, these ruffled rompers and pettiskirts give her a royal presence with or without the crown.”

I weep for the future.