Albuquerque fun

We met family in Albuquerque to celebrate Bompa's 90th birthday. We had lots of fun, I wish I would have taken better pictures... oh well.

Bunny ears all around

Dr. Tommy's Rayban ad looks a little like my facebook profile pic

Who needs a baby bjorn when you have a jacket?





On the mesa top at Petroglyph Nat'l Monument




He doesn't feel a day over 90

 

Kitty helped serve the yummy cake

The peanut gallery

Arugula anyone?

This post is not about Pinterest. But have you noticed that the most common pins are those of ooey gooey triple fudge brownies AND fitness "inspiration" quotes?  Maybe it's just the company I keep.

Anyway with a new year, a newish baby, and the not so new softness around my middle, I decided to try the healthy route.  I explored the Raw Food Detox Diet but decided that I like to mix my foods, heat them up, and actually eat them (therein lies the bulk of my problem).  That's pretty much where my "journey" ended.

I started tracking my meals on My Fitness Pal, but after a day of what I considered epic self-restraint, I ended up in the red for nearly every category. So that journey ended as well.

The other morning I decided to make Kitty the "smoothie" she had been begging for.  I have read a million and one smoothie recipes and felt confident I could make a healthy smoothie with nutrients that my kids would actually drink.  Doesn't it seem like some people put all kinds of stuff in their smoothies and they turn out tasting great?  I proceeded to throw in blueberries, orange juice, plain greek yogurt and ice.  I wanted to do something daring, so I also put a handful of arugula.  I wanted to add spinach, but all we had was arugula.  I poured it and passed it out.  I took a drink. 

Dirt.

Kitty took a drink and gagged as she said, "I wanted a smoothie!  You know, with ice cream and chocolate?" I explained that those are called milkshakes.

Chickie prefers to snack on my hair.

Six months of Chickie!

We aren't sick of her yet-- are you? She's been six months old for over a week, so here are the pictures:

I promise she doesn't have a lazy eye... it's the angle



She's been perfecting the raspberry



More spitting



Crazy Chickie.



Another observation from John

John: When a little girl plays with a monster truck everyone is like, "Oooohhhh, maybe she'll grow up to drive a monster truck!" but when a boy plays with a Barbie everyone is like, "Put that way and go play with your monster truck!"

Me: Do you want to play with Kitty's Barbies?

John: Not unless I can torture them.

Chomp, chomp Chickie (literally)

It's been five months and Chickie's cheeks are finally bite-able.  It's true, I bite baby cheeks, I prefer to call it love bites. As Bogda would say, "Emily is to eat." 

The picture quality sucks because I couldn't find the camera and had to use the iPad...



She likes to bite cheeks too.



A love letter from John

After a pretty animated tantrum and mounting consequences, John found himself grounded from all electronics (including the TV), without dinner, and confined to his room.  He handed me this letter as I passed his door on the way down the hall:

Dear stupid Mommy and Daddy,

You are the most idiotic and stupidest people I know. You don't love me. You don't like me. You guys are the worst. I wish I could run away. I'm starving. I wish I had a phone, I would call the cops. Chickie is the only one who loves me. You think torturing me is fun. I hate you guys, I don't love you and I don't like you.

From your thoroughly tortured son: John

P.S. You think I'm worth $0.00

Later, when he had "thoroughly" calmed down, he said to me, "I wish I could go back in time and not give you that letter."

Trying to be the fun mom always backfires

Sometimes I try to redeem my status as a mother.  These are the days when I let Kitty help me make cookies, I consent to play a game of Sorry! or UNO, I say yes to dessert, I let John make a "potion", or I remember Chickie and take her out of the car.  These things are hard for me, I don't know why, but they are.

My latest attempt has been in the form of a new holiday tradition that I guess everyone else already knew about-- Elf on a Shelf. I forked over the massive amount of cash for the "kit" which consists of a cute-ish vintage looking elf and a story book.  For the money I thought the elf would at least have bendable limbs, but alas, it is more authentically vintage than you would think.  Anyway, the elf watches all day and reports back to Santa each night. He/she can't move when anyone is watching and the touch of a human will destroy its magical powers.  Fun, right?

Kitty was first to notice it, we got excited, read the book and decided on the name Winkie.  But after about five minutes Kitty got all skittish and started jumping at the slightest noise. Then there were tears, screaming, and the shakes. Then came the demands that I accompany her everywhere.  She was thoroughly freaked out by the thought that Winkie was alive and watching her every move. Fun mom fail.

Luckily by morning she was used to the idea and now I am stuck with the job of moving Winkie every once in a while to keep it fresh-- it's more work than you'd think, and Winkie is kind of starting to freak me out with her crazy eyes.