We Wear No Pants!

I have to be honest, we sing this song A. LOT. at our house.

This:

 And this:

 Are the reasons why. 

It makes potty training and diaper changing easier.  Besides, the kids prefer it that way.  I'm fine with it.  (Not as fine with them always climbing on my kitchen table though).

SB & I were fans of a pants free society as little ones, too-- apparently:



On another note:
We went to FREE zoo day yesterday.  I love free.  Unfortunately I always use "free" to justify making some other purchase.  Poor economics, I know.  (And yes, I did buy something for the kids since I didn't have to pay for their entry-- and went out to lunch-- all on the 'free entry to the zoo' ticket.  Ended up costing more than the passes would have. Nevermind the fact that I wouldn't have gone to the zoo yesterday in the first place if it wasn't free. That's typical for me.  Don't worry, SB is very aware of my buying mathematics). 

And on the note of poor economics/purchases, we took the BOB stroller to the zoo, which is as much a baby of mine as the other two featured in the picture below.  I worked a handful of extra shifts to justify getting it.  Unfortunately my sister informed me yesterday that it was recalled.  I have no plans of not using it despite the recall.  That would be a waste of money.  (see the recall here)

"The Monster Truck Lally"

I will try to give a rundown of our Valentine's Day Events, which turned into our Valentine's Week events.  However, in the good chance that I don't get around to it, here is a one and a half minute re-cap of the Bug's Valentine's Day surprise... 

taking him to Monster Jam 2011,

 affectionately called "The Lally"

please tell me you love the chubby cheeks between the big wheel ear muffs.

alotta love

Dear Buggy & Jane Jane,

You know how your mom said all of those things that she loves about you guys?

I love you in all the same ways. And a million other ways.

Only a little more.

I wish I could freeze this moment in time. I've never been so in love.

Love, Dad.

love letters

Dear Bug,

I love your chubby cheeks and belly and bummy.  I love your love for snakes and sharks and dinosaurs and bugs and more snakes.  I love your independence yet complete dependence:  getting your own sunny delight off the top shelf in the fridge (however you managed it) and lugging it all the way down the steep stairs to tell me you need a cup.  I love that you know the difference between the noises a girl cow makes and a boy cow.  I love that you have a fascination with toucans, kangaroos, and boa constrictor snakes.  I love that you let Jane Jane scare you when she says "ROOOOAAAR!"  I love that you have a sound for every animal there is: rhinos and parrots included.  I love your horse sound most of all, right down to the whiny.  It's my favorite when you put your little chubster hands softly on my cheeks and say "I missed you mom."  .... Even when I haven't been gone at all.  I love that you can work an Iphone as good as the rest of 'em. And when a call or a text comes in you say "op, mom you gotta do sompthin' a minute", hand me the phone, and then try to patiently wait until it's your turn with the phone again.  I love your appetite and that you out-eat the whole Burnside family put together.  Your dimples melt me.  Your super hearty laugh makes my insides sing.  I love that you would play "come and kiss me" all day if I could keep up.  I love how you tell me to be nice to you, you're just a little boy when I put you in time out.  I love when you sing the ABCs and count to twenty, often skipping certain letters and numbers, while repeating others several times.  I love your eyelashes.  I love that you love stories, and that any traditional story is better to you when the main character is substituted with a snake of some kind.  I love your opinions.  Most of them.  I love that you think monster trucks and motorcycles are cool.  I do too, because of you.  I love that you are one of my favorite people to hang out with.  I love that you can entertain yourself as well as any 2 year old I know.  I love that you can entertain the rest of us that well, too.  I love when you sneak into the roomy full size bed with dad and I ...and then start to take over by switching the direction we sleep, refusing to let anyone have blankets because you don't ever like them and then asking at 3 a.m. if we can watch a movie.  Okay, maybe I don't love that part.  But I do love you.  I love loving you.  And I love that you love me.

Be mine FOREVER Buggy Bear. -- Mom.

Louska Lou,

You are so beautiful to me.  I know I'm your mom and I'm supposed to think that but you are beautiful from the inside out.  You were blessed with a loving heart and I can't think of anything more beautiful than that.  You have one. I love that you love books and would like to read them all day long.  I love when you back your little body up and then plop into my lap.  I love your smile.  I love it.  I love when I'm driving and I can look over my right shoulder and can be guaranteed the happiest 8-toothed grin I ever knew.  I love that you have your Grandpa wrapped around your delicate little fingers.  I love how you love gum. I love that your ribbet and your quack are more authentic than if a frog or a duck gave them to me.  I love your pint-sized everything.  I love that you would take a tub all day long.  I think you get that from me.  I love your fearless mind at the bouncy slides and on the rocking horse and anything and everything you climb on.  Speaking of climbing,  I love that you climb into your high chair and just sit there as if to say "feed me" every time you get hungry.  I love your squeezies.  I love love love your squeezies.  I love your open mouthed kisses.  I love your dancing body.  I love that 75% of the time you can be found in some closet hanging out.  I love your love for all things soft, and especially your blankets.  I love that you can out-eat the whole Burnside family and George put together.  I love your love for George.  I love watching you watch your favorite animal show.  I love the way you point to everything.  I love the way you dive into the arms of the people you love.  I love when we hold fingers-- all five of yours and two of mine.  I love when our faces are close and you mimic whatever I do: blowing and blinking and kiss kiss kissing.  I love when you sleep.  You look so angelic.  I can't believe you are mine.  But please, be mine always.  And sleep tight perfect angel. 

Love,  Mom.

SB,

I love you a googleplex's googleplex.  Please refer to your handwritten letter as to why.

Love, LJ.

a small crisis at the shanty

Alright, I know I have a whopping 5 followers and nothing cool posted to date.  Nevertheless I am hoping one of you out there will read this and know how to solve my problems.  Have any of you ever left your young children with your husband where they were only mildly attended to and the said children started rumaging under the bathroom sink and found your Del Sol bright blue "Superhero" fingernail polish and brought it out to the living room where you have cream colored carpets and then the kids proceeded to shatter the bottle and you ended up with polish everywhere? 

Did you ever find anything that removed the polish from your carpet? 

Will you share your secrets?...



In the meantime, I'm curious to see if the hyper-color Del Sol polish decorating my living room changes color in the sun tomorrow.  I'll keep you posted.

seventy

...sounds really old.  But my dad makes it look realitively easy.  Yesterday we all got together and my mom made clam chowder, shrimp and my favorite spinach salad.  It was delicious.  It was a birthday celebration.

A celebration without a lot of celebrating. No one could figure out a present for my dad.  He has everything and wants nothing.  I guess that's a good life, but it makes coming up with a gift really rough.  Especially when you feel like you should do something really nice for someone who has accomplished 7 decades of life.  But I don't think my mom ended up giving him something beyond a card.  My sister made overcooked snickerdoodles, the way he likes them.  My sister in law (and brother) gave him pounds of Gouda cheese because Dr. Oz recommends a slice a day.  I gave him 70 songs complete with uploading it to his Ipod Touch for him, which he has owned since they first came out and was surprised yesterday to learn it had internet and apps on it-- or any functionality beyond playing music.  That's just par for the course.  He won't use anything I showed him on it anyway.  And he definitely won't listen to 70 new songs.  In fact there is only one he cares about right now-- which he will listen to on repeat 70 times in one day, because that's just how he works.  "Colder Weather" by the Zac Brown Band.  Oh well, the repeat button pressed 70 times is much cheaper than the "buy" button pushed that often.

But TODAY is his actual birthday.  So, Happy Birthday Dad!  I love you!  SEVEN-0!  That's big.

And on a not as celebrated number, but noteworthy none the less, Happy Birthday Marjorie.

Off to make my phone calls to the Birthday Boy and Girl...  Leslie

Birthday Girl and Baby Brother

L to R: His Dog, Him at 69 & a half, My Dog that he stole

diary of a wimpy girl.

I have nothing left in me to think about posting on this blog.  My head hurts and it kind of burns when I breathe.  If I breathe too deep I start to cough.  My muscles feel tired and are sure to be stiff come morning.  I didn't go donate blood tonight as I had signed up to do in order to conserve energy for the big game.  (they never let me give blood anyhow-- they think I'm carrying mad cow disease or something from days spent in England).

  It was my first, quite possibly last, of the season.  I decided to show up for my women's ball game.  I played all of 8 minutes.  That's not an exaggeration.

And I
am
pooped.
All those things I said about the way I feel are true.  After EIGHT minutes of playing basketball.

Time to get this tuckered heart exercising.  Someday.


The upside?  There was an "I love Lester" note etched into the road-salt grime that's caked on our incredibly filthy car & a SoBe sugar water drink sitting on the roof of the driver's side... So I quickly replenished the 20 calories I must have burned on the court (and filled up with the 200 plus others for any games to come).  The refreshing beverage took care of the nasty "blood lung" taste in my mouth as well.  (if you've ever exercised when you've been in as poor of shape as I am you know about blood lung).

Thanks SB,  for the sur-prise.

And in case you are wondering-- which you probably are-- we won.  I scored 3 points.  I missed quite a few more.

Good night. I've got to go rest these old muscles and joints.

the mingle

Hi.  I'm Leslie.

My husband is SB.

Our firstborn is the Bug.


Our princess is little Louski or more commonly known as Jane Jane Bottoms.

This is our new family blog.  Welcome. Or perhaps it's you who should welcome us, we're new here and don't know how long we will last.  But the Bug and Louski aren't keeping good track of the growth their making & the happy moments they create along the way.  So they've hired me out. I am going to see what I can come up with.  My husband always asks about whatever happened to "our" blog-- the one I started before he ever entered the scene, when they were still known as web logs.  It fizzled.  Gone-zo.  Adios Amiga. 

Well, actually, it's still on my dashboard.  But here.... Here is our new start. 

Meet & Greet:

 

Leslie



Bugman



 

LouskaWhiskers

SB