Heavyweights

At any given time, there is a lot of pent up aggression and frustration in our house. That's to be expected, I assume, since we're in the business of toddler raisin', lawyerin', and just plain livin' in this ridiculous world. Ridiculous. (But that's a post for another day.)

Since we aren't just parents and professionals, since we are also humans, sometimes we lose our cool. Sometimes we lose it in a big way, and it feels good to dismiss that fruit called self-control (Galatians 5:22) for a few minutes and wail on a Little Tikes basketball goal. But only for a few minutes, because when the dust settles, all we are left with is a broken toe, an icky feeling, and a mess to clean up.

It was after one such incident that Dave and I were discussing punching bags and how we would love to have one for these moments when we just can't contain ourselves any longer. We said we would think about buying one. We thought we would both use it. I've wanted a punching bag since highschool, and now we actually have a place to put one. We thought maybe we should do it.

Then, the very next day, Dave came home after a very frustrating work day and started his recap with, "I just want to hit someone." Without a word, I grabbed my laptop and ordered a heavy bag and a pair of gloves. He said he didn't need gloves. I told him that I do. If he wants to walk around with busted knuckles, that's his business, but I do not. I do intend to wail on that thing.

I failed to order gloves for the kids, but I've since decided that they need a pair, too. I'm just giddy with the thought of interrupting a tantrum or a fight with, "Here are the gloves. Go to the basement!"

Actually, I probably need two pairs so they can both hit the bag at the same time. Yeah. Two pairs it is.

I can't wait until the next time Dave tells me he just wants to hit something: "Oh? Go to the basement."

I can't wait until the next time a kid yells "Ma!" thirty times in a row as I'm tripping over the dog and trying to talk on the phone. I'm going to send myself to the basement.

This might be a stroke of brillance in our lives.

Our new addition.

Also? According to the box it was shipped in, a 20 minute workout on a heavy bag burns 281 calories. That's a pretty sweet deal for beating the crap out of something.

Happy 2013!

We closed out 2012 with a picnic in the park. It was cold and windy, but at least it wasn't raining. The kids played until Dave and I were frozen, then we went home and thawed out with a long winter's nap.

Ella had a playdate with a friend who was visiting from Florida that afternoon, and then we rang in the new year with Grandmother and Papa around the kitchen table with a bowl of homemade chex mix and a game of Rook.

New Year's Day  was rainy again, so we spent it indoors watching the Rose parade and football (and a little bit of Handy Manny). We had lunch at Grandma and Pop the Pop's house and played at home all afternoon. I strategically skipped the afternoon naps, even though I desperately needed one, so that I could put the monkeys to bed early. I knew they would need the extra sleep to prepare for the harsh reality of January 2nd greeting them at 6:15 a.m.

We had a great time soaking each other up this Christmas. There was very little bickering, tantruming, or whining and lots of playing, reading, and cuddling. Vacation definitely agrees with us. 

Around the House

More random quotes, from our house to yours!

"Iwanna baby geese! Iwanna baby geese!" - Luke's response to the goslings we saw in the office park one day when they came to have lunch with me. He was very excited about the babies. And very upset that we did not stop to kidnap one.

"Not today, devil. Git on outta here in the name of Jesus!" - Me, giving the devil my most Southern rebuke when our sign suddenly fell off the front door, scaring me and the dog.

Through the baby monitor in the middle of the night one night I heard, "Halp! Haaaalp!" - Luke was tied up in his frog blanket and could not get untangled.

"Does this wash my sins away?" - Ella, while dunking herself backward into the pool. It led to a great teaching moment where we explained the difference between making a decision to accept Jesus (that's the part that washes the sins away) and baptism (the public expression of that acceptance).

"... and they will start spelling 'eye patch' like i-P-a-t-c-h." - Dave, in conclusion to a rather lengthy dissertation on his vision of future iPhone technology. There was something about plugging it into the side of your head and having a display right in front of your eye, thus, the iPatch. He is now an iPhone user, but he didn't love it until I installed the I Heart Radio app for him.

"Iwanna bite." - Luke's counterargument whenever I tell him he has his own drink/snack and cannot have mine or that he has to wait until later to nurse. I believe it translates to, "Just a little?"

"Ungratulations, Mommy! I pooped!" - Ella, after a traumatic few days of not pooping. I'm adopting this one into my daily snarkasm. She meant "congratulations" of course, but given the situation and her perfect mispronunciation, I'm redefining it to mean the opposite (i.e. "You just found out all the work you did for three days was for nothing? Well, ungratulations."). You are welcome to use it, too, but remember, you heard it here first!

After taking a bite of chicken pot pie, Luke looked at me in confusion, removed it from his mouth, and said, "Pie?" Apparently he thought we were having chocolate pie for supper; after I clarified that it was chicken pie, he ate it.

"Mommy! It's SpongeBob Underpants!" - Ella, about a yellow starfish beach toy she found that has a face remarkably similar to Mr. Underpants. No, we don't watch SpongeBob, and yes, he will forever be known in our house as SpongeBob Underpants.

This Is How We Enjoy Easter Peeps

Easter Peeps are cute, crystalized, sugary bits of yuck. As a general rule, I don’t eat marshmallows straight or covered in sugar. If I eat a marshmallow, it’s between two graham crackers and covered in a melted Hershey bar, or pretending to be river foam on top of a Mississippi Mud Cake. If I’m going to eat candy with absolutely no redeeming quality (Chocolate isn’t included as it has free radical fighting antioxidants and it keeps Mommy from losing her mind.), I prefer Skittles, or Sour Gummy Life Savers, or cinnamon discs or butterscotch. Marshmallows? Meh. The rest of my household feels pretty much the same about marshmallows.

Yet, somehow we always have a package of Peeps lying around at Easter. And we keep them until they are petrified because they are too cute to throw away. This time Ella picked them out to include in a goody bag for me at the hospital. When I offered her one, her response was, “Meh.”

I’ve been letting them live in the candy bowl for a few weeks, and the other night Dave asked what we were going to do with them. I told him to throw them away. He said he would – after they played a game with them.

Then, as I cleaned up the kitchen, he and the kids proceeded to sing a modified version of “Little Bunny Foo-foo Hopping through the Forest” while bopping those Peeps to oblivion. And laughing. Luke could barely contain himself; he thought it was so funny.

Scooping up the Peep chicks.

Turning Little Bunny Foo Foo into a goon.

Not entirely sure those Peeps aren't alive since they jump around when bopped.

Completely engrossed in the game.

By the time they were done squishing them, they were small enough to fit in Dave’s fist. I probably should have given them to someone in need – but does anyone need Peeps? Does anyone actually eat Peeps?