please pass me another gigantic slice of chocolate cake

Life with lots of little people isn't a walk in the park everyday.

I'd sure like to think that rearing our 4 & 3 year olds, and 2 1 year olds is as easy as plowing through a gigantic piece of chocolate cake. But we all know the truth in that. And, you know I tend to keep it real with ya'll. Rememeber?

However, I'm all about bringing the sunshine here at 4under3. Even if it is a drizzling spring day.

So, for you my dear readers, fiest your eyes on our morning adventures. It didn't go as I would have planned it to. But, it just might take away the pain from that jar of tomatoes you just dropped on your right toe, or the drawing your toddler just created on your newly painted wall. It might just crack a few sunshiny rays through your curtains. Then you might be able to sigh and be reminded that, "It's okay, she had a really crappy morning too she dealt with some issues too."

It might.

It all started this morning--after arriving home from a trip to a superstore where my 3 year old flipped a lid after I told him he could not have another pair of Spiderman sandals, and as I was starting lunch--when Norah took off her skirt & diaper while playing in the garage. Most times that's no big deal. Unless she has a dirty diaper. Drats! She had a dirty diaper. So, while my noodles were boiling, and proceeding to stick to the bottom of the pot, I cleaned her up on the floor of the bathroom that's right off our kitchen.

Now, while Norah and I were in the bathroom, I smelled the most unusual smell. A smell that reminded me of Mr. Marvelous' spicy grilled wings. "Mmm," I thought. "That smells good. But why is it coming from my bathroom?" As I secured Norah's diaper tabs and put her skirt back on, I looked around. Nothing. That's when I turned to see that Hazel had taken a bottle of RedHot Wing Sauce from the pantry and dropped it on the kitchen floor, shattering it to bits. And if I didn't know any better, I would have thought that the wing sauce tried its darndest to maneuver itself across the floor on as much of our newly tiled grout lines as it could.

After scrubbing RedHot off of our floor, I scraped noodles off the bottom of the pot and proceeded to make homemade Mac-n-Cheese while the twins colored with markers at the island that I was working at.

Between the time it took me to scrape noodles and serve up plates, Norah had thrown a red crayon into my pot of macaroni, and colored semi circles on her sister's forehead.

Dear Lord! Please, pull the plug from this preposterousness!

Say that three times really fast. Say it. Say it!!!

Ahem. Noooo. I'm fine. Really.

In fact, all that's over. And, I feel better now. I do.



Do you?



Well then. Here. Have a chicken wing.

You just gotta let 'em go

There are some things that you just have to ignore, then you look the other way and make no bones about them. You just gotta let 'em go.

Like when your existing and new wood floors--which take up the majority of your main floor--have been sanded down and treated, and you're told to keep your feet your children's feet off them until they dry. For two days in a row. Even though you don't want to load everyone up in the car and spend the entire day away, again, you just do.

And then you let it go.

Or, like when your MIL invites you and the children over to her place--which is over an hour away--on a day when said floors are drying, you get all excited because you know it's supposed to be a gorgeous day and you imagine how much fun everyone will have playing outside in her wonderful backyard on her playset. Except, your oldest daughter ends up showing major signs of illness. So, you spend most of the day snuggling inside while trying to nurse her back to health.

You just let it go.

Or, like when you realize your daughter's tonsils are as big as kumquats on steroids, so you and your MIL load everyone up and take her in to the Fast Care clinic in the closest grocery store near your MIL's home town. Then you're told she has strep. And you're asked if you have any other children at home that your daughter might have passed it on to.

You just let it go.

And while you're waiting for her prescription, you walk around the store looking for fun, soothing consumable treats to cheer up your kumquatie daughter. Like frozen fruit on sticks. While you wait for your prescription, you two sit together and slurp lime and strawberry popsicles. Then when you return back to your car full of children--that your MIL is watching--you realize that you would have a bigger situation to deal with if you were to withhold the frozen fruit sticks from your other children. So you cheerfully unwrap one for each child and then...

...you just...

...let it go.

remember that gigantic piece of chocolate cake?

I have chicken thawing on our bedroom window sill. I taught Luke what a Wet Willy was before naps. I ate Christmas cookies for lunch. All morning, I climbed up blowup house steps holding Norah and Hazel together in my arms. Then, I slid down the slides with them on my lap, which is apparently against the rules. I have keifer curdling on my countertop. I'm 10 days behind on our family Christmas card, in comparison to last year. I took up knitting on Monday night. I'm finding that it's a bit harder then I imagined. If my mom or MIL offered to watch the children overnight, I'd round up Mr. Marvelous--and all our ski stuff--and head to the mountain miniature ski hills 'bout an hour north of us.

And, we tried this again:

and did some of this:
...and it turned out exceptionally magnificent.

(I told you life with lots of little people is one gigantic piece of chocolate cake.)

Just keepin' it real with ya'll.

(..so that when I'm 50, I don't brag to some new mom of 4under3 that my days with lots of little ones was one gigantic piece of chocolate cake!)

Yesterday afternoon was supposed to be great memory making at its finest.

And I think it was!

I'm pretty sure each and every one of our four had a marvelous time on our trip to the corner/edge of our neighbor's yard/50 feet past our driveway and back.

I'm quite certain that Hazel was telling Norah just "how much fun it is to ride" in the sled she was in. And it's a good thing that Norah didn't notice the mitten clips I fastened to her. It's like they didn't seem to mind the weather. Or being bundled. Not one bit.

If only Mr. Marvelous was able to join us. He was at work about 15 minutes away. However, he might have heard all our laughing and caroling. I'm sure all the neighbors did.

I know the little girls wanted to stay outside a bit longer, but I figured we've got all winter for outdoor fun. So we cut our snow play short...

...and snuggled on the front rug. I still in my coat/snowpants/boots/neckwarmer.

We'd probably do it again this afternoon. But I sure don't want to wear out the excitement of it all, ya know. Like I said, we've got all winter.

[sigh]

I come to you with morning breath

I practiced Lounging Complacency today. Otherwise known as the stay home, relax, and be fine with it exercise.

I admit it. "Hi, my name is Tiffany and I am a Go-go-aholic."

I've acknowledged that I have difficulty implementing the stillness proponent during the wake hours of our days--and I wish I didn't feel like we had to go somewhere every day--so last night I decided that this very Tuesday would be different.

We were to be still. In our home. Together.

So today was a pajama party for us all. Well, not all. Norah and Hazel woke up soaked to the bone, so they had breakfast in clean t-shirts, then went straight upstairs for a "splish splash," then into clean outfits. And I changed into lounging clothes from my real pajamas. But Julia and Luke sported their Cinderella and Basketball jammies through and through.

And somehow this whole thing was super invigorating. And refreshing. Like a breath of Starbucks' whole bean Breakfast Blend. Ahh.

I know that most days we all clean up nicely, like this little guy does:
..which makes today's all day pajama party--filled with morning breath--seem just fine.

If you were a fly on our windshield

If you were a fly on our windshield on the way to Thanksgiving today, this is what you would've seen. Well, this and a floor full of things meant to pacify those two dollies in red. They're tricky little buggers, that's for sure. One day sippy cups, mascara tubes, straws and books do the trick. Other days it's to the floor they fall.

And then when there seems to be nothing left to try and I'm really desperate to soothe the disheartened ones, I flip down that dvd screen you see up there--the one that we've never, ever, not once put to use, maybe now is the time--and narrarate a fingerplay of the scene in Nemo when Dory goes dillusional because Martin is following her. You know the one.

The little ones love it. For two seconds.

Then it's back to tugging at their straps in hopes of breaking free.

[sigh]

But, Mr. Marvelous said it perfect this morning--on our way to his aunt's on his mom's side of the family--"There's this funny thing about being a parent. Even when you think you are entirely beyond annoyed with something, after it's all over you completely forget about it."

And it's true. Even though I about pulled each hair out of my head during our time in the car today--which by the way is growing back in rather nicely now--just thinking about those two little muchkins makes me want to go crawl in bed with them.

Which is very possible these days. In fact, I have crawled in bed with them a few times now. More on their new sleeping arrangement is forthcoming.