Spring Break: Part 1

I'm basically thinking that we should have spring break every other week. 
I honestly loved every minute of having the kids home.

And I may or may not have enjoyed sleeping in just a little.

But we didn't just sleep our vacation away - no sir.

In a picture, here's how our spring break started.

Jack is an absolute crack-up to have around but positively refuses to cooperate for a picture.

Bradley never stopped moving or injuring himself.

Aubrey apparently discovered a new hole in her face which perfectly fits her finger.

Brooklyn finally lost that snaggly front tooth

and smothered I mean, mothered that poor little Aubsie to bits.

In other news, 

we ate really healthy all week

and faithfully exercised every day.

Oh wait, that was actually a lie.

A shameful lie.

But folks, you'll want to forgive me

because all this excitement was only the first half of the week.

I know, it was almost too much, wasn't it?

But trust me folks, the second half was spent with the grandparents,

so mega fun was had.

Do stay tuned.

Rotten Mouth

You know, I grew up spending a lot of time in the dentist chair.

Not my favorite place to be.

And the most frustrating part is that no matter how much I brushed and flossed,

I ended up back in the chair with a drill in my face.  

Well, I have now decided that there is something worse than being drilled on by a dentist:

being the one who actually has to pay for all that drilling. 

And knowing your genes are to blame.

Sure enough, those deep groove/pathetic enamel genes have been passed to the next generation.

Thereby costing me a small fortune.

And he's not even five!

I'm telling you that I have given fluoride,

brushed and flossed the teeth in that mouth like my life depended on it.

And for what?

1 (more) crown and 2 (more) cavities.

Sigh.

Dave is definitely in the wrong field.

Disclaimer:  If you are reading this and you are a dentist, or married to a dentist - I harbor no hard feelings.  :)

So let's still be friends (and relatives), OK Andrea?

Aubrey Check-in

I haven't been very good at posting Aubrey's growth stats.

Probably because she hasn't been doing much growing...

I took her in for a little 10 month check up:

15 lbs 14 oz (3rd percentile)

Height:  (hmmm...I can't remember, but it was somewhere around the 18th percentile)

She's rapidly falling on the percentile charts, but no worries -

this girl is eating, sleeping, and acting like a healthy, happy 10 month old!

I went out to take a few pictures of Aubrey (with no hair in her face!)

but apparently she has no interest in showing us her whole face.

She WOULD NOT look at me!

Obviously the flowers, cars, and kids were way more interesting than me.

OR, she knew exactly what I was after

so her little "internal spark" told her to look anywhere except where I wanted her to.

Little stinker.

How to buy a house

Remember this story about Brooklyn saving her birthday money for a house?

Well, she's at it again.

I was busy making dinner the other night when she walked in,

pulled up a stool, and looked at me with a little furrow in her brow.

"Mom," she said, "I know how we can buy a house."

"Oh really Brooklyn, how's that?"

Then she gave me that Duh, Mom! look and said,

"You need to stop wasting your money on grown up things.  Like toilet paper."

 Genius!

Why didn't I think of that?

OJ

We've got 2 orange trees in our backyard.

I love these trees, but we have a hard time keeping up with all the oranges.

There are just too many.

So, being the adventurous mother I am,
I decided that it would be a fun activity for the kids and I
to pick the rest of the oranges and make orange juice.

Fun, right?

I should have gotten a picture of us picking the oranges.

That was pretty much buckets of fun.

I was up on the ladder digging through branches full of spiders and thorns
while the kids directed me to the next orange.

I dropped the oranges down to them
doing my best to drop them into the bags they were holding open for me.

They really should have been wearing helmets.

In all, we harvested 24 oranges.

Well, what started out as a fun bonding activity

quickly turned into alot of WORK for me.

It takes a long time to peel and juice 24 oranges.

Then, those 24 oranges had the nerve to only produce 2 quarts of juice.

Seriously?

Seriously lame.

BUT, that was some super delish OJ.

Convincing, right?

Look, Bradley even has an orange juice drip running down his arm.

That's a sign of pure satisfaction from him.

But my friends, there is a moral to this story.

Actually, there are two.

You didn't know you'd be gleaning so much wisdom from one blog today.

Especially this blog.

But here it is.

Moral #1:  Bonding that involves spiders, scratches, stickiness,

and lots of work doesn't end up as fun as it originally sounded.

Moral #2:  A gallon of orange juice is totally worth $3.50.

A Kid: Week 8

Bradley and I

Nose"ing"

I was just looking through some old pictures and saw this.

One of those funny things that kids do for awhile and then grow out of.

He used to always run up to me, tug on my sleeve and say, "Nose!"

Which of course meant that he wanted some nose to nose love.

I miss that.

Now he just uses me as his personal jungle gym.

And today when I tried asking him for a "nose" - not a chance.

He basically just batted those big blue eyes at me and said, "No Mama."

Then he let out a little man laugh and took off running.

Little stinker.

Spring has Sprung

Just 2 posts ago I showed a picture of the boys playing in the pile of "snow."

Well, I am happy to announce that Mother Nature has shaped up

and given us the weather I've been waiting for!

Hello sunshine and warm weather!

These two spent a fair part of Saturday splashing around in that freezing cold water.

They were loving it.

I know it's going to be blazing hot, but I can't wait for summer.

I've been doin' a little dance every day

that I wake up to see the sun shining through the windows.

And Jack did a little dance when I told him that he could start wearing shorts to school.

Given the option, he will always choose shorts with cowboy boots.

Dashing.