Taylor the Photographer

Taylor has taken over the camera.

It’s funny and incriminating all at the same time; I particularly like the bad baby photo.

New Girl

The other day, I was getting my drink at McDonald's. You see, I go there just about every day to get a Dr. Pepper. This is because if I have to GO to get it, I'll only have one. Whereas if I have said drink in my house, I'll drink gallons and gallons... It's just how it works people.

ANYWAYS.

I was being handed my drink, when Taylor looked out the window at the girl passing it to me and says:

Yep.... that's us. Single-handedly keeping the local MickeyD's in business.

May 21, 2012

Taylor had a birthday. She is now FIVE, which is good for her, but makes me feel weird on the inside.

GUYS: I DON'T HAVE BABIES. Or even toddlers. I have KIDS. It's a totally bizarre feeling that I can't explain.

I have noticed that while I continue to like people with babies, my closest kinds of friends don't have them. Not that I purposely avoid them or anything, but let me tell you about life without babies: It. Is. Glorious.

Not that there is anything wrong with a baby, I mean, I like them just fine... but kids are fun. And mobile. And self sufficient. And can buckle themselves.  I could go on and on about it, but I can sense your jealousy of my glorious life.

AND! AND! Next year, everyone will be in school.

You know how some people are sad about kids going to school and shed a tear and all that? Not me. And lest you think that this makes me some kind of terrible person, I'll have you know that my kids cannot wait to leave me either. It works for us.

Meanwhile, let's talk about my headache that will not quit.

And also let's talk about the awkwardness that was me teaching Sunday School about patriarchal blessings this week. Why was it awkward? Well, I have a slight lisp, you see, which was made very apparent by the fact that my lips also were numb. Why were my lips numb? Because I have MS. So with my lips not working, PLUS my slightish lisp, PLUS the letter "P", it was basically a train wreck of a speech impediment, and my dear sweet students pretended not to notice.... as if I couldn't hear my own self.  Ah well, that's why a sense of humor is necessary in life, is it not?

It Takes Mad Skills to be this Graceful

Recently, I gave myself a black eye.



Now, I know you’re wondering how it happened, so I’m going to tell you.

This is because I am a generally nice person and, also, I like to talk about myself.

Besides, I can’t help it if I’m awesome.



Anyways, THIS is the tale of how I gave myself a black eye.



It was a dark and stormy night, and I was the only person awake in the house.

I had been watching television, because I like to watch documentaries, and nobody else does, so I do the polite thing and stay up until 3 am.



Since I’m the last one up, I get the pleasure of quadruple checking the locks and turning off all the lights.

This is very big and adult of me, because I actually am a teensy bit afraid of the dark, combined with a gruesome and wicked imagination that has a tendency to get away from me.

I think it’s healthy to be worried about ghosts, and zombies, and serial killers who want to steal your children from their bedroom windows.



Of course, zombies and hatchets aren’t really related to this story, but I always like to work them in some how. I call it “good storytelling.”



Anyway, my documentary was over, and it was time for me to go to bed, so I turned off the lights and began to make my way up the stairs.

Now, this is a little known fact about me, and I don’t know why I do it, but it’s a habit that I can’t seem to break.

When the lights go off at bedtime, I close my eyes.

And it’s always about half-way up the first flight of stairs (stupid townhouses) that I realize my eyes are closed.

And EVERY NIGHT, I remind myself that I can open my eyes, and that walking would be much easier if I looked where I was going.



After I opened my eyes, I made it all the way to my bedroom without incident.

Which is when I found one of my children laying in my spot.

Now, a few years ago, I would have moved the child back to their bed and called it a day. But that was when my children were babies and easily transported.

So now, I’ll just go lay on their bed.

However, this large child is assigned the top bunk, and I am not willing to sleep on the top bunk. Plus, what if it broke because I’m too big and I crushed the other kid in the middle of the night? No… it would be much easier to just go back downstairs and sleep on the couch.



I made my way down the stairs, and remembered that there was a pillow on the floor. So, I began searching with my foot, because my eyes were closed… again.





Success! I had found it! So I bent over to pick it up.

And smacked my face on the edge of the table.



And that is the story of how I am more graceful than you.

Haircuts!

Probably the best thing I ever did that has worked out in my favor was going to cosmetology school. Because even though I don’t work in a salon, I can do my kids hair, which saves us however much a haircut goes for these days, time five.

At any rate, I cut their hair every couple of weeks.



And usually, we have the same types of haircuts.



Thaddeus is cool and likes mohawks and spiky hair and the occasional weird color application. Once, I even gave him a partial mohawk, with three lines shaved into the side of his head, and it was bleached blonde. He was pretty much the most awesome 2nd grader ever.

(picture not accurate representation… OBVIOUSLY)

As for the girls, well… they’ve had everything from an a-line bob to a pixie cut and everything in between. Because I think hair should be fun. Especially when you’re a kid. When else is it acceptable to rock an asymmetrical bedhead pixie that you partially cut yourself with plastic crafts shears?



At any rate, I’m pretty willing to do whatever. Which is why it cracks me up to no end that my sweet boy Daniel always wants to look just like his ultra conservative father.



So then he tells me what he wants… which, for once in my life, is something that I just cannot bring myself to do.



Because, my dear friends, the circle on top in which he is referring is where my husband is beginning to lose his hair.

And I am not going to cut a bald spot on my 5 year old.



And then my sad, defeated child realized that he was not going to get the hair cut of his kindergarten dreams.

So he changed his request…



So I cut his hair like a monkey…. whatever that is, and the was thrilled.