Interesting...

Considering I loathe (despise, hate, etc. I could go on) actually playing this game.

You Are Scrabble

You are incredibly clever and witty. You can talk your way out of (and into) situations easily. You are an excellent decision maker. You are good at weighing the options in front of you. You're the type of person who can make something out of nothing. You are very resourceful. You know a lot of things. Most importantly, you know when people are wrong - even when they won't admit it.

What Board Game Are You?

Just Say "Cheesy"

Yes, we torture our children by taking their pictures.
O.K, it was pretty cold out there.
But is that any reason why they can't open their eyes at the same time?

I was starting to think we should have paid the big bucks for some falsely cheerful photographer to provoke plasticine smiles from my two oldest and to confine my youngest to one spot (the real challenge). We did get a few pictures better than these. (How could they not be?) Many of you will receive those in the mail in the coming weeks.

I think these are more fun.

I Turned My Back for Five Seconds

Subtitle: Those warnings? They're there for a reason.

You know those warnings on toothpaste tubes about not eating it? They aren't kidding. Ask me how I know.

Now might be a good time to tell you that those of you who are faint of heart (men), might want to go read another blog now. I figure you moms can take it.

So last night, in the midst of all the jammies being put on, stories being read, drinks of water being given, toys being put away...in other words, the 57,268 things that must be done before this house is quiet the children are asleep, someone wasn't where she was supposed to be. Worse, everyone thought someone else was watching her. And someone, not to name names (OK, it was Tigger), left the kid toothpaste on the bathroom counter with the lid off.

Someone took full advantage of this perfect opportunity (distracted parents, dark bathroom, closed door) to squeeze out as much of that toothpaste as she wanted. Except we didn't realize that is what she did. (I'll take my bad parent of the year award now.)

Again, they are not kidding when they tell you not to eat this stuff. So last night, while Prince Charming and I are watching a movie, the youngest member of our household begins crying. Since I am snuggled under my favorite blanket with a mug of hot cocoa, He answers the cry. He covers her back up, but otherwise does nothing, sees nothing amiss, doesn't call me.

Big mistake.

This morning the older girls began yelling about sticky blue stuff all over Sweet Pea, her pillow, her blankets, and her pajamas. That would be sticky blue toothpaste vomit. (I warned you this was not for the faint of heart.)

Prince Charming, being the hero (albeit often oblivious) that he is, swept the babe into the tub, stripped her bed, and generally handled most of it. All I'm left with is the massive amount of laundry and a toddler who wants to snuggle constantly. And, let me just say, despite the bath, she does not smell entirely pleasant. I predict another bath in her very near future.

And much more direct adult supervision during the bedtime routine, for the foreseeable future. Like, until she's eighteen.