Lucky Lilacs in "Exile"...

Today we did "Lucky Lilacs."  Grandma had sent the gifts, and I pulled out an old pair of Justin's eyeglasses.  Not quite the same as Grandma Becky's... but the kids didn't seem to mind.  Sadly, I could only remember the magic words "higgledy, piggledy."  So, we made up some REALLY bad ones to make up for that.  GQ truly enjoyed the spitting part though, and giggled whenever I spat on the lilac.

E had a great time looking for lucky lilacs (any lilac that doesn't have four petals).  M didn't quite get it... as seen below.  She pretty much pulled all the lilacs off the bush.

Then, she put them in her bowl.  When it came time to "read" a lilac for her... I had to steal one from E.

Later, she gave this pig a bath in her lilacs.

E was much more rule oriented.  She only put the right numbered lilacs in her bowl, and was seriously disturbed when I picked some lilacs from the edge of someone's lawn.  Now that it's getting later I am feeling disturbed too... so we will have to take care of that later this week with some sort of peace offering to the people we stole lilacs from.

Happy Lucky Lilacs!!!

Distracting Myself

Last Thursday I was supposed to:

a) fold the laundry

b) do the budget

c) clean the house

Since I didn't want to do any of these things... I went outside and dug up the "backyard" instead.  Because we're in a rental, the homeowners had covered the "garden" with rocks to keep out weeds.  It was beyond ugly.  It depressed me to look at it.  But, since I am cheap and I won't live here that long I didn't want to do much back there myself.

So, I spent the afternoon moving all the rocks to the sides to create borders.  (Our neighbor, a police officer, accused me of burying Justin in the garden - since he hasn't seen him in a while.)

Then, since Justin owed me flowers from our anniversary... and since I hadn't actually buried him yet... I made him buy me some real flowers to plant.  M and E are pretty sure the flowers belong to them.

I am not sure how my "garden" will do since we get no sun in our backyard, the ground here is like clay, and I couldn't get all of the rocks out.  Besides, I keep forgetting to water the plants anyway.  Sigh.  Still, even if they all die in a few weeks, they've lasted way longer than cut flowers would have, right?

This kind of mother

In honor of Mother's Day (not) I decided to be this kind of mother today:

the mother who makes her child skip dinner because she forgot to buy treats for said child's soccer practice.

I decided against being:

the mother who forgets the treats and forces 9 three year olds to miss "the best part" of soccer.
the mother who ditches her three year old at the field while she skips out to the grocery store.
the mother who is late to soccer because she had to go to the store on the way.

So, there we were:

the mother who fed her daughter four bites of homemade pizza and then said:  "Never mind.  Get in the car."

(Technically, she did have time to eat. Both GQ and E ate - but M is always done eating about an hour later than everyone else.)

I suppose I should have been:

the mother who actually went to the store on Saturday and bought treats and milk instead of reading a book.

Or:

the mother who actually went to the store on Monday and bought treats and milk instead of reading a book.

You win some, you lose some?

Soccer... the illustrated version

This week I remembered the camera.  It was not nearly as cold/wet/amusing as the week before... but the kids still looked a little like marshmallows.  M was very good at the pose below.  At soccer they call it "crush the bug."  Since this is one of M's favorite past-times (as long as the bug is not a worm), she was very good at it.

We were a little early this week, which is always good because GQ can play on the field a little while before he is relegated to the sidelines.

This is when both of M's coaches tried to convince her that it would be a good idea to kick the ball.  Obviously she is not so sure about it.

And below is my cheapo version of the team picture.  I just stood behind them and took my own picture... which totally embarassed Justin.

This is what I spend my time doing during soccer.

Oh wait, here I am doing it again.  Keeping that boy off the field is a full time job.

I don't have as many pictures from E's soccer because Justin can't come on Wednedays and so I have to chase GQ more often.

Every time I found a spare moment to take a picture, I would find E in the goal

Again.

Finally, a picture outside the goal.

Cheating again.

He Couldn't Quite Wake Up

Bluebirds

I knew my bluebirds would be my hardest costume to "think" out.  Rainbows were definitely more difficult as far as time and effort went, but I could not get the shape right on these.

This is a butterfly, not a bluebird.

This is just plain droopy.

So, I went with something more simple.

Now all my costumes are finished.  Now I just need to figure out some theatre problems and we should be set!

If You Give GQ a Toothbrush...

... he will steal a million more.

When I got married I declared that I would never share my toothpaste with my husband.  "Ew, Gross."  I think those were my words.  My friend Elisa - choosing to make fun of me in a good-natured way - bought me two tubes of toothpaste and labeled them with my name and Justin's name.

A few years into it I realized that - at least with Justin - I didn't have to worry.  He is more OCD about his toothpaste than I am.

Then, I had GQ.

GQ loves toothbrushes.  He loves brushing his teeth.  He loved it when he had no teeth.

This is the thing about GQ.  He knows which tooth brush belongs to which person.  He often tells me as he points them out.

As he points them out and puts them in his mouth.

"Eddie's toot-brush."  Chomp-Chomp
"Me-ed's toot-brush."  Chomp-Chomp
"Mommy's toot-brush."  Chomp-Chomp

Oh yes, he did.

Ew, gross.

I now hide my toothbrush (like a certain brother-in-law I know who puts his on the top of the door frame) but after GQ found my most recent toothbrush (the 4th in just a month) I had to just give up, wash it off, and use it anyway.

D-I-S-G-U-S-T-I-N-G

And yes, he is the one who got all those toothbrushes out and put them on the counter.

Soccer

I suppose I am officially onto my second child because I completely forgot to take the camera to M's first night at soccer on Monday.  And when I tried to take pictures with my phone, my battery died.

And that is just too bad, because it was hilarious.

It was rainy and cold and even though I called several times, the hotline never said the games were cancelled.  Because if there's anything I know, it's that 3 year olds - who probably shouldn't be playing soccer anyway - should definitely be playing in the rain.

All those little marshmallow bodies - wrapped in coats and hats, and their "soccer shirts," running around aimlessly on the fields.

*Please ignore the rant below*

(Of course, that's when you could actually see them.  Quite a few parents were obviously not on the second child.  They had brought their cameras and their camcorders, and they did not find it necessary to leave the field because they wanted to be taking pictures.  This drove me bonkers because I couldn't see M for all the parents on the field.  Justin thought I was being a little crazy.  But seriously, if there is anything I've learned from teaching ballet to little 2 1/2 year olds it is that the parents should just leave already.  Once I even had to go get M and pull her past the parents to where the coaches were.  They had boxed her out in their helicopter insanity.)

*End of rant*

M was typically M.  She enjoyed the drills - where she had her own ball.  But when they began the game, she planted herself by my side and refused to budge.  R-E-F-U-S-E-D.  I should have sent GQ in for her.

*****

Speaking of GQ, on Monday I had help reining in the crazy critter.  But on Wednesday, we went to E's game without Dad. 

Heaven help me!!!!!!!  For real.

Last Fall, we played at different fields - and I could take the stroller to strap him down and keep him off the field.

Not so easy here.

And let me tell you, GQ is insistent that he be on the field.  He is insistent he is on the team.

We spent a good 10 minutes with him writhing/thrashing/screaming in my arms.  Then, when I put him down, he would stay on the sidelines for a little while before looking at me - with a grin - and kicking his ball out into the field.

What is sad is that GQ is better at soccer than me.  He easily dribbled the ball past me several times as I tried to catch him.

I was just lucky there was a lot of mud.  I usually only caught him after he had fallen down.

*****

Now I have mud-covered clothes.  And since I am in the remedial laundry class I cannot get the stains out.  You'll all have to teach me pretty quick or my kids are going to look pre-mud-stained next week.