Ohhh, Yes we did. . .

When Quinn told me we were going to the Poison concert I thought he was totally kidding.  I mean really, Poison??? I left my big hair, tight and ripped jeans, and all that thick make-up in the 80's.  So, off we went and suddenly I was transported back into 9th grade.  Ahhh, does Bret Micheals ever get old.  Ummmm, yep. . .or maybe that was me.  It was sooooooo freakin loud.  I was often plugging my ears to try and get some relief from the assault on my senses.
You can't see so well in these pics but Bret is sporting some ultra-tight stone washed parahna-chewed style jeans.  I'm pretty sure 1988 was on the phone. . .but clearly, he did not give the pants back. 

So here we are after the concert still "rockin" and our ears totally ringing.  Quinn was still complaining the next morning. . .not to bad for the "thirty-somethings."

Okay, so let's be totally honest here. . .I REAL  reason why I love the fair so much, YEP, the huge boost in self-confidence.  Just 5 minutes from my house and I am the a.) best mom, b.) style fashonista, and c.) sooo skinny.  This year I took photos for evidence.  (and really because it was pretty sneaky fun).   Warning:  further reading may result in the "train wreck" phenomena.

So this chick "looks" pretty normal but I was standing next to her (as I waited for my boys on the Ferris wheel) and she was talking to her kids like they were about 20 years old and her friends.  I was jaw-dropped stunned. . .she was going off talking about how she was going to "F@*$#* her up."  Over and over and over, huge f bombs along with all the other accessories that go with that type of explicits.  And these were 3 little BOYS she was relaying this story to (about ages 6, 9, and 11).  I could not quite starring at her completely stunned and revolted.  As she walked away and I stole the shot of her I was thinking about how thrilled I was that my boys would probably go to school with her kids who have a deranged view on how to behave and treat other people.

So, yea, after that display, I was pretty much a mom of the year candidate.

Yea, my mom jeans, clogs, and tee shirt were not looking as frumpy. . .

Do I really need to explain. . .What muffin?

So there ya go, the reasons I LOVE the fair.  I'll post some pics of freakin cute kids having a great time with their buddies at the fair.  But I had to pull the honestly card first!

Have a great day.

No longer in denial. . .

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my BEAUTIFUL, YUMMY, SMART, FUNNY, SWEET, DELIGHTFUL, PRECIOUS, CHARMING, LOVING, LIGHT-OF-MY-LIFE BABY GIRL!!!!

I've been in such denial that my baby is now ONE.  Simply typing the words makes the throw-up creep up into my mouth.  I kept thinking if I did not post it, my baby would still be a baby and not a growing-way-too-fast-one-year-old!  But alas, I must face reality and accept that I will never have a little baby again.  And while I LOVE every stage my yummy little rugrats go through I especially LOVE the 3-12 month stages.  

So here's a little reflection. . .

I will never forget the entire operating room squealing, "IT'S A GIRL!"  Quinn and the anestheologist were the only males in the room and NOBODY knew the sex of our baby (including us).  They just knew that we had two bouncing boys at home.  

There was no one person that said it was a girl, just a chorus of squeals, the excitement was almost tangible.  Then there was Quinn and I, completely shocked. . .we only knew how to have baby boys.  The first thing I said was, "are you sure?"  and Dr. Huggins replied with a quick bottom side peak over the curtain.  Quinn looked at our little girl and the first thing he said was, "little girl, you are going to cost me a lot of money."  He was so right on!  What a perfect morning that was. . .my little 8 pound 8 ouncer born on the 8th day of the 8th month!

I am beyond grateful to Quinn for capturing this perfect little moment. . .the first time I touched my little girl.

Pink signs. . .who knew.  A big thanks to the Armstorngs for starting out the color invasion!

So here is my little girl clapping along to the singing of Happy Birthday.  Thanks to Ade for assisting in blowing out the candle.

Was she into the cake???  Not so much.  Yep, she was pretty much annoyed by it.  Her OWN cake, chocolate with butter cream frosting in the shape of a flower. . .and all she can do is turn up her cute little nose!

Thanks for at least messing it up a bit, sissy.

Here are the party goers.  Grandma, Grandpa, Nana, Papa, Aunt Sue, Uncle Kev, Val, Taylor, Heather, Issac, the Birds, and the Armstrongs.  I think the Bird's won the most innovative-we-know-this-little-girl-gift.  They brought Ava a giant bag of Sonic ice!!!  And we all know how she (and her mom) loves Sonic ice!

This is a little guitar/cart thing from grandma and grandpa.  Ava thought it was more fun to have Macie pull her around in the cart.  It was a really fun night and I didn't even cry.  Thanks to everyone for coming and helping Ava celebrate!

FIRST GRADE HOMEWORK DRAMA. . .

I mean really, first grade. . .what am I going to do when it's 8th grade.  So here is the story, Ade comes home yesterday and seems to be on the verge of a complete meltdown.  Being the wise mom I just assumed this was more about a lack of sleep due o the night before's family home "skievening".  Aiden is rarely emotional.  So I should have caught on that there was something more going on.  

So we sit down to do homework and the waterworks begin.  I was totally taken back. . .whooooaaaa what the crap.  All he could say was, "but mom my 6's aren't PERFECT!!"  WHAT, perfect 6's???  Who knew.  I investigated and thought the 6's looked great, but I am the impartial mom.  I showed Ade how I write the number 6 and we looked at his work from earlier in the day (which he got 100%) and they looked the same.  He kept arguing with me.  I had to look him in the face and  tell him that "even though I was not a teacher, I am a college graduate and I know how to write a SIX!"  

30 minutes and many tears later I was almost over the edge so, yep, day 8 and I'm calling the teacher.  (Call me a helicopter mom, I don't care, this was serious business. . .heehee)  Well, the real story comes out.  The class had a "test" today on the 50 in a minute thing.  Aiden has been practicing every day and doing very well.  So today he did not pass and the kids that passed got a licorice rope. . .AHHHHHHHHHHH.  All this sadness and drama over a DAMN licorice rope.  Someone get Twizzlers on the line!  He finished the test in time but the teacher aides did not pass him cause some of his numbers were "sloppy."  So we went to work on 2's, 4's and 0's.  

I LOVE how supportive Asher is being, right there watching every swipe of the pencil.  And he would intermittently go get Ade a fresh Kleenex.

Notice the Kleenex and red eyes.

Amazing that even though I now knew the source for this sad face, it still broke my heart.  So an hour and a half, 3 columns of practiced 2's, 4's, and 0's, and countless hugs and praises the sadness was over.  Braxton to the rescue and it was time to PLAY!!!

I love you, Ade, OCD or not!!!!

Who needs husbands anyway. . .

So last night I asked Quinn to put together this cool new laundry "butler" sorta thing.  I knew full well he would "forget" but I was giving him the benefit of the doubt.  We all know "Call of Duty" is much more important. . .but alas I held out hope.  This morning I headed out to the gym and passed right by my new butler STILL IN THE FREAKING BOX. . .shocker.

So here I am with my two little "helpers" assembling away.  Now we all know how easy it is to put something together with 4 extra hands finding stuff for me and rearranging my piles.

Yes, this would have been much more difficult to do the night before without these little rugrats assistance.

But an hour and a half later here's what I had. . . taaadaaa.  I mean really, if it weren't for that whole eternal thing. . .husbands???

So while I am on the whole "I'll-do-it-myself-pitty-party"  I'll show you what else I did today. . 
Yep, the one on the right is 100% full of weeds.  Welcome to the ghetto.  We are pretty much white trash and I could NOT stand it a moment longer.  Asher and Ava were "helping" me for a while.  (I'm pretty sure there was more dirt on them than in the entire garden)  Anyway, then Ash went to play at Evan's and Ava went down for a nap.  Then Chris Daughtry and I had some quality time together!  Such great therapy, getting dirty with Mr. Daughtry blaring in my ears.

So I'm pretty sure if I pulled weeds more often than twice a summer I would reap more than just this. . .

I've concluded that gardens are just there to mock me and make me feel even more inadequate.  Damn, gardens and husbands. . .I really need a Diet Coke and maybe a trip to Nordstorm and the Apple store.