This time of year, more than any other, the pressure is intense to get everything just right.  Pressure to be ready, pressure to go above and beyond, pressure to stop focusing on the wrong details, pressure to enjoy the season.

So many mixed messages.  "Are you ready?  Not much time left.  Hurry up!  Slow down.  More, bigger, better!  Simplify.  Shop till you drop.  Cherish family.  Enjoy the season!  Remember the meaning of it all."  All of the voices whispering.  "You're doing it wrong.  Get it together.  This is of utmost importance and you are blowing it."


Last week sickness hit the family.  Sickness.  Now.  Like I have time for this.  As if I don't have enough going on.  Sickness.

And when it finally passed, and I took a look around, I saw major setback.  I was already behind in my preparations.  My house wasn't quite clean enough to start getting out all the decorations.  I hadn't even pulled out the Advent stuff.  I was so behind.  Then add another week of just dragging ourselves through.  And do you know what happens to the house while I am waiting on two sick littles?  It gets wrecked.  Dishes piled up high and so much laundry.

I haven't even had time to address all the Christmas cards.  And I have already received two.  Two moms that have it more together than I do.

On St. Nicholas Day I forgot to put out their gifts until half way through the day.  I had to do the whole, sneak it out and try to pretend they have been there the whole time and no one noticed.

And here we are half way through Advent and we haven't even gotten out the Advent calendar.  Or the Jesse tree.  We haven't started making homemade ornaments for the Jesse tree like I promise every year we will do "next year."  Another year goes by and I still don't even own an Advent wreath.

And all the Pinterest moms are doing it so much better.

I remember my own childhood.  I remember doing the Jesse tree every year and lighting the candles on the Advent wreath.  I remember excitedly opening the doors on our Advent calendar.

I want my children to have those same memories.  To understand what Christmas is really about.

Mom had it together.  At least that's the way I remember it.  Funny thing is, I don't know for sure.  Did we always have all those things every year?  Did we ever get half way through Advent before we managed to dig it all out.  Maybe mom felt the same way I do and we were just too young to notice.  Maybe what really mattered was what we did and not what we didn't do.

Maybe other mothers have it less together than I think they do.  My friend, who sent the first card of the season.  Confided in me that half her cards went out without stamps.  Now she has to readdress and resend all those cards.  I'm ashamed to have felt a little relieved when she told me that.

I watch my kids get excited about their little pipe cleaner Advent wreaths.  And argue about who will get to put today's part of "The Story of Christmas" on the little tree.  And add a little bit of straw yarn to their wrapping paper tube manger to get it ready for the clothespin baby Jesus on Christmas.  In the back of my mind I see that box in the closet with all the other Advent items I haven't gotten out.  I don't even have the Nativity up!  Flashes of the Pinterest board, with all the other amazing ideas to take things above and beyond, fill my head.


Then I hear the Princess telling her brother, "Christmas is not about the presents.  It's about baby Jesus's birthday!"  I saw her eyes fill up with tears on the Sunday she was too sick to go to church because she didn't want to miss the second purple candle being lit.

I hear them make the connections.  Remembering a bible story, thinking to pray for someone, caring for each other and for "Mr. Cool."

Maybe I am doing something right?  Or maybe they are learning despite my shortcomings.

I think maybe there is a reason that now more than any other time of year we find ourselves falling short.

It's a pretty good reminder of what it's really all about.  Isn't it?

Because if we did have it all together.  If we were Pinterest perfect people.  We wouldn't even need Christmas.

Christ didn't come for the people who had their acts together.  He came for the struggling, for the weak, for the searching.

Even for the moms who are weeks behind on their blog, have a sink full of dishes, half a stack of Christmas cards to address, mount laundry ready to erupt, no Advent wreath, an undisplayed Nativity, and a mess in the corner where the Christmas tree is supposed to go.

Especially for those kinds of moms!



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Yesterday, I read this post and it reminded me of a specific trip I took to the grocery store when the Peanut was a little guy.  I don't remember exactly how old he was but my daughter wasn't born yet so he would have been younger than two.

About half way through my grocery shopping he started throwing a huge fit.  And let me tell you.  He was the master of the fits.  The blood curdling shriek kind of fits.


Once he got started, there was just no stopping him.  That put a quick end to my shopping trip.

And I think only a parent can really understand the frustration of having to leave a grocery store without all the groceries.

Anyone with kids knows what an ordeal grocery shopping can become when you have to take little kids along.  There is never a quick trip for essentials.  Just getting to the store is a colossal effort.  You have to get the timing just right.  Not nap time, not food time, not grouchy time, not poopy time.  You have to find the time when your baby is the most likely to let you get through the store without incident.  That time doesn't actually exist but you make your best effort.  Then you have to get yourself and the baby dressed, pack up all the necessary gear, diapers, wipes, entertainment, food items, pacis, anything that will keep that baby happy.

Load it all up in the car and get yourselves out the door.  Which is right when the baby will need a diaper change.  Back in, change, back out.  At this point, you are running much later than you thought you would be and it is encroaching dangerously in on nap, feeding, grouchy time or worst of all poopy time.  There is nothing worse than a poop explosion at the grocery store.  Don't ask me how I know that.

By the time you have done all the work of getting to the store, you better bet you aren't just going to grab that one thing and get out of there.  Because that would mean having to go through all the preparation AGAIN, another day, for the rest of the groceries.  Nope.  Not even gonna happen.  Once you manage to get there you better get everything.  As in anything and everything you will need for the next month, year, however long you can make it before items would start to actually spoil.

There is no greater tragedy than getting home and realizing you forgot that one essential item.  Because there is no going back.

How many times have you heard or even thought, "If my child ever threw a fit like that we would just leave the cart and walk right out of the store."

Most people say phrases like this all the time.  Until they actually have kids.  I'm guilty of it myself.  I promised myself I would "never be that parent."

Ever find yourself asking that question?

You look at another mom and she seems to have it all together.  She manages to do all the things and balances everything flawlessly.  She is perfect in every way.  So calm, cool, collected.

She is the perfect wife and mother.

She is the person who actually does the things she pins to Pinterest.  Heck, she is the one creating the things everyone else is pinning.

She is the mom who works full time from home while homeschooling her ten child prodigies.  Her genius children are also great athletes, always well behaved, polite, helpful and very popular.

She is the mom who sets the fashion trends and always looks fabulous in clothing she designed and sewed herself.  Some of the rest of us are still in pajamas and can't even find time to take a shower.  

Her impeccable house has been featured in magazines.  

She organizes events, does charity work, is in perfect shape and cooks her own delicious gourmet recipes using healthy ingredients she harvests straight from her own garden.

To top it all off she is even pretty too.  And you just can't dislike her because she is such a kind giving person.  All this and more.  She does it all effortlessly and is perfect in every way.

Don't we all feel like we know that mom?  We find ourselves asking, "how does she do it all?"

Ever been asked that question?

How do you do it all?

Believe it or not, I have.

Mothers of toddlers,  I know right now it seems like you will never again be able to decorate the bottom half of your Christmas tree.

But do not despair.

Allow me to offer a glimmer of hope.

True story.

Once Upon a Christmas Past,

The Peanut, took a bite out of a glass ball ornament.  I was two steps behind him.

He was unharmed and remained unphased as I frantically and carefully removed shards of glass from his mouth.  Yes, frantically AND carefully.  That's motherhood in a nutshell.

Every year since then, our ornaments have moved their way further up the tree as the children have gotten taller.

Just when it seemed all hope was lost.

The Princess.
She seems to be coming down with some sort of cold.  The past couple of mornings I have heard that slight catch of a cough when she first woke up.

This morning she woke up with the nose stuffies.  They have made her rather mis-er-ble today.

She periodically exclaims, "I don' feel so good."  Or, "I'm tired but I don't wanna go to sweep."

Most of her day has been spent snuggled up on the couch under a blanket.
She has needed lots of Mama snuggles today.

I realize I have not been the best at keeping up with the blog lately (or really ever.)  I blame my slow computer.  Five days now it has been trying to update Facebook (which is why all my Facebook followers have been missing out on all my witty banter and such) and it took almost two weeks to get this page open to write a new blog post then another two days to add links and a picture.  Yes, it's a bit slow at times.  It has also begun to make a strange noise from time to time...

So, last time I told you about my doctor's appointment of awesomeness.  It was so incredibly awesome that I felt a great weight lifted.

Which is why you might have been very surprised to see me the following morning, driving back home after dropping my husband off for work, having a bit of a mental breakdown.

Let's back up a couple of days.  The day before my amazing doctor's appointment of all amazing amazingness, two things happened.

First I was doing dishes.  (I know, I should really learn my lesson!)  And I made a huge watery mess on the floor.  My husband stepped in the puddle and commented on it.  I waved him off and told him I always made a mess doing dishes and it's just water so it will dry.  He brought in a towel and dried it up.  Then I stepped in the puddle that was leaking out of the towel.

Wait, what?

Yes, a giant puddle over and above the water that had now saturated a full size bath towel.  There is no way I made that much of a mess!  We pulled out the contents of under the sink cabinet.  They are currently still scattered across my kitchen counters and floor.  After some investigation we discovered that the garbage disposal is leaking.  Well you probably know by now how much we enjoy plumbing problems around here.  So we decided simply not to use that side of the sink.

During all this craziness the Princess came running in crying.  She was holding her mouth.  Correction, she was holding her tooth.

No one saw her injure herself and the best she can tell me is that it was the rocking chair.  What do you want to bet she wasn't just sitting properly in it?

Ya'll know how I love a good mouth injury!  (Yes, I spell it ya"ll and spell checker has no problem with it so it must be correct.)  So, I calmed her down and hubby washed her mouth out and got the bleeding to stop.  Yes, there is always blood isn't there?  We checked her tooth to see if the gum looked swollen or red and it looked ok.  But I was rather worried about it.  She has caps on her teeth (chalk teeth) and so we have to watch carefully because if she injures the tooth we might not be able to tell under the cap.  Yup, queen of mouth injuries and we have to take her into the dentist any time she injures a tooth.  This is amazingly only the second time in the year since she got the caps put on.  The first time was one week after she had the caps put on.

So, all that craziness happened and then the next day we pretty much put it all out of our minds because we had the doctor's appointment and at first we were all nervous and then we were all relieved and it was all emotional and stuff so I honestly didn't think about any of the other stuff all that day.

Then that night I remembered her tooth and took a look at it to see if there was any redness or swelling.  I didn't see any redness and maybe a tiny bit of swelling but it was hard to tell.  Still, it didn't look quite right...

It took me a minute and suddenly I realized one tooth looked lower than the other.  Now this might not be that big a deal except that I knew for a fact that the caps had been perfectly even.  I reached out and touched her tooth.

Today is the first day of Vacation Bible School for the Peanut.

This morning I got up early, got breakfast tacos, fed the Peanut and got him ready for his first day of VBS.

He picked out his clothes.  I asked him if he wanted to wear his Star Wars t-shirt and he looked at me like I had two heads.  "I'm going to church!"  "Oh.  Well you can wear a t-shirt to VBS or you can wear a church shirt.  Whichever you want."  "Church shirt."

He got dressed.  He excitedly chattered away.  As he was eating his taco he would get contemplative.  "Mom?"  I fought back the urge to hurry him along.  He was taking his sweet time eating and I didn't want him to be late for his first day!  But I knew he would have important questions and I wanted him to feel comfortable and prepared.  "What is it buddy?"  "Remember that episode of Sponge Bob..."  "EAT YOUR FOOD!!!!  WE HAVE TO HURRY!!!!"

I was supposed to drop him off between 8:30 and 8:45.  Obviously being his first day I planned on getting there right at 8:30.

At 8:30 on the dot we left the house.

I was understandably a bit frazzled as I buckled the kids in and got on the road.  No worries though the church is only about five minutes away.

I was starting to feel anxious.  Peanut was pretty quiet during the car ride.  For some reason no urgent questions about Sponge Bob came up.

I gave him the lecture about being good and listening to his teachers.  Told him how much fun he would have and that I would be back to pick him up before he knew it.

Right before we walked in the door I snapped a picture.  I really wanted one of him standing in front of some sort of VBS background but there were a ton of parents dropping off their kids and for whatever reason I was the only crazy mother stopping to take pictures.

What?  I needed it for the blog!
Can you see how nervous he was getting?!

We went inside and registered.

I took him in to his age group and they gave him a t-shirt and a name tag.  He was really excited about the name tag having his name on it.

I told him we would be leaving and to have fun.  We would be back to pick him up before he knew it.  He sat down to color and I turned, took a deep breath, and started walking away.

He came running after us.

Way back in the day, when the Peanut was potty training, he actually was night time trained before he was daytime trained.  He is the soundest sleeper ever and at night he would half wake up screaming.  For awhile we thought it was night terrors.  He would scream and cry but never even open his eyes.  Because he wouldn't fully wake up he could never respond to our questions and let us know what was wrong.  Eventually he would calm down and go back to sleep.  The next morning he wouldn't remember.  I'm not sure how we eventually figured out to take him to the potty.  I guess we noticed that he was also wiggling around and decided to give it a try.  He was wearing a diaper at night so he would half wake up having to pee.  He would scream and cry then pee and go back to sleep.  Once we figured it out we just took him to the potty and he would pee and then go happily back to bed.  He would never fully wake up through it all.  We were then able to put him in underwear at night and he never had a nighttime accident unless for some reason we were too slow getting him to the bathroom.

Eventually he grew out of this phase and would wake up on his own and go to the bathroom in the middle of the night without assistance.  Every once in a while when extra tired he would have a repeat and wake up screaming.  These occurrences were pretty rare so, many times, they threw us off.  We would forget and would waste time trying to figure out what was wrong.  Lesson learned.  If he wakes up screaming, potty first, questions second.

Recently he has been experiencing a relapse.  I have kind of wondered if it had something to do with my being pregnant.  More specifically, since I already wake up twice a night having to pee myself and the Princess sometimes wakes up having to pee and still needs assistance, why not add a forth nightly bathroom trip.  You know, to help prepare me for the all nighters once the baby is born.

Now he seems to have outgrown the screaming and instead rocks back and forth whimpering.  Again, his eyes don't open.  The Princess will wake up to the whimpering and drag herself out of bed, make her way to my room, wake me up and tell me that the Peanut needs to go potty.  She then slumps back into bed and happily drifts back to dreamland while I wake him up and get him to the bathroom.

This was happening every night and I was really starting to wonder what had caused this sudden relapse.

Then he dropped the bombshell on me.

This weekend is the 34th Annual Superman Celebration in Metropolis Illinois.  In honor of this event the kids and are are all wearing Superman shirts today.  It's the next best thing to actually being there.  At least that's what I tell them...

Super Cowgirl

Red K Superboy

This is what my lucky hubby gets to come home to everyday!

Whenever an image of a baby pops up anywhere in the house, a state of national emergency is declared.  Two children begin screaming and running around the house frantically.  I am located and strongly urged to "COME SEE THE CUTE BABY!"  It doesn't matter where I am or what I am doing, bathroom included, I must drop everything and run to see the cute baby or order (or at least a lack of screeching) will never be restored in this house.  "Will our baby be that cute?"  "I sure hope so!"


The cute baby spotting phenomena is also extended to my computer.  As it so happens, more than a few of the blogs I read have lately been showing off adorable pictures of brand new babies.  Therefore, anytime I am on the computer, two children are in my lap exclaiming "awe!"  "Scroll down, scroll up, awe!"  I should actually count three children in my lap because the one in my tummy has been growing and is taking up a bit of lap space him/herself.  As much as I love the cuddles, I also treasure my space.  Especially when attempting to type.


Unfortunately, the cute baby spotting has also been occurring frequently in Mass.  If you are the mom of a little baby and happen to be in Mass one Sunday, you might find yourself being pointed at across the church by a Peanut.  This Peanut will be frantically climbing across the pew, over his dad, around his sister, all while pointing obviously, to reach his mother and exclaim, "Do you see that cute baby?!  Will our baby be that cute?"


We had a very nutritional breakfast this morning.  The Peanut ate a lemon and the Princess had a jelly sandwich.  It was that kind of morning.

The boy loves lemons.

He ate the whole thing and went back for more.

You thought I was going to actually stick with a theme there didn't you?  Well, except for the Superman part.  But that was of vital importance.  Much like baby spotting.


Yesterday, I posted my first ever giveaway.  Don't forget to enter!!!  Go, now.  You know you want to!!!

When I was a child, I had a pretty healthy fear of knives and scissors.  I'm pretty sure it stems from the time my little sister cut my mother's finger with a pair of sewing scissors.  She was a baby at the time and I guess she reached over while my mother was cutting something and closed them on her finger.  All I really remember about it is my mother returning from the ER with a giant gauze bandage on her finger.  It made a pretty big impact on me.  What I understood, at about the age of 4, was that my sister had cut off my mom's finger and the doctor sewed it back on.  I guess that's what I made of the idea of stitches.

We no longer trust my sister with anything sharp or hot!  (Love you sister!!!)

As an adult that fear of sharp objects remains.  No, I am not afraid to use knives or scissors.  Instead, I am pretty well convinced that if my kids ever get their hands on them, they will manage to cut me, each other, or themselves.  Terrified.

I have managed to successfully pass down that terror to my son.  From the time he was born, I stopped calling the sharp instruments, knives or scissors.  Rather, they were the owie scissors and owie knives.  I wanted it clear that anything sharp = pain!

I should add here that I have no qualms whatsoever of passing on my own fears to my children.  Especially when it's a rational fear.  (Yes, fear of escalators is totally rational!!!)

My daughter knows no fear.  Especially when it comes to playing with dangerous objects.

Recently she climbed up on top of the kitchen counter and retrieved the kitchen scissors.  She brought them to me along with her pet tissue box, "boxy."  "I can't cut this.  Can you help me cut this?"

Needless to say I freaked out.  And that's putting it mildly.  As I took the scissors away from her she said, "but I wanted to cut my toenails with them."

Sharp "Owie" Scissors

One of us is going to end up in the ER one of these days.  Either for a toe reattachment or heart attack!

The knife block has been relocated to the top of the fridge.  I am holding my breath that she doesn't figure out how to climb up there.

The other day, I made my son a sandwich.  I put the plate on the table and he asked me to cut the sandwich for him.

Yesterday morning I woke up at 7:30am to the frantic cries of the Princess.  ...have to go potty!!!  I struggled to drag myself out of bed.  My husband rolled over and muttered something about waking him up after she was done.

Mother's Day had begun.

We got to the bathroom and my daughter kept walking past it.  "I thought you had to go potty."  I yawned.  "No, my brother has to go potty."

We went into the bedroom and found him wiggling in the bed, still half asleep.  I roused him and he staggered out of bed and made his way to the bathroom.

"Thank you for telling me he had to go potty.  You can go back to bed now."

"But it's good mornin time.  The sun is awake.  I hungwy.  I want bweakfast."

It was worth a try.

We made our way into the kitchen, Zombie Mom style, and I put some waffles in the toaster.

At this point the baby was apparently squeezing my bladder with a vice so I went to check on the Peanut.  As it turns out, he had long finished and was checking out his handsome self in the mirror.

Our conversation awoke my husband who told me to go back to bed and he would take over.

A couple of hours later my husband woke me up to tell me he had gotten breakfast.  "Come eat before it gets cold."

Refreshed after my nice sleep in, I made my way into the living room.

As I rounded the corner, I was greeted with one of the sweetest sights I have ever seen.

The Peanut has been pampering me today.  I'm not sure where he got the idea.  Perhaps all the Mother's Day commercials?  He started off by doing my hair.  He pretty much used all his sister's hair dealies.  

Don't be jealous.  We can't all be this beautiful!

That pink thing on top is a tiara.

Possibly he was just tired of my hair looking like this. 

Later he gave me a back massage.  Not even sure where he ever even heard of back massages.  He had to ask me how to do it.  It pretty much consisted of him softly rubbing my back.  I will be sure to encourage this type of behavior!

A few weeks ago my son made a little story on his Leap Pad.  It was a story all about his sister.  When he finished it he took it over to my husband.  They started watching it together.  From where I was sitting, I could hear it but not see it.

When the story got to the section that said, "When I grow up I want to be" my son had recorded, "She wants to be just like Mama."  Awe.  How sweet.  Even though I know she didn't make the story, it was still sweet of him to think that.

My husband started laughing hysterically.

I was clearly missing something.  Or, maybe he was just laughing at the cute sweetness of it all?

"Show this to your mom!"

If you are still reading this after that title you may consider yourself warned.  Read at your own risk!

You guys know those pregnant women who tell stories about their easy pregnancies and painless childbirths?  The ones who gain approximately 10 whole pounds their entire pregnancy and it is all in a cute little basketball shape on the front of their tummies.  They talk about "almost" having to resort to buying maternity clothes.  Labor lasted about 20 minutes and in one tiny push their perfect baby, who was born sleeping through the night by the way, came into the world.  Despite the fact that they were entirely un-medicated they amazingly felt no pain whatsoever.  The second the baby was born they sprang from their bed fully recovered and already back to their pre-baby size and shape.

You know.  The women that make you want to vomit and scream liar right in their faces.

Speaking of vomiting...

Usually I try to stay away from controversial topics.  Both in my blog and in my "real life" conversations.  I don't like to upset people.  I tend to be overly sensitive so I try not to say anything that might hurt someone else's feelings.  Until I feel really strongly about something.  Then I get on my soapbox.  I still try not to hurt any feelings but I just can't seem to swallow my disagreement.

Last year I avoided this topic because I know it will put me in the unpopular crowd.  This is a topic that seems to send people into a fury and I am vastly outnumbered.  I have been avoiding my blog because this has been weighing heavily on my mind and I know I can't write about anything else.

Finally here today I will break my silence.

First, though, a spoiler warning.  If you have any young children you might want to stop reading this out loud.  Turn your monitor.  Protect them from the horror I am about to reveal.

Are they gone yet?

Ok, consider yourself warned.

Here it goes.

I should be doing the dishes.  They have piled up again.  Instead I stare at the massive crusty pile and wish them away. But they stubbornly refuse to clean themselves.

I should be cleaning the living room.  It has been overrun with all the things that belong somewhere else but somehow creep back in when I'm not looking.  Then I turn around and am greeted with a scene from a horror movie.  I should be putting all the things back where they belong.  I should be scolding my children and making them put the things back where they belong.  But I lack the energy to follow them around pointing out each item and explaining in detail how and where it should be.  Instead I watch and listen to my children blissfully playing. Totally unaware of the chaos that surrounds them.

I should be writing a blog post.  Something insightful, or eventful, or charming, or witty.  Instead I stare at a blank screen as the words refuse to form themselves.  My head swirls with tiny snippets of thought that flee like butterflies from my net.

I know I've told you before way back in the day that I was potty training my daughter.  Well, I put her in cloth training pants, which turned out to be no more absorbent than regular underwear, and she made several messes on the carpet, so I got the bright idea to add the plastic covers.  She treated those the same as she did pull-ups, except that they sometimes leaked.  So we went back to pull-ups.  With a single candy PEZ whenever she made it to the potty.

Then this past week I decided to get serious.  So we went shopping for underwear.  She picked out Princesses and Hello Kitty.
The underwear met with mixed success.  She did slightly better than she had with pull-ups, having a few accidents, but making it to the potty more often.

Then one day after a bath for a potty accident she ran off in her towel and refused to get dressed.  I figured she would get cold and want clothes pretty quickly so I just let her go.  Something amazing happened.  She came running up not too long after and started asking for underwear.  Very insistently.  I had a suspicion so instead I took her to the potty and she went.  Hmmm.  There might be something to this whole naked potty training method everyone is always talking about.  Sure enough the next day I kept her in a dress, but no pants.  She made it to the potty every time!!  It was a miracle.  She was fully potty trained just like that.  Thank goodness.  I even looked a little forlornly at the trash bag of diapers, thinking we might have to downsize our bathroom trashcan.  My little ones are so grown up.  This is the first time in 5 years I won't have to deal with diapers/pull-ups!

The next day we went to underwear.  Again no accidents.   Until right before bedtime.  I figured she was just tired.

Then two days ago.

A tiny box.  No decoration.  No markings.  Simple.  Ordinary.  Unremarkable.

But inside that box.

A treasure.

I open the box.  A flood of memories.

Memories tucked away, deep in my heart, but never forgotten.

Memories, not shared, but not secret.

An entire existence.  Held in this tiny box.
I remember.

So, last week I was super busy with all the packing, and driving, and visiting my parents for three days, and driving back home, and the unpacking the incident with the pants etc.

This week is when I am supposed to be catching up on my blogging, and blog reading, and tweeting, and facebooking, and cleaning the house, because next week my parents are visiting, and staying at our house for a week.

Here is a list of my progress thus far:

1. Write a list of my progress thus far.  Check!
2. I'll finish this later . . .

Of course, today I was very busy with a dentist's appointment that took a whole hour all day long and left me a bit lazy totally exhausted.  To top it all off the Peanut also had a dentist appointment at the same time.

My little guy.  My baby boy.  No, this wasn't his first dentist appointment.  However, this is the first time he has done it all by himself.  My big boy.

There I was all laid out in the chair with teeth scraping and polishing and checking.  He was sitting quietly in the corner swinging his legs being the perfect angel that he somehow is incapable of being at church . . . ahem.

Then I heard his name called and they took him far far away.  All the way over into the next station.  With a whole half wall separating us.  My big little guy.

And I heard him happily chatter away as he was picking his flavor of tooth polish. (Strawberry because his favorite color is red.)  Heard him talk about how he brushes his teeth every day and night and mama brushes her teeth too.  We've trained him well raised a good truth telling boy there.

He happily opened his mouth wide.  No complaints, no fear.

For some reason my teeth took a bit longer to clean than his did . . . ahem.  He returned and sat back in his chair happily looking at his new pencil and sharpener he picked out of the treat box.

My all grown up still so tiny big little guy who can now have his teeth cleaned at the dentist without any hand holding or back patting.

In December the Princess has her first dentist appointment.  Gulp.

They grow so fast.

So, my daughter was sick last week, all stuffy nosed and fevery, which means she spent most of her time cuddled on my lap.  Which of course means that though I was confined to my chair, right next to my computer, I had only one hand free.  The other was tucked around the Princess cuddling and comforting.

What could I possibly do during all that time sitting next to the computer but only being able to click a button?  Play on Pinterest of course!!!

The problem is that Pinterest lends to my delusions of grandeur.  I can't tell you how often I think, "Oooohhh, I could do that!" or "My house could look like that."  When I can't and it won't.  But I can still pin it!!

Remember how I told you I wouldn't rest until my house looked like a box of crayons threw up on it??? :)

Well, I thought I would share my current/currently planned color scheme with you.  I promise this really isn't random at all!  It really does have something to do with Pinterest.  And Doctor Who.  Not random at all . . .