Snow Zone...

So, what did you do yesterday?

Me?

Oh, a little of this.

And a little of that.

And more of that.

Fifteen Inches more of that... to be exact.

Good fetch, I am moving.

House For Sale.

And I will straight up trade you if you live somewhere tropical even if you live in a shack.

Boys and post-hat boy hair NOT included.

Lemon Skinny Jeans?

I'll throw 'em in for free since they'll be the only pop of color you'll see here in the tundra for months...

:)

Hash Tags & Things...

Can we talk about how these little gents of mine are looking not a day shy of fifteen?

How is this even cool?  Hash tag, Hatin' it.

I mean, these two big littles of mine might as well be sitting around some kidney bean shaped table in  pin striped suits commentating on the upcoming Super Bowl... they look sooooo old.  

And friggin' handsome.

And pretty dang wise if I'm being honest.

And the "supposedly" little little is making me swoon.  He is our animal baby.  

Hash tag, Ace Ventura Pet Detective.

He snuggles with his "da" -dog- and he carries around "neeeeees" -horsies- and he identifies nearly every jungle animal as "yion" ALL day LONG.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the oldest little told me, "Mommy, don't howd my hand" when I walked him into preschool.  And after I picked up my jaw from the cold hard side walk, I debated in my head whether or not to act cool and go with it, or to swoop him up, swaddle him and rock him to sleep like the newborn that he just barely was.  I swear he's gonna drive me to more baby makin'.

 Hash tag, Dust off the ole' ovaries.  

(For the record he came around when he asked me for a kiss after we removed his shoes and coat.) 

Whew.  That was a close one.

Dax caught Acers climbing onto the end tables and pulling at the lamp.  He dropped everything, sprinted across the room and pulled him down (not so gently) to administer a little spanky spanky action.  "No No, Acey Boo", he said.  "Do NOT touch Mommy's wamp."  

Acers laughed like a hyena.  And Daximus dutifully walked over to me and said, "You're wewcome."

Hash tag, what do I do with that?

And these riveting details?

Well, these are the days of our lives right now in the most monochromatic month of the year. 

Which brings with its monotony a few old games and a few new games.
Like we went swimming.
We went bowling.
Both of my big littles swim like fish and chuck eight pound balls like they've been training for the shot put their entire lives.  Oh yes, because they have been.
And then there are the goodies but oldies...

Hash tag, what would we do without you Play Doh?

And our cowboy gear makes appearances every single day in some form or another.

Hash tag, tiny "wodeo" cowboys rock my socks off.

And alas, the fine dining continues well past the holidays.
Hash Tag, Cheddar Explosion Spirals are Number One.

T minus how many days until our beach vacation?

P.S.  Am I even understanding the concept of hash tags?  Or have I slaughtered yet another form of online, social media communication?  Do tell...

:)

Hula Hoop-Sta...

I am about to divulge some severely embarrassing information.  But the thing is, my glee/pride/goal accomplishment feelings trump EVEN the embarrassment, although RyGar would possibly definitely disagree that this is share-worthy.  Eh - he must think I have a smidgen of pride left in this bod of mine, but oh, he is sorely mistaken.

OK, so over the Christmas break, I was reintroduced to Hula Hoops.  My mom had several of them at her place for the little grand girlies, and turns out, when you're snowed/frozen in and you get just bored enough, you start to stare longingly at said Hula Hoops and ultimately you convince yourself that Hula-ing must be just like riding a bike.

WRONG

Rad Pictures Courtesy of Daximus who obviously has a future in Photography.

I seriously struggled and I was mystified.  Like, MYSTIFIED as to how I had zero skill at something I used to be able to do without any effort or thought at all.  So, I practiced.  No really, I would buckle down and hula for dedicated chunks of time.  And it became a little silly when my Dad shared my niece's film with me and tried to "coach" me on to Hula-ing greatness.  But it became a LOT silly when we took it to a totally new plane and he would record me on his phone and he and RyGar would point out obvious flaws and pointers from the comfort of their lazy boys and we would review my film and try to implement new strategies.  Are you dying that this became such a lengthy and involved process?  Me too, but give a gal a Hula Hoop and just watch what happens.  It's crazy town.

OK, long, long, long story short.  I invested in my new found passion to the tune of $3 at Walmart and now?  I totally rock at the old Hula Hoop again.  Like kick some trash, join the circus, I might try out for "America's Got Talent" rock your socks off Hula gal.  Yep.  That'd be me.  And I am stoked.  And no lie, it really does give a girl a little core work out AND make her smile like a lunatic all at once.

Not too shabby.

And this... well, this has been a transmission of absolute nonsense that I just had to get out there for no other reason than to share the happiness that is hula hooping.
And maybe to selfishly recruit some other hula-ing mamas that could join me in coordinating outfits on the next call for talent in America.  I mean, how HIGH-larious would that be?

And now my acceptance speech, though, what am I accepting?  Oh right, nada.  I'd like to give a big thanks to my own mama for my pear-shape.  These hips have probably played a key role in my hula hooping success.  And thanks to all my coaches along the way, El Rae, Ryno, Alli (for sharing her film) & let's just throw in good old Coach Madsen to be completely thorough.  I love you all and I wouldn't be here without you.  And a special thanks to the little people in my life...  Kael, Dax & Ace. Mama loves you and I apologize for bonking you on the head as you ran to join me during my hula practices.  You are the best!



And now, I'm off to gather the neighborhood mamas to join me in a little recess game known as Chinese Jump Rope.  Remember that one?  Fetch, makes me smile just thinking about it.

January, you're really doing a number over here.  I mean, who invented you anyway?

Layers...

Here is Kaelster.

I have a new nickname for our three-year-old giggler....

"Mister Mischief"

He deserves the formal title since he looks so gentlemanly, right?

Anyway, on those days of the week when Big K joins my other nappers, he finds himself energized into the evening hours, long after he is kissed goodnight and tucked into bed.  It is such a quandary... to nap or not to nap?  That is the question...

And this brings me to Mister Mischief and his many layers.  Friday night RyGar and Yours Truly were enjoying the "Friday Night Experience" as it has come to be known as.  Which means we order take out and watch a movie after all the littles are supposedly dreaming.  And here comes Big K with a butt the size of Texas.  No lie - he looked, suddenly, obese and I was mystified, because, well, it was dark and I was wearing my sexy specs and I just wasn't expecting such a visit and I was deep into the plot of Hit & Run which, ironically, has little to no plot.  

Regardless, it turns out Kaelster has been hiding his talents.  Big Man can and DOES dress himself in the quiet of his room when he is nearly bored to tears.  And dress himself, he did, repeatedly.  He came up to show us all his pants and to get help putting on that one last pair that really needed to be added to his ensemble.  No wonder he couldn't do this pair himself, it was layer number SIX.  He could barely bend over let alone tug those puppies up his thighs.

We were cracking up but trying (and failing miserably) to maintain a parental aura about us and keep things to business.  We congratulated him on dressing himself, stripped a few layers off to avoid heat stroke, and then walked him back to his room AGAIN for what we hoped was actual sleep time.

As I was pulling the blankets up under his little grinning chinny-chin-chin, Kaelster said, "I luv brudder."  And I stroked his chubby little cheek and said, "Oh that is so nice to love your brothers.  What a good boy you are."  To which he said, "No, Mommy, I luv butter.  And brown sugar."  Then he rolled onto his side and took a deep breath and was well on his way to slumber town.

Mmmm Hmmmm.  

Sweet dreams our little Mischief Maker.

And, wha-what?  

Boys.  I shall always wonder about them. 

:)

Penny Pincher...

I am a little bit richer today.  Yep, thank the Heavens above, I finally got paid by Acey to change his derriere.  Sweet little boy, leavin' his mama a tip.  

I'm not gonna lie, as the days passed and I fingered through contents of diaper after diaper with no treasure, I was getting more and more nervous.  And the worst thoughts came to mind, like, I bet it is totally obstructing his small intestine.  Or, holy crap, is he going to get lead poisoning or need a tetanus shot asap?  And then, when I was about to stop donning latex every time Acers smelled ripe, I found it.  Hallelujah.  And out of sheer, what, exactly... spite, relief, comedic gold??  I have opted to keep the penny and do something totally ornery like Super Glue it to his Piggy Bank (post sanitation, of course).  Because seriously, what else to do with such a collectors item?

And so the question has been posed, the gauntlet has been thrown down, or "game on" as we say... If you have THE suggestion for what to do with "The Penny de Acey", please, do share.  We are totally open minded, unless you propose throwing that little thing back into circulation at the nearest grocery store.  I mean c'mon, we can do better for one another here in the good ole' USofA.

January Spice...

Let's just say it... we're FINALLY half way DONE with January.
What doesn't kill us makes us stronger?  

And while we're in the freezing melodies of winter, let's talk randomly about BB Cream, because in addition to my recent crawling out from beneath a rock and joining social media,  I also got wild and decided to try BB Cream.

And let's just hear it for this one.  Hello there dawling beauty product that makes my worst night sleep skin (that occasionally comes along with teenage-like breakouts - side note - when will I ever outgrow zits?) look almost dewy and dare I say, pretty?  I think I'm in love with your perfect amount of coverage and your creamy consistency.  If I were to marry any make up product, I think I would say "I Do" to BB Cream.  Furthermore, I am nothing without run-on sentences, thoughts and/or holding entire one-sided conversations without breathing... whew.

Seriously, I blame y'all for not whacking me upside the head with a stick, a la Tanya Harding, and adding BB Cream to the grocery list while I lay there unconscious.  So there.  Go get yourself some BB Cream and feel like you just kicked January right in the teeth.

Anywho - enough about that little unsolicited rant.  The rest of this post shall be dedicated to cute little souls who require no BB Cream whatsoever.



Captions have been added to avert the deadly, "Mama's braggin' about her cute kids again", syndrome. Which I think is a real thing - but wouldn't you worry about someone that didn't have at least a mild case of it?  I know, right?

If Big Boy had a fashion blog, oh wait, am I on to something there? :-)
He would pose like a studly mini dock worker, like this.

No, This.  A little aloof.  No eye contact.  Mysterious.  Sexy.  Yes, work it Kaelster.

A Balloon can elicit this kind of response in January.

A.BALLOON.

I hereby prescribe one for all who are suffering Seasonal Affective Disorder.

And oh, if only I thought exercising was this much fun.
That there is a freakin' treadmill that has never seen so many smiles in its entire life.

And that there is how incredibly cute I look after I've used the treadmill.
Exactly like that.
And I smell that good too.
(Does my sarcasm even come across in Cyber land?)

"The Girls... They think my tractor's sexy...

It really turns 'em on."

This was the official re inaction of the great sleigh ride of 2012.

Reverting back to the aforementioned fashion blog idea...

Accessories c/o Mr. Potatoe Head.  Thank you very much.

And finally, Hats.

They are the male sock bun I've decided.

Only easier.

Lucky dogs.

And that is all.

Happy Weekend & Cheers to BB Cream.

Don't you think Thursday is the official start of the weekend?

OK Me too.

And good luck on Monday, which I hear is the very most depressing day of the entire year?

That calls for a double Sonic run if ever there were a reason.

And JuJu Hearts if you can find 'em.

Introducing...

The, "I'm about to do something naughty face."

Brought to you by Ace-a-mundo.

Don't be fooled.  He is no longer an innocent babe.

He's become a sneaky little toddler seemingly overnight.

He learned it from these two little swipers...

Daximus & Big K.
Also Known as Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak.

Co-founders of techno-trouble and in-the-flesh fiascos r us.

And while we're in introduction mode, let me finally introduce myself to you as a Facebook user.
I know, I know, I move SO fast. 

Said no one, ever.  

I do not know what I'm doing in the least, so if you would be so kind as to invite me to be your friend I promise to eventually figure out how to say, 

"Heck yes!"

I mean, blog buddies AND FB friends?  We're so ridiculously tight!

Hi.  My name is Amber.  And NOW we've been properly introduced. :)

Happy Days...

RyGar's Birthday is today.

Which means, we've been celebrating Ryno and the birth of such a handsome mug for the entire week; and, knowing him, it will stretch all the way into February.  :)

And that's probably why he's smiling that big gorgeous smile of his.

Good thing he's worth it.

I would walk through fire for this man.  I know it sounds totally, sickeningly cliche, but I love him more now than I did the day I married him and even more with each passing year.  That's not to say I don't despise him now and again.  Believe me, we have an uncanny ability to make one another crazy and with two stubborn and passionate souls... there are fireworks.  Both the good and bad kind if you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down.  But on the whole.  He is MY guy.  And I am so so spoiled rot-ten lucky to be able to say that.

And let's be real, seeing him with our kids?  Fugeddaboudit.  It makes me a sorry puddle of attraction.  Puddy.  Sap.  All of it.  Ain't nothin' sexier than a good daddy-o.

So, before these words I am typing literally drip off the screen in a pool of mush, let me share a snappy little story about RyGar in honor of his big day...

I took the boys to get haircuts because occasionally we must enlist the help of a pro-fesh even though I practically am one.  LIE.  I walked in and gave our phone number and that was all it took. 

"Oh, you're Ryan's wife!  And these are his cute boys!  We love Ryan around here.  He is such a great guy.  He tells us the funniest stories about your kids.  He is one proud papa.  And he totally thinks you are amazing.  He's so sweet when he talks about you.  We will totally give you Ryan's discount.  Make sure you tell him we said, 'Hi' and come back soon.  It's so great to meet you!"
Why, oh why, don't I wear my cute new colored skinny jeans and curl my hair on these days?
You know?

Anyway, Cue me texting RyGar, "Hey, I'm at your favorite hair cut establishment and they are all gushing about you.  You are a total flirt!  How do I put up with you?  P.S. Good job on the discount."

Response:  "Everyone loves me.  It's my lot in life.  I just give and give.  Get used to it.  :)"

Damn if he isn't right.
And sorry Mama, but he does bring out the sassafras, cussin', wild side of me.
And I dig it.

XOXO RyGar... my Birthday Boy.

From Me, The Little Men, and All Your Adoring Fans.

Funny Little Things...

I took my kids to Ikea earlier this week because, duh, it's January and the weather kind of blows outside and the air is literally poisonous and the sledding hills have become ice slicks and what doesn't brighten your day more than "Kea Juice" and those darling little lamb shaped marshmallows that only the Swedes would dream up?

Any whootie... We had exactly one thing on our list in addition to our snacks.... four legs to a little desk we bought so it would be just enough taller that Acers could not climb upon it to consequently fall off and earn a goose egg.  Wow.  Is this totally riveting yet?

Here is the point.  FINALLY.

The legs came packaged in twos.  And my kiddos imaginations are busting at the seams right now.  And suddenly, those two-pack desk legs became binoculars.  And I literally just burst out laughing as my little men mimicked their Daddy-o and scoured the horizon for "big deers" and "uge elk". 

 Of course I sent proof to Papa Bear so his heart could double in size and palpitate nearly out of his chest with pride.  Because really, he earned that.  He was the one that scouted the mountainsides with each of them this fall on their first "real hunt".

These boys are starting to really "play" and imagine and dream up big dreams.  And I devour it like I'm in the Hunger Games.  Because, it slays me.  Their funny little stories and games and exclamations just kill me dead.

Like today, they have already found a popcorn that looks like an airplane and eaten it up like a monster.  And now they're outside mowing the lawn aka trudging through the new mounds of snow as if our very lives depend upon it because I guess shoveling is just SO yesterday?

Also, random side note.  It is worth documenting that we had our very first ingested penny around here. Old Acers done ate some cold hard cash.  I knew he was priceless.

Wow, kids so cool they crap money?

You're jealous.  I know.

Take it Away...

Deep Breath...

I'm about to take away the binkie.

And though he doesn't see it coming, he might just feel my anxiety about the whole deal.

I'm a bit unsettled to say the least.

I am nervous for the transition.

I am a tiny bit sad to let go of another "baby thing".

I am not sure I'm ready for him to shed his security blanket nor I my crutch.

But it must be done.

His older brother has turned into a thief in the night.

Literally.

Last weekend he snuck into the baby's room and traded cars & blankets for binkies in the cloak of darkness, then silently snuck back into his own room where he blissfully sucked himself back to sleep.

Oh, Daxi.

So, for both of their sakes - we're bidding adieu to the much loved binks.

Here are a few final shots with the comfort of our little rubber made coping mechanisms nearby.

And, oh Gosh, can you even believe I made him?

Aren't you proud of me?

:)