Laugh It Out

So I trimmed my bangs this week to try and go just a little longer between haircuts.

Did anyone else, during their early adolescent years, soak their bangs, trim them to the desired length, and then watch in horror when they shrunk as they dried?

Okay, well this time my bangs were dried--and flat-ironed even--which is the only way to trim them--and I still cut them too short.

And then, to add to the fun, I kept clipping at them!

I just. couldn't. stop.

I just had to keep nipping away at the strays.

I think they'll be okay.

Maybe.

At least now I can see--I was beginning to feel like one of those dogs whose faces are covered in hair.

But of course I did it days before doing family pictures.

Yes, my bangs are that mind-numbingly fascinating to the general public.

Anyway.

I'm determined this will be my attitude:

Wasn't Marjorie the best?

I wished she could be my third Grandma after I read her books. But the two I have are pretty awesome.

I like to laugh at the stuff my kids do. I was worried the last post about them came out whiny, when I was really trying to be funny. (Who knew dried boogars could take off a whole layer of paint when you chipped them off?)

As much as they exasperate me beyond endurance, they're pretty entertaining.

I'll be so sad when they grow up.

And so happy when my bangs grow out.

Shooting the Circus

To distract myself from paying the ever mounting having-the-baby hospital bills right before Christmas time, let's look at pictures.

My friend Sherri has a nice camera and some nice skills, and incidentally a nice photography blog and took our pictures 6 weeks before the Rocker came along. It started with pictures of the kids and we snuck some family shots in.

I plan well.

We're doing family pictures again this week.

I hope a heat wave burns through.

I know I dream big.

Anyway, if you like her work and want her to shoot for you--not shoot you--she's affordable. And available. But married, so don't get big ideas.

Anyway.

The pictures:

Not sure if this is what he wants to do.

Look who actually sat still for 2 seconds.

And isn't a blur.

Are we surprised?

Partners in crime.

So sweet. She saves Mom's sanity.

Keep pushing that tooth out with your tongue there, Lolly.

Typical family shot: me with a weird face, an aloof S-man, Mr. D being himself, their father wondering when it will all end, and Lolly looking sweet--if she gets to hold something.

I think I'll keep them.

The father of all circusly mischief.

Believe me, the boys inherited all their wild craziness from him.

And he still gives them all kinds of new ideas too.

But, he changes diapers and cleans toilets, mops floors and still mows the lawn (so you don't think he turned in his man card), so I'll keep him, too.

Yeesh.

Here's me hoping it doesn't look like I'm retaining water--even though I didn't--and wondering if I should practise a closed-mouth smile to hide my beaver teeth. And can anyone say, comb? I guess I'm too self-conscious--or as my husband says--vain--because it is a pretty good shot.

Thanks Sherri.

Oh, and that pumpkin down there in the next post?

Gone Sunday morning. I'm sad. And don't dare put Christmas decorations out there.

Some Words of Advice

When you put pumpkins on your porch to decorate, don't make them look too nice, or some evil spawn will commit the sacrilege of stealing them. They won't take them all at once. No. First, they'll take two one night and then come back for two more the next. Here is the sole survivor--other than our moldy Jack-o-Lantern that's almost completely black inside. Okay, I'm going to throw it away right now. I'm glad the hoodlums left me the cutest one at least. Yes, pumpkins are cute.

Clearly when the majority of your toys are restored to you after a long sojourn in the shed because of one of your dad's more elaborate disciplining tactics, it makes perfect sense to dump and spread them all over the driveway to have a more thorough reunion.

When you're putting make-up on with your friend, go ahead and pull out all the stops. And put it on your little brothers too (who have an unfathomable obsession with nail polish--especially in their hair.)

Wait, this looks familiar...

oh yes--last year's edition:

Never sit on the obvious resting place. Perch on the window sill like a cat.

I'm thinking circus camp.

Always sign your artwork.

When your boys decide to go into your bathroom, fill the sink with water, then use one of those round, plastic, chain-thing baby toys to fill a water bottle, don't drink the water (or kool-aid). By the end of the day it will still be...well...opaque. I don't know what my boys did to that water--at first I thought it was hot--but it was cloudy, people. Yeah that one got emptied and thrown away. They wouldn't even drink it.

When (note: not if) you come across a moist, succulent booger on your wall, wipe it off immediately. Don't wait until later when you actually discover it, dried and crusty and petrified and left for you by your little darlings, because when you wipe it off it will take the paint with it.

Beware the concoction Mr D makes and calls "breakfast" but is compiled of four freshly-emptied containers of sprinkles, and on further inspection, a fair amount of salt (that looks frighteningly similar to the clear sprinkles), and parsley. He's a future chef, that one.

Don't let your two- year-old stand and lean against the back of his chair because he'll fall straight back. The child will recover on his own, the chair won't without the aid of super glue and packing tape.

Rambling Randomness and a Little Halloween

I'm in mourning. My baby has outgrown his newborn clothes. At one month, it started to get a little small, now it's a lot small. Grieve with me. Oh, and by our very scientific method of weighing--which is to hold the baby and stand on the scale and then put him down and again stand on the scale--he's 14 pounds. Nearly double his birth weight. And not quite 6 weeks old. He was 12 pounds by Halloween. Clearly none of my children are listening to me because I have told this one over and over and over to stop growing and stay little and he will not. listen. Plus, his hair is falling out on top with plenty left on the sides and back, making him look like a very cute little old man. I guess this one does not want to be a Toys 'R' Us kid. I'll keep him anyway--he's just starting to coo and smile at us.

See how cute all the remaining fuzz is?

Actually, I'm a little relieved that he's living up to his name. Let's call him Rocker. It's what I call him. We rock him a lot at least. S-man calls him Wock. Usually he says, "i unna hold Wock." Then he hugs and kisses him. That poor baby will get kissed to death by all his siblings.

To celebrate their brother growing at an astronomical rate, the big boys cleaned their Little People Garage, at least that's what Mr Destructo claimed he was doing and S-man tags along. Does that pile look a little larger than your typical t.p. unravelling pile? I found 6 empty tubes. Scattered about the house. Almost like they tried the spread-the-food-you-don't-want-to-eat-around-your-plate technique. Where was I while this was going on? Completing the imperative task of reading The Hunger Games sequel in a day.

Their father's not immune to fiascos either.

Here's what happens when you try to cut a big pumpkin in a hurry with a mere butcher's knife. It's now a clean-out-the-jack-o-lantern knife.

We did our share of pumpkin painting.
Even S-man. He's so proud of his handiwork.

Lolly's handiwork.
I'm thinking art classes.

Here they were--ready for the big Halloweenerific event.

S-man looks not so sure, but believe me, he took Trick-or-Treating to a professional level by the time we got through doing it at Grandpa's and Dad's offices. He got twice as much (or more) than Mr D who could barely stop running to get candy.

And for my friend who wanted to see my homemade, not-as-nice-as-the-real-thing-but-still-work hurricane lanterns lit up.