Soccer Mom Barbie

I hate soccer.  Max is playing soccer again this year because I thought it would be more organized then last year.  This year Max was old enough to be on a team and actually play "games."  Kinda- they play three on three and don't have goalies.  I am fine with that, but I object to the fact that they only had two practices before they started playing games and only play games now.  Max had NO time to learn any fundamentals.  I think he would be more inclined to join in if he knew what to do.  The team is therefore dominated by the kids who have older siblings to teach and play with them.  So yeah, I could teach him myself, even though I don't know how to play soccer, I suppose I could you-tube it.  The problem lies in when.  When am I going to fit this in.  I am already stressed trying take care of the other two, clean house, cook dinner, pay bills, teach Max to read, reclaim my yard from the weeds.  I just can't fit in soccer practice.  You would think that would be what his SOCCER team is for.

Oh man I had a whole paragraph here about how all the mom's on the team are soccer mom barbies.  The ladies with designer sunglasses, perfectly coifed pony tails and 2 percent body fat, but it would seem that Mae has managed to delete the whole thing and I am waaaay to tired to go into it again.  Let me just say that I have a feeling that I am the standard that they all hold themselves above.  Thinking things such as, "Man, if i ever come to my kids soccer game without my mascara on or in flip flops I will have failed as a mother. "  I would be fine if there was just one other mom on the team who wasn't styled to within an inch of her life.

Above are the treats I made for them team tonight.  I got the idea from pinterest.  (The most evil and addicting site on the internet.)

Le Chic

Loving putting Spike in old Max outfits.  I imagine that the payoff is even greater considering what a pain it was to store the clothes for five years.  Today with all the rainy weather I decided to break out a cooler outfit of Max's.  I have no idea where it was purchased, I think it might have been a hand me down from Lu, (although I have a hard time imagining Liesl wearing it.)  I love this outfit cause it looks so snooty.  Something about the mock turtleneck and the french, (I think it is french,) makes it look like the baby wearing it is looking down on everyone else in a pseudo-intellectual way.  All morning long I have been narrating Spike actions and responses in a really bad french accent.  Such as, "I am enjoying this bottle but am going to spit it up on you inferior fat American."   (Do you see what I mean when I post that I have been too lonely lately.  Someone needs to call or stop by so that I stop narrating my kids.)  The outfit also looks a little bit like the outfit that Marlon Brando wore in the Superman movies.  The funny thing is that despite the fairly negative connections, the outfit is still a winner cause it is a super snuggly and soft material.  So when my little Frenchman starts getting all worked up I just squeeze him a little more til he surrenders, (very French of him.)

Cause I didn't want to go to the store...

I went to my friend Meg's house.  Meg has chickens.  All I was missing from this evenings dinner was eggs.  I much prefer dragging my three whiny kids to go play on Meg's swing set, then dragging them into Walmart.  If only she had cows too.  Above is the result.  Who doesn't love Chocolate Chip Pancakes.  Yup, we eat healthy here.

Reflux Redux

Poor Spike.  The guy is following in the steps of his big brother with a bad case of acid reflux.  I am not exactly sure when Max's reflux began, but I vaguely remember it starting soon after he was born.  Coming this far with few problem from Spike we thought we were in the clear, but it has become obvious that he has it too.  He has spent the past few weeks with a constantly wet collar.  He does seem to be better tempered about it then Max, so I imagine that his is not as bad a case as Max's.  I must change his outfit at least six times a day, I should probably just give up and have him wear a bib 24/7 like Max did.  I just hate bibs, they are like my glasses, you get all dressed up and satisfied with the way you look then you have to add the bib/glasses and ruin everything. Luckily with Max it lessened with age.  It got better at 4 months when he started solids, 6 months when he was sitting up, and was all but gone by 12 months.  We are down by three months already with Spike.  I guess I can do a month of bibs.

Pumpkin Patch 2011

I love that we have gone to the same pumpkin patch for four years now.  Four Years!  Adulthood has been so consistent and stable; I love having traditions.  That being said, this wasn't our best year.  Despite going after her nap, Mae wasn't all to cheery.  I think next year she will be better and we will have some real fun.

Cry Me a River

I am not sure why but I have felt quite lonely lately.  Fairly sure that it is not post par tum depression, but instead a combination of losing a few friends and it seems like everyone in my life is really busy right now.  Or at least busier then me.  Or too busy for me.
     I feel as thought I have been dumped by a friend of mine whom I haves spent a lot of time with this past year.  I was warned by a mutual friend that this other friend was one of those flavor of the month friends, you know the type, they get all excited when the first find you but then after awhile they lose interest.  Well I am not longer interesting.  We had an incident this week.  When I got pregnant with Spike she gave me all her maternity clothes, (Not you Katie,) because she could no longer have children, or so she thought.  Much to her and her husbands surprise, she got pregnant this last summer.  I told her I would get her the clothes back, I had no problem with this.  She face booked me and told me she was too busy to see me so I should have Jeff take the clothes to her husband who works with Jeff.  Ummmm....It is not like I was obligated to give her the clothes, so the least she could have done is arranged a face to face.  I don't think she is mad at me, I think I am just not interesting enough for her anymore.
   One thing that I find impossible to do is play hard to get.  Impatient and blunt, I find it difficult to hide my feelings, (Yes, big surprise to all of you.)  Lately I have felt a bit neglected with my phone relationships.  I try not to call, to hold out until someone wants to talk to me, but I never last for too long.  Oh man this is a really sad and depressing post.  No worries I am not going to start crying or do anything rash.  Just throwing a few feelings out there.  I am sure that very soon I will say something stupid that will cause quite the stir and get me riled into quite the self righteous fit and all this weepyness will be forgotten in a seething rage.

p.s. do you cry in movies?  I find it so difficult to let others see me cry in movies.  I have no problem with others crying in movies, but cannot allow myself to do it.  I feel all the emotion but do everything in my physical power to not cry so as to avoid any possible embarrassment or shame.  Man I can be such a poser.  This also makes me HATE movies that manipulate people into crying.  I hate Titanic because it was like James Cameron was personally testing my resolve not to cry.  "What you're not gonna cry over the dying children well let me throw some old couple in each others arms at you.  Still not crying let me show you the band.  Emily Jeanne if you don't cry at the preacher giving last rights then YOU HAVE NO SOUL!!!"  Seriously though James and I are deadlocked in a battle of wills.

"And if you have to kill anyone,

make sure you eat their heart to gain their courage.  Their rich tasty courage."- Professor Hubert J. Farnsworth, Futurama.

Apparently Mae is a big subscriber to this philosophy.  With the Binky gone, she has not only started talking more but making other noises as well.  Blowing raspberries is fun for the whole family when Mae is around.  I thought that I'd surprise her with a whistle.  (I am an above average whistler.)  Her world was rocked to say the least.  She desperately tried to figure out the action.  Attempts were made to study me and hands were shoved in my mouth.  My lips were poked and prodded.  Finally she decided that the best course of action was to kiss me and steal my whistling power for herself.  Whenever I whistle now, she kisses me on the lips and then makes an imitation of whistling.  It is pretty darn cute.