ANYWAY. The following story is a good reason why I should probably censor the rage a bit.

One morning last week, I took Maddie to Starbucks with me. We were just about to turn into the drive-thru when a white car cut across 3 parking lanes and sped in line ahead of us. It was a douche move, I’ll just say that right now. In my frustration, I threw up my hands and made a few unintelligible noises. No cuss words, just angry sounds, growls, etc. Maddie and I both speak in a growling voice on occasion. No idea when that started.

Maddie picked up on the subtle hint that I was unhappy and said, “WHAT DID THEY DO?” I told her the ladies in the white car were being rude and dangerous for cutting in line and almost hitting our car. Oh yeah, and I wanted my coffee like, 3 hours ago and how dare they get in my way!? She immediately joined the fight.

Way harsh, Tai.

In a growly voice, she said, “I don’t like those mean ladies. They drove too fast! GET OUTTA THE WAY, WHITE CAR!!!”

The car moved up in line as she gave them The Most Evil Stare I’ve ever seen. She said, “Thank you, white car!” followed by a nice, cheesy smile.

We moved up behind the car again and this is where things turned quite diabolical.

Growling, “I don’t like that white car, Mommy. They are mean for driving in front of us. I’m going to get No-No to scratch them in THE FACE!” (No-No is my parents’ cat, named by Maddie when all she could say was the word ‘no’.) I’m sure this doesn’t sound as bad (or as hilarious) as it was, but if you guys could hear her little sweet, yet angry voice saying these things, you’d die.

Like any good mommy would do, I told her it’s not very nice to wish cat scratches on the faces of our enemies. Then we proceeded to make silly faces at the driver through their back window. I think we all learned a good lesson.

He’s just a happy, gap-toothed fella.

Our apartment was small, dark, cramped and made us all stabby. Justin and I moved in there when I was pregnant with Maddie (nearly 4 years ago… WHAT.) and we quickly outgrew the tiny space with the accumulation of baby stuff. Then I decided I liked to make random crafty crap all the time, but there was no place to do it OR store all my stuff. Add another baby and all his baby debris, Maddie’s birthday presents, Christmas presents and I swear I’m having heart palpitations just thinking about how awful it was. To be honest, we were all getting stressed out and depressed in there and were in desperate need of AIR and ROOM and LIGHT.

Now we have all of those things and I can’t help but happy dance every time I walk through the front door. :) :) :)

Things are coming together around here, but Maddie’s room is the closest to being done. I haven’t painted the walls an adorable color or created any fancy wall murals or a built in reading nook (thank you Pinterest, for setting the bar extremely high), but at least she’s unpacked and decorated.

Here are a few photos…

Tiny beds make me gigglesnort. It’s like it belongs to a tiny person! Who’s tiny! You know what I mean. And I love that she has reindeer slippers.

What do you guys think I should do in the big space above her bed?

My dear friend Alyssa gave me the print of the little girl and the deer last year for my birthday and I’ve been waiting to find the perfect place for it. The shelf was thrifted and I gave it a new coat of paint. On it, there is a little cross-stitched “M” which is kind of hard to see, a squirrel figurine and a framed page from an old Little Red Riding Hood book. I made the kite to hold her hair bows the other night in – literally – 5 minutes with some cardboard and vintage fabric.

Her nightstand drawers hold her many books (the child LOVES to read) and a few of her favorite things sit on top. OBVIOUSLY, the picture of her daddy and I made the cut. This nightstand was actually mine from when I was a little girl, hence the sticker residue and nail polish drips. It’s getting a makeover soon.

The big green “M” was a gift from my sister in law and the mushroom nightlight is from Target. The manners and other story books were all gifts from her auntie Steph, auntie Anna or my Grammy. I made the deer thingy in the frame, and it’s just a few flocked stickers on a cut up paper bag.

Hey look, a wreath! An owl! Some pinwheels! And gumballs! Speaking of, DON’T EVER PUT A GUMBALL MACHINE IN A 3 YEAR OLD’S ROOM. Bad call on my part. I had to hide her money jar after I found her with 4 pieces of gum in her mouth.

Also, hiiiiii. I’m squinting in the reflection of the Red Riding Hood print. Awk.

Maddie’s dresser has a bunch of random stuff, including boxes that hold her hair bows and clips, a cupcake jar that holds her jewelry, Mary Poppins that used to be mine when I was her age and a rock. I have no idea where she found it or why she insists on keeping it because it looks like a turd.

You guys don’t get to see the other side of the room because it has all her toys and miscellaneous stuff I just threw to the side to take these pictures. Honesty: You’re welcome!

But to be fair…

She did work pretty hard on that dumb thing. And I was the one who bought the wrong kind of Styrofoam. Sorry, Maddles.

(I love how Jack be creepin’.)

When I asked my mom to send me the photos of the kids from earlier, I wasn’t prepared for the copious amount of cheese that awaited me. Maddie was literally saying, “CHEEEEESE!” when this one was taken.

I’m getting all bloaty just looking at them.

When I forwarded the picture of Jack to Justin, I expected him to comment on Jack’s baby gap-toofed smile. Instead he responded with, “hahahahahaha, I see you in the background!” And I was all, “Huh?” And then I noticed my mom caught an action shot of me on Maddie’s big wheel.

I mentioned it on Twitter earlier and I know people probably thought I was lying or just using some sort of metaphor.

Riding on the pink big wheel of happiness, or something. I don’t know. That could be interpreted in many interesting ways, I’m sure.

That big wheel made me use muscles I haven’t used since 1992, which is obviously the last time I rode one of the things. It was fun though, and I’ve never felt so alive! Or old.

Dudes. I’m tired. So so so so so so x infinity tired. Maddie has decided to defy the laws of toddler nature and stop sleeping. Like, ever. She has made a habit of waking up at the crack of dawn and won’t fall asleep until at least 11 at night. She won’t stay in her bed, either. It’s a 3 hour struggle, putting her back in her bed over and over while trying to keep her quiet so she doesn’t wake up Jack.

Naps are a distant memory I cling to with fondness and a single glistening tear. I honestly don’t know how she functions on this little sleep because I’m like a zombie. I basically follow her around all day in a haze, drooling and groaning unintelligible sounds while she spins around me like a tasmanian devil, demanding more Mac & Cheese every hour. The energy! It’s KILLING ME. And on top of it all, my DVR runneth over because I have no time to catch up on shows. This is getting serious here.

With that said, I’ve been trying to find ways to tire her out more. I make it a point to get out of the apartment every day, but I need something EXTREME. I’m looking for fatigue-inducing activities here. We do parks. We do the occasional TumbleAmerica thing. We dance around to Pitbull. What do you guys do with your energetic little ones?

P.S. I wanted a picture of me looking like a zombie and found MakeMeZombie.com. This is quite possibly the most disturbing thing of my life:

At least I’m smiling while I eat brains.

I recently had a chance to look through some of Justin’s old baby photos and I couldn’t stop laughing…

Jack is basically Justin, with a few less shooting stars and a slightly larger head. That’s a virtual planetoid! (So I Married an Axe Murderer, anyone?? We use HEED jokes a lot around here.) When I thought of how to write this post, I originally just wanted to share a few photos to prove how much they look alike, but then I started thinking about all their odd little quirks.

I’ve said it before, but Jack is the most easygoing baby I know. The only time he gets upset is when 1) You make him stop playing with the Xbox controller or 2) You don’t feed him quickly enough. You think I’m joking, but the kid will choose to sit there and push the power button on and off for an hour rather than play with any of his toys. Anyway, when deprived of food or Xbox controllers, a level of agitation is reached where there is nothing you can do to save the situation. He will whine, hurl his enormous fat body backwards and swing his angry fists forever, if you let him. I’ve learned to just quickly feed him and put him to bed, where he whimpers for exactly 20 seconds and then falls asleep. I imagine what he would be saying if those whimpers were translated into actual words and sometimes I mock Jack to his face like any good mom would do. But MOM, I’m STAAARVIIIING! This screaming fit is necessary to make you UNDERSTAAAAAND! If I don’t get those deliciously mushy sweet potatoes right this second, I’m going to pass out and die, then pass out again! 

Now let’s take a look at Justin. Pretty easygoing guy. His hobbies include playing Xbox and eating a good meal. He doesn’t become upset too often, except when 1) You make him stop playing Xbox or 2) You don’t feed him quickly enough.  Hmm, INTERESTING. This produces a similar reaction to Jack’s, but I’m not the one narrating the doomsday outlook in a mocking tone. Justin handles it on his own. Morgan, I’m serious. I’m going to die, then pass out, then die again if I don’t eat something right now. Let’s go to Chili’s.

When Maddie notices that one of the boys is having an issue, she’ll either come to me and whisper in a knowing voice, “Mom, he’s being grumpy” or she’ll go get them a snack. Such a little mama and exactly like me in every way, but that’s another novel of a post.

Summary: My boys have big heads and are passionate about eating, but Maddie and I can handle it.

Our Christmas gift from my parents was a trip to Disneyland! Of the 20 or so times I’ve been there, this one was the most special by far. Kids just make it better.

We’ll see how this goes…

1. What is your favorite color? Purple
2. What is your favorite toy? Elephant (She doesn’t own an elephant, just to be clear.)
3. What is your favorite fruit? Oranges
4. What is your favorite tv show? Gabba
5. What is your favorite thing to eat for lunch? Mac and Cheese
6. What is your favorite outfit? My church clothes (dresses & such)
7. What is your favorite game? The shooting game (another iPad game, similar to Halo. I know, we’re bad parents.)
8. What is your favorite snack? Fruit snacks
9. What is your favorite animal? Lions
10. What is your favorite song? Jesus Loves Me
11. What is your favorite book? Cinderella
12. Who is your best friend? My Cinderella (Apparently they’re close.)
13. What is your favorite cereal? Tootie Fruities
14. What is your favorite thing to do outside? “How ‘bouuuuuut… to go outside & color with chalk.”
15. What is your favorite drink? Juice
16. What is your favorite holiday? Cinderella (???)
17. What do you like to take to bed with you at night? Cara blanket & Moose (Teacher Cara made her a blanket that she loves)
18. What is your favorite thing to eat for breakfast? Oatmeal
19. What do you want for dinner on your birthday? Popcorn
20. What do you want to be when you grow up? A lion

I have a slight obsession with journals, notebooks and diaries. If I’m out shopping and happen to see one with even a semi-cute cover, I snatch it up like it’s going outta style.

There’s something fun about the prospect of filling each page with all my thoughts and being able to look back and read it as I grow older.  I always imagine sitting down on a bench in a charming little park and being inspired to write all this cool intellectual stuff and being all poetic and deep-thinkerish. And then 60 years down the road, my grandchildren will find a dusty old stack of books up in the attic and curiously open them, read them cover to cover, stopping only to wipe the glistening tears from their eyes as they realize what an amazing woman their grandmother was and how their grandpa should have helped her dust the apartment and let her buy more shoes because she really really wanted that pink pair from J. Crew and she deserved them for all the whiny crap she put up with, dang it.

That’s what I imagine every time I purchase a new one. I have some meaningful goals in life.

The truth is that when my new journal and I come home from the store, we have great intentions, but aren’t usually able to have our long chat at the park for quite a while. One day when there’s a quiet moment, I’ll realize, “Hey, I haven’t sat down to write with an actual pen in months! This is going to be fun!” Then I find a good pen that writes smoothly, sit down with a latte and practice signing my name in cursive for 3 pages.

When that gets old, I doodle a little.

Morgan + Justin = true ♥ 4 eva

I ♥ J.G.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Then I’ll perfect my generic 5 petaled flower, draw an intricate cluster of moons and stars and maybe play a game of MASH or two.

I was never a very good doodler.

Next page is usually the grocery list. Then my to-do list for the week. Slowly, but surely, I warm myself up to writing a true, honest-to-goodness sentence.

Somewhere in the middle of the book, I’ll open to a clean page and begin to really write. “I bought this new notebook in an attempt to document my thoughts and feelings and hopefully keep myself a bit sane. Here goes…”

• Recent, life-changing events: “I had two babies! They’re awesome.”
• Smaller events and confessions: Justin and I went on a date last night and I ate way too much and am still really bloated. It’s gross.”
• Large and quite vague personal goals: “I need to do something meaningful with my life.”
• Deeper, more specific goals: “After this, I’m taking all my clothes to Goodwill and then I’ll do 30 push-ups. Any maybe I’ll stop saying holy crap so much.”
• General Realizations: “There’s not enough time in the day to get everything done.”
• Detailed, passive-aggressive realizations that morph into extremely emotional, aggressive ranting: “Our friends are coming over at 6:00 tonight and I still haven’t cleaned this disgusting place. If only I had just a liiiiiittle help from someone I’m married to. Gah, I don’t get any help around this place. No one appreciates me. I should just stop worrying about it because nothing’s ever going to change. Not to mention, this place is tiny and cramped and small there’s no room to breathe with all this junk piled everywhere and no one helps me clean it! NO ROOM TO BREATHE. CAN’T BREATHE. GASPING. Holy crap, I’m stressed. All I want are a pair of pink heels from J. Crew and someone to help me dust all my crap every once in a while. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK!?”

Without fail, I become terrified that another pair of eyes might see these crazy rantings. In order to fix their perception of me, I’ll end the entry with something like, “but I’m just PMS-ing or something, haha! I’m usually very chipper and happy, go ask anyone! No really, go ask.”

I close the journal and hide it in a place where no one will be able find it. If one day, my grandchildren happen upon a box of old dusty notebooks, they’re going to think I was one insane woman with some jacked up personality disorder and an unhealthy pink shoe fetish. But at least I ♥’d their grandpa, even if he didn’t help me dust the living room.