Too many eggs in one basket.

Here’s part deux of Easter-palooza at Mimi’s house.  Last year Anna was a bit too young to participate in egg dyeing and egg hunting.  Although I had great visions of her running from tree to tree in search of a plastic egg or dipping hard boiled eggs into bright and colorful bowls of water, the reality would’ve been much different.  Cue tears, spilled bowls of water, undiscovered eggs to be left all year long with rotting candy contents.  You get the picture.

Now that Anna is full throttle into toddlerhood, she amazes me on a daily basis with her ability to think logically and participate in activities that require dexterity (ahem, egg dropping) and patience.  It makes a mama proud, yo.

Along with my sister and mother, Anna and I had our first egg dyeing session.  Since I lack artistic ability, my eggs looked like Crayola threw up on them.  My sister’s eggs were beautiful, and Anna’s eggs were just perfect.  I’m not biased.

Anna has no idea what’s going on.

Since we’re women, we read instructions.

Anna doesn’t care about instructions. 



The first egg gets dipped.


Dyeing eggs is serious business


Taking a snack break.

Anna with her favorite aunt.  That pacifier lying on the table, yep, it’s her aunt’s.  Anna is much too big to be taking a pacifier still.  :whistles:

Anna with MiMi and Aunt Lea Lee

Anna with MiMi and her incredibly amazing mother

My eggs are the ugly ones. 

Now for the hunt…

Yes, I hid an egg in the pool.  It floated to the center and was pretty darn obvious.  Anna 1, Mom 0.

I wonder how many dogs have peed on this hydrant.

 
So, I thought our egg hunting expedition would last for hours, but I was out-smarted by a two year old.  She found all 12 eggs in less than 5 minutes.  I hid them again.  She found them more quickly the second time around.  Next year I’m going to hide them in my car – she’ll never look there.  Or will she?

I hope you all had a wonderful and memorable Easter holiday.  If you blogged about it, post the link in the comment section.  I’d love to read all about it!

Splash.

Easter was always a fun holiday growing up.  Egg dyeing, Easter egg hunts, jelly beans, peanut butter eggs, jelly beans, Easter baskets full of cavity inducing candy, jelly beans.

I obviously love jelly beans which is why I have three bags of them in my desk right now. 

So, who would’ve thought that Easter would be an even more fun holiday once you popped out a child?  I had no idea!

This past weekend, we did every clichéd Easter activity possible and had a total blast!  Since Joe had to work on Good Friday and Saturday, Anna and I made a trip out to Mimi’s house (her favorite place on earth) to partake in some pre-Easter festivities.   I decided to be a good mother this weekend and actually photograph it all.  I am a true slacker in that respect.  When my child is 25 and decides to take a trip down memory lane, I don’t want her thinking she disappeared between the ages of 2 and 4. 

I think I went a little overboard with the photos.  Oh well, I know my mother-in-law will appreciate my efforts!

So, here we go – photos and commentary of our wonderful little weekend. 

Disclaimer: Yes, my child is wearing a two-piece.  This was a last-minute idea on our part (swimming), and it’s all we could find at the store closest to my mom’s house.  Besides, she looks adorable in it!


Anna and Jackson are ready to swim! 


He’s the happiest baby on the planet.


I wonder if Anna is happy?


Yeah, I think so.

She’s finally starting to smile for the camera.  It’s a Christmas miracle!


She’s ready to swim!  Or sit.  Because that’s all she’ll be able to do in that tiny little pool.


She’s not quite brave enough to “dive” in yet.

Still unsure.


There we go!


Jackson jumped right in!

She looks like a cop with a radar gun.


I see a little crack.



More to come – stay tuned…

When buses bump.

I drive a bus.  Well, it pretty much feels like a bus when I’m backing out of tight-knit locations.  Hell, even when I’m backing out of huge, open parking lots with no other cars present.  Basically, I have mini-heart attacks every time I reverse in my car.  In the grand scale of SUVs, mine isn’t even one of the biggest behemoths, so I can’t even begin to imagine the mini-heart attacks those car owners feel on a daily basis.  Or maybe it’s just me.

I am 33 years old (in May), and besides a very small bumper bender when I first got my driver’s license, I’ve managed to avoid accidents and bumper benders the 17 years I’ve been driving. : bloodies knuckles from knocking on wood :

All of this ended this past Friday.  And it wasn’t even Friday the 13th.  My bus hit another bus.  Here’s how it went down.

I drive to the Reruns consignment sale to pick up my check and the remainder of Anna’s clothing that didn’t sell.

I get excited over my check (I got paid 70% of the final sale price on all of Anna’s clothes that sold).

I skip to my car singing a song.

I get in my car.

I back out.

My bus bumps into another bus.

I pee my pants a little.

Mini-heart attack.

Did that just really happen?

Surely she ran into me, right?

Right?

I stumbled into the facility to ask who owned the car.

Another woman who owned a similar car came out with me and was relieved it wasn’t hers.

Then I had to wait for the owner to come out.

She was Satan.

I was scared.

I peed my pants again.

I cried a little.

Satan and I exchanged information and went on our way. 

One quick call to Progressive insurance and I found out that I didn’t have to pay a dime.  The damage to my car was minimal, so I don’t have to make a claim for that.  The damage to her car is covered by liability.  Plus, I have small accident forgiveness, so hopefully no rate hikes.

However, now I’m driving around with a dented back door gate thingy.  Oh well, I just count my blessings that 1) no one was in the car 2) no one was outside of the car 3) the lady didn’t beat me up or cast an evil spell on me 4) I didn’t damage my car enough to make a claim and spend $500 on the deductible.  So, see, I can find the silver lining sometimes.

Share your accident stories to make me feel better and less like a tool.

Grilled cheese.

This is what fell out of my car as I moved the seat back yesterday.  A grilled cheese.  A partially eaten grilled cheese that I was certain my child had eaten.  In addition to the grilled cheese, I found a sippy cup of spoiled milk, M&Ms that had been there for so long that they were no longer colored, partially eaten chicken nuggets, french fries, and pretty much every other disgusting thing on earth. 

All of it was in my car.

The car that I drive on a daily basis.

When did I allow myself to become so disgusting?  When did I throw in the towel and surrender to filth?  I used to make fun of people like me.  And now I could be the CEO and president of a filth club (I’m talking dirt people, minds out of the gutter).

I used to pride myself on cleanliness.  I spent every Friday afternoon detailing my car.  My closet, my room, my life was completely neat and orderly.  People always commented on my organizational skills.  I was a regular Martha Stewart.

Now I’m a regular Pig Pen.  That little air of filth follows me around everywhere I go, and her name is Anna Kate.  Anna Kate is the reason I have grilled cheese sandwiches falling out of my car.  Anna Kate is the reason that there are M&Ms growing fur in my car.  Anna Kate is why my carpets are so stained that I no longer know what color they really are.  Anna Kate is why I fall down on a daily basis because I tripped over some toy, shoe, doll, book, movie, article of clothing.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my child and know that all of this goes with the territory.  I don’t restrict her in my house, she can free play and enjoy herself.  I wouldn’t have it any other way, but I need to know how to find a good balance here. 

No room has been left untouched in my house.  Anna is an equal opportunity messer upper.  She loves to empty the contents of her room and spread them all around my house on a daily basis.  I pick up two pairs of shoes, she brings out three more pairs.  I pick up a book, 10 more books magically make their way out of her room.

This was all fine and dandy until she started using my car as a scientific petri dish of disgustingness.  Did you know that French fries don’t really deteriorate?  They just sit. 

I used to stay on top of keeping things clean, but I’ve somehow let the mess get out of control, and now I don’t know how to keep up.  It’s rather frustrating when you spend hours cleaning only to find your house in the exact same condition a few hours later.  Moms, how do you cope?  How do you keep up?  I can certainly tell you that a clean house and car does wonders for my emotional well-being.  Just imagine my angst to see a grilled cheese fall out of my car. 

HALP!

Consign on a dime.

The majority of the clothing my child wears is something I purchased from a consignment store, a hand-me-down from a family member or friend or a bargain bin item that I bought at Target or Wal-Mart.  Why pay top dollar for clothing that will 1) only be worn for a short period of time and 2) puked on, peed on, pooped on and ripped to shreds by a rambunctious 2.5 year old toddler?  Oh, I’m also a cheap bastard. 

I was only recently introduced to the world of consignment fair clothing.  After going to Gymboree with $100 bill and walking out with $.25 and 1 shirt, I decided that consignment would be a better fit for my budget.  It was either that or live in a cardboard box, and I enjoy running water and electricity way too much to allow that to happen.

I had lots of luck with Once Upon a Child in those early months when I could buy 5 complete Carter’s outfits and 5 matching pairs of shoes for $10.  Once Anna grew up and entered into the wonderful world of toddlerhood, it seemed that the clothes were much less cute and much more expensive.  Sure, I could still find a decent priced Gymboree shirt, but I spent much more time digging, and who has time to dig?  Time is money, people.

That’s where the Reruns for Little Ones consignment fair comes into play. I went to this fair when Anna was a newborn, but I didn’t have the time to actually go through the rows upon rows of beautiful (and barely even worn) clothing.  That is, until this year. 

I set up a booth for Piggy’s Place (pictures will come later) and was able to do a 1/2 off participants shop at 3 p.m. this past Saturday.  That means that every item that was marked in red was half off, and since I was selling my bows, I could get first dibs at the loot.  We’re talking complete outfits for $1.  Complete outfits that look brand new.  Complete NAME BRAND outfits.  I pity the fool who doesn’t shop this way.  I feel as though I’ve been blessed by the cheap ass bastard gods and shown the light. 

And now I’m passing along this wisdom to all of you.  Check your local listings to see if there are any annual consignment fairs near you.  If so, get thee to the fair STAT.

Here’s why – you’re about to see a glorious cell phone picture (blargh) of my precious little child standing in a huge pile of her “new” clothes.  Doesn’t she look happy?



So, what did this set me back?

There are over 20 full outfits, various shorts and t-shirts that look brand new and two pairs of shoes.

All of this for…wait for it…

$97!

An entire summer wardrobe of Gymboree, Old Navy, GAP, JCP for less than one shirt at the real Gymboree store. 

The great news is that there is another fair for the fall.  So, all of Anna’s fall/winter wardrobe will be second hand, too.  I think that I can only get away with this for a while longer, so I’m going to milk it as long as I can.  Once she’s in junior high and high school, I’m sure she’ll be all about whatever name brand stuff is popular at that point.  I vividly remember my Girbaud/Guess jeans obsession. 

So, until your child cares about store bought stuff, go on and be a cheap ass bastard and head out to your nearest consignment fair.  You won’t regret it.

To the bat cave.

Yes, I’m still alive.  I’ve been bat signaled a few times over the past few weeks, and before you all start calling the cops to ensure that I’m not decomposing on the floor of my bedroom (I watch a lot of Crime 360), I wanted to drop a little line to let you know that all is well in Porkchopville.

Well, actually, all is INSANE in Porkchopville.  This is because I have taken on too much in my life, so, unfortunately my blog has taken a backseat to all of this.

To prove to you that this blog is never far from my mind, here are some drafts of blogs that I was writing and planning on posting.  However, my ADD and busy schedule pulled me away, so the blogs sit in my draft folder just waiting to be finished.  This doesn’t include about 20 other posts that I started and never even saved as a draft.  Is there a pill for this?  

 
So, here’s a quick summary of my life.

Work
My Etsy Store
Work

My Etsy Store
Work
My Etsy Store

Oh, and I take care of Anna somewhere in between all of that, too.  My house, on the other hand, should be featured on Hoarders at this point.  This is what happens when your child is the Tasmanian Devil, your husband has a Call of Duty addiction and you’re stuck in a sweat shop (aka my craft room) making bows and headbands all night long.  Don’t get me wrong, I love making bows, but with all of that time spent on other things, something else falls behind.  Like my house.  And this blog.  And my sanity.

Here’s what Anna is up to:

She’s fully potty trained (SCORE)

She’s thriving at daycare and is speaking in near full sentences.  I’m ecstatic about this since I was worried she had a speech delay.  It just took bringing her to daycare to force it all out of her.

She is adorable.  And I was going to post a recent picture of her, but I realized that I don’t have any.  OK, I seriously need to work on this. 

This is as good as you’re going to get.  I think she inherited my husband’s hoarder tendencies.  Yes, she likes to sleep with all of this stuff.  Yes, those are bowls.

So, there’s my update.  I can’t promise that I’ll be able to post as frequently as I once did, but how ‘bout I make you a promise that I won’t go an entire season again.  Er, the last post was before Thanksgiving. 

Enough about me.  How are YOU?