I may as well live in a shoe.

I ran a few errands with my kids this afternoon and was reminded why I had sworn it off last time.

We started by returning the extra birthday stuff to the party store. A word to the wise: don't take lively children into a party store. It's not exactly an environment that fosters self-control.

Next we ran into Target for a few drugstore-y items, and more SoftLips. (It continues being eaten by a mysterious ghost.)

I would like a few words with the marketing genius who places Hot Wheels cars in the checkout line display. Gets Drew every time. Although somehow today I managed to make it out of there without the involuntary purchase that I was forced into last time. (He had ripped open a two-pack of cars while I was talking to the cashier.)

And then I had to run in Aldi's. Thankfully I intercepted Andy on his way home from work and he met me there, simply for crowd control purposes. He walked in none too soon; I was already nearing my limit for embarrassing moments. The only one I can think of now is Drew running off and Madeline standing up in the cart, yelling after him in her best mom voice, "DREW! GET BACK HERE NOW YOUNG MAN!"

I think for tomorrow, I'll go by myself.

Rough and Tumble

So, where was I?

Oh yes. John and Vangie (my cousin) were in town for a music something-or-other this weekend so we got them Saturday night through Sunday dinner.

We always have fun with them. It’s nice to hang out with people that are generally likeminded and you don’t have to explain your whole life story to.

Because Vange and I? We go back a little ways.

And she’s the only college roommate I ever had. She put up with me – which is convenient – and did my laundry the entire semester we were in France. (Shrunk my favorite sweater once, though.)

But anyway, that’s not really what I was going to write about.

While we were eating our yummy (thankyouverymuch) stir-fry, I looked up to where Drew was standing at the top of the stairs, with his pants and underwear down around his ankles, and watched him in slow motion (or so it seemed) fall headfirst down the stairs.

He’s fine. A little red bump on his forehead, but otherwise no worse for wear. A little dent to the pride, perhaps, if he’d been a little older.

The poor little guy! He was just tryin’ to get those pesky pants back up and needed a little help. Didn’t realize you can’t actually walk down the stairs with your legs and feet thus tied.

But, man, it was a sight I’m sure we won’t soon forget.

One birthday party, slightly pink.

The one about the Swiffer Vac

Way back in, you know, November, I got a random e-mail from the Mom Blogs asking if I wanted to receive a free Swiffer Vac in exchange for a blog post.

Why yes, yes I would. I heart free.

It came in the mail right before Christmas.


I decided I was too busy to clean, so I dumped the box in the laundry room and then forgot all about it.

Anyway, I recently lugged the box back out and had a little look-see. I remembered it because, well, Spring Cleaning. Ahem.

(And also, Adelaide’s birthday party is today.)

Look! A free copy of Shrek the Third and a gingerbread man! How thoughtful of them.


(Except the gingerbread man was more on par with a doggie biscuit.)


Alright, what have we got here?


Assembly...check.


24-hour charge...check.

I have to admit, I was a little skeptical about any sort of cross between a broom and a stick vacuum. (Why not just get the stick vacuum?) But if you think of it as a Swiffer (or a modern-day broom without the fuss of a dustpan), you'll love it.

I did have keep reminding myself at first to stop thinking of it as a vacuum cleaner. But after that I decided I really do like it. A lot.

It's great for quick under-the-table cleanup after meals; it gets all the crumbs and even picks up Cheerios! Which, as you know, is quite helpful in this house.

It's not as loud as a full-blown vacuum and it's super light. It's cordless (there is a plug to recharge the battery), and doesn't take any effort to lug out and use. It's a really, really great glorified broom that takes care of it's own dust pile.

So, between that and my Swiffer WetJet, it's like I have my own personal housekeeping team. Except that they don't actually clean for me, however unfortunately. (And don't let the reference to the WetJet deceive you into thinking I "mop" every week. Until last night I hadn't used it since before Christmas in a while.)

Happy Spring Cleaning, y'all!

Whaa??

On the way home from the park the other day:


Isn't that an oxymoron?

Updating

If you link or subscribe to me (or use a bookmark), you need to update your link/blogroll to www.pleasepassthesalt1.com because that is my new web address.

And we wouldn't want to lose touch, now, would we?

Happy Birthday, Sweet Baby Girl

You've been nothing but a happy blessing to us.

And We Love Them No Less

In honor of Adelaide's birthday tomorrow, I thought I would post a little observation on the Third Child.

A few weeks ago I was talking on the phone to one of my aunts, and before she called I had been in the process of getting Adelaide down for her morning nap. So, still chatting, I put Adelaide in her bed with her blanket, bunny and bottle, and then shut the door and resumed my conversation about plane tickets. It occurred to me, though, that I hadn't changed her diaper and I sort of mused about it out loud to my aunt and then said, "oh well!" We had a little laugh over it. I wasn't about to go back in there since it was so quiet.

But it got me to thinking. It sure is funny the difference between firstborns and thirdborns. Here's a few random anecdotes I came up with:

Firstborns typically have a million baby pictures, a full baby book, and lots of mementos from their early years. I’ve even seen bronzed baby shoes. Third babies are lucky if they even have a baby book. And most of their baby pictures show them along with the rest of their siblings.

Firstborns get to wear the new baby clothes with bright colors, fresh from the baby shower. Thirdborns get to sport stains from before they were even born. And their clothes are a little faded. And shrunk.

Firstborns get their diaper changed regularly. Thirdborns? Not so much. Adelaide’s diaper gets changed when she poops. Or in the morning when it can’t possibly hold another drop.

A firstborn gets picked up when it cries. Thirdborns get picked up when everyone else stops crying.

I was religious with prenatal vitamins when I was pregnant with Drew. For Adelaide I remembered maybe once a week. Or less.

Firstborns get the pretty nursery. Adelaide sleeps in a pack n’ play in Andy’s office. (On custom foam, though, at least.)

A first baby gets checked for normal breathing several times during the night. By the third baby, the bassinet is wedged in the bathroom so everyone else can get some peace.

A first baby gets regular baths. The third baby gets a bath when the mom notices that he/she stinks.

Parents are extra careful with baby food for a firstborn. Thirdborns are more on an “anything goes” policy.

That’s all I could think of for now. Anyone want to add on?

E-Mail

Moriah [at] pleasepassthesalt1 [dot] com

Life, it happens. Even on Easter Sunday.

We had a wonderful Easter Sunday, despite all that I'm about to tell you.

We started by piling the kids up on our bed and giving them their Easter baskets. Of course that was exciting; they're always thrilled with cheap toys and candy. (And I really don't want to know the combined sugar intake for today. Ahem.)

Drew immediately ran outside and tested out the new sidewalk chalk, jammies and all. And then after I got the two of them ready, Andy whisked 'em off to Sunday School. Ahh, peaceful bliss. And coffee.

Instead of chasing Adelaide around while I tried to get my own self ready, I plopped her in the tub with a few inches of water and the bath toys. She was happy to splash around and I was happy to have her so contained.

Except, after a few minutes, I peeked around at her and the bath water was brown.

Never a good sign.

She had had herself a little bath Poop Fest '08. I'll spare you the remaining details. Suffice it to say, I was very late to church. And surprised to find that Andy and the kids weren't sitting in our usual pew.

The organist resigned a few weeks ago and so Andy had been asked to lead the hymns, a cappella (and standing up front). Which meant that he and the kids were sitting on the very front row. How embarrassing.

After church we had our big Easter dinner over at his parents' house. Here's a little smattering of the pictures from today:

We brought the kids home for afternoon naps (I personally didn't get one, unfortunately). Afterwards we re-dressed everyone in church clothes and went back a little early since Andy still had to lead the music.

We had been sitting (yep, again in the front row) for several minutes, waiting for the service to start, and Madeline whispered she had to go potty.

So I took her back to the bathroom and the next thing I know, Drew shows up. (How did you get here?!) Apparently he also had to go potty. And helped himself to leaving the sanctuary, all by himself.

(Andy later told me the service had just begun; he was facing the congregation leading the music when all this happened. And, can you just imagine the look on Andy's face when Drew just upped and strolled out? Andy said he was so shocked he didn't know what to do - keep singing or chase after Drew. But by then Drew had already walked out the back door and all Andy could do at that point was keep the singing going.)

So after our eternal potty stop, I led the kids back into church - my hands clamped down on theirs. Unfortunately, Drew walked right into one of the jutting-out wall buttresses and smacked his forehead. (This was on our way back up to the front row. Just to clarify.)

I was sure he was going to start crying from the pain, but he didn't. And poor kid, he now has a red welt on his face.

So back to our front row situation... During the hymn favorites, I was talking to Madeline and turned around to find Drew had totally vanished. I looked towards the back, and there he was - again - about to walk out the back doors! I could hardly believe my eyes! I sort of froze, grabbed Madeline, and ran after him.

I found him in the bathroom; he hadn't finished going potty the first time around. I gave him a very pointed lecture about how he was not free to just come and go in church as he pleased, he needs to get permission from mama first. And then we returned, yet again, to our front row seats (are you picking up on a pattern here?).

I think my cheeks might still be sporting a slightly reddish hue. I felt even more conspicuous with the lack of an organ to cover any noise. It was dead silent in there. (Well, except for my loud and fidgety children, that is.)   And then Drew finished up the service by walking a finger man up and down the front banister during the benediction. I didn't notice until he'd already passed back and forth a few times.

Of course we didn't let the kids see, but Andy and I sure had a good laugh over the whole ordeal. I'm not one to enjoy making a spectacle of ourselves, but I can't help but laugh over it when it happens.

Oh, and Happy Easter, interpeeps.

Good Morning. Would you like to play some board games?

This morning was one of those times where my attitude about getting out of bed was along the lines of "I don't care if they burn the house down, I just can't get up yet."

The kids usually content themselves by eating breakfast bars, playing around the house or climbing all over me, watching a movie...whathaveyou. But this morning? Somehow Drew got the plastic toddler-proofing cover off of Adelaide's doorknob and Madeline decided they'd play a few games.

Adelaide wasn't so thrilled. And you may want to shield your eyes.


The jumbled up mess of cards she was apparently sitting on:


The full mess:



And a box of Andy's business cards, thrown in for good measure.


We won't discuss how long this took me to sort out and put to rights (and you can see how tiny the Risk men are, in that box right there).

Well... At least they didn't burn the house down.

Puddle Jumping

Yesterday brought a lot of rain, so even though today was nice, there are several foot-deep mud puddles in various parts of our backyard. Drew took it upon himself to go jumping and splashing out there, not once but twice today.

That's showing up on my doorstep in two separate sets of clothes, drenched head to toe in muddy water. Two sets of clothes to peel off and carry, dripping, to the laundry room. Two sets of shoes filled with water abandoned outside our front door.

Extra laundry (including a winter coat) and an extra bath.

Now, I understand the need for puddle jumping, I really do. But have some compassion on a poor mama already!

Why ‘Please Pass the Salt’?

Usually when Andy gets a harebrained idea, he talks big about it for a day or a week and then it sort of fizzles out. I’ve learned, from past experiences, not to take his outrageous ideas seriously and have perfected the art of what we call the ‘smile and wave.’

Sure, honey, we can move to Austria. I’ll start packing my bags. (Not really.) Oh, Japan? Well, sure, okay! (Not really.)

So you can imagine my surprise when I found myself here, up North, surrounded by a heap of moving boxes with a seminarian for a husband. How did this happen?!

And then I found myself missing my old friends and church and city so much I could hardly breathe. I started this here blog as a way to keep them in touch with our new lives here. And, also, as a way for me to process and record this new phase of life.

When the computer asked me for a blog title, I wanted an easy-to-remember, everyday sort of phrase. And I have a friendliness towards, well, salt, and my husband always asks me if I’d like some food with mine. Why yes, yes I would. So I use the phrase myself quite regularly.

(And furthermore, I think good manners are an important part of any civilized society. Hence the “Please,” see?)

Oh and also, it’s an allusion to the salt and light reference of Matthew 5:13.

There. So now you know.

Another Note to Self

When you decide to have a morning coffee/internet chat with two far-away friends, make sure your kids don’t have access to an open box of Cheerios.

I’m just sayin’.





And then, just as I was vacuuming up the last Cheerio, there was a knock on the door.

Impeccable timing, as usual.

I took one look down at my wrinkled pajamas and thought of my bed-hair and smeared makeup, and ran and hid in the laundry room. It turned out to be the service men coming to program our phone. Which meant they needed access to the laundry room, where apparently our phone lines are kept. (You can run but you cannot hide. For long, anyway.)

So Andy (thank you, Lord, that Andy was home) had the guys go in the kitchen while I ran upstairs. And, in full accordance with the state of our house, the kitchen looked like it had been hit by a bomb.

And Drew was running around wearing only his underwear, the girls were still in their jammies, and Adelaide was screaming her head off, still mad about me repeatedly moving her out of the way of the vacuum cleaner.

(And, on a side note, every time anyone comes over in the morning for something house-related, I look like a train wreck. I must have some sort of deep abiding vanity that needs huge doses of humility from such continual and mortifying occasions.)

I heard one of the guys tell Andy that he’d e-mailed me about coming over and asked if I got it. Why, no, I did not. I was too busy vacuuming up an entire box of spilled Cheerios to check my e-mail.

Back upstairs, I tried to grab a quick shower so eventually I could go down and feed my cranky kids their breakfast. It was only after I was done I realized we were out of towels in the upstairs bathroom. Yeah, figures. I quickly dried off with two hand towels so I could calm Adelaide, who had firmly planted herself outside the bathroom door and continued to scream.

Aren’t you glad you stopped by? I’m so glad we could offer you such a wonderful picture of the tranquility that is our homelife.

But, as Andy said, it could have been worse. He could have already left for work, I would have had to greet the service guys face-to-face in my pajamas and still been dealing with a Cheerios-clogged vacuum. I said, “well, I wouldn’t have answered the door.”

“Yeah, but Drew might have thrown it wide in welcome.” True. That would have been worse.

Or all this could have happened before I’d had my coffee. That really might have done me in.

Another post about big girl Adelaide

We lured her into taking three consecutive steps tonight with a shiny red Reece's mini cup wrapper.

She'll only walk for chocolate.

(Which, unfortunately for her, she didn't get.)

The Real Deal

Adelaide had her final drop of formula last week. (I weaned her back at 11 months due to four chomp-happy teefers.) She only had maybe 4 canisters of it or so, but still my grocery budget sighed with relief.

Anyway, she’s on whole milk now, no mixing required. And ever since the hotdog incident, I’ve been giving her food with more and more texture. And taste. Which, naturally, she prefers.

Because let’s be honest, who really would like the pureed nastiness that is jarred baby food? And, let’s also be honest, I’m too lazy to make my own.

So she eats our food, cut up smallish. And she does perfectly fine and she loves it. She ate more pork the other night than Madeline did. I drop food on her tray and she kicks her little feet with glee. It sort of reminds me of a little puppy dog wagging its tail.

She’s growing up! And it sure makes mealtimes easier to prepare. Well and I don’t have to spoon-feed her either… she’s quite the expert at stuffing her own face.

It’s a winning situation for all of us.

Click away, my friends!

GREAT Easter post this morning, right here: Chocolate Eggs and Jesus Risen.

On my table

Thank you, Aldi, for $4 Easter Lilies.



And they smell as good as they look.

Friday Fun

Yesterday we met some friends at a local farm for an egg hunt and a hayride. I was curious to see how they would organize an egg hunt for a bunch of babies and toddlers, but it was pretty straightforward. We rode the tractor wagons out to a thicket of trees and they had piles of same-colored eggs “hidden” under various pine trees and each kid got to take one of each color (there were 5).

Of course, Drew walked out first holding a mound of all-blue eggs. Let’s just say it took some explaining and encouraging.




And then the kids had to sort out the different colors into the baskets and in exchange they got their treat bag. Which, I think we all would have agreed, wasn’t worth eight whole dollars. But who’s counting?

They also had a play area and a place to feed the animals (“aminals,” according to Madeline).

And, “feed” is maybe a little bit of an overstatement. Really they just got to pour bits of grain into these long feeding tubes that came out somewhere near the animals’ trough. There was no hand-mouth contact. Which may be a good thing.

It will probably come as no surprise to you that Drew spent the rest of the time on these cars. I forgot my camera (drat!) and so these pictures are courtesy of Erin. And there wasn’t one of Drew on a car, only Madeline. He probably wouldn’t have stopped long enough to get a photo anyway.


It was kind of nice; I always knew exactly where he was.

There was even a baby-sized play structure, just right for Adelaide.


(The sun was bright.)

Anyway, it was fun to get out and do somethin' different. I think all the kids had a good time and suffice it to say, my kids fell asleep within the first five minutes of the trip home.

Supposed to be the first!

Normally when there’s news of a new baby, the women are the first to know and they dutifully pass around the juicy little tidbit.  But this year?  Twice Andy’s been the first to know – twice! And they’re my friends, too! Unbelievable!

We were on the train into NYC for my cousin’s recital and Andy was chatting it up with Ethan and the next thing I heard is, “does Moriah know?”

Clearly not.

And then, just last weekend, Andy called while I was shopping at Aldi’s and practically shouted into the phone, “I KNOW SOMETHING YOU DON’T KNOW!”  And I could just picture him dancing around the living room.

Sure enough, I got home and he was still dancing.

I duly seized his cell phone, locked myself in the bathroom, and checked all of his recent call history.

Because I’m smart like that.

Unfortunately for me, it didn’t give me any new information because he had spoken with practically all of the husbands who were on my “maybe” list. His advice to me?  “You’d better start calling all of your friends and asking them for their secrets!”

I was not about to give him that satisfaction, no siree.

So, I busied myself with other things until finally my phone rang and “Nicky” registered on the caller ID.  “Hello.  Do you have something to tell me?!”

But, seriously, I can’t believe twice in a row Andy knew before me.  Twice!

Blankets, Monkeys, and Bunnies, oh my!

All of my kids have some sort of cloth lovey or other they’ve formed an attachment to.  Drew is a full-blown Linus.  He latched onto a particular blanket when he was only several months old and has been dragging it around ever since.

Madeline has a pink monkey from the Ty Pluffie line.  She pretty much has that thing attached to her hip.  Except when it’s being washed, which is fairly often because who wants to go to bed with their monkey smeared with ketchup?

Even Adelaide has one.  Hers is a purple rabbit, also a Pluffie.  (I generally avoid stuffed bunnies because I think they look like they should be in an Easter basket somewhere, not just out for any ordinary day.)  She also has a Pluffie pink elephant, which she likes second best.

I know some parents don’t like their kids to have a security blanket or its equivalent.  They don’t want to deal with the weaning process later, I suppose.  (And some kids just never pick up on one.)

I don’t really mind all that.  I had one when I was little, and I didn’t take it to college with me (despite my mother teasing me once that I’d bring it on my honeymoon).  I grew out of it at some point along the way, and saved it in a box somewhere to show my kids if they’re ever interested in hearing about my childhood.

For my own kids, I’ve always thought the various loveys were great because they were something to snuggle with when we put them to bed or down for a nap.  They are comforting even when I can’t be around, that’s the bottom line.

When we’ve left the kids with babysitters, or they’ve been strapped in their carseats for a long trip or other adventure, or sleeping in a strange place, they’ve always been fine because they have that little piece of familiarity, a snuggly little reminder of home.

And I highly doubt they’ll be packing their blankets, monkeys, and bunnies into their stuff bound for college.

Variation, Part 2

Yeah, so Adelaide's didn't fit.

At. All.

I had to take out the sides and let them out as far as I was able and happily, it fits now.

(Otherwise I might have cried.)

Variation of a Theme

I decided to try something a little different, lest all of my girls' clothes this summer are pillowcase dresses. I varied it into a shirt/pant set and the bloomers turned out waaaay better than I thought they would.


Doing a jig:


The back:


The front/side:


Making off with the chips:


And climbing all over the furniture:


Also, I finished one for Adelaide tonight:


Sure hope it fits.

Pre-Spring Cleaning

I love days like today. I wouldn’t want to do this every week, but a de-junking day every few months is absolutely necessary for my sanity.

We hauled the kids off to Andy’s parents’ house for the bulk of the day and I lugged several of the clothing bins out of storage and went “shopping” for Adelaide out of Madeline’s old clothes. (It was getting rather pathetic – she had outgrown everything.)

It’s so weird to see Adelaide’s drawer full of Madeline’s clothes, and ones from not that long ago.

I did some purging of my stuff as well, and then started in on the kids’ rooms. And I showed no mercy.

I’m not overly sentimental about toys, particularly plastic junk that is easily broken or missing pieces. So, needless to say, I threw out a lot.

It was so liberating. Like a breath of fresh air.

Anyway, and then we did a few other similar things 'round the house, picked the kids up, and I got my shopping errands done while they were sleeping. (I did have Adelaide with me though, since she had just gotten up. But having only one kid shopping is sort of like a vacation.)

And now, since we're losing an hour, I need to cart my kids off to bed.

Bath Monitor

Drew and Madeline needed a bath before church last Sunday, so I dumped 'em in and continued getting myself ready. Adelaide loves baths, so she crawled in and splashed around as best she could from the other side of the tub, pajama sleeves and all. Thankfully she's not tall enough to actually climb in.

She looked like she was supervising their bath.



A little while later I heard these wild peals of laughter coming from inside the tub. I realized the big kids were squirting Adelaide with the bath toy and totally cracking up. I walked in to find her completely drenched, head to toe. And having a grand ole time.


She didn't seem to care one whit they had squirted her in the face.

And they should be glad they have such a laid-back baby sister.

Getting the word out

If you have kids older than mine, click here.

I remember this being trendy when I was in middle school. I asked Andy about it today and he said "oh yeah, I knew kids that used to do that all the time..." So I think it's probably a lot more common than parents might think.

Spring Bargain Shopping Network

I found this skirt on the clearance rack at Target for exactly $4.62.


The only problem? It's supposed to be knee-length. On me, however, it hit about 2 inches below my knee. Which is just not flattering, no matter who you are.

But for $4.62, it was worth the home-alteration risk. I figured I could always go back and buy another one if I ruined it. I debated with myself about taking the inches from the top or from the bottom, but finally decided on taking it from the top. The box pleat with those ribbon trims would have been infinitely harder to move than taking off the top band and cutting the zipper. But it all worked out and see? I have a wearable skirt for spring that cost me $4.62.

This one was $4.98. And it was also an unflattering two inches too long.


For this one I only had to cut the bottom off and hem it; much more straightforward.

Definitely worth the $4.98, in my book.

Today's Random Tidbits

Adelaide took her first step on Monday. I forgot to tell the interpeeps, sorry. Third child and all.

Anyway, today we had a fun visit from friends. Two of my college housemates (Jeannette and Em) and their respective offspring drove down and spent the early afternoon with us; sipping tea, eating, playing, watching kids scale the furniture (and windowsills), and eating some more. I'm very good at throwing food at people.

And, also, Em mentioned she can always count on me for a decent cup of tea.

I aim to please.

(And make good tea.)

After they left I zonked out on the couch for two whole hours. I could hardly believe my eyes when I got up and spied the clock. It must have been the sugar crash. And also, sometimes my kids wear me out. Anyway, I here profess my undying love for the Afternoon Nap.

The last random tidbit about today: I got home from the grocery store, ushered the kids to bed, and began cleaning out the fridge in order to stock it fresh. I pulled out the fruit bin at the bottom and lo and behold, there was a huge pool of brown dried sticky, gooey something that smelled rather like toffee, sitting in the bottom of my refrigerator.

I could not, for the life of me, think of what on earth it was. It took a sweet forever to scrape off and scrub. It was my French vanilla creamer...I vaguely remember it falling over when the door rail broke. It had evaporated into unrecognizableness but when I added water, it again turned milky white and I immediately knew what it was.

A sorry way to end a fun day, but, well, I guess that's just Life.

She'll take the green ones.

Somehow when I said "yes, you may have some fruit snacks," Madeline heard "go find the green sprinkles in the pantry, have some, and spill the rest all over the floor!"

Mondays? Off.

Sundays are usually tiring for me. I’m up late Saturday night getting everything ready for church, and then I’m up early the next morning trying to get us all out the door on time (which, sadly, rarely happens).

Add in the two services and dealing with the squirmy toddlers, maybe some guests over for a big Sunday dinner, and it’s no wonder I’m exhausted by the end of the day. But, it’s a good kind of exhausted.

Anyway, so a long time ago I started thinking of Mondays as my ‘day off.’ I try to not make any plans or place any expectations on myself for that specific day. Sometimes I stay in my pajamas for a ridiculously long time and just do nothing except be with my kids. And take a nap.

I don’t get depressed over my (un)accomplishments because there is no to-do list. And I’m always pleasantly surprised with whatever I do manage to get done, simply because I wasn’t planning on doing anything to begin with.

And, an added bonus, we normally have tons of food left over on Sundays. So Monday night dinners often take all of a minute to re-heat.

And if not? There’s always PB&J.

"Improvise with what you got."

Drew has been on this kick lately of locking doors from the inside and shutting them. I haven't actually caught him in the act - I've just gone to open a door and found it locked (but the room empty). Madeline isn’t quite that sophisticated.

The downstairs bathroom is an easy fix; I just have to slide my grocery store club card down the inside of the frame and the door pops open. I assumed the same thing would work for the laundry room door, until last night.

The kids were already in bed when we found that someone (yeah, Drew) had locked the door and closed it. We also noticed that it needed an actual key - no tiny hole for just picking the lock. And, well, frankly there aren't any laundry room keys.

We do occasionally need to get into the laundry room.

And of course all the tools we would normally use to get the door open were also locked in there.

Andy tried a few things (like two flat butter knives) and then he rummaged around the house and in his car and came back with one of the beaters from my hand mixer and a hatchet. (‘Um, Honey? I don’t think we should just chop the door down.’)

Anyway, he used the hatchet and beater handle to successfully (and quite easily, I might add) take the door off its hinges.




I just hope Drew doesn’t try it again while I’m home alone and in the middle of doing laundry.

Chocolate (fabric, that is)

I decided that if I'm going to help WonderGirl with BohoBaby, I'd better polish up on my sling-sewing skillz. So a couple of weeks ago when I was in the fabric store buying ribbon and ric-rac for the pillowcase dresses, I did a little turn down the cotton stretch aisle and lo and behold, it was 30% off.

Which, you know, by law you must buy it when that happens. And, I've been wishing for a looooooong time that I had a chocolate brown one.

So, for practice, I made a few more for myself. (Since I didn't have enough.)

(And I think I can hear Brite and Nicky scoffing, all the way from Chattanooga.)

Adelaide wasn't so sure about posing for any sling pictures...



...but we did manage to eek a small smile out of her in the end.