Sneaky bid-ness, part II.

Remember this post? Well, it looks like we have another little food sneaker in the family...

Loveitloveitloveit. And, for fun, here are some more pictures from the celebration at Aunt Jane's yesterday! I love that she makes birthdays so special.

#ThingsMyHusbandSays

While hanging multiple things on the wall over the weekend in Harper's room (tour later this week!), I was getting nervous that we were putting lots of holes in the wall.

Says Joey, "It's ok. There's going to be 'One Direction' posters covering all the holes in a few years, anyway."

A must read.

I had content for today, I swear it.

But then I read this.

And now you must read it. Because it's real, real funny. And also true.

The khaki one's connected to the....yellow one?

I often take to this blog to mock my Father--for whom I have great respect and admiration, mind you. He's just an easy target.

So imagine my gleeful delight when, on my last trip home, I found this little gem adhered to the dresser in what is now the guest room & formerly Kyle's room where he was fondly known to wipe his boogers on the wall as a youth. (Dad isn't my only target, people.)

Otherwise known as blog fodder GOLD, this is a real life "how to get dressed and match your clothes together" cheat sheet handwritten by my Mother for my 59 year old Father. I assure you this is all very real and I'm not making a minute of it up. My life practically writes itself.

My personal favorite is that between the two of them, they lovingly refer to it as his "Grammi-mals" sheet. Get it? Like Garanimals + Grammi (my Mom's Grandma name)? It's like they don't even need me for this stuff anymore.

The Grammi-mals paper literally lists all of his dress pants by color and the corresponding shade of shirts AND tie patterns that can and cannot be worn with each pant. If memory serves it also lists proper footwear and belt color, as well. I...I...I...I don't even know where else to go with this.

It is my new favorite of all time, and I have asked that it be willed to me upon their passing. Honestly, it's all I want.

I have an erosion tarp for sale for $1.

I recently read a super funny post from Aliya at Double the Fun about checking in on your blog's keyword analytics. I don't do it on the regular, but it's always a hilarious exercise in futility when I do remember to do it and the things that come up are sometimes just plain ridiculous. Some of my personal favorites from my blog during the month of May are:

• bob's your uncle seinfeld (Come again? But a solid #1 search position on Google.)
• erosion tarps (Turns out, I'm #2 on Google for this.)
• gymnastics metaphor (Makes sense.)
• hump day bump day blog (Totally legit. No link needed. See also: I ranked higher than Urban Dictionary for 'hump day' so that's definitely a lifetime achievement.)
• kid peed pants (Well, sure.)

I suppose this all goes to prove that A) there's always a weirder Google search than whatever it is you're looking for and 2) it's interesting what people remember and then forget.

Evil is my middle name.

It might come as a surprise to some of you that Joey is real, real superstitious. Not about everything--it's mostly just sports related.

For instance, if the Tigers were on a winning streak during the World Series last year, he would have to wear the same shirt, sit in the same spot, eat the same food, etc. as he did in the previous winning game. No exceptions. Boy be crazy. 

At times, I use this to my very evil advantage. Like, he knows it's ridiculous but he HAS to do these things. So last night when the Ducks scored against the Wings, he turned off the TV in a huff and said, "They're gonna lose this one. I'm going to bed."

Seeing a GOLDEN opportunity to manipulate my superfan/superstitious husband, I said, "They WON'T lose if you spin around in a circle counterclockwise three times while tapping your nose and making honking noises like a goose."

The funny thing is, he knew it was ridiculous. But his inner OCD knew he HAD to do it, otherwise the Wings' impending loss was to fall squarely on his shoulders. He couldn't have that on his conscience.

I laughed the entire time. Wish I would've gotten it on camera.

And you know what? The Wings won in a stunning overtime. So tonight I'll get to see the goose honk circle dance allllll over again. This time? Cameras rolling.

Sneaky bid-ness, part II.

Remember this post, in which I shared photographic evidence of a then 1 and 2 year old little boy sneaking food from the plates of grown ups?

I've caught him red-handed again!

Although I simply cannot blame him, as he's thieving some dangerously delicious dark chocolate cherry scones (purchase the mix here--just add heavy cream and dark chocolate chips!). In fact, this photo makes me proud. My boy, all growed up and stealin' scones.

And what you might also see in this little pic is some glorious bacon. But what you can't see (or taste) is that the bacon has a slight sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar and was cooked in the oven. Try it next time and thank me later.

In unrelated news, you can also follow me on instagram! Some very unkind person was already using my 'kveedub' moniker, so I'm 'kristiwmu' over in instagram land.

Zzzzzz.

Alex has recently become very self aware of conversations he doesn't want to be a part of for various reasons: boredom, confusion, angst, avoidance, etc.

For example, whenever he has to go in time out, he always has to apologize, tell me WHY he had to go in time out, and then give me a hug and kiss. The other day, he didn't really want to tell me why he went into time out...partially because he probably felt justice was not being served and also he didn't want to admit what he did was wrong. Here's how that went:

Me: Alex, time out is done. Come over and tell Mommy why you were in time out and we'll hug it out.
Alex: Ok, Mommy. ::walks over to me::
Me: Your turn, kiddo. Why did you have to go in time out?
Alex ::no answer::
Me: Buddy? Why did you have to have a time out?
Alex: ::drops his head, pretends to snore and sleep::

As you run this scenario through your noggin, please also imagine how extremely difficult it was for me to keep a straight face and be the "good mom" in this scenario. Now, throw that out the window because let's be real: I laughed until it hurt. And then, in turn, HE had a captive audience and knew his behavior was funny.

So now it's a thing in our house. Joey starts droning on about fishing and I drop my head and start to snore. I start talking about the latest news from TMZ and both boys do the same.

For the record? I tried it at work today and it was not met with the same level of humor.

#VW3040.

Although you never, ever need an excuse to have a kickass party, sometimes it's nice to have one. Take, for instance, the #VW3040--otherwise known as the most epic event of 2013.

On Saturday we gathered 40 of our dearest friends and family and had the BEST time celebrating our entrance into two very distinguished decades. There were drinks, foods, prizes, shenanigans and best of all...a dollar store "photo booth."

I think we'll do this again for the #VW4050 (OMG it lierally hurt me to type that) but I think we'll be in Mexico. On the beach. Wearing a sombrero. Drinking tequila. The sombrero and tequila will carry over from the #VW3040.

A Lease Mommy Nah.

Here's another spontaneously awesome parenting moment, courtesy of "all Christmas, all the time radio" and a little boy who loves to sing and hears things in his own, special way.

It was night time, so it's dark. But all that matters is the audio, I promise.

As you can hear, I had a hard time breathing through it because I was laughing so hard. Being a Mom is so awesome. Especially to such an awesome, creative and happy kid.

A Lease Mommy Nah, everyone!

TWELVE.

Things are chugging right along. I'll let the pictures do the talking today. I'm all out of words. And also lazy.

The toilet photo is arguably the best picture I've ever taken. He was so confused, like "Yo, Mom. Where's the water? How do I use it?" And also, regarding the 3rd photo, I have no idea when he grew to be 11 ft. tall. I do not support it.

And also regarding the wonky pinky spreadage in his handprint....he comes by it naturally.

TWELVE. DAYS.

And then I laughed so hard I peed.

As we do every night, Joe and I peeked into Alex's room last night before we went to bed. Usually we see him snuggled into the tiniest ball in the corner of his crib (he sleeps like his Momma). We remove the 3,214,327,832,890,432,890,432 Cars 2 characters that he must have with him every night, give him extra smooches, turn on his humidifier and crawl into bed ourselves.

But last night was something special. Last night, we saw this:

I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. Where did his jammies go? To be clear, I know that some kids are super fans of being naked and/or taking off their clothes. Alex has never done this, and actually likes to layer his clothes and would wear footie pajamas with socks and a tee shirt over them if he had his druthers.

I wiped away the tears streaming from my face and doubled over on the floor trying to stifle my laughter to keep from waking my sweet, naked boy. After we calmed down and took a picture (parents of the year!) we got him dressed and went to bed.

This morning, I asked the little pipsqueak why he took off his jammies in the first place. He simply responded, "Mom, I just didn't wanna wear 'em anymore."

And that's that.

Happy Valentine's Day!

This is how I roll.

Literally.

Don't I wish! That's me in the Fiat 500 with the GUCCI interior at the North American International Auto Show. Yes, I do love my job. Most days, anyway. I also love that car, but it's very impractical for my incredibly lofty goals in life, which include becoming a raging, rampant soccer mom. Also, if Alex spilled his sippy cup juice on that buttah-like interior I would probably lose my shizz and pending Mother of the Year nomination, so we'll stick to the more family-friendly and more American Ford Edge, thankyouverylittle. But it is a hot little number, no?

I also made a new friend. We held hands like awkward 14 year-olds on a first movie date. He didn't try anything fresh on me, though, which was oddly disappointing.

I also took my VIP status to a new level by dancing with the Kia hamster like a total assmonkey in front of my boss, her boss, and basically the entire automotive industry. But I don't care. Because this? Should get me a promotion.

Click here to see the video. 

Mind in the gutter.

Ok. So I was spending some time on Etsy this afternoon looking for Christmas pillows (note: got these) and for some reason THIS product was in my feed. I literally spit my Diet Cherry Pepsi out my nose when I saw it.

I know it's a maternity shirt. And I know the sentiment is rather lovely. But I just can't help giggling like an idiot everytime I think about it in the other way. You know, like if Joey wore it.

Not that I bought it for him or anything...

My brother wanted to be a weatherman when he was little. I wanted to be a "hair doer."

This is truth. But not just ANY weatherman, he specifically wanted to be Mark Torregrossa from the local NBC affiliate in our hometown. (For the record, time has not been kind to that man. Lay off the teeth whitening, mmmkay? It certainly doesn't detract from your receding hairline.)

Anyway, imagine my delight when Kyle sent this little screengrab over this morning:

In summary: it looks like Kyle found a career that suited him WAY more than weather--teaching. Perhaps he can take our local weathermen to "days of the week" school?

In other news, this rain can suck it. And I'll save the "hair doer" story for (another) rainy day.

Coffee talk.

My husband has a problem. Well, he has many, but today we're going to talk about his obsession with coffee and random small appliance purchases.

This morning on the way into work he dropped the bomb on me that he wants to buy a new coffeemaker. But not just any coffemaker...the kind that automatically grinds the beans FOR you. Right. Here's how that went.

Joey: I want to get a new coffemaker.

Kristi: For real? You do know that we already own two of them, right?

J: Yes, but I want one that automatically grinds the beans for you. So it's like, super fresh. And we can save money!

K: First, we have a coffee maker, a coffee grinder AND a Keurig. I can basically whip you up a mochafrappawhatevermajig at the drop of a hat. And how will buying another machine save us money?

J: But we have to grind the beans ourselves. This one does it for you. And it's FRESH! And we can save money because we can set the coffee maker to brew in the morning and we can take it with us instead of going to Starbuckies.

K: Is grinding your own beans really that labor intensive? And there's nothing that says we can't brew to-go coffee with one of the TWO machines we already own. For me, it's about the snobbery of having Starbucks in the morning, obviously. But, if it is really that important to you to have freshly ground coffee, I will grind the beans and have the coffee pot set to go the night before. And before I get in the shower I will just flick it on and viola! Freshly ground coffee for my weird husband.

J: Our coffee pot has a timer.

K: ::facepalm:: Then why are we having this conversation? We own all the equipment (and good stuff, too!) to do exactly what you're asking.

J: Butbutbutbut it doesn't automatically grind the beans for you. It's, like, SUPERFRESH. Treat yo-self.

K: Stifling laughter at the obviously appropriate 'Parks & Rec' reference. I really don't understand you. You are an anomoly to me.

And then I promised to wake up extra early every day this week to freshly grind his coffee (no, that is not a euphemism) for a to-go cup instead of stopping at the 'buck. He has officially challenged me to this, because when it comes to sleeping for an extra 10 minutes and basically anything else in life, I will always choose to sleep. Always.

However, I am not willing to purchase and find shelf space for yet another coffeepot in my home. So, in the words of Barney Stinson, CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

That happened.

Apologies to those who are a Facebook friend and are reading this twice, but I wanted to make sure it was documented on le blog as a milestone. And also, I wanted my Mom to know and it's too long to text and she will likely be the second-to-last human being (next to my Dad) to join Facebook.

Anyway, today was "Bring something that starts with the letter D" day at daycare. We talked all last night about what he wanted to bring and settled on the dinosaur and the dump truck. Obviously.

Much to my surprise, when he woke up this morning the little squirt had a different plan. He bounced over to me, chipper as a lark and asked, "Kristi, we go to the donut store?"

Here's what is AWESOME about the above. One: He called me Kristi. I love it. Two: He KNEW that donut started with a "d." And C: He wanted donuts.

He is so his father's child.

Toddler, unattended.

Alex is getting more and more independent. And as all good (read: lazy) parents do, we're getting a little lax in our parenting skills and allowing him to do more things on his own. You know, like driving, baking and swimming.

I kid. I kid.

But really, the kid loves to do things himself. Lately, he's been wanting to brush his teeth solo. So, we let him. He hasn't quite gotten the hang of putting it away just yet, though...

The one time I disowned my husband.

If you haven't seen me gloating down the halls of Twitter and Facebook, I should clue you in that the VeeDubs are kidless for a week and loving it. Aunt Jane took the week off to tend to her daughter's upcoming nuptials (Ironically, to my brother's best friend. I'll give you a minute to connect the dots. OK? Good.), so the midget is with Grammi and Poppi for the week.

Which leaves our grown up calendar wiiiiiiiide open to do all sorts of unusually adult things such as: eating at restaurants that do not have high chairs, staying up very late participating in irresponsible activities, getting oil changes (a thrill!) and other such shenanigans.

We also took it upon ourselves to see an adult-themed show (you know, one that did not involve singing tweens prancing around in stuffed animal costumes) over the weekend. Jim Gaffigan, to be exact. Quite possibly the funniest man on planet earth -- and I needed the laughs.

So imagine my ULTRA horror about 5 minutes into his set when Joey took a very poorly timed swig of his $8 beer and spewed said swig ALL OVER the people in front of us at the expense of a very funny Hot Pocket Joke.

I. Was. Mortified.

The good news is that the people just turned around, gave him the stink eye, and accepted his really, really, really embarrassed apology.

I can dress him up but I can't take him anywhere.