This says it all, no?

We celebrated Andrew’s two-ness with a rocket ship cake and some great presents.  Then a few days later, Gran took him to Build-A-BearDog where he made “‘Night’Night” and dressed him in overalls.  Once he got the hang of that animal-stuffing machine, it was hard to pull him away!

Andrew has been practicing his new age by throwing a couple of colossal fits, and he’s talking more and more.  But mostly he’s still my sweet baby boy… for a little bit longer, anyway.

So when I heard the musical beeping noises of Andrew playing with my washing machine (which had already been loaded and set to a wash cycle), while on hold with the doctor’s office, I looked at it as entertainment that would allow me to make my call, and figured I could reset it when I finished.

Unfortunately, when you’re on a call in which you have to pay attention, you fail to notice the lack of continued musical beeping noises that occurs when the baby finds something else to do. (By the way, we’re talking – literally, I checked – about a TWO MINUTE call.)  As I hung up the phone and turned to look down at my sweet little Andrew, I noticed that he was happily keeping himself busy by making a trail of 3-in-1 shower soap/shampoo/conditioner.

I grabbed the container from him and we followed the trail (him, happily, me, in dismay) and discovered that it led down the hall and into the bathroom.  Fortunately or unfortunately, I buy the clear kind of this stuff.  Which means that on the bathroom tile floor, it is very hard to see.  Walking gingerly through the bathroom, I tried to find the point of origin.  Which I did… in my wicker clothes hamper.  It became very clear that he had started with the hamper and when he discovered that he couldn’t fill it all the way up, he’d make a trail instead.

As an aside, I was recently told that you should look through these situations and try to see God behind them.  That way, although you might initially feel anger or frustration, you will more quickly get past it.  I’m certainly trying, but in my opinion, it is often much easier to see the devil behind these things!

Andrew and I grabbed some rags and got to cleaning up the mess.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up soap?  Wipe, rinse, repeat.  Wipe, rinse, repeat.  Wipe, rinse and become enthralled with the massive bubbles filling up your sink.  Try to drain bubbles.  Too many bubbles. Soldier on.

We did the best we could, but kind of like doing a tick check on a camp out, you wonder what you missed.  I guess I’ll find out soon enough… as soon as dirt collects on those areas of the carpet, or someone slips on the tile floor.

I guess for now all I can do is try to enjoy the very intense scent of Berry Berry Strawberry wafting throughout the upstairs.

Last weekend, Dan took Maria, Luke and Jack to Feed My Starving Children for a service project with the Boy Scouts.  (Yes, I know Maria is not a Boy Scout, but she had an invitation and with all our talk about it beforehand, she wanted to participate.)

What an excellent, excellent program!  I wish I had gone, and will definitely go next year.  Dan said everything moved right along, ricky-tick.  The kids were great, the program was first-rate, the kids all learned a lot and they all did well with their assigned jobs.  And, on the way home, the kids decided that they wanted to donate more to FMSC.  So, when they arrived home, Dan helped them set up a savings envelope.

This past weekend was our school’s biggest fundraiser of the year – the auction and dinner dance.  Since I didn’t have to buy a dress this year (thanks, Sis!) and Dan and I were very interested in how a couple of the auction items would do, we attended.  We had a great time, although we didn’t stay out too late… I think my Spanx somehow made the beer I drank go straight to my head.  By 10:30 or so, I was done in and needed my bed.  Sounds like we missed a few antics on the part of some friends, but then we also saved some dough on the babysitter.  And, when you’re paying for FIVE kids, every minute counts, right?

Coming up this weekend is the Pinewood Derby.  Oh, how I dread the Derby.  Not only is my house full of sawdust, paint fumes, graphite, putty and Tungsten weights, but I know what’s (potentially) coming.  The last two years, Jack’s car has done GREAT.  Last year he came in 6th place.  Out of 40.  Pretty good, right?  Well, not good enough and there were tears and howls of frustration.  As there had been the year before, despite trying to prepare him.

This year, I’m determined to avoid all that.  Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m that lucky.  I had a talk with Jack about it recently.  I explained that while he’s working hard on the car and it will look great and probably do well, he may not win.  So, I said, let’s practice.

Me (pretending I had a microphone): Jack, the car looks great, but you didn’t win.  You’re out of the race.

Jack: But… but… but  (bursts into tears).

I figure if he can’t get through the role-play without tears, we’re screwed come Saturday.

Finally, in other news, Andrew has learned a new trick.  I went to check on him when he was supposed to be napping the other day and instead found him standing up in his crib, babbling and completely naked.  Not a stitch on and everything thrown out of his bed.  I guess nothing comes between him and his crib sheet.

Oh, brother!  I mean, sister!  We can’t help spoiling her already.  While the kids were in school this morning, some moms came over to my house for a Pink Party.  (None of those hand-me-downs have enough fluff or sparkle to them!)

The “cake”:

The spread:

The Honoree:

The guests:

The quilt:

The decor:

How cute would Andrew look?!?

But then, I forgot all about it.  Until I came across it again, only it was a version in which someone had made a t-shirt rather than a onsie and used felt instead of paint.

Well, this morning was ugly and dreary and I felt like doing a project.  So, Andrew and I headed over to Hobby Lobby for a few supplies.  I found everything I needed except for a brown shirt.  I needed a brown shirt.  Turkeys are brown.  Not black or white or orange or blue.  Or, heaven forbid, pink.

We tried JoAnn’s.  No dice.  Michael’s.  No again.  I called several screen printers in the area, thinking they might sell blanks.  Nope.  Finally, doubtful but desperate, we headed over to Wal-Mart at my sister’s advice.  And I was able to find a brown turtleneck.  While I’m not a big fan of the turtleneck, a) it is cold here; and b) I won’t be the one wearing it.

Now, I know pride is one of the seven deadly sins… but, ISN’T IT CUTE?!?!?!?

Isn’t even cuter with him in it?

Scenes from the event:

P.S. Be sure to check my Flickr page (click the little Flickr pics on the left of this page) for more Halloween takes and pumpkin carving!

Jack, 7 years ago.

Andrew, today.

Different kid.  Different house.  Different dog.  Same vacuum.

For Christmas, Dan bought me a pair of these:

They’re called Yurbuds Earbud Enhancers.  And, they’re awesome.  I have always had trouble keeping earphones in, but I didn’t want to buy a different set since my iPhone ones have the microphone and volume control.  So, I told Dan I wanted a pair of these.  And, he came through for me.  They fit over my Apple iPhone earphones and keep my earphones in my ears – even when I’m running.

Anyhow, Andrew, who is getting taller by the minute, reached up to where I had put my earphones after this morning’s run.  When I claimed them back, one of my blue thingys was missing.  I conducted a massive, very detailed search, but couldn’t find it. I offered the kids $5 if they could find it.  Lots of running around and looking ensued… without success.

So… I asked him.  I took the remaining YEE off my earphones, handed it to Andrew and said, “Andrew.  Where did you put the other one?”  He promptly put the remaining YEE in his mouth and started chewing away.

I realize my interrogation method isn’t foolproof, but I’ll be surprised if I don’t find my lost blue thingy in his diaper soon.  And, while I’m kind of poor right now and really, really hate to spend $20, I’m not exactly inclined to rescue my equipment.

So, batten down the hatches, Runner’s Soul.  Here we come.  All of us.