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The Toy Box

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My areas of expertise in life are not terribly extensive. I can mentor people on the fine art of reheating one cup of coffee 14 times over the course of six hours, I have an impressive track record of birthing non-sleepers, I can wander Target for hours on roughly four hours of sleep without ever getting tired, I can eat chocolate while my children are mere inches away and they have NO IDEA, and I am a conservationist of sorts, saving tons of water over the course of my motherhood by rarely showering (you're welcome earth. And the people who have to live with me.)

One last area of knowledge I have to share with the Internet is the extensive research I've done regarding the best toys out there for kids. We are almost 7 years into this tiny human journey so I have plenty of confidence in these choices.

#1. Guy Guys and Pom poms



These two items have been a staple in our home for well over 6 years now. The "Guy Guys," as Emma affectionately named them as a toddler, were my …

Have Mercy. (aka the New Years Eve blog)

I fully intended to stick with my beloved tradition of blogging at least once a year on New Years Eve, but sometimes sick toddlers interfere with both my 10pm nachos and my blogging efforts. 

I did however manage to still eat ice cream, watch Ryan Seacrest wearing a giant coat, drown out the incessant war zone of fireworks happening outside by using 8,000 sound machines, and look intently at my TV trying to understand how Britney Spears still looks 25. Are we simply distracted by the sparkle heart on the back of her underwear/bikini costume? We cannot know.

We are only 4 days into 2018 and I have already done some push ups, read part of a chapter of a book (Christine Caine, you inspire me), removed the remnants of Christmas from my house (minus some peppermint bark and peanut butter fudge...not my fault), been sneezed on approximately 14 times by tiny humans, been to the walk-in clinic with one of these same humans, washed my hair once (I think), and almost wore real people pants but th…

Of mice and men. Part II

So, I've concluded that mice are a lot like children in that they have a knack for revealing your greatest flaws.

My children like to bring to light the fact that I am not quite as patient, easy going, and angelic as I believed myself to be approximately 6 years ago.

The mice that have taken up residence in our home like it's a thriving Airbnb destination enjoy bringing up the reality that the floor food I have lovingly provided for my baby, and the leftover dinner remnants from the elder children are the perfect nighttime snack for any vermin taking in the sights after rummaging through my cupboards.

Perhaps at times the occasional piece of white cheddar popcorn becomes lodged between the couch cushions at approximately 9:30pm. Maybe there are chocolate chips in there. Maybe a slice or two of pepperoni. Whatever! Stop shaming me for wanting some alone time, mice! 

Obviously none of these mice are mothers or they would possess some compassion for my solitary snacking needs in this…

Of mice and men

As I sit down to type this, I hear the gentle sounds of my favorite nighttime TV family (The Hecks on The Middle) and the scurrying of the tiny (or GIANT!?) feet of the critters that have taken up nighttime residence in our cupboards.

First of all, let's establish the fact that this is NOT OKAY!

I can kill an occasional spider if it is reasonably sized and doesn't appear like it could pick up my baby. I can hide in a bedroom like any sane human being until my husband returns, should a bee of any variety somehow enter my house uninvited. I once ate the leg of a fried tarantula in Cambodia.

But four legged rodents rummaging around in my pots and pans is absolutely unacceptable. It's also rude of them to point out the fact that my home contains enough of my baby's floor food to encourage this kind of trespassing!

My husband has procured special "food" to ensure they are eradicated, and Pinterest tells me to put Peppermint oil on cotton balls, which I've done dil…

Break out the vinegar

Because I do (mostly) everything Pinterest tells me to do, I ordered some glass spray bottles on Amazon, along with rubbing alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, and corn starch. I attempted various combinations of these ingredients along with white vinegar, water (filtered obviously), and fancy oils from fields of glory to make homemade All Purpose Cleaner, Glass Cleaner, and Bleach Spray.

The motivation behind this scientific endeavor was the germ ridden people who occupy my home. It began last Sunday with the subtle introduction of some tiny man child tummy rumbles and an out of the ordinary evening nap on the floor. From there it got worse for the man child, infected the girl child, and has now caught up to the very tall man husband who has been quarantined to our bedroom apart from some 2-3 minute appearances throughout the day. So far the tiniest human and myself have escaped unscathed...

I have attempted to disinfect the majority of my house with my homemade creations. I felt like the easi…

The lap of (broken) luxury

I have not one, not two, but an impressive THREE "Space Grey" iPhone 6's in, or soon to be in, my possession.

Now, anyone who knows me knows of my deep affinity for luxury, as they couldn't help but notice the retractable roof on my mini van, my fancy coffee machine that crafts espresso drinks at home, our complete collection of Curious George episodes spanning approximately 82 discs on DVD (thanks Nonna), and our Costco sized bag of toilet paper that takes up the entire space underneath the kids' bathroom sink. 

My growing iPhone collection however has far less to do with my luxury addiction and far more to do with a tiny almost 10 month old human.

We were having the first of our 73 nightly hangouts, my phone settled in next to me so I could properly escape into the world of social media instead of engaging with my sleepless child at midnight...when suddenly one of her tiny ninja legs abruptly shot out, sending my phone flying off of its resting place and crashing …

10 o'clock nachos

Well hello me,

A potentially impending cold and the normal tiredness of post-kid bedtimes nearly prevented me from sitting down to type out a year end blog to myself and my tens of readers, but some prayer and a glorious plate of 10 o'clock nachos have re-inspired me toward a little reflection. 

It's been quite the year. I have THREE tiny humans now. I'm not sure how this happened entirely (I have some idea). I mostly can't believe I'm responsible for THREE tiny humans! I feel like the person who is truly qualified to be in charge will show up at any moment now. But I'm doing my best in the meantime, trying to veil my subtle naughty words muttered under my breath at various points in a day when given a one way ticket to crazy town courtesy of the aforementioned children. I really don't think I swore until I had children.
Actually, I do distinctly remember one time being maybe 10 years old, crouched next to a car in the neighborhood I grew up in saying all of t…