Vacation Post #2 - Things I Apparently had to Learn for Myself

Hey y'all. So, I don't have that many more pictures, but I do have some words of wisdom. I realized that I didn't actually say much last week when I posted, so now I'm going to say some words. You know, just a few of them. Specifically, the things I have learned about long vacations that may perhaps be helpful to you in the future, if you haven't done this version of vacation. If you have, feel free to sit back and laugh at me in sympathy (or non-sympathy if you're my mother and you believe in the curse [the curse of your children experiencing all the negative parts of parenting they inflicted on you {how many parentheses can I fit inside of other parentheses?}]).

Number One: Flying with Lap-children is the devil.

I don't think I was entirely prepared for the torment that is spending six or seven hours in airports and on planes with three children three and under. Let me just tell you right now. First of all, let's talk about how my children do not like to be in confined spaces, like, at all. And I had to keep them contained and occupied and relatively quiet for a lot of hours. Probably too many hours.

Then, there's the potty. Don't get me wrong, I'm more grateful than I can describe that Katie is entirely potty-trained. But let's imagine for a minute, shall we? Our first flight, from Chicago to Minneapolis, was just a little hop, and the long flight was from Minneapolis to Seattle. But our first flight was slightly delayed, and then we got stuck in a holding pattern, so we had to run across the Minneapolis airport to a different terminal to get to our connection in about 15 minutes. And then Katie said she really had to go potty. Joy.

Lucky for us, there was a nice lady at the gate who arranged our seats so we could all be close to each other in the economy comfort seats we paid for. I had Katie and Peter, and Mike had Josh across the aisle. So seating-wise, we were okay. But in case you didn't know, babies get tired, hungry, jealous of other passengers' electronic devices, claustrophobic, restless, or even just tired of the adult that is in charge of them. And then, there's the ears. At the end of our big flight, we managed to get Katie and Peter to fall asleep on me. But alas, having two kids asleep on me meant I was helpless as I watched Josh and Mike struggle, Joshy unable to sleep because we hadn't had time for a diaper change and because his ears were hurting with the pressure, and Mike trying desperately to get him to calm down so that he wouldn't disturb the guy next to them, who was obviously sighing and rubbing his temples in frustration. The problem is that even though I had previously been praying for Josh to just fall asleep for a minute, I then turned into mama bear and started glaring at that guy for thinking anything negative about my perfect little angel boy. And then the screaming knocked some sense into me and I started praying again.

Number Two: I'm not 21 anymore.

Hot dang, is this one obvious. Granted, I grew up in a family of night-owls. We, in general, tend to stay up really late and occasionally sleep really late. It just happens. But when I was a teenager/college student, I was the most night-owly night-owl of them all. I regularly stayed up until 2 or later, and acted most of the time like I was completely unfazed. And after Mike and I got married, I only inflicted my non-sleeping habits on him. Now, fast-forward 5 or 6 years and we go on vacation. We get the kids to bed and want to hang out with all the grown-ups and play games or something . . . except by 10 pm we're sitting on the couch, eyelids drooping, drooling like zombies and blathering unintelligibly whenever we try to talk. And then if I get slap-happy I start babbling about anything and everything and everyone stares in shock and disgust as my entire life gets dumped out through my mouth without a filter. Yeah, I'm cool like that. Also I look back fondly to the days when I totally could have taken naps but chose not to. Because I was an idiot.

Number Three: AAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHH JUNK FOOD! I SHALL HAVE MY REVENGE!

A couple of years ago, when we were trying to get pregnant a second time (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA), I got on a real health kick. I will admit, I gained a fair amount of weight after we got married. I wasn't trying to catch a man anymore, let's face it. (I'm totally kidding. Don't let yourself go just because you get married.) But after Katie was a year old, I realized that I was no longer in the stage of life when skinny hips and beautiful legs were easy to come by, so I decided to take the bull by the horns. I totally put myself on a good diet, I worked out every day, and I lost upward of 20 pounds. And then I lost about 20 more because of my pregnancy (feel free to hate me, but it's because I hate food and throw up what I had not yet eaten when I'm pregnant). And for the last year, I've been pretty good about keeping it off. There was a brief time when I even felt good about my body. And then . . . I went on vacation (dun dun DUUUUUUHHHHHH!!!!).

I'm related to very good cooks, and also junk food is easy and cheap when you're travelling. Also, since we all already know that I'm kind of an emotional eater, the stress that comes with travelling with three small children has upped my chocolate intake quite a bit. I fear my addiction may turn me into a power-hungry maniac in a dramatic costume with chocolate-fetching minions. I may even have a lair, with a throne made out of chocolate that I get to eat every day, and then have my minions make a new one. Oh, this is going to be good.

NO! STOP IT, BRITTANY! See? This is what I'm talking about. I have a problem. So I'm newly determined to take control of my health again. As soon as we're back to Chicago and I have my own living room and yoga mats back, I'm getting a workout routine back into my life. And I'm already starting to try and wean myself. I've already been way better here at Mike's parents' house than I ever was in Boise. So cheer me on, guys.

Number Four: I really need to take breaks away from my children.

You may have heard before that moms never get a vacation. Let me tell you right now that that statement is completely, absolutely, 100% true. We're on "vacation," which means that everybody else wants to play with my kids until they're hungry, or tired, or grumpy in any way, or even the slightest bit of needing anything. And while I'm taking care of that, I have to also worry about not totally destroying somebody else's house and make sure that my kids still have a bedtime schedule and a healthy diet, because they WILL NOT bounce back immediately upon our return if I don't. GACK.

Let's be honest, sometimes we need a break. Don't get me wrong. I love my role as a mother, and I love my children more than I could possibly describe. I've even written a sweet post or two about how great it is to be a mother. But even the most dedicated and enthusiastic doctors, writers, teachers, artists, mathematicians, scientists, and horse trainers get to go home to bed every night. I don't. So every once in a while, I need to be able to put my children in some other person's capable hands for a while, and disappear. I need to go on dates with Mike or go shopping with my sisters or go for a walk without pushing a stroller so that I can feel like a human again, a woman named Brittany, and not just "Mommy." Thank Heaven for siblings, because they can be free babysitters, and they can't even get mad and try to break up with you because you're sealed to them forever and there's no way they're getting out of it. BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

(Also, thanks Emma and Sarah. You're pretty cool sisters, yo.)

Number Five: I regret all the negative things I said about humidity.

When I was a kid, I had super oily skin and hair. You know, puberty and whatnot. So whenever I visited grandparents in Boston or Nebraska or other such humid places, I complained. I whined about how humidity was awful for my hair, or that I was going to break out, or, you know, other reasons that my idiot teenage brain thought of but that didn't make any sense. (Okay, breaking out did make sense, but I was going to do that anyhow, so I shouldn't have been whining.)

I take it all back.

I have officially come into my own in Chicago. Being an adult totally stinks because of the metabolism and sleeping issues, but it's super cool not being a teenager anymore. My hair has been thriving. Most days, I wash my hair and rub in some anti-humidity cream, and then no matter what I do, my hair doesn't look like a terrible rats nest made of sticks and hay. (But then, that may also have something to do with the fact that most high schoolers have no idea how to deal with their hair.) (You know, because their brains haven't quite finished developing.) (Although there are exceptions, such as Emma--see my last post.) It's so lovely! I don't have to constantly be reapplying lotion, or wear heavy leave-in conditioner. I love Boise, but it's super super dry, and although I used to be proud of being from the desert, I have to admit--the humidity is way way easier on me than the dryness. I have come to really appreciate it. Now if only I could go back in time and slap 15-year-old Brittany in the face and tell her to learn how to do her hair stylishly instead of following high school trends.

Number Six: I apparently have allergies?

This one I just need to throw in here. I have never really had any allergies at all. In my life. But from the instant we got into Boise, I had dry, itchy eyes, runny nose, and uncontrollable sneezing. And it has continued even now that we're in Seattle. I have been living on allergy medicine.

Number Seven: As stressful as they are, I have surprisingly cooperative children.

I have heard a lot of people make comments about "I don't know how Brittany does it" and such of that nature, but let me tell you right now: for having twins, I have it pretty easy. Let me tell you about my kids.

Katie is a super genius. Maybe she is only three, and sometimes still gets pushed past her limits and needs to have a meltdown, but she is way more reasonable than the average three-year-old. For example, one night we stayed at my parents' house way later than we should have, and we were trying to get everybody in the car to go back to the farm for sleep. Katie, being totally strung out, proceeded to throw an enormous fit and kick and scream and yell names at even her Abuelo. It got so bad that someone even referenced the legendary tantrums that Emma used to throw when she was 3 and 4. And it continued as we drove away, having had to wrestle her into her car seat.

But as we were heading back to the farm, Katie said through her big, alligator tears, "I'm tired. I just want to go to bed!" And then, when we got up to her room at the farm and I was helping her say her prayers, she said, "Heavenly Father, Thank you for this day. Sorry for yelling at Grandma. Sorry for yelling at Abuelo. Sorry for yelling at Daddy. Sorry for yelling at Mommy. Sorry for yelling at everybody. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen." And then she proceeded to sob, "Now can I go to bed?" How many little kids do you know who, even when they're past reason, know the reason for their being past reason?

As for my boys, I have been so blessed. Yes, I have one-year-old twin boys. And they definitely know how to keep me on my toes. They are climbers, screamers, and definitely mischief-makers. They are the ultimate troublemaking team. But they are sweet boys, who love me a lot, love to play together and with their sister, and usually are pretty happy.

Most of all, they are good eaters and sleepers. I'm determined not to have picky eaters, but I'm pretty sure I won't have to worry about it. And boy howdy, are they good sleepers. See, when Katie was a baby, she got used to sleeping in my bed way too often, so I had a difficult time trying to teach her to put herself to sleep. And therefore, when the boys were born, I was determined to teach them to put themselves to sleep. And now, they can sleep in any room, at any time. I just turn on the sound machine, sing "I'm a Child of God," and lay them down, and they're out. Once, since we share a room with them here, I had to sneak back in not too long after putting them down, and they just lay there and watched me. They just hugged their blankets and blinked slowly as I said, "goodnight, boy boys!" and snuck out again. I am so spoiled.

I was going to write more things, but I ran out of ideas of witty things to say. Lucky for you, with all my new-found motivation for being better at life, I'm blogging more frequently. So you will (hopefully) never again have to go a whole week without a lovely update from Brittany. Ha.

*Special shout-out time!*

So, the reason we went especially when we did, is that my sister Sarah entered the MTC yesterday to go on a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. I'm super proud of her, and I think she's going to be great. You can check out her adventures and her testimony on her blog (which my mom and I will be keeping up), which is called The Ginger Journal. You guys will love her.

Vacation Post #1 - Relatively Speaking

Hey y'all. See? I said I was going to be posting sometimes while on vacation. And now I am. Aren't you lucky? I even have adorable pictures.

Anyhow, the first leg of our trip is almost over (sniff sniff!). Thursday (May 29) we had a crazy, loud, exhausting trip through O'Hare, Minneapolis, and Sea-Tac, and finally got to Mike's parents' house in the middle of the night. The next day, we just lounged. Mike and I did some grocery shopping, we all took naps, and the boys started getting used to Grammy. I think they were doing pretty well. I'm optimistic about their getting used to their house next time rather quickly.





Then, on Saturday, May 31, we drove. And drove. And drove. And drove some more. And actually, it went rather well. The kids were really happy and good, slept in the car, and didn't throw any huge meltdowns. We had picnics at rest areas and stopped at about a million and a half potties. We ate way too much chocolate and definitely should have been better hydrated. And it was fantastic.

We got into Boise in the evening on Saturday, and we were planning to just go straight to the farm to sleep. And we told my mom that. But as we got closer to the turn off where we had to decide whether to go the farm or to go to my parents' house, Mike said, "Wouldn't it be fun to surprise your mom? Maybe we should." So we did. And she was quite happy. I think we got her all emotional thinking she had to wait to see us.

We've been staying at the farm with my grandparents, sometimes staying here to swim and other times spending the day at my mom's house, which is more accessible to, you know, aunts and uncles and shopping and such. Gram and Papa have been SO fantastic about letting us stay with them and . . . maybe a little bit trash their house with child paraphernalia. But you know what? I'd rather have a trashed house and a lot of child paraphernalia than no children. They're pretty fantastic. And also really, really cute.

The first week was full of a lot of people, because last Sunday, my beautiful sister Sarah gave her farewell talk for her mission. She gave a beautiful talk about binding up others' wounds, which my mom recorded and transcribed for Sarah's blog here. We had both sets of grandparents, about forty million cousins, and all kinds of baked goods for the weekend, and then had an open house on my parents' front lawn Sunday afternoon for everyone to come say goodbye to Sarah.

Luckily, while everyone was here (including all of my siblings), we got ourselves all gussied up and got a photographer. Don't worry, I'll post those pictures as soon as we get them. But holy stink, the ones I've seen are so beautiful and sweet. I sure have a good lookin' family.

Sarah the soon-to-be sister missionary

Fortunately for you, I have also remembered to take a few pictures. They may be amateurish, but they are still cute.

"Laughing Candid"

If any of us get famous and make it to magazine covers, it will be Emma.

Chillin' out, maxin', relaxin' all cool . . .

Yes, that is me in Sarah's sunglasses.

Emma, being the only relative I have who can tan, was trying to tan . . . but Sarah decided to thwart her.

Katie showin' us how it's done!

Uncle Parker trying to be as awesome as Katie

  

Sarah's open-house!

"Quick, Josh, turn the page! My solo's coming up!"

And Monday we're driving back to Seattle. We've had a couple of crazy, sleep-deprived, party weeks, full of going to the movies without babies (!!!!!!), eating tasty food, goofing off with relatives, taking pictures, swimming, and having a really great time. Hoo baby, am I tired. 

Wait, what? Brittany still has a blog?

Hey guys. I know, I know. I haven't posted here in a while. But things have been a bit crazy. Mike has officially finished school until August, which means we actually get to see him sometimes, but before that? Well, let's just say that Mike has really good grades in medical school. And that requires some . . . not relaxing very often. Yeah.

So amid the tornado that is my family, I didn't really get to blog.

BUT GUESS WHAT.

We're going on vacation on Thursday. THIS THURSDAY. We're flying to Seattle, then driving to Boise for a couple of weeks, then driving back to Seattle for a couple more weeks before flying home. I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!

At the same time, I'm going to miss all my awesome friends. We've totally settled in here and a month is a long time. Also, I have a to-do list about forty miles long. I'm almost not exaggerating. So we can't go until I do about three hundred pounds of laundry, get my house clean enough to be empty for a month, deliver my plants to my friend to babysit, pack, and gear myself up emotionally for a trip with three kids. Wow. I'm especially not ready for that one.

So really, I'm only posting now to let you know that yes, I'm still here, and that I am planning on blogging during our trip. (I mean, we're going to have some pretty great pictures of our travelling alone.)

Also, to report a couple of Katie conversations that I remembered to write down this week.

Mike: Can you count to 15?
Katie: Oh, that's a lot. That would take until the night time.*

*Please note that she can count past 30. Easily.

Katie: Daddy! You are not Abuelo's daddy. You are MY daddy.

Brittany: Katie, you are such a beautiful girl.
Katie: Mommy, you are beautiful! I love you so much. I'm going to keep you until the end of the month.

Yeah, she's super cool. Right now she's sitting next to me on the couch right after going and getting herself a couple pieces of lettuce to munch on.

Get ready for awesome vacation pics!

Plant Funeral

I have . . . I mean had (sniff sniff) . . . a beautiful dieffenbachia that I have had since just after Mike and I got married. I coaxed it into actually growing, and it was easily 3 1/2 feet tall. It's lived through 5 1/2 years of marriage and 5 addresses. But apparently, the move across the country last summer was not particularly good. I did my best to keep it in part sun and not over-water it, but it finally gave up the ghost. It was starting to look all nasty around the base of the stalk.

So when Katie and i were digging and expanding our little patio garden, we decided to get something for that pot, because I didn't think the poor thing would last much longer. When Katie and I untied it from the stake this afternoon, the entire plant broke off. When we tried to dig it up . . . there was nothing there. The roots were entirely gone. Poor thing.

But out of the ashes is brought forth my little green-thumbed daughter, who has discovered that she LOVES digging in the dirt and helping me plant. The Easter Bunny even got her a little bitty watering can. Which she loves. In fact, her love of her watering can might even negate her love of plants because she wants to use it three times a day. It's pretty cute.

And after murdering our poor dieffenbachia, we had a great time. See, yesterday after Mike got home, Katie and I went on a date to the plant store (aka the garden center at Lowe's) and went a little crazy in all the plants. Even when it started raining (the garden center is largely uncovered) we were skipping around and picking out plants and flowers while all the old ladies were hiding under the roof part and holding purses over their heads.

And then today, after we got the boys down for their nap, Katie and I went out on the back porch and fixed up our little garden. We got super dirty and maybe a little sunburned and we had a great time.

Katie specially picked the calla lily just for her.

Did I mention it's been super crazy hot here the last couple of days? I let the kids play outside for like 10 minutes yesterday afternoon, and we had to come inside pretty quick because it was like 83 degrees and humid and muggy, and everybody was getting overheated. Joshy was so red in the face that I just took his shirt off for snack time (strawberries and ice water—I'm a super cool mom). That made both boys extremely happy.

To be fair, 83 really isn't that hot. It was probably the humidity plus the fact that we're all still rather sick (except for Katie, which makes her super impatient with the rest of us).

And now, because the reason this blog still has readers is that those readers are my mom and Mike's mom and they want pictures of the grandbabies, here are pictures of the grandbabies.

Coming home from church (a couple of weeks ago).

Josh can climb almost anything. Pray for me. 

This is the best picture I could get of their super adorable shorts.

Back to the zoo with super stylin' hats!

This penguin just walked back and forth in front of Katie the whole time she was there.

So whenever you're feeling sad, just come back and look at this picture of Katie wearing a leotard (over her clothes) with a Mary Poppins hat. You can't be sad after that.

A Letter to My Daughter

Warning: If you read this blog for the fits and giggles and pics of silly children, and you really don't want any serious garbledegook from me, you should probably skip this one and come back next week. But it occurred to me the other day that while usually this blog is about the joyful, difficult, and ofttimes ridiculous experience that is raising my children, it can also be about what motherhood is to me. And I can't shake the feeling that I need to use it as such occasionally, specifically this time. So here goes.

A few nights ago, I couldn't sleep. This isn't a new thing—I've had sleeping issues my whole life. But whenever this happens, I become obnoxiously pensive. And this night was no different. But unlike most nights, when the sickness in my mind makes me think of my inadequacies and imperfections, this time I thought about a comment Mike made the other day: I sacrificed a lot of things to become a stay-at-home mother. Why? What did I give up? What about my life is so much better? What would I tell my children about this decision?

I decided to write a letter to Katie. And while I have a whole journal that I write in for her regularly, this letter is different. This is about my story, not hers. But it's about something she needs to understand.


My Beautiful Katie,

When I was growing up, I had big plans. Like most chronic bookworms, I wanted to be an editor. But unlike all those other kids, I still wanted to be an editor even after I found out that I wouldn't just be reading fun books all day long. When I started taking classes for my editing minor, I fell in love with the English language. I began to love my editing classes even more than my lit classes for my English major. I loved marking up manuscripts, picking apart each sentence until it had just the right zing; I loved matching up serifs and non-serifs to create the perfect page design; I even loved measuring out the perfect margins on each side of a page depending on the content of the book. I know, it sounds nerdy. But it was my dream.

Then, on January 14, 2011, everything changed. I had just begun my very last semester at BYU; I only had one class. Your father and I were both unsure of where we were going or how our future would look. But that morning, after weeks and months and years of praying, hoping, and preparing, a nurse laid a little creature on my chest, swollen, pink, fuzzy, and smelling so new it overwhelmed me. It was you. Even now, I can perfectly remember it. You were so perfect, with wide open eyes taking everything in, even when you were only a few minutes old. I was completely blown away by how beautiful you were—soft, fuzzy skin, sweet little button nose, soft blonde wispy hair on top of your head. I pressed you to my chest, warm and completely mine, like you hadn't even realized you weren't still a part of my body. I pressed my nose against your shoulder, smelling your skin that was still so perfect, pure, untouched by anything bad the world would eventually start to throw at you. You were everything to me.

My mother used to say to me when I was a kid that I would never understand how much she loved me until I had children. When I met your father and we fell deeply, eternally in love, I thought I was starting to understand. When I was pregnant with you, feeling you start to wiggle and move, I thought I was getting closer. But that cold winter morning, looking into your face, I realized that there was nothing in the world I could love more than you—that you were the reason I existed. The reason I had been born, the whole reason I had lived thus far, was to bring you into the world.

That said, I don't think I ever consciously made the decision to stay home with my children instead of pursuing a career. I only knew that if I tried to hand you over and let someone else raise you while I went off to work to chase the praise of the world, it would break my heart. I couldn't miss one minute.

I'm not saying that it's bad if other moms choose to work. Some need to financially, some need to to keep their sanity. It's their decision. But thanks to so many blessings and the help from others for which I have never felt worthy, I have been able to stay home with you, and now with your brothers. I'm also not saying it isn't hard. Mercy, it's hard. The cooking, diaper-changing, clothes-washing, tooth-brushing, bum-wiping, bed-making, hurt-kissing, tucking-in. The discipline, for you and for me. There have been days when I've felt like my life here was so futile, I've questioned my ability to keep going.

But just when I think it's getting too hard, you'll climb up onto my lap and snuggle like a cat, just wanting to be close to me. Or Joshy will sing my name with his little toothy grin. Or Peter will hug me around the neck, squishing his little cheek onto mine. All the times that we play together, singing primary songs and wrestling in a pile on the floor, I get a charge to my batteries. As much as I get tired, frustrated, cranky, it is all worth it for the times that you run to me and hug my legs. It's worth it to hear all three of your little voices say, "Mama!" after I've been to the store by myself. It's worth it every night when I tuck you all in, to know that none of you will go to sleep without my singing to you and kissing your foreheads. It's all worth it.

Katie, you can be anything you want to be. I'm not one of those moms who disdains princess culture and all that, but not because I don't want you to be strong. It's because I'm not worried about your being strong. Sure, there are days when you prance around the house in your princess tutu or ballerina tights. But most days, you want to be a doctor like Daddy, a soccer player, a builder, a hair-stylist, a pirate, even a duck. You have fire in your spirit, that will not be quenched, and which can be used for so much good in the world. I know that no matter what you choose to do, you will make a difference. The world will not be the same, because you are here.

But no matter what else you choose to do with your life (and it could be anything), I hope you choose to be a mother. I hope that wherever you are, whatever you are doing, when you find your true love and get married in the temple, you will choose to have a family. I hope you choose to feel the joy, love, power that comes with bringing a child into the world. Do you want to know why? Because the love I feel as a mother is the closest thing in the world to understanding how our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love us. All the sacrifices I make, all the hard work I have to fight through, is because I love you. I love you deeply, fiercely, unconditionally. The only thing I truly want from this life is for you to be able to feel this same love and joy. And I know that that is exactly what Heavenly Father wants for us as well.

I love you, sweetheart. You are a choice daughter of Heavenly Father with infinite potential. I hope I tell you enough for you to know that. I hope that as you grow, you will see life as an occasion and rise to it. You are a princess.

Love, Mommy

The Most Realistic Photo Shoot We've Had Yet

I hope everybody has recovered from the sugar crash that must have hit you guys as hard as it hit us Sunday night. Oh man, did that happen. Katie was acting like Spiderman on caffeine, climbing all over the walls, Josh was a crazy jungle man, and Peter would just sit and sing and dance whenever he had chocolate in his mouth, then start giggling hysterically. I wish I had been filming the whole day.

Besides that, though, we had a fantastic Easter holiday. The best part was that although Katie is a crazy chocola-holic just like her mother, she really gets it. We've been telling her the story of Christ's death and resurrection for Family Home Evening the last few weeks to get her ready for Easter. The first week, she was really just super obsessed with the dying part. ("Mom! Did you know that when you're a really old, old grandma, you're gonna DIE?") But after that, I think she understood the point of the story.

When we were going through the story again on Easter (when the boys were asleep so we could actually pay attention), when we got to the part when bad men were being mean to Jesus and hurting him, Katie kept reminding us, "It's okay, because after Jesus died, he was resurrected!" And she reminds us all the time now, that when we die, "It's okay, because Jesus is alive again, so we can be alive again, too!"

She's right. He lives. And so can we, through His grace. I will repeat what my mom says: the church is the most true in Primary. Children understand the simple truths and joy of the gospel better than we can sometimes. And I love it.

But as soon as the hooligans woke up, we were back to business. So I made them take some pictures.

I took these on Easter Sunday while my kids were still all gussied up (except for the occasional--or four--shoe). And they were not only all hopped up on chocolate, but they were feeling rather not like smiling at the camera. Right after I'd been bragging to somebody about how my kids are trained to smile at the camera.

So these are extremely adorable, except for the fact that the kids are either a) not looking at the camera at all, b) trying to escape, or c) making super goofy faces in an attempt to distract me so they can escape. Oh well. My kids are just that cute.

You know you love them.

Happy Easter!

Want to See Something Completely Terrifying (and also Adorable)?

Peter is a hurricane and none shall escape his path of destruction and cuteness.

Also, we went to the boys' 12 month appointment at the doctor today. Want to hear how much they weigh? Josh was 20 lbs, 14 oz, and Peter was 18 lbs, 6.5 oz. (!!!!!!!!) Josh was 40-somethingeth percentile. I just plain can't believe it. They're huge, man. Huge.

Excuse me. I have to go collapse in a stupor of shock and disbelief.