The Most Wonderful Time of Year

(Except for Summer. Let that be clear!)

Baby, it's cold outside! No joke.

And I am doing my best to not complain about it. No one likes a complainer. And you can only read so many Facebook posts about the weather before it gets old. AND, I'm from Minnesota. And proud of it. And therefore immune to cold because after all, no one knows cold like Minnesotans, right? As natives of the frozen tundra, we scoff at the top news stories proclaiming record breaking temps of -13 degrees. Coloradans still don't know real cold.

But as I keep reminding people, there is a reason I left Minnie.

But truth be told, there was something good for my soul in shoveling the driveway this morning in the magical winter wonderland. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas! The light snow, cool air, the monotony of the shovel motions and the clang of the metal blade on the concrete, followed by hot chocolate and Christmas carols invigorated me, gave me cause to believe Christmas really is just around the corner, and most importantly transported me across decades and nearly a thousand miles like none other.

LOVE living in Colorado, but my heart still calls Minnesota home!

Things I Never Thought I'd Say

#4572:
"Did you just wipe your toothbrush on her bottom?"

So thankful the answer to that one was no. I don't always get so lucky.

Toilet Paper. Like it. Awesome!!!

Potty training MUST be easier by the 4th time around, right? I would like to say I am an expert at this subject by now, but the truth is that I suck at potty training. Thankfully, my kids have all learned to use the bathroom in spite of me.

It appears the 4th one will be no different. I think she's teaching herself, actually. I pulled the little potty out several months ago, just so she could warm up to it. But I've never been so presumptuous (ambitious) as to say, "We're potty training." And yet, several times a day she tells me, "Go potty. BADLY!" Usually as I'm herding all the cats kids out the door. Or when we're in the middle of the grocery store. And when she's first learning, I can't tell her no, can I? Even if I know there's only about a 10% chance she'll actually go?

In any case, she loves to sit on the potty. Whether it produces results or not. And her motivation to go? Toilet paper. And washing her hands. Really, I thought all kids were motivated by candy or other treats. Not this one. She just really wants the toilet paper. Ranking right near the top of "Things I Never Thought I'd Say" is my latest mantra: "You can have the toilet paper as soon as you go potty. No toilet paper until you go pee or poop." To which my little OCD hygienist responds, "WANT IT!! Toilet paper. Like it. AWESOME!! Wash hands!!!" In varying decibel levels.

Good thing she's cute!

A Cabin in the Woods with No Parents

Tonight's dinner time conversation went a little something like this:

Little Man: "I wish on Halloween, we were in a cabin in the woods with no parents."
Mom: "What if you were in a cabin in the woods with no parents and you woke up in the middle of the night with a bad dream? What would you do?"
Little Man: "Eat some Halloween candy." Pause. "And then go back to bed and dream about Ninja Turtles. Or something that fights."

So. Much. Hair!!!

I never imagined myself with a house full of little girls.

And I've discovered this is might be why; there is so. much. hair. to be done in this house!!! Which might be a little like the Lord's sense of humor- I don't have a clue what to do with hair. As if that wasn't painfully apparent before I had kids, now it shows up on my 3 little lovelies. Every day. Just yesterday, the man of the house, who also happens to be a client of Nielson's Boutique, commented to a friend that sometimes I spend 40 minutes doing hair in the mornings. Now that's a bit of an exaggeration. (Except for about 4 times a year on holidays and other picture worthy days). Let's maybe average it out to about 20 minutes a day. Unless you factor in the super special days when I actually comb do something with my own hair.

SO MUCH HAIR!!!!

I don't know how women did it before youtube.

(If you look closely, you'll understand why I take only partial credit for this hairstyle:)

Life Lately

If these shots don't spell summer for you, I don't know what does.  I think I'd be happy if the carefree laid back days of summer never ended.  I think I appreciate the freedom, flexibility and relaxed days of summer even more than my kids do.  What's better than the pool in the morning, afternoons reading together, popsicles before bed, and hours of family fun?  No wonder summer is my favorite season.  And we've been soaking it up this summer.  Every.Little.Minute.

My favorite little hipster playing at the park in her birthday outfit from her cousins.

Sophia Waterskiing!!!

If Sophia can do it, Noah can too!

We.LOVE.Summer!

First summer of Tball for Noah.  He loves it beyond belief.  After his first day (in 90+ heat), he said, "I could play for 40 more hours!"  He is his father's son!

Too many hours in the car!  This must have been somewhere around Lincoln, NE.

The Music Truck

We live in an absolutely prime kid-friendly neighborhood.  For our stage of life, you couldn't ask for a better place to be.  We have a park right across the street.  The kind that takes up one full square block.  Complete with tennis courts, playground, baseball field, and a huge wide expanse of lush green.  On the other side of the park is a library.  Complete with the best children's section in town.  And across from both of those things is a totally free Historical Museum.  (Think Little House on the Prairie.)

All things considered, it's no surprise that there is an ice cream truck that makes the daily rounds from April all the way through September more religiously than a monk trying to earn his way to heaven.

Years ago, I had heard this meaningless tidbit from a friend, and it had always stuck with me.  This comment was an afterthought to a conversation, rather than the focal point.  But she said something about how the only good thing her ex-daughter-in-law did as a mom was tell her kids the ice cream truck was a "music truck".  I am pretty sure I heard that before we even had kids of our own.

But for whatever reason, it stayed with me.  (Maybe even more note-worthy since I didn't grow up with ice cream trucks or music trucks and had no idea that they actually existed and weren't just something out of the movies.)

I think it might have been an act of God.  Who had the big picture in mind and knew that one day, we would be moving into this prime time kid zone.  Music truck and all.

So from the time my kids were able to talk, I taught them that that truck was the Music Truck.  We have lived in our house for five and a half years, and the kids run to the doors, windows, curbs whatever is closest, on a daily basis throughout the summer to greet the music truck.

Last summer, I found us in a couple of precarious situations when I thought the gig was up.  There were people around us who would mention the "Ice Cream Truck," and I would quickly respond with something about "Oh, yeah, we're big fans of the music truck at our house.  We love the songs!!!"

Then there was one point when the neighbor grandkids were visiting last summer and bought something from the Music Truck.  Thankfully, we were on our way out and were loading into the car, so I thought there might have been a chance that my kids missed the transaction that took place between the Music Man and the neighbors.

And then we heard those first annoyingly famous chimes of the Music Truck sometime in April 2012.  And an era came screeching to a halt, crashing and burning just as violently as the Hindenburg.  The kids ran to the door, ready to greet the ever faithful neighborhood mascot.

But this time, these pounding footsteps and squeals were accompanied by requests of "Can we get something?"

And a part of me died inside.

And not just because I was doing mental gymnastics figuring the math of at least one time past our house (sometimes two) daily x April-September x at least two kids asking = a whole lot of "No, you may not get something from the Music Truck" conversations.

More because it was symbolic of the end of the innocence.  The days when my kids know of and believe nothing but what I tell them.  The days of Mama's always right and Mama always knows best.  The days when anyone who contradicted that was absolutely crazy and also has three heads.

So this summer begins a whole new era in our house.  One that includes the Music Truck (which the kids still call it) as well as the Ice Cream Truck (for now they know what is inside that crazy truck).

Sad day.