Pumpkin Fun

Last weekend: $20.00 worth of pumpkins that are going to rot as soon as these monkeys carve them because it's still 90 degrees here.

They'd been bugging me for days to take them. I wonder if she'll ever want to be seen with us again. Alyssa came only because I gave her an orange blouse to wear and told her to get in the car.

It actually started to drizzle as we backed out of our driveway. So much for our beautiful blue skies and magnificent weather. I have to admit, the "drizzle", I secretly adore it. It reminds me of where I grew up, by the coast, overcast, nip in the air and plenty of wind. It was hardly appreciated when I was a child. But now, if only I would be so blessed to be back in the same cool climate. I'm rambling. Or over sharing. Take your pick.



 Aiden was so excited he kept running from massive pumpkin piles to even more massive pumpkin piles.


 My curly headed boy is excited. It is a wonder to see this little corner "faux" pumpkin patch through his eyes. He was completely enchanted with everything, from the hay bales, to the inflatable slide, and back to the pumpkins.


Isaiah didn't know where to turn. Or walk. He didn't walk up to the pumpkin patch. He practically ran as fast as those little size 2 feet would take him. More like speed walked. He seemed to be looking over the entire patch of orange to see what he would lay claim on. And when he picked his pumpkin, he sat with it and refused to let go. Completely oblivious to the fact that his orange treasure was roughly his size.



Ironically, she was the first to pick out her pumpkin. Quick and methodical is her way. Confident, smart and beautiful is what makes her amazing.



At this point, seeing that his baby brother had picked out a huge pumpkin, Michael decides to do the right thing and pick a pumpkin more Isaiah's size. And then take over Isaiah's behemoth pumpkin. I have genius kids. Do you see Aiden still running from pile to pile? 



Manuel chose perfect roundness. He is a connoisseur of pumpkin picking. Last year he pick out the most difficult pattern and carved his pumpkin (with a little help from us). His carving came out so awesome. They all looked spectacular lit.

Still looking over the sea of orange.



 

Their chosen treasures. See the pumpkin Isaiah ended up with? His was the one next to Michael which is now Michael's.

They're dressed in their coordinating pumpkin shirts and they will continue to wear them until they physically outgrow me. Just sayin'.


Priceless: They were informed that since it is a week before the 2nd biggest day of their lives, the 1st being Christmas, they could not carve their pumpkins because they would rot and I didn't just spend $20 smackeroos to have them rot the next day in 90 degree weather. Guess you had to be there to see their "What the hell" expressions. I did give them markers to ease the pain. I'm not that cruel.

Once they're carved, I'll show you a picture of their masterpieces. I wish I had a picture of last years pumpkins because they were awesome all lit.

Happy Halloween!

And just because my Aiden is simply so handsome and a ham, here are some pictures of him with my next project. I'll share soon.











Bye!

P90X Update

So...I hurt my ribs. Bad. My auntie diagnosed me with corto something or other. Basically, you know where the cartilage and your ribs meet? Well, that separated. And it hurt. A lot. I couldn't take a breath without feeling like I was inhaling shards of glass. That happened the Sunday before I was supposed to start my workout.

It's now October and I feel fine. I can breath. In fact, I can also inhale a whole pizza fine. So now I will try to defy the gods that prevented the 30+ days that I lost due to injury. Monday will be the day. Monday. For reals. I have to lose this weight by the time the holidays roll around. Don't know about you, but I tend to gain quite a bit of weight during this time. And I refuse to shop for clothes until these pounds are off. So if you see me recycle the same 4-5 outfits don't say anything. I know I wear the same thing every 4-5 days. I know. I'm saving up for a new wardrobe when the 30 + pounds fall off.

And because I discovered that my camera will take 12 pictures at a time and I can save them on the internal memory, here is Isaiah. I call these: "What the hell mom. I'm 13 months old and not old enough to potty on the big people toilet. Didn't you have like 3 boys before me?"

And these from the park.

 

Bye!



Cut The Cord Bitch, Cut The Cord

It's becoming very hard to stop nursing. One minute I'm all, "That's it! I'm done. He bit me again! Look at him, he's even laughing! The nerve!" The next minute I'm all, "I love the deranged ape act. Love it. Look at him, he can't get enough of me!"

I know I should cut the cord on the whole nursing thing because he is about 15 months old. The older he gets the harder it will be to cut him off. Then there's the whole biting thing. Not good. We'll see who lasts...odds are in his favor.
But as he roams the house with his Frankenstonian walk calling out "maaaaama" I melt. We have this love/love/love/love/give me a minute to pee cook relationship. He's with me all day long. He eats what I eat. He drinks what I drink. He's all mine. All day. Until it's time to cook. He's banished from the kitchen. Which produces big fat alligator tears because he's not by my side. (I secretly love this!) When I'm done, the monkey is back on my back.

I have found a solution to get a few minutes rest though. Brothers. 3 older brothers. Z loves his brothers. Loves them to no end. Loves when they get home from school and they play together. They rough house with him - the rougher the better - and he gets into their backpacks and homework and creates havoc all around. And he LOVES it. Them, not so much.

Should I bite the bullet and cut the cord? Or should I continue bonding letting him suck me dry? 

Me thinks I'll let the river run dry. Or until he doesn't want me to nurse any more. Whichever comes first. But I'm establishing some ground rules: no biting, no biting, and no biting. I'm sure I'll regret it. It will be very hard to make him stop no doubt. He's kinda stubborn - like his momma. He wants what he want when he wants. And that's ok with me. It's more than ok. He's the last of the babies...and I'm ok with that too. It's been said that we need each other. We do. And I cherish every moment. Most of the time. When he's not biting.

And because I found the cord (no pun intended) that transfers my pictures to my laptop (that's the technical term, swear), I will share some pictures of Isaiah.  He was actually posing for me with these cheesy faces and cheesy poses. Gotta love this boy.

Nurse me! Nurse me! You can't say no to this cute face with razor sharp teeth!

The camera is not at fault here. The craptacular photographer and her cropping, or lack thereof, skill is.

Toilet Paper 1, Satan 0

So all at the ol' house is not so good. I have a tween. She thought she grew a pair but after further inspection, found none, then proceeded to tuck her tail between her legs.

I held toilet paper for ransom. She was out. I had some. I exorcised her foul mood while she was on the toilet and contrived promises of goodness and solidarity and kindness and no foul language and love and respect and repeated apologies.

I love when the planets align and give me mom superpowers.

Oh, and this week was lock down week. My house is a-spark-a-lin' baby.

Gotta love those tween hormones.

My tween with her brother.

Randomness

I needed light. My mind craved light. So I painted. Light. Gray blue. Love it.

So with the light comes thought and peace. At least for me. Seriously. I want to cry. Happy tears. I am in a happy place. Content. For those of you who know me know that this is sometimes difficult to achieve. To think I've wasted years on negativity. To know that I've made a choice to think about today, now and in the light is a great thing.

Lyssy, Manuel, Michael, Aiden and Isaiah are healthy, smart, loving little people. I certainly did not envision my life today as it is, but the older I grow I know one thing for certain: God has a reason for every curve ball he throws my way. It may not seem so at the time, but in the end I hit that ball out of the field. Not all the time. I'm far from perfect. But I try. 

I am thankful this morning for little boys who smell like sweaty puppies when they wake up even after a bath last night, roly-poly bellies ready for raspberry kisses, straightening Lyssy's hair, taming Aiden's hair, and slicking back Michael's. I'm thankful that today I will have lunch with Manuel and Michael at school. Mickie D's. Yummy. The temperature is in the mid 80's. We're actually cold. The boys begged for sweatshirts this morning. I laughed but complied. For cheesy baby necks that can identify my baby out of millions with one sniff. And I keep sniffing because it causes deep baby belly screams of delight. For my family who allows me to make stupid mistakes and still loves me. Who help pick me up without the I told you so's. They are the greatest. My momma and stepdad, aunties, sisters, brothers, dad, uncles, in-laws...especiallly my 5! monkeys...they are why I get up every morning. To challenge the new day. To behold the wonders of God and all that He has given me. Me. I don't deserve these wonders but apparently God thinks I do. Who am I to prove Him wrong?

Crabby

I have to tell you. I woke up very crabby today.  Just thinking of all the crap I have to do TODAY had me feeling pissed as hell irritated.

Then this happened. Lyssy said she didn't have volleyball practice today and she was coming home early (yay! I can spend some time with her. Practice + Hours of Homework=Absent Lyssy). Isaiah actually sat in his high chair and had breakfast (messy, but he ate), Manuel kept blowing me kisses, Michael came up to me just to say he loved me, and Aiden did the most profound thing ever, he slept in. 

I am so thankful that my job allows me to be home for my wild herd. I am thankful for my family. I am thankful to have a job when so many do not. I am thankful for my far from perfect life. 

Now, if I can actually take a shower sometime today I'll be reeeally thankful.

Negro

While we were eating M&M's for dinner (don't judge-sometimes it's ice cream for breakfast), I was reciting the colors in Spanish for Isaiah. Michael asks, "How do you say black in Spanish?" "Negro", I replied.  He turns to his dad and says, "Dad, you're negro." 

He made me laugh. Like fall onto the floor laugh.

BTW, his dad is not negro. Dark though...way dark...too many summer days in the sun :)

Maybe, Perhaps, A Little

It's been a quiet week here at the ol' house. Well, as quiet as 4 kids 4 and under can possibly be...which is not much.
Truth be told, I kind of, maybe, sort of miss all the commotion. The hustle and bustle. The can you's, make me's, take me's, pick up this person, drop off that person, etc. etc. that were getting a bit old. I was so excited to get rid of them start a new school year I forgot how lonely it gets around here without my homies. I like them. I miss them. I love them.

P.S. Remind me to re-read this post 6 weeks into next summer.

True Story, I Swear

Yesterday I registered Lyssy and Manuel for Catechism. While at the CCD office, 2 other families came in with their kids to register for the 2nd year of Catechism. The kids had to recite 4 out of 9 prayers to be able to register for that 2nd year. The office was quiet as the receptionist asked 1 of the boys to recite the Lord's Prayer. He started off great. Then it turned into laugh-a-palooza.

The Lord's Prayer according to the little boy at the CCD office:

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Lead us into temptation, deliver us to evil.
Amen.

It was already quiet but you could hear a pin drop now. Suddenly every. single. adult in that office made eye contact and burst out laughing. Poor kid. He didn't stand a chance.

The receptionist corrected the little boy. And registered him for his 2nd year of Catechism. After he stopped laughing. Hysterically.

P90X

So I've been dragging in writing this little post. 3 years ago, (yes, I said 3) I purchased the P90X (or is it PX90?) exercise program.  I got to know the mail woman very well while anxiously waiting for it to arrive. Almost 2 years ago I finally opened the box. Right before I became pregnant with Z. I did the program for 4 days straight.  After the 4th day I could not move. I swear on everything that I hold holy that I had a fever, my body was in massive pain, my organs were shaking (I could feel everything shake) and my legs felt like rubber.  I remember telling my husband that something was very wrong with me and that the only reason people actually lost weight was because they were too tired to eat anything coupled with the fact that they were too sore to heave themselves up off the floor to walk to the kitchen.  He laughed and in between gasps of air he told me that my body was in shock. Fast forward 2 years.  My neighbor friend kindly brought me her scale (because I'm too lazy to walk across the street) so that I could weigh myself. I was expecting some figure hitting the 200 lb mark.  I was pleasantly surprised at 168.  Thing is, I'm 5'2. Not really. I'm 5'0 when I stand up reeeeally straight so 168 lbs. looks like 200 lbs.  Who am I kidding? Really. Who?

I've decided to write about this for 2 reasons. A being that if I write about it I'll probably be shamed into actually doing it. And B. B is funny and is totally motivated by my friend Audra. You see, Audra also has 5! beautiful babies and is also motivated to lose weight after the birth of princess Audrina. However, Audra has will power. Something I do not posses. Obviously. But back to the motivation. We were talking about losing weight pre-5th baby a while back and she mentioned that by summertime (last year) she wanted to lose enough weight to dress like a ho. Well, guess what. I want to dress like a ho too. Not like woman of the night ho, but more of a conservative, sexy ho. Picture a cross between Salma and Halle. Minus the beauty and height or the Oscar and the money, more curvy-also-known-as-wide hips, long black coarse hair with a few gray hairs, crows feet, Latina, stacked (but in need of a serious push up bra after nursing 5! kids), splotchy skin, pale, dimples (and not in my face cheeks), in need of an eyebrow wax, did I mention I have a 5! kids stretch marked stomach, and a total make-over and wardrobe needed. Whew! I think I have my work cut out for me.

Now, if this is not daunting in itself I don't know what is. I want to lose weight for me. Not for my kids, or my husband (I do have to say that he has never complained or commented on my weight), or anything or anyone else. I want to feel and look good. Again. I used to have that swagger. You know what I'm talking about. That walk, confidence and attitude that made you feel so good. You know, the swagger. I lost it somewhere. Somewhere between too few hours of sleep, and nursing, and eating the mac and cheese the kids left on their plates because I was too tired to serve myself a meal, and the demands of a house, kids, work, life...

I intend to find it. Again.

P.S.: I'm starting P90X?/PX90? on Monday.