True Story

If you were to walk past our house at any time and the windows were open (which they almost always are), you would probably hear me saying, "Violet! NO, NO!!".

I feel like I say this a million times a day. Sad, but true.

The other day, she popped the screen out of one the windows downstairs and was trying to climb out. Was she trying to escape our madhouse and run away? I'm not sure. But the determined look in her face told me that she was on her way OUT. Probably she was figuring on running to Grammy's house for unlimited ice cream and snacks.

why so many hair clips? because she wanted to look like "the gymnastic people on tv".

Yesterday we were at the park and a nice lady said to Jack, "Hi, Honey!".

To which he replied very loudly, "I'M NOT YOUR HONEY!".

She didn't really know how to respond to that, and I pretended he was not my child.

If the bathroom door is left open, there is a 100% chance that you will find Violet in there. Sitting on the counter. With her feet soaking in a sink full of water. And sucking on a toothbrush. Usually it's Jack's because he doesn't clean his brush very well, and she likes the minty taste.

Nice, right?

Confession: The only time the studio has been tidy and clean was when I took pictures last week for the blog. Normally it is strewn with coloring books, crayons, dress up clothing, books. The typical things that an almost two year old, three year old, and six year old like to play with.

My dear, sweet Violet "redecorated" both of my white slipcovered chairs with purple and green crayons.

I suppose I am punishing myself by having WHITE furniture in a playroom, but I don't care. They can be washed.

On a completely unrelated note, about a year ago as I was climbing into bed one evening, I saw this running out from under my pillow:

It. Was. Ginormous.

And it was IN MY BED.

I'm not afraid of spiders, bees, or most things, but these creepy thousand legged creatures make me want to throw up and scream like a baby. I'm not even kidding. Husband cornered and caught it (at least that's what he told me. I had no way of verifying since I was naturally in the opposite side of the house, but I made him PROMISE that it indeed was dead).

So EVERY SINGLE TIME since then, I approach my bed with caution. I slowly flip my pillow and pull down the sheets and blankets and scan for creepy crawlies. I haven't seen any in my bed since, but I just can't be too careful. Sometimes I'm too tired to do a thorough check, so then I lie there, tense, and wait to feel something crawl over me.

It's been over a year, and I'm still scarred. Dr. Phil is right - time does NOT heal all wounds. I am living proof.

Aren't you glad you read my blog today? My life is so fascinating. Sometimes I am so fascinated by it that I need to take a nap. Happy trails.