Snapshots from LA- Golden Globes Edition 


I’m officially old guys. I get like none of these jokes. Except the Game of Thrones one. But I feel like that’s an old person show now. Like the first season people were like RAW OMG INCEST YAAAS and now it’s like meh, I’ve been watching brothers and sisters have sex with each other since 2011. What else you got?

First election joke of the night- less than three minutes in


WHAT IS ON JOHN TRAVOLTA.


AND MERYL STREEP.

DID THEY ATTACK EVERYONE WITH A BEDAZZLER ON THE WAY IN??


So I’m really upset that Billy Bob Thorton is doing a normal speech instead of something totally off the wall and that’s annoying. Be crazy. Or hook up with Angie again. I hear she’s free.

I know Hugh Grant!!!

When did he get old? When did I get old?

Guys. I don’t know anything.

And Donald Glover is drunk.

Oh wait I totally know something!


LEGO BATMAN! Because my kid yells “Me watch Wego City Batman your bone???” At me like six times an hour. Because he has a problem with his l’s. And ph’s. And personal pronouns.


These two. I laughed out loud.


And then I sobbed.

Meanwhile, anyone else feel badly for the other people who died this year? I mean, they had families too!


Also Chris Pratt is hilarious.

And that’s pretty much all I got from the show because I went to bed early because I’m 29 and had stuff to do today.

16-year-old Kathleen is soooo disappointed.

Photo Catch Up

Ugh guys. I was so good with the blogging. I was like on top of it, and doing a schedule, and planning out getting my own domain and using it more like a job and…then shit hit the fan.

My car was hit, my kid had to have surgery, I had a minor breakdown because my kid had to have surgery and I can BARELY keep it together for everyday life much less stressful life, and I was just generally busy and cranky and in a bad mood and BUSY and…ugh, whatever.

I’m back at it, I promise. Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. I have a “get ready with me”-type post coming, which is basically a tutorial for a simple everyday makeup look that I use most days, a Butterfly crown-filter tutorial (yaaaay Halloween two weeks late!), a review of the Kat von D Metal Matte palette, and my Birchbox just came and I have SO MANY OPINIONS ON IT ALREADY AND I BARELY EVEN OPENED THE RIDICULOUS OUTER PACKAGING.

Oh, and depending on how tonight goes, I can talk about the downfall of this experiment in democracy.

In the meantime, here’s some crap that happened of the last few weeks.

My car was hit, and while it was getting repaired I had a rental minivan and it was the most amazing thing int he world and now my transition to middle aged sexually repressed soccer mom is ALMOST COMPLETE. I just need a few more pairs of yoga pants. And some kids in soccer.

(I’m kidding. My kids are NEVER doing soccer.)

Buddy had hernia surgery, and is just fine now. As you can tell from the progression of pictures, he did not appear to be in too much pain (or indeed any pain) and mostly thought it was cool that he got to watch Curious George in the hospital, as well as the construction guys across the street. If you ever want to show a three-year-old a good time, have them come off of anesthesia while watching construction. They’ll think they’re in a episode of Bob the Builder.

Halloween came, and after much consternation Buddy decided to go as CatBoy from PJ Masks. Squeaks was always Owlette, and that made sense to me in a purely aesthetic fashion, so that was lovely.

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My sister and I were not going to let the kids have all the fun.

I joined a book club online with my almost new sister and then I started an in person one with my in town friends because I don’t feel like I drink enough.

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Michael and Rachel discussed adopting American Girls.

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We visited the Shrine to Our Lady of Good Help in Green Bay. It was a gorgeous day and a beautiful place for devotion.

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Buddy had such a devotion that he didn’t want to leave. Or he just wanted to play. Probably that. A mother can hope.

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I bought an awesome mug.

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We spent an awesome day caravanning with my parents in Door County.

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Aaaand…witnessed the downfall of civilization.

Not bad for a few weeks of not blogging.

 

Moved. Past tense.

Dudes. We are moved.

Completely, totally, everything important is unpacked, and things are hung on the walls moved. Matt still has some memorabilia I couldn’t be trusted with, and we can’t technically find the Netflix DVD we had out when we moved, but eh, I would probably want to buy Amazing Grace to watch Benedict Cumberbatch over and over again.

Anyway.

WE’RE FINISHED. AND IT IS GLORIOUS. I’m planning on being one of those obnoxious bloggers who post house tours over the next couple of weeks, because I did a bunch of cool stuff in this house that I’m ridiculously in love with, and house bloggers bug me a little bit less than mommy bloggers, so I’m going to hitch my horse to that wagon.

(And by “I did a bunch of cool stuff I mean my mom had a bunch of ideas and when I said, “Oh, that’s awesome? But how will I get it/build it/put it together?” She responded “Your dad will have it here tomorrow!”)

(Young House Love shoutout. LOVE IT.)

In the meantime (while I’m over here hyperventilating over having to sell my other house), have a post about moving, as told by iPhone photos. Or, the only thing I could find until a few days ago.

The whole time we lived at the new house (or at least as long as I had lived there), we talked about having drinks on the patio. It seemed so idyllic and adorable and relaxing and I just couldn’t imagine anything more awesome. Except. We never actually did it, we just talked about it.

Until the last night. I demanded that we have drinks on the patio once before we move.

photo 5Using our super classy solo cups, because I’d packed everything else.

And then the mosquitoes started attacking and we realized why we didn’t ever really have drinks on the patio before.

The next morning I was quite excited (and exhausted) (and stressed).

photo 1 (3)And wearing braids like Anna from Frozen! (According to Squeaks.)

Buddy was less excited that he was being corralled by various grandmothers in attempt to keep him alive.

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The movers showed up-

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Squeaks’ response was “Those are the strongest men I’ve ever seen!”

(True dat.)

I got tired thinking about moving Matt’s desk to vacuum. They carried it up the stairs without, like, thinking about it.

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They got to our new house, unloaded everything, and I spent the rest of the day unpacked, putting away, and rolling around naked in ALL OF MY STUFF IN MY NEW HOME LET ME SHOW YOU IT.

(I kid.)

(My parents were over.)

My sister made us a cake with house on it, because she’s awesome like that.

photo (6)Joey had a bunch of stories about his first night in the house.

photo 3 (2) He slept! Really! Like for twelve hours! I swear, this house in enchanted.

And then my dad played peek-a-boo with him and moved all my patio furniture around.

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ANYWAY. Now we’re in the new house and freed up to do lots of awesome things like have drinks! On the patio! For real!

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(Happiness apparently an alternative to makeup.)

And entertain in my awesome dining room!

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And garden in my not-garden!

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(And by that I mean get my brother to do most of the work and then transplant some flowers.)

And have lovely Saturday mornings with my coffee and Facebook while my kids play on the swing set!

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And take my son to the emergency room because he can’t be trusted on changing tables for 1//8th of a second apparently!

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(Thus bringing the number of times I’ve stood in this living room with paramedics to TOO DAMN MANY.)

(Also, happiest ER baby ever, amiright?)

The only problem with the house has been lodged by Buddy. I won’t let him play out in the road with the trash collector trucks, even though they’re really cool.

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I know. I’m pretty mean.

Daddies

I have been so, so blessed to have many wonderful fathers in my life. So many people don’t have even one, and I have had three.

The first, of course, is my daddy. He loves us so much- more than anything in the world except for my mom and my kids probably. He’s super into them.

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He would do and has done anything in the world for us, whether sitting by my bedside in the NICU for a month, being there for us throughout our childhood, working so hard to support us so that my mom could homeschool us, or watching my newborn son for me so I could get some sleep.

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Oh, and driving to Rockford to buy tickets to a Josh Groban concert from some guy we met on the internet. (Yup. No way that could go wrong.)

We danced to You Raise Me Up at my wedding, because it reminded me of all of our best times together.

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The second is my grandpa. He loved us and taught us so much in the time we had with him, and we will never ever forget any of it.

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Well. We could forget the atrocious “halloween costume” that really was just me wearing a unitard and jelly shoes.

(Bonus shot of my almost new house!)

The third is my husband. I was exceptionally lucky, I got to fall in love with my husband as a father. Not everyone gets that experience, and I highly recommend it. Well. I mean, I don’t recommend the whole tragedy thing. That’s just awful. But, I mean, it’s kind of cool to see what kind of person your life partner will be when charged with the care and soul of a tiny little person.

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From the minute I saw him cross Squeaks on Holy Thursday, I knew he was a good daddy. And I knew he’d be a good daddy to our children. Whom I wasn’t sure would exist,but still.

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And he is. He has continued to be such a wonderful comfort and gift to Squeaks and to me. And to Buddy, our newest baby.

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From the day Buddy was born, he knew Buzz’s voice. I remember being kind of mad, because I was the one that pushed him out and was almost dead from the effort. But everytime Daddy talked, his little head would whip around. Eventually I stopped being bitter and started thinking it was cute.

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I can’t wait for the rest of our childrens’ lives with him. I know he’ll be amazing.

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I hope all the fathers had a wonderful day yesterday, and to the fathers in my life, thank you.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

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I will never forget.

A little throw-back Thursday, y’all.  Because I’m tired from packing (basement almost done! whee!) (holy cow do I have a lot of books!) (it’s okay, I love them!)  (also I found my flute. Oops. Or, the physical embodiment of every failure I’ve ever made in my life.) (Anyway.)

This post was from the summer that we were finishing the house and were renting it to the people that summered with the Bushes. Yeah. Those Bushes. Like, 41 and 43. They were adorable and neurotic and awesome and, most importantly, didn’t really feel like the place was theirs and let me come and hang out and paid me lots of money for eating their food and falling asleep on their couch watching their seriously extended cable package (I didn’t know you could get those channels here!)…I mean, babysit. Yeah. That.

Anyway. It’s a tad dramatic, because I’d discovered wine but not prozac yet (oh, the way we were) but it’s true- I will never forget. And I got my miracle.

I get to live there in six weeks with my husband and babies.

11 Months

Dear Buddy,

You’re 11 months old today. As in, almost a year. As in, you’ve been here and a part of our family for ALMOST A YEAR. I cannot believe that.

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You, for one, seem to enjoy this whole almost-toddler thing. You aren’t walking quite yet, but you’re, like, thisclose. You can get yourself up on your walkie toy and get all over the house, even turning around, which is relatively new.

You may notice something about the pictures this month. None of them are of the front of your face. BECAUSE YOU DON’T STOP MOVING. And CLIMBING. And OOH WHAT IS OVER THERE THAT I CAN HURT MYSELF ON?

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Today you knocked over your sister’s yogurt bowl (spilling it ALL over the house. Like, under furniture.) Then you upended the table, and started chewing on one of the legs. When I took it away from you (you know, in case you impaled yourself and I’m a good mother like that) you scooted over to the folding chair and climbed up ON it, and tried to stand up. ON A FOLDING CHAIR.

Seriously, Buddy. I know I drank during pregnancy, but only a little. You shouldn’t be that stupid.

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But you’re not stupid, you’re so smart. You’ve figured out so much about the world, and you have so many likes and dislikes. You’re just a boy and those likes all involve MOVING SO FAST AND SO HARD and the dislikes are all safe, soft, quiet things. And peaches. You really hate peaches.

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You love pears and applesauce (as long as it’s not homemade, that made your face break out) and you’re getting better with textures. You love Cheerios, like, so much. And you’re okay with cheese. It’s okay. We’ll work on that. You can drink water from a straw now which, can I just say, PRAISE JESUS. I had to fight so freaking hard to get every single drop of liquid in you that you’ve consumed over the past eleven months and I really thought I’d have to come along on your honeymoon and spoon-feed you soupy oatmeal so you didn’t die of dehydration on your poor new wife.

But now! You can drink on your own! And I can stay home from your honeymoon.

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That’s silly, though. Because I’m not going to let you get married. You’re growing up way too fast, and Grandma Susan is totally right- I miss each and every stage with you, even though I love the new one so much.

I’m not really a baby person. I love you more than life itself, but the whole bottle, diaper, scream, wash, rinse, repeat thing isn’t really my idea of a good time. So I totally thought I’d prove her wrong and be all, “Bye, babyhood! See ya, pregnant suckas! I’ll be over here getting a good night’s sleep!”

But I’m not. I find myself wanting to stop pregnant women and tell them, “No, seriously, it will go so fast. You might not enjoy it. You might think it’s awful. You might wish you were dead.  Your hormones might make you think awful, dark things that you will never, ever speak about, not even to your husband. But when your little boy stops cuddling you during naptime because there are so many, many more things for him to do? You will miss it.”

And no one will ever, ever love you as much as I do. So you’re never getting married. That’s where I was going with that. Anyway.

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Let’s see. What else do you do? Well, today you pooped in the sink during your bath. That was fun for the whole family. Mostly because it required the whole family to clean it up. You love tubby time, though. I’ve put you back in the sink, even though you’re big enough for the bathtub. I can’t get the water deep enough in the bathtub for you to have fun without it being dangerous, but in the sink you can splash and play and have a gay old time for as long as you want.

Which is good, because you’ve also taken to playing with your food and then smearing it in your hair. And my hair. And all over the table. And anything else you can reach. So you get pretty frequent baths.

You have a few tricks all worked out. You do high fives, and can almost clap, and when I say, “How big is Buddy?” you put your hands up. That’s pretty adorable.

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You’re not crazy about a few things. Being held isn’t great for you anymore. If you’re tired, you’ll still cuddle. But I can’t get you to sleep by holding you anymore. Which means I’ve had to start putting you in your crib for naps. You’re doing okay with it, but it’s not great. I think the problem is that you still need a short morning nap, but you refuse to settle down for one. So you’re overtired and cranky by the afternoon and won’t settle down for that one. But as you REFUSE TO SIT STILL, I think we’ll just have to white knuckle this one for the next few weeks until your body catches up with your unbelievably active brain.

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You’re, in short, you, buddy. Just you. Just a little twenty-pound bundle of curious energy that I love more than anything else in the world.

I love you, honey.

Love,

Mommy

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Wedding Card Booklet: A Pinterest Not-Fail (What?!?!)

I know. My somewhat complicated relationship with Pinterest is well documented here and here. I love it, but it usually leaves me feeling untalented, uncreative and also kind of poor- who keeps that many cans of Mod Podge and spray paint around?

But when we got married (like, two years ago, I know, I know.) I decided to put together a booklet of our wedding cards with binder clips.

And then I got pregnant.

And then I didn’t do anything except gestate and care for the child for like the next eighteen months.

But dammit, I was not going to move a box of loose wedding cards. So I broke out the hole puncher (which I think must be the worst hole puncher in the world), and got to work.

You will need:

– Cards (any size, different sizes, doesn’t matter. I’m going to do one with Buddy’s baby cards too)

– Hole puncher (hand held)

– Binder rings (like these. I didn’t like the look of huge ones, but try to get at least 1 1/2 inch diameter or you’ll only be able to fit like three cards.)

Gather up all of your cards and get teary looking through them. Our wedding was so wonderful for us, you guys. It was amazing to be able to form this whole new family and sacramentally alter ourselves to be one person. Looking back at the wishes people wrote for us was amazing and made me so happy to think back on that beautiful day.

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If you have children, you’ll also probably come across something like this.

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And if you’re totally on top of things, you may come across the wedding card you totally meant to give your sister and brother-in-law eighteen months ago and kind of, well, didn’t even take the plastic wrap off. Sorry guys.

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Poke two or three holes in the cards (depending on how you want the book to look). This takes forever. I did one of those 52 Reasons I Love You books for Buzz last Valentine’s Day, so I wasn’t completely new to the idea of…I don’t know, using a hole puncher. Anyway, it takes a long time. And in case you’re one of those people that doesn’t thing ahead, like, ever, like me!, make sure you use a “template” card so that all your holes line up, even on the different sized cards.

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Then just thread them on to the binder clips.

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Close, and enjoy.

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We were so blessed to have so many cards that I ended up making three books, each with a card from the kids’ three sets of grandparents as the “cover.”  I keep our unity candle, the Mass program, and my headband on a shelf in our bedroom. There’s a bookshelf in the bedroom in our new home, and I truly can’t wait to have these displayed there with the rest of our wedding treasures.