So, I know I say this all the time, but it is true: I have the funniest child on the planet. This is him "keeping an eye out" for everything. I'm not sure where it came from or why on earth he does it, but I am sure glad that he does. One of my favorite things to do in the grocery store is ask him to keep an eye out for something.
This is the usual position you can find the kids in these days. At any given point in the day E is snuggling, kissing, hugging, and otherwise smothering Gigi with love. On the one hand, I'm so so glad that they love each other so much. On the other hand, I'm afraid for her life half of the time. It's a mixed bag. They do love each other so much though.

Dog pile! One of the better things I've taught E. Of course it backfires whenever I sit on the ground, but it is awfully fun. We regularly have dog pile parties. Which promptly end when E starts to play dog pile with Gigi.

The other day we were saying prayers and E was amazingly grumpy. He is also the most stubborn being on the planet when he wants to be. When I finally got him to say his prayer while kneeling on his knees in his reverent voice (a feat that is nearly impossible when he is being difficult), he put his own twist on the prayer. I would prompt him to say, "Please help us to sleep." and he would repeat, "Please help us not to sleep." And proceeded to negate every single thing I said. I'd like to say that I was a good mom and held it together, but alas, I was completely lost in the giggles for the rest of the prayer. I finally sobered up when it ended in "Not in the name of Jesus Christ. Not amen." and managed to have a chat with him about how to be reverent, but man alive! He is a funny kid.

The other night he was afraid of shadows. It was my fault because I mistakenly left my dress form out in his room. Who doesn't find the shadow of a headless body creepy in the middle of the night? When I came in to comfort him I did the usual things and told him that if the shadows scared him to tell them that Mommy would come get them if they got scary again. He then informed me that it was all ok because "Horsey was chasing them away." About a minute later he started grabbing at the air and making chomping noises. When I asked what he was doing he informed me that he was "catching the shadows and eating them all up." What can I say? It is effective.

Since we got Swimmy, E has been so excited about everything the fish does. The other night he told me: "Aw! Look how cute! He's saying his little fishy prayers"

E has never been a big fan of pants. I don't know why exactly, but whenever given the chance, he will strip down to his skivvies. He's decided that if he doesn't like his pants, no way does Gigi like hers. He has informed me several times when Gigi has been crying, "She's sad because she doesn't want to wear pants." Oh dear.

"He's on it!" That is his favorite phrase whenever I ask him to do something.

There was a fly around the house the other day and he announced, "There's a flyer! I need to kill it! I love to kill it!!" Apparently I need to be a bit more careful about my bug aversion.

Ever since Gigi came home E has had a thing about "mangers." Basically he rounds up all the pillows he can find and arranges them in a "manger" for Gigi and then borderline forces me to put her in there. I guess I should be grateful that it is the manger that sticks instead of the fort that he has tried a few times (E covering baby sister with pillows=a mommy heart attack), but sometimes it is a little inconvenient. The other day I said that we couldn't put Gigi in the manger right then and he announced, "Yes we may can put her in a manger because that is what mommies and daddies do." Who knew, right? I get enlightened all the time about things that mommies and daddies supposedly do or should do in E's mind.

Whoa. That is all I have to say. Whoa.
Life has been so crazy around here that I haven't had a minute to think, let alone update the blog on all the goings on. Be ye warned, this is going to being an information dump. So, in order of appearance, here are the goings on of the last month or so:

My sweetest of the girls was blessed the Sunday before Bryce's graduation. She wore a beautiful dress that her grandma made for her and not only did my sister and her family get to be there, but Bryce's parents were there just in time too. All-in-all it was a fun family weekend and despite the fact that the house was in semi-shambles due to the move, we crammed everyone in and had a blast.
Bryce graduated from law school. Wahoo! It's been a long time coming, but we're finally officially done. He looked great in all his graduation robe glory. E was amazing through the entire ceremony. He applauded when he was supposed to, kept fairly still and calm, and except for asking, "Where's Daddy? Do you see him?" at the top of his lungs quite a few times, he miraculously managed to stay quiet up until the very end. Thank heaven for Grandma and Grandpa being there to keep him entertained.

We had about a week before the move so we finally made it to Luray Caverns. Fantastic. Other than some potty episodes of epic proportion (Gigi's amazing exploding diaper that went from ankle to neck, and E announcing in the middle of the tour deep deep underground without an exit that he had to go potty and getting a special escort) it was a great trip. I'm not sure what was more exciting for E, the cave or the geese and ducks outside.
Those were some seriously aggressive geese though. Bryce had to get physical a couple of times and I definitely stood guard and shook the finger of fury while E and Bryce made a quick getaway with the bread.
As many fun adventures as we had, I'm pretty sure E would've been just as content to hang around with Grandma and Grandpa all day long. Not to mention Gigi's reaction. We started joking that grandma and grandpa were a sleeping pill for her. We'd hand her off and she was instantly out cold.

And then there was moving.... This time it wasn't across the country, but we still had our fair share of adventures. We have yet to have a move where something truly terrible (usually health on top of something weather related) didn't happen, but all and all this time was fairly tame. Maybe because we didn't have to do all the moving ourselves. It was still eventful though, don't get me wrong. No horrific storm, but this move we had an even better disaster: pestilence. Cicadas. No thank you. I was praying that we'd get out of Dodge long before they hit, Bryce was praying that we wouldn't. Luckily, I won. We saw of few of them--enough to creep me out, but not enough to freak me out--but managed to steer clear of them.
The move went pretty smoothly and the kids did great. I don't know what on earth I would've done without Bryce's mom though. Man alive! We are so lucky to have such a great family. We had a couple of days without furniture so we got pretty creative with naps. I told E that he could either be a cat and lay in the sun (blankets in front of the sliding glass door) or a bat and lay in the dark (blankets in his bedroom). I've had a kitty on my hands ever since. Daddy also kept us entertained with an awesome fort. When we headed back to the hotel room after being in the new apartment E immediately said, "I don't want to live in this house. There is just no room." He's definitely enjoying running around.

Last but not least, a new fishy friend. Swimmy the fish. Usually referred to as Mr. Fish. E saw the old fish tank and immediately began requesting a fish--since I killed the last one he has never been the same. So, we took a trip the fish store and picked a good one out. We tried to convince E to name him something different, but he picked Swimmy from the get-go and Swimmy it stayed.
Whew! And thus ends my update spew. Lots of stress, lots of fun, lots of stuff... Welcome to a new stage in the adventure.

Before I write what I actually intended to write I have to put a note in here that I'm changing Little's name on the blog. It occurred to me the other day that I should probably stop referring to him as "Little" or he is going to get a complex. We've had so many nicknames for him over the past years that he probably didn't know what his actual name was until recently (maybe that is why he refers to himself in third person all the time), but I think it is time to phase this one out. And I know it's obsessive, but I still don't want his actual name on a public blog, so from hence forth he will be known as E.

Mostly because that is the only explanation for the fact that I can still stand up and carry on a semiconscious conversation when for the last week I've gotten twelve hours of sleep cumulatively. Two hours a night is not enough sleep. On the plus side, things are a hundred times funnier when you are delirious. For example, when your three-year-old wakes you up in the middle of the night by "whistling"--which basically means he yells, "Woot! Wooo! Woot!" over and over again--and saying,"Mommy, come to me NOW!" you laugh rather than cry. Or when one or both of your children somehow choose the exact moment that your head hits the pillow to start crying and it makes you giggle (most of the time). Or when you finally do get to get back in bed and not only is your husband taking up the entire bed, he is wrapped in the sheets so tight that you have to pry them from his sleeping form or freeze to death trying, and you laugh so hard you almost cry.
Life is so much more entertaining when you don't sleep.
Life is also so much more entertaining when it is finals time. This I owe to Bryce being the craziest sleeper known to man and when he is stressed it is even better. We have had so many sleep conversations in the last few weeks that have ended with him announcing, "Ignore me. I think I'm asleep." There have been remarkable few instances of spousal abuse this time around though, so maybe we are making improvements.

Gigi is growing like a weed, despite the lack of sleep, and Little is possibly the sweetest big brother on the planet. He still throws a fit every time someone holds her or looks like they might try, but we're working on it. He loves to play with her and make her smile--which she does quite a bit these days. The other day he was snuggling on my lap while I fed her and he said, "Mommy, baby Gigi is certainly beautiful." He could not love her more. He has also attempted to climb up into her bed or the changing table to try to talk to her on several occasions. To the point that I finally dragged a stool into her room and showed him an easier way to get to her. All day long it is, "Baby Gigi wants this," or "Baby Gigi is unhappy, help her!" or "Baby Gigi woke up. Woot! I'm so excited!" How in the world did I get such sweet kids?

I have lost my mind. This may not be surprising for anyone who has had more than a one minute conversation with me lately, but I didn't know it was this far gone.

Things I have learned in the last two days:
If your husband asks you to pick up something from the grocery store, writing it down will not be enough. In fact, it is probably safer to have him just go buy it himself because that is what he will end up doing anyway when you return with a completely different thing. Ex: When Bryce asked me to get him some sort of soda with caffeine. I down "caffeine" and I returned with caffeine free Dr. Pepper. Not helpful. I wish I could say this was a one time thing, but unfortunately I am a repeat offender.

Also, I now know that if you boil eggs long enough that they run out of water, they explode. Literally. The yolk pops out from the inside and launches a foot. No joke. A sad lesson to learn. And I now I have no breakfast, but a new found respect for the average egg. Oh, and a yellow kitchen. However, the good news is that I still have a kitchen and did not succeed in burning it down.

I had a friend who once theorized that instead of your children forming their own brain in the womb, they just take half of yours. Thus your brain power goes down by half for every child you have. I am beginning to believe it.

Adjusting to life with two kids has been quite the adventure so far. I thought that the hardest part would be taking care of a new baby because all I remember of these first few months with Little was a constant cycle of feeding him, changing him, and the occasional cat nap if I was lucky. As it turns out, taking care of Gigi is way less of a challenge than Little is proving to be. Everything they try to warn you about when they tell you that your first child will regress when your second is born... it is way worse than that. We're back sliding in language (I can't count the times Little has started "Whaaaa-ing" at me instead of using words), behavior in general (if I have to scold him one more time my brain might just blow a gasket), and don't even get me started on how much we're regressing on the potty training front (Ew). I'm about ready to pull my hair right out. He's still a sweet little man, but oh my laws above! Who knew my three year old would be way more of a handful than my newborn?

Little has also started talking in run-on story sentences. And not just run-on sentences, sentences that go on so long that by the time he reaches the end not even he knows what he started out saying. He cracks me up. The other day he was having a hard time staying in bed so I went in there to scold him. When I asked him why he was having a hard time going to bed he responded something like this: "The pirates were yelling at me and told me not to stay in bed and they were mean to tell me not to stay in bed so I was not nice and they went in a pirate ship and were mean and said 'Yar! Avast ye!" and were mean... (continue in this vein for a bit)...so I don't want the pirates to talk to me anymore." I've decided from now on I'm blaming everything on the pirates. I didn't get the laundry folded because the pirates told me not to. I like it.
I also have to brag about him though because for all his craziness, he is maybe the
best older brother of all time. He has been protective of Gigi from day one. In fact, when we were bringing her home from the hospital I thought Little might like to see how they remove the little umbilical cord tag. All the nurses were attempting conversations and a few managed to get a word out of him, but for the most part he was shy and hiding from them. Until they crossed the line. The umbilical cord tag looks something akin to a chip clip, so I can see why it set him off, but man was he unhappy with the nurse. She removed it and all was well until she held it out toward us to see if we wanted to keep it and Little completely lost it. He started yelling at her to keep it away from baby Gigi and under no circumstances was he about to let that woman come near his baby and try to put that thing back on. The nurse raised her hands in defense, but Little wouldn't rest until it was safely in the trash. He still has a hard time not yelling at anyone who so much as looks like they might touch her, but we're working on that. She is definitely going to be well taken care of.
Gigi is doing great. She has already started consciously smiling, which I didn't know was possible this young, but apparently it is. I joked with Bryce the other night that she is my baby of mass destruction with the frequency and intensity of her diaper episodes--she had just gone through about six layers of her own clothing and blankets and two of mine--but other than that and the lack of sleep, she is a pretty easy baby so far (knock on wood). She is getting more chub in her cheeks and is getting more and more vocal about anything and everything. Gosh! We love this little girl.
We have also had another addition to our family recently. Meet Agnes. I am a little ashamed to admit it still. I never thought I'd give in and be a minivan type of gal, but Bryce was right yet again. One look at those fold into the floor seats and I was a goner. Strangely, thinking of owning a minivan makes me feel like I'm five years old again. Not only because it is harder to reach the gas pedal, but because I should not be old enough to need/want one. Crazy. Where did all the time go? How on earth am I old enough to have two kids? Crazy.

Disclaimer: This is gross. Really gross. But I thought it needed to be recorded for posterity so that I can explain to him why when his kids do it, it is payback. 
My mother sent this email the other day and there is no way I could describe the situation better than she did. 

"This afternoon Haley, Little and Gigi napped together. Girls are still asleep. I took a few minutes and took jack for a walk and brought in my laundry. When I came in Bryce was home from school and polishing shoes. I went next door to move laundry around and start mine. Came back and started folding the clothes. A few minutes later a little voice from down the hall announced he was awake. He added, 'I have poop!' Bryce kept working so I asked if he wanted me to go let him out...they close the door when little boy sleeps. He said 'No, I'm almost done.' A minute later he hopped up and went down the hall. I was on the couch folding clothes and cracking up so this is an overheard conversation, I didn't see. :) When he opened the door Little must have been standing there.
Bryce: 'Ohhhh. Did you take off your diaper?' (Remember the 'I have poop' earlier?)
'Hmm. Where did that poop go???...
'Oh Little...
On your table? Oh Little. It's on your hands and most of your room....
By this time he has Little on the potty and he has Clorox wipes in the bedroom. Things like, 'What if I don't find it all?' kept filtering down the hall. Haley is still sleeping. I'm still laughing.
'Where else did you put that poop?!!!'
'No more reaching in your pants and picking out poop!!'
'Promise, promise, promise you will never do this again.' Repeated several times.
He said it was like finger painting on the play table. He threw away a book. Poop was on the pages, not the cover.
Haley is still sleeping. I'm still snickering. Bryce is proud he kept swear words to himself. He did mutter that one word in particular would have been appropriate. I'm guessing it starts with an sh.
I'm so happy I was here. Priceless experience. So glad Bryce went to get him. He said he was too, that it would have been worse to have me say, 'Come see what your son has done.' I'm proud of Bryce. He was obviously disgusted but he sucked it up and not only cleaned up little boy but the whole room. He's still hoping he found it all!!

Haley and Gigi are still asleep."


We were really hoping that it was a one time thing. And then he repeated it for my mom the next day. Seriously. What on earth do you do with a poop artist?