BAD Mommy! Bad!

So, I'm pregnant.

That has been my excuse for a lot of things. Like not keeping up with my blog for one. It's also going to be my excuse for getting out of jury duty on March 7th. I'm entitled to use it as my excuse because I'm not one of the "lucky" women who just feels a little queezy for a month and then feels blissfully wonderful for the rest of their pregnancy. You know the ones I'm talking about. They are the ones who barely look pregnant at nine months ( or look as big as I do at 6 months ). Who go and get professional belly pictures taken ( no amount of photoshop could help my case ). Have their nursery all decorated by now ( this child will have the same as his 3 other siblings before him ). And who have their hospital bag packed 2 months in advance ( the night before is good enough ).

No...I pretty much throw up every day, have bad skin, mousy hair, insomnia, bad sciatica and complete exhaustion. I noticed that most of the time I walk, I'm arched backwards holding my aching lower back and mumbling "Owe. Owe. Owe." as I go. I have learned to use my toes to pick things up because of my huge-normous belly. There's stickers that Erik put on the tile floor that will stay there for atleast another 3 months because I'm not about to bend over and scrape it up. I'd pass out from not being able to breathe. Oh yeah, and multiple sinus infections because I can't breathe through my nose for the last half of the term. Blah blah blah. I'm surprised I'm having four kids with what I have to put up with for nine months. And I've realized that my pregnancies seem to make me a bad ( guilt ridden ) mommy. Here's why:

1. Laundry which may or may not be washed, folded and guaranteed to be wrinkled beyond comprehension, stacks up. My children think the baskets in the hall are their dresser drawers. At least that's where they look first.

2. I NEED a nap every day. I look forward to putting Erik down for his nap because I know it is also MY turn to take a nap. I don't even have to look at a clock. My body just knows it's 1pm.

3. Nap time to my four year old, means "quiet time." Which means, I sleep on the couch while he watches whatever he wants on tv. It's sad when he will actually turn the tv off because he's tired of watching it.

I know. I told you I was a bad mommy. It gets worse. I promise.

4. My 18 month old's first words? "Buzz" as in "Buzz Lightyear". His first song? "Spongebob SquarePants". Well, it's actually more like "Bunge ba bear 'ts". As soon as he hears it on tv, he will yell "BOB! BOB!" then attempt to sing along.

I know. Bad bad horrible mommy.

The amount of excess tv time might explain why when Jack was asked what we should name the new baby, he said, "Nemo" or "Tarzan".

I think we need a little review

Jack told me the other day that he knows how the dinosaurs became extinct.

Evidently, it is because Jesus used his karate chop moves and then his lasers made them disappear.


Looks like I know what we'll be talking about in Family Home Evening.

Coming Soon...

Wanna know how to get rid of telemarketers?

Let your 1 year old play with the phone and mess up the answering machine. Then you get to hear the telemarketer's conversation with the answering machine that goes like this:

Machine: Ba Da Da ((beep beep beep))
Telemarketer: Hello?
Machine: Da da da bababa ((Beep BEEEEEP))
Telemarketer: Hello? Anyone there? Ma'am?
Machine: Hey! Come on. Give me the phone.
Telemarketer: ( Click )


Sweet. It would probably work well for those midweek calls from a Bishopric member wanting to ask you to give a talk in church on Sunday.......

Jack is 4!

And what exactly does that mean?

It means that I can finally cut his sandwiches in FOUR pieces instead of three.


I reminded him throughout the day that it was his birthday and that he was now four years old. This is how the conversations went. All. day. long.:

Me: Do you know what day it is today?
Jack: YEAH! It's my birthday!
Me: That's right! How old are you?
Jack: I'm three.
Me: No. It's your birthday which means you're four!
Jack: No. I'm not four until I eat my cake.

I guess he's probably right. He WAS born at 8:10pm. Right around the time we ate birthday cake.

The cake. Ah. The cake. With baited breath you wait, eager to see the masterpiece I affectionately call.....

"The Birthday Cake".

I shall refer to it as a "she" as it was temperamental, unstable, and had a mind of its her own. The cake whos frosting oozed down her sides and puddled at that bottom because of the 115 degree heat. She wasn't exactly archetectually sound. Held up by toothpicks placed just about every inch throughout. Kind of like a "cake bra". But, in the end, it worked. Jack loved it and thought it was "cool". And really, that's all that matters.

FLaShBaCk FRiDaY!

So I thought I'd share a little story from my childhood with you.

When my twin brother and I were 7, the movie of all movies hit the big screen. This was not just any movie. This was THE movie that changed the future of movies as we know it. Can you guess what it was? This was 1977 by the way. Here's a hint:

"Will someone get this big walking carpet out of my way!"

Man I wish I could figure out how to insert music on my blog cause I'd have the theme music blasting right now!

My brother and I wanted to see this movie so badly. Badly enough that one day when my parents had some friends over at the house, we decided that they would be perfect cover for our plan. So, we told our parents that we were going to go for a "jog". A "jog"? I mean....couldn't we have come up with something better than that? In reality, our "jog" was to the downtown Libertyville Movie Theater. Two hours later, we came out of the theater deliriously excited and couldn't stop talking about how that was the coolest movie EVER. We probably even talked about what action figures we wanted to get for Christmas and which would be better.....an X-wing fighter or the Millenium Falcon? And I'm pretty sure I know what we dressed up as for Halloween that year.

When we got to the end of our street, we realized that we needed to make it look like we had been jogging for the last two hours. So we ran as fast as we could for that one block. Red faced and out of breath, we went in the house to find our parents and their friends still sitting in the same place they were when we left. My brother and I looked at each other as if thinking the same thing.

"We really pulled it off!"

And then we played Star Wars the rest of the afternoon.

Gone fishing.....

Being summertime, I haven't been able to keep up on my blog as often as I would like. So, I've "gone fishing". Isn't that what they say when you're taking a break from something?

So I've gone fishing, figuratively. And gone fishing. Literally.

My dad found a box of old poles and miscellaneous fishing paraphernalia and mentioned he thought that it would be fun to take the kids fishing. Reminiscent of childhood. That father/grandfather/son bonding experience.

And because it was an overcast, breezy 105 degrees last week, it was a perfect time to go. So, we put together a picnic, packed up the tackle box and drove out to the lake.

Jack was unexpectedly patient. I thought for sure that he would be done after 3 minutes. Instead, he would ask every once in a while, "How long until the fish come?"

Lauren surprised me too. She was content just sitting on the bank. She really wanted to cast off all by herself. But I kept having flashbacks to when I was about 10 and cast off and almost used my Great Grandma who was 20 feet behind me as bait.
We heard my dad tell his tale about a goose who attacked him as a child and how he fears them to this day. Then, we saw the mother of all geese wandering the bank. Obviously, it wasn't a smart goose since there was a piece of a hook and some fishing line stuck in its mouth. We felt sorry for the poor thing. That is until it decided to attack Jack with wild abandon for a piece of bread he had in his hand. And being the pathetic mother that I am, I really did think that it was too bad I had already put the camera away. That would have been a great picture. But, kidding aside, it was nice to see the tradition of the Hagen side of the family continue.

Erik and I played it safe. And as you can see.....so did Grandpa.

When the cat's away....

The mouse goes to Home Depot for "Brown Teepee " and "Barn Door" paint and has her own "While You Were Out" experience.

When my husband goes on his business trips, I need a project to keep me sane , busy occupied. So, this last time, it was the kitchen, family room and powder room that were hit.

Here's the result:

I did a faux tile backsplash:

Painted the bay window area the red. I used wrought iron candle sconces as my curtain tie-backs and put a pillar candle as accents.
My picture wall is probably my favorite. I wrote the words "Laughter", "Honor", "Love", "Devotion" and "Dreams" around the pictures.The powder room: I took the inspiration from the French picture I found in the $1 section of Target. I wrote the french words of objects in the room like "L'image", "La Porte", "La Serviette", "Le Miroir", "La Fleur" etc. I had a plate/picture holder that I didn't have room for anymore so I used it as a towel rack. Martha Stewart......look out! There's another crafty one in the house!

It was even a fun bonding experience with Lauren. I did most of the work at night after the other kids were in bed and I would let her stay up late. I told her it was to keep me company which made her feel special. I didn't realize what I was setting myself up for though when I taught her how to use the remote. She can now access her movies on the DVR by herself. Not only that, but she can also "fast backwards" ( rewind ), pause, and fast forward her favorite shows as well. I can now quote the whole "Spy kids II: Island of Lost Dreams" movie.

Maybe I should teach her the "delete" option as well.

The evolution of language and other silly phrases my kids say...

When Lauren was a baby, she would get a lot of diaper rashes. Without really noticing it, daddy would calmingly say to her as he changed her diaper, "It's ok. Daddy will fix the owies with the white stuff on the bum." ( "White stuff" = Desitin )

When my daughter began to talk, she created her own version of this saying. At first it was "Daddy bix dee owie with da wee da bum."

And then it became, "Bix dee owie wee da bum."

And now three kids and six years later, we don't say Balmex/Desitin/Vaseline but rather a morphed version of our phrase. "Will you hand me the wee da bum?".

For Christmas when my daughter was about 18 months, she unwrapped a stocking stuffer that was in one of our stockings from my mom. It was a small, purse-size hand lotion. After my daughter opened it she said in a very disappointed tone, "Oh. Wee da bum." We all had a good laugh.

We're going through the "trying to understand what your three year old is saying" phase with Jack. One problem area he has is with his L's. I suspect if he were to have a conversation with a Japanese speaking person, they would probably actually be able to understand him. Lauren is "Roaren". Lake is "Rake". It's especially hard to contain your laughter when the conversation goes like this:

Jack shouting with glee: "Look mom! I'm crapping (clapping)."
Me: "You're crapping ?"
Jack: "NO! crapping !"
Me: "OOOOH! crapping !"

It never gets old. He used to have trouble with the "K" sound too which was unfortunate since all of the males in the family have that same sound in their name. He pronounced his own name "Jatch". Kirk was "Church". Erik was "Eritch". Kick was "Chich". (For hours of fun....see dialogue above)

Sometimes he has trouble understanding what we're saying too. For example, one Sunday I asked Lauren what she learned in Primary. She said, "We talked about goals." Jack then piped up and said, "And boys too!" Glad to see he unknowingly inherited his mom's wit.

We went out to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory for my birthday last night. YAY me! I'm now 36. ( Grunt. ) Lauren thought she would be a big girl and ask the waiter for a refill all by herself. Only....it came out "Can I have a refund?" This is the same girl who called the phone the "Ya Ya Ya" because to her, listening on her end it sounded like we were saying, "yea. yea. yea."

And now little Erik is saying a few words of his own. We're so proud he can say "Bla" ( block ) and "Da" ( dad ). For "mom", he just points. That's ok. He knows I have the goods and that's all that matters.

How I Survived My Summer Vacation.....

You might notice I added a ticker on the side of my blog. It's a temporary one. I only need it until August 9th. But I DO need it because we're only a week into the summer vacation ( which I use the term "vacation" loosely ) and I'm already going nuts. I had plenty of things going on last week to keep me and the kids busy. This week? Not so much.

When I was young, summer vacation seemed to last forever. Days were filled with fun, games, swimming and picnicing. Climbing trees, watermelon spitting contests, playing tag, catching fireflys, birthdays and staying out until the "streetlight" came on to let us know it was time to come in for dinner. The options were never-ending.

I suspect if I had to write an English 101 "What I Did Over My Summer Vacation" paper now as a 35 year old mother of three, it would probably go a little something like this:

How I Survived the Second Week of Summer Vacation
by The Mom

My alarm clock baby would usually wake me up around 5am. After his feeding, I generally could sneek in another hour or two to "sleep in". If you call 8:00am "sleeping in". (Funny, when you're a kid, "sleeping in" meant waking no earlier than 11am.) That is until the older two children woke up and were overheard arguing over the color of the plastic bowl for their cereal. One bowl is a dark green. The other is a light green. For some reason, the light green bowls were the only clear option if one were to eat Fruit Loops. One day, the dark green bowls ended up in the garbage. As did the plastic light green cups and plastic orange plates. I know. Completely illogical.

Once breakfast was over, and the baby was scrubbed down, hosed off, all nice and clean, we would have "quiet time" which meant the TV is turned off and we find something non roughhousing, fun to do. One day we played "Can you find?" where the kids had a pad of paper and a pencil and had to find objects around the house. For example: "Can you find three things that are blue?" They then would draw a picture of things that were blue. This game lasted about 30 minutes. And now, it's only 9:00am.

But it's still quiet time. Atleast there's no sound from the TV. But echoing through the house one can hear, "OUCH! Stop it! I'm telling Mom." Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. "MOMmmmmm!?! ( insert child's name ) is bothering me!"

Mondays and Wednesdays we have swimming lessons. That eats up a whopping thirty minutes on those days. And not a day has gone by where one or the other of my children has asked me while looking at the Coppertone Waterbabies Sunscreen bottle, "Why is that little dog pulling the girl's swimming suit off?" I don't know. I JUST don't know.

But so far, we have had some little accomplishments.

Lauren has learned a couple of new songs on the piano. She is also doing really well with her swimming lessons.

Erik is walking almost all of the time now and finally drinking from a cup/bottle. He'll give you "high 5's" and "wave" proving that he can be taught.

Jack has been my work out buddy when I do my Tae Bo video. (Which I will probably regret later on....) He likes to have me feel how "sweaty" he gets and feel his muscles. Must be a guy thing. Lauren worked out with me once when I did my pilates video and was sure to remind me that I could just "follow the one girl in the back if it was too hard for me." Thanks.

At the end of the day, well, it's the end of the day. And tomorrow is another one. And another. And another.......

I think even as an adult, summer vacation seems to last forever.

Memorial Day.....In Memorium

(My personal dedication: For those who lost their lives fighting for our Country so that we can enjoy the freedoms that we have today. Freedom which we often take advantage of and the same freedom that others are constantly trying to take away from us. For the sacrifice of the Service Men and Women currently serving our country and the families that they have left behind. For those children who lost a parent or a parent who lost a child. For that friend and loved one we grieve and mourn and the stories we tell so that we will never forget.)


My first memory when I became aware of death was when I was about 10 years old. My Sunday School teacher and wife of our Home Teacher, passed away. She left behind 3 children and a small three-legged dog. It makes me ponder my own mortality since she was about my age when she died. I remember her husband took her death very hard. I don't think I saw him at church much after that experience.

The summer after my Sophomore year of High School, my biology lab partner drowned in a swimming pool. The beginning of my Senior year, my friend who rode the bus with me to school was sadly run over by that same bus and killed. I remember getting on the bus the next day and subconsciously listened for the buzzing sound of music coming from his headphones. But it was quiet. Eerily quiet.

When I was in my twenties, I was at a friend's house borrowing his computer to type up a lesson for the next Sunday. He and a couple of his roommates left to go get something to eat. A few minutes after they left, I heard the front door open again. I yelled out something like, "Forget something?" But no one answered. I said, "Hello? Who's there?" Still no answer. A couple of minutes later the front door shut again. I got up and looked to see who it was but they were gone. The next morning on the radio, I heard about a young man who was found dead in the bleachers of the College stadium with a self-inflicted gunshot wound. My friend called me and asked if I had heard about it. He then told me that it was his roommate and that he used his other roommate's gun. He was the one who came in after the others had left. That's why he didn't answer me. Looking back, I often wonder if maybe I had intervened, he wouldn't have taken his life that night. But realistically, I'm grateful for the prompting to stay in the room I was in and that I didn't get up to see who it was sooner than I did. It scares me to think what state of mind he must have been in and the possibility that my life could have very easily been in danger as well.

I lost another friend who died so that her baby girl could live. She died of pre-eclampsia when she was 7 months pregnant. I was about 4 months pregnant myself with my first and remember feeling so sad for her family and for her daughter who would never know her mother in this life.

I lost an Aunt who I hope will now be receptive to the eternal blessings she deserves.

I lost a Grandma. She wasn't just any Grandma. She was the only Grandma I really ever knew. And she was the last of my Grandparents. She was supposed to live longer than she did. Atleast I thought she was supposed to. She was supposed to see my kids grow up and have kids. I remember the night I got the phone call that she had passed. I was in my bathroom getting ready for bed when all of the sudden, I felt a cold, rush of a breeze pass behind me. It was so noticable that at first I thought it was the air conditioner turning on through the vent. But I looked up and noticed it wasn't even on. Then instantly I thought of Grandma. Even though I couldn't see her, I could feel her standing next to me. I smiled, looked in the mirror and said, "Thank you! I love you. It's ok. You can go." And I was at peace.

My husband lost his first wife and friend of mine over 10 years ago. We went to the cemetary yesterday to leave flowers for her for Memorial day and also because it was her birthday. We've explained to our children who she is and they call her "Auntie Lynette". As we were driving out of the cemetary, we could hear Lauren whispering in the back seat. She told us that she just said a prayer to Heavenly Father to keep Auntie Lynette young.

Then she whispered, "I miss you Auntie Lynette".

How thin the veil is. And how powerful and humbling is the faith of a child.

-"A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself" Joseph Campbell

Today is your Birthday......da na na na na....

My baby is one. I can hardly even believe it! You'll have to excuse the trip down memory lane and the nostalgia talk. But I really just can't believe a whole year has come and gone! ( sniff sniff )

One year ago I looked like this:

Then this ( I guess if I can post a picture of my husband's split pants, I can post a drug induced state of euphoria picture of me):

Then he looked like this:







And now he's grown up to look like this:

And this:

And this:

And I pretty much look the same.

So we had a party. Any excuse for a party, right? We threw him a "Happy First 'Bee-day' Party".

This was the cake I made:

Luckily, I decided to decorate most of it the night before since the pipe to our water softener decided to spring a leak....Memorial Day weekend....when customer service at GE is apparently closed. And the only human we could talk to at some mom and pop repair shop told us they were surprised because that part doesn't usually break. ( thanks. ) So, until my husband could get a "band aid" to fix it temporarily which took about four hours the morning of the party, I would never have been able to finish it in time. But, we got water back up and running, thank goodness, 'cause there were some people in our household who were in serious need of a shower. ( Like me )

Good times.

Each "first birthday" my kids have, I can't help but think that there is some correlation between the way the child eats their piece of cake and the glimpse into their future personality.

My first daughter would hardly touch the cupcake. She just used her finger and very daintily, picked at the cake. She always has been very careful and methodical about things.

My next son was cautious at first and then once he realized the cake actually tasted pretty good, it was a matter of seconds before it was smeared all over his face. And clothes. And mushed in his ears and diaper. He definately has his moments where he likes to test us with his defiance and head-strong behavior. He often will say "I don't like that" without even trying it first. Then after some coaxing, he'll try it and odds are the next thing out of his mouth is, "I LIKE it!" Of course, it could be because he's three....

Erik was a sucker. He sucked the frosting right off the cupcake. He didn't really care much for the cake part itself. Just the frosting. Maybe that means you'll be sucked in by his sweet, charming ways? Either that, or he'll be a brown-noser.

He has yet to really play with any of the toys he received. For some reason baby toys appeal to almost 4 and 6 year old children more. Luckily, he hasn't figured out yet that he's supposed to care.

On to a new year of milestones! ( And four more birthdays in the next 3 months! )

YAY! I've been tagged!

Good thing cause I've had blogger's block for over a week now! I'm going crazy!

Thanks Lee for the tag.

Two for Togetherness Tag

2 Things you compliment your husband on while in his presence.
His legs
His brains

2 Compliments you make to your friends about spouse.
He buys me QT Cokes everyday after work!
He's great with the kids

2 Traits you married him for.
His kindness
He was my best friend


2 Days you cherished the most with your husband being together.
Our wedding day
Our babies birthdays


2 Material things you would give to your husband if you just inherited a forture.
The most expensive cell phone on the planet
His very own Coke fountain machine

2 Things you would miss the most if he left for two weeks.
Already know....
Sleep. Because I can't sleep if he's not in bed
Bedtime help. He's always so great getting the kids to bed

2 Thoughts that crossed your mind when you first met/saw your spouse.
Well....let me preface this with we didn't just "meet". We knew each other for years before we dated so....my first thought was probably:
He's my friend's geeky brother ;)
and later on he came to me for advice about kissing because he was going to make the move on his girlfriend but didn't know "how" to kiss. I just remember thinking, "Oh please don't tell me you want me to show you!" ick.


2 Favorite dates
The night he proposed
Horseback riding on Valentine's Day

2 Funny odd things that you love.
His love of techno-gadgets
His love of tv shows that talk about said techno-gadgets


2 Places you have lived with your spouse.
An icky apartment for the first year
Our new house we built

2 Favorite Vacations.
Maui! Honeymoon
Our first cruise together

The Spare Pair

I've learned that it's always good to have a spare.

I'm glad that I had a spare mailbox key because the original one made its way into the 1/8th of an inch crevice in the glove box when I threw it in after getting the mail one day. As did the spare of the spare before I realized that there even was a crevice in the glove box. So, both keys are sitting in some inaccessable hole in my glove box until I can find the right tool to take the glove box apart and get them. So I now have a key that is a spare of a spare of a spare.

Spare tires are always a good thing to have too. Except for the one that is hanging around my abdominal area. I could do without that one. But, I do like the fact that the spare tire for our SUV is actually the size of a real tire.

Spare change is good for those times you are standing at the checkout with two 44 ouncers and realize you forgot your wallet. Because then you have to drive 7 miles back home to get your wallet and drive back another 7 miles to the Quik Trip and with gas prices the way they are......you end up paying $100.00 for a fountain drink.

Getting three kids ready plus yourself for, say, a Doctor's appointment and actually arriving with a few minutes to spare? That's good too.

A spare child or two is nice as well. And no, I don't mean it in the "William and Harry- the Heir and a spare" kind of way either. I mean, when you're bathing the baby and you forget a towel, your spare, or "extra help", can go fetch you one.

My three year old is pretty much potty trained. He has had an accident or two on very rare occassions usually when he is at a friend's house and mistimes getting to the bathroom. To avoid embarrassment on both of our parts, I usually give his friend's mom a ziploc bag with a spare pair of underwear and pants. Just in case. You never know.

Which brings me to my point.

I was on the phone with my husband the other day. He had just returned from lunch and mentioned to me that a co-worker informed him that he had a tear in the back of his pants. My husband realized the extent of the tear while he was talking to me. He kept repeating, "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" I sensed it was more than just a split seam. I wondered if the miscellaneous junk that he carries on his person every day finally deteriorated his back left pocket.

It wasn't until he mumbled something about duct tape that I realized I underestimated his predicament.

He called again about an hour later informing me that he was coming home. I guess the duct tape didn't work as well as he thought it would. I had to admit, it was pretty impressive. So much so, that the first thing out of my mouth was not, "Oh, let me mend it for you" but rather, "Wait! Don't take them off yet! I want to get a picture so that I can blog it!"

And not only do I have the urge to blog about it, but I can't help but write a little poem too.

At first, you went to lunch
Blissfully unaware.
Then you noticed people staring.
And realized it was your co-worker's glare.

"What's that?" One said.
"That right there?
In your brand new khakis
I think I see a tear."

You must be thinking,
About how rare
To have a tear
In your brand new pair.

The duct tape didn't work so well
Although it added flare.
But I'm sure you didn't want people to see
Your bare little derriere.

So you left the building
With moves like Astair
In hopes that no one would notice
Your newly made repair.

And when you arrived home
Your wife with loving care
Took a bunch of pictures
To blog about and share.

Now that I got that out of my system:

I'll try and spare you from having to see too much.

I think tomorrow, I'll send him to work with a ziploc bag and a spare pair of pants he can keep in the car. I'll make sure the spare pair doesn't have a tear. It might spare him from embarassment in the future should something like this happen again.

Just in case. You never know.

Eggstra-special Easter pictures

Yes. I know. It's almost Memorial Day and I'm just now getting around to the Easter blog. Don't let the date of this entry fool you either. I STARTED writing it on the 28th. Today is the 3rd of May.

Be warned. Plethora of pictures lie ahead.

First.
The traditional coloring of the Easter egg. Also referred to as the "Why didn't we remember LAST year that we decided we weren't going to dye eggs anymore?" Atleast we remembered that Easter grass, even on clearance at 90% off isn't worth the mess. After Easter clearance of M and M's or chocolate eggs on the other hand......bargain and a half!

The kids did have fun putting silly face stickers on the eggs. I think they said the purple one on the left in the front was supposed to be me. Sadly, it's probably pretty accurate. We'll see this particular egg again later......

Second.

The staging of the bunny tracks.

Per my family tradition, magical bunny tracks, or Gold Medal flour if you will, are strategically placed on the floor leading the kids to their baskets. This also alludes to the use of the front door when your too-smart-for-her-own-britches five year old asks how the bunny will get in the house. Because duh. Chimneys are for Santa. And he's not here to make sure the bunny doesn't get burned.

Third.

The finding of the eggs. Erik actually found the last egg that the rest of us couldn't find due to the Easter bunny's memory loss.

Fourth.
The counting/hording of the loot and other OCD tendencies. Can you find "my" egg?

Fifth.

Getting ready for church and the showing off of how adoreably cute my children are. Erik was napping so there are only pictures of the older two.

Awe. Sweet.

Right back at 'cha!

Like Father, like son....

I've discovered something about my boys. They are A LOT like their dad.

Here's a few things that I've noticed:

Dad: Engineer
Jack and Erik: Future Engineers

Dad: Can sleep anywhere, anytime

Jack and Erik: Can sleep anywhere, anytime

Dad: His keen fashion sense
Jack and Erik: Their keen fashion sense


Oh wait. That's the Mad hatter. Not my husband. But you get the idea.


But those are just a few. Aside from the obvious inherited blue-eyes, blonde hair, and big second toe, I've noticed another similarity that my boys share with my husband. One that still has me wondering if it is a learned behavior or hereditary. Maybe it will skip a generation? All I know is that my husband's dad and his brother do the same thing.

I'll show you what I mean and see if you can guess what it is....

Oh wait.....this one is from the teacups ride. Nevermind.

Figure it out yet?

If you guessed the thing they do with their tongue....you would be correct. I usually can catch them doing that "tongue thing" as I affectionately call it, when they are focused on something intently. Not always, but most of the time. It's pretty funny. And pretty freaky that both of my boys do it too.

What would be a habit that my daughter picked up from me?

Hair twirling.

I guess I'm glad she just does the hair twirl. If she did that AND the tongue thing, she'd probably look pretty silly.