Pinterest, I just can’t quit you

I have pretty much come to the conclusion that if I’m ever going to get my act together, I’m going to have to quit television.

Actually, I don’t watch all that much television, with the exception of Modern Family and Parks & Rec, without which I think life would be much less funny. Oh, and Happy Endings. Also good and most of the time worth staying awake for.

But the real time thieves are Facebook and Pinterest. I’m pretty close to being done with Facebook, although I need to talk myself out of the irrational fear of forgetting the last six years of my life before I actually delete my account. That’s irrational, right?

Pinterest, though. Well, Pinterest and I just started, and we’re in that honeymoon phase where we want to spend all of our time together and we could spend hours and hours just sitting together, talking or not talking. Either way is good. And I’m not quite ready to give that up yet.

BESIDES, if I quit Pinterest, which would allow me time to get my act together, how would I know just how behind I am in the getting of my act in its togetherness? Without seeing all the pictures of how organized and beautiful and creative everyone else is?

It really is the conundrum of social media. 

BOOM. 

But anyway, while someone else is figuring out how to solve this mystery of all mysteries, I have been cooking and baking in addition to pinning zing-y sayings and awesome decor.

Want to know what they are? Follow me on Pinterest. It’s already made me too lazy to post links myself. Also, if you follow me I can follow you back and see what YOU’RE cooking and then I can spend even more time avoiding getting my act together.

A quotation I found on Pinterest this week is so apropos here: Old procrastinators never die, they just keep putting it off.

Someone who loves me: please alert me when I’ve hit rock-Pinterest-bottom. But for now, I just can’t quit.

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I have a confession

I call Cinderella.

Like– a lot. Based on phone calls alone, she rates as my best girlfriend. Sometimes, in desperate potty bribery situations, she can mysteriously be reached on my sister’s cell phone.

But most of the time I call her on a toothpaste tube.

I can’t even remember how this started, or why in the world Mary Bullock actually believes I am communicating with a princess in this manner, but she does not question this.

We go into the bathroom to brush teeth, and MB says Mommy, can you call Cinderella?

Then the [one-sided] convo goes thusly:

Hi? Cinderella?
Yes, this is Mary Bullock’s mommy.
Yep.
Uh-huh.
Mmm-hmmm.
I know, I told her!!
The back teeth?
Oh, okay.
I see.
Well you have a good night, Cinderella! See you soon.

And then I hang up the toothpaste tube princess phone and MB miraculously opens up and lets me brush all up in there.

Listen, Cinderella and I? We have our differences. Like, that choker necklace that she wears? Is not doing her any favors. However, since her power over my child’s hygiene habits is getting harder to withstand by the week, I now consider us at a truce.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, my toothpaste is ringing.

Potty Mouth Bo

Yesterday I took Bo with me to a meeting. It was a casual type of thing, which was good, because Bo does not yet own a business suit.

He did have one of those onesies with an appliqued tie, though, and I have to say: the days he wore that onesie were the days I mostly giggled through breakfast. Put a tie on that baby he is the tiny, slobbery twin of his father.

ANYWAY– I took him with me to the meeting, and he spent most of the time in his stroller with this legs kicked up making indelicate noises with his mouth.

It’s really quite amazing, if a mama could say so herself— he has a full repertoire of noises that mimic bodily functions. But the best part is how they all devolve into giggles. He has the best giggle.

I may or may not have made some potty noises myself just to re-enact the giggles.

It was worth it. 

I’ve got a sickness

And it’s called Skip*Hop.

It started last year on my quest for MB’s backpack for school.

This backpack just makes me happy. She loved it too [BONUS!] and actually wore it on her back to and from playschool every day. [Ok, I might have carried it after school a few times.]

This year she added the matching lunch bag.

And this week, on a mission to preserve the few articles of clothing that actually still fit Big Bo, I realized they also make Zoo Bibs.

I’ve never been one for bibs with pithy sayings on them, like If you think I’m a BRAT you should see my Daddy!! or some such. But this eventually led to an apathy toward bibs in general, which has led to a shrinking wardrobe of outfits not covered in peas and squash.

The Zoo Bibs fulfill all of my wildest bib-related desires and are machine washable.

Now he can wear those clothes just as long as his belly-belly will let him!

But I think Skip*Hop needs to start contributing to our babies’ college funds. It’s only fair.

Cousin Fest ’11

So we got to spend some time with MB & Bo’s cousins on our trip to NC in August, and it was so fun to watch. There’s something special about cousins, don’t you think? 
Bo’s closest cousins, age-wise, are his cousins Griffin and Gretchen, who are six weeks older. 

I think Bo liked having babies his own age to crawl around with. Mary Bullock is a wonderful big sister, but sometimes it’s more like Bo has two Mamas, one of whom is very bossy. And the other makes him sit still for diaper changes and wipes his nose against his will, so she’s kind of a bummer.

My mom was in Grandma heaven with these three. She got to love on all the babies and didn’t have to change any diapers!
We also got to go to the Marbles Museum in Raleigh, finally, after I assured Lee that we would not be looking at exhibits full of marbles all day. Actually, I’m pretty sure this was MB’s version of paradise. She played
And played
And played
And played. The pizza parlor was one of my favorite parts. By that time she was sweaty [fwetty] and her hair went into a tangled pony tail that reminded me of my Mellow Mushroom days. I didn’t brush my hair back then, so this is pretty much what I looked like. We explained to MB the finer points of the Funky Chicken pizza [the old school Funky Chicken, with pesto and jerk chicken, not the new one- blegh]. She agreed that this was probably the best pizza on the planet. 
One of my other favorite parts of this trip was that Daddy got to come with us. Everything is better with Daddy. I know with family far away and a husband who doesn’t actually get “vacation” from work, I’m in for a lifetime of solo car trips. So the times when he can come with us are extra special to me. 
They had a “soft” play place for babies, which Bo loved for the 20 minutes of our museum trip that he was awake for.
And then my camera battery said KILL ME NOW and died. But not before I could make a note to self: Surround next nursery with mirrors. Instant entertainment, no babysitter required.