Reichen: “Latham played and I cried. I cried a lot.”
What my 3 year old said he did when I dropped him off at the gym daycare this morning. It was the first time someone other than a family member watched him and his brother while I was away. It was a little rough on both of us.
If I didn’t have to strap on sneakers every morning to chase two toddlers, I would totally be bootylicious.
And by bootylicious, I mean all I would wear all day, evey day are the amazing ankle boots that look so fun when paired with short dresses in stores this spring.
I’m seeing more and more zipper detail on everything from purses and jeans to shirts and jackets, but I think this zipper bootie from N.Y.L.A. may be my favorite.
N.Y.L.A. also makes this version of a zipper bootie. How fun is that ruffle detail?
I adore the cognac color of this Jessica Simpson bootie, but it’s the ruching detail that really makes this shoe special.
The straps are so sexy on this grey bootie. I would wear them with a really sweet floral dress.
What do you think of these shoes? Do you want to be bootylicious this season?
No one has ever really said I look like anyone. And by anyone, I mean someone like a super smokin’ celebrity such as Heidi Klum or Jennifer Aniston. I hope, however that I at least look like myself. And I’m pretty sure I do. Once upon a time in a lifetime far, far away, when I was a television news anchor, a waitress actually did tell me I looked just like me, to my face. That was weird. But perhaps not as weird as this time sucking doo-dad I just discovered over at the blog Raising Colorado.
I have no idea who Martine McCutcheon is, but according to the face recognizing software at My Heritage, she is the celebrity whom I resemble the most. And maybe I do. But what kind of freaks me out: I apparently also look like 6 year old Dakota Fanning. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I’m going try really hard to take it as a compliment.
After seeing my celebrity look-alikes, I plugged in David’s picture. He’s never been told he looks like anyone, either.
Can you say cha-ching? Hello Brian Littrell, the cutest Backstreet Boy of the bunch. And may I also point out ever so humbly, my husband looks like hottie Ryan Reynolds and gorgeous Jake Gyllenhall?
Um, yeah. That’s how I roll.
Have you seen the blog Belle Maison? If you haven’t, you need to stop, drop, and roll over there right now. The site dishes out daily doses of decor which feeds the souls of do it yourself decorators everywhere.
So, I was super stoked when the e-mail I sent Julie Thigpen last week about my design dilemma sparked such a fun response. The interior designer and owner of Modern Chic Home asked if she could use my e-mail and attached photos to kick off her Dear Designer series.
Of course, I said yes! And if you click here, you can not only check out my living room, you can also read all about the pretty pillows Julie said would spice up my space.
I admit, my home decor isn’t for everyone, but it is for me. And since you’ve now seen my living room, I thought you might like a little look at the rest of my home.
Latham’s Nursery is painted in yellow and green stripes with lavender accents. We decorated it before we knew if he was a boy or a girl.
Here’s Reichen’s big boy room. Cars and roads is the theme, of course. We plopped a big red chair in the corner so when we read, we have a comfy place to sit. An airplane chandelier hangs from his ceiling and he loves it.
Here’s the master bed room. I’m in love with the chocolate brown, blue, white, and black color combination. The canvas above the bed is a photo of my family and me walking in a pasture. See the little people next to the big tree? That’s us.
This is our guest room, with Reichen at the foot of the bed wearing his Lighting McQueen jammies. It’s purple! I told David, with all the boys in the house, I get one girly room. And here it is. My mom sleeps there when she comes to visit, so it works for us.
Most people in the Midwest use this little room at the front of the house for an office, but we really don’t have much of a need for one, so I turned it into a sitting room. It’s the space we hang out when friends come over and have a couple drinks before dinner.
Our basement is an open space where the kids stash all their stuff and we play, play, play. But I turned this specific section into a reading area and the boys and I use it every day.
So there you go. A little glimpse into the space the 3 Stinky Boys and I call home. I hope you enjoyed the tour!
David was out of town the first time he really freaked me out. We had just moved in together after dating about 8 months and while I knew him pretty well, I didn’t know anything about his most intriguing trait. He doesn’t like to talk about it. Even now, he’s wary of me to writing about it. He says if I do, it might go away. But it never does. And we’ve talked about it a lot over the years because he keeps doing it. And now, it appears, my 3 year old does it too.
All I wanted to do when I pulled into our drive way that night nearly a decade ago was eat dinner and go to bed. It had been a long day at work and with David out of town, I wanted it to be over. But when I grabbed my purse and shut the door of my Ford, Explorer, I just stopped and stared. I immediately jumped back in my SUV, locked the doors, and with my heart racing, I dialed David.
I told him something really strange was happening in the house and before I said another word he interrupted, “Every light in the house is on.”
I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. How could he know? He had been out of town two days. I’m the one who turned off the lights and locked the house that morning. Not to mention I never turn on every light in the house.
“How do you know that,” I stammered.
“I just know things,” he said simply.
Since that day, I have heard that phrase more times than I can count. David just knows things. And I’m not sure how he knows them. He just does.
He knows what strangers at the table next to us at are going to order before they do. He knows the exact score of a football, baseball, or basketball game before they’re played. He knows exactly how many pieces of candy are in a bag of m&ms.
David just knows things.
I agree, it sounds odd. It is odd. I wouldn’t believe it myself, if I didn’t witness David doing it day and in and day out over and over and over again through the years.
What’s even more odd: Reichen now knows things, too.
Reichen is passionate about music. When we’re in the car, he begs me to turn on the radio and from my rear view mirror I see my son dancing and singing to the songs. He wants to know the name of every tune and he wants to know who sings it.
I never thought much of it, until the boys and I were driving to get my daily dose of diet vanilla coke a few days ago, that’s when Reichen spouted off One Republic would be the band to play the next song.
“We’ll see,” I said.
My eyes bugged when the band’s latest hit began to blare through my minivan speakers. Reichen jammed a bit before making his next prediction.
“Momma, Fireflies is next,” he smiled.
“All right, Doodle Bug. Let’s listen for it,” I replied.
Good thing we were stopped at Sonic waiting for the drink I ordered, because I was stunned when the top 40 song started playing.
Since that day, Reichen has made other mind boggling predictions, ones impossible for him to predict.
Ever since Reichen was born, he has been the spitting image of his father. And it’s not just me who says it. Complete strangers stop me on the street, at airports, and restaurants and confirm it. But it appears he’s inherited more than his father’s looks.
Reichen, just like his dad, now just knows things, too.
I hear it coming, it’s on the way
In fact, it’s here and it’s here to stay.
The potty train is at your front door
And I’m the conductor yelling, ”All Aboard!”
You get mad and say it’s not for you
To that, I reply “Chugga Chugga Poo Poo!”
You think it’s funny and laugh a little bit
Until you’re on the stool and then you start to kick.
You’re filled full of fluids and I know you have to go
But when I ask you if you’re ready, you say ’No! No! No!!”
So we continue to sit and wait several minutes
We read, play games, and I try every gimmick.
I tell you there’s candy, it’s your favorite reward
You just have to potty and every piece can be yours.
We wait and we wait and get really bored
But suddenly you’re ready and both of us are floored.
You did it! I knew it! I’m so full of elation!
Reichen’s train has finally left the potty station.
David: “I ate them all.”
What my husband confessed when I asked him where the gummy vitamins went that I just bought for the boys.
Parlez vous Francais? Non? Me, neither. And that’s pretty pathetic considering I took 2 years of the foreign language in high school and 2 more in college. You don’t have to be a math major to know 2 plus 2 equals 4. And to study a subject that many years and remember nothing is um… weird. It’s weird I don’t remember a word of vocabulary. It’s weird I don’t remember how to conjugate verbs. And It’s weird I can’t even remember a single french phrases.
You: “Whatever.”
(I literally hear you interrupting me in my mind while I’m writing, so I just want you to know I’m going to have a little conversation with you right here, right now. And I totally know we didn’t talk in real life.)
(I think.)
Me: “What do you mean, ‘whatever?’ “
You: “You so know a few french words. I mean, you at least know one french phrase. You wrote ‘do you speak French,’ in French, at the beginning of the blog.”
Me: “Oh, that. I looked it up on Wikipedia and copied it into the post.”
You: “That’s weird.”
Me: “Totally.”
I don’t remember much about the middle aged woman who taught the high school subject, either. Who spends an hour a day, every day for 2 years with someone and can’t even remember her name? Me, that’s who. But I do remember one thing: I did not like her. Not one little bit. And she didn’t like me.
I hated French class and Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name knew it. I would sit in my seat and chew gum and she would tell me to spit it out. She would ask me to conjugate a verb and I would say no, thank you very much. She would roll her eyes and I would roll mine. Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name was really annoyed and so was I. But, c’mon. I was a 13 or 14 year old hormonal kid. What was her excuse? I have not thought about Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name since the day I skipped out of her classroom for the last time nearly 2 decades ago. That is, until last night.
I guess the pepperoni and hamburger, cheese stuffed crust pizza we ordered from Pizza Hut really did a number on me because I had the most bizzare dream about Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name. It went a little like this: I was in France and I started to panic a bit because I didn’t know the language. And you’ll never guess who stopped on the street to help – Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name.
Here’s the part of the dream that gets a little gummy and blurry and doesn’t make a lick of sense whatsoever, so please indulge. Over the course of the dream, Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name and I became really, really, really good friends. She was funny and clever. She showed me where to eat and how to order. She even had a sense of humor and we laughed and laughed and laughed.
But then I woke up. And thought that was weird. Really weird.
But perhaps not nearly as weird as me sharing this really weird dream with you.
Sorry about that.
Reichen: “I like playing with you, Dadda.”
The sweet, simple statement my 3 year old said while building a Lego dinosaur with David.
Words: they’re spilling so quickly from your mouth these days
Several syllables strung together I can’t believe that you say.
You’re so proud when you speak, you know it’s a big deal
You say ‘bulldozer’ when you see one and let out a squeal.
Your brother is impressed, even though he’s only three
“Momma,” Reichen says, “Latham talks just like me!”
You say ‘please,’ you say ‘thank you’, you say ‘excuse me’, too
You say ‘mine’, you say ‘Elmo’, and when you’re dirty you say ‘poo.’
You laugh when you say ‘giraffe’, you think it’s so funny
And when you see one outside, you point and say ’bunny!’
You’re 21 months and it’s all just beginning
It’s so exciting for us that your words are now trickling.
You’re my youngest boy of one and I can’t wait to hear more
My little Latham baby, your words will make you soar.
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