Part Two - The Bearded Mom? Just kidding.

Okay, now where was I? Oh yes, bad parenting decisions and bearded dragons. In case you haven't read it, check out part one here.


Nacho slept for almost 4 months. It's totally normal (and absolutely glorious as a non-willing pet mama) and called brumation. It's like hibernation for lizards. Anyways, during those long months, Chelsea obviously and with good reason, lost interest in the lizard. It was boring. It wasn't new and exciting anymore. So it meant that I was constantly having to nag her and remind her and I just felt so frustrated. This wasn't supposed to be my job! Getting this lizard was a bad decision that wouldn't go away.


Fast forward a few more months and just visualize lots of nagging. We go camping lots during the summer and then we (read: I) had to find a few babysitters for Nacho. We brought her cage to a few houses and it all worked out fine. (Also - Hey Nacho! You know that long sleeping thing you do? Maybe do it during the summer when we are super busy and want to ignore you. That'd be great.)




However, at the end of summer, when we returned from our latest trip, we noticed that she was breathing funny. I did not think too much of it, as bearded dragons can get stressed easily. (Yes, stressed. They get anxious over making sure there's enough food and money for bills. OH WAIT.)


Eventually we had to make a decision about whether or not to take Nacho to the vet. I started adding up the costs in my head - vet bill, medicine, etc. all while Chelsea is sobbing in front of me.


Chris and I (again, mostly me) decided that if the cost was over a certain (albeit ridiculous) amount, we'd make the tough, but fair decision to bring Nacho home, un-medicated. Chelsea was beside herself and devastated, but deep down, I was slightly relieved. No more worrying about the lizard. (Don't judge me. I know you're thinking I'm a terrible person, but COME ON. IT'S A LIZARD!!)


Because of the busy day, Chris had to take Nacho to the vet in the city, alone. This proved to be a mistake as he has such a heart for animals. I knew I was in trouble when he sent me this picture.

A lizard x-ray. Yup. A lizard x-ray, showing a classic lung infection IN A LIZARD. A lizard x-ray showing a classic lung infection that can only be cured with antibiotic injections every three days. INJECTIONS. And yup, Chris bought them.

It didn't matter the total we had agreed upon. Big Softie Daddy would never have been able to disappoint his daughter. We came home and Chelsea has been ever the doting mother since Nacho's return. She emptied her piggy bank to help cover the costs. Because I wasn't at the vet, Chris and Chelsea have bonded over saving Nacho's life. I'm doing very little and loving it.


So let's recap...
Bad parenting decision #1 - letting your not even 10 year old buy an exotic pet.
Bad parenting decision #2 - secretly wishing for an extreme vet bill so that perhaps that exotic pet will go to exotic pet heaven and live a very happy exotic life on a cloud.
Bad parenting decision #3 - sending the softie parent to the vet with the sick animal who would then pay an outrageous amount to keep this thing alive.


Sometimes, when you are a parent, you make a decision and you eventually realize that maybe it was the wrong decision. But over time, you forget. Life goes on and you make a million more decisions, some good and some bad, but you move on.


Unless your bad decision stares you in the face EVERY SINGLE DAY.

The Dragon Mom

As parents, we make so many decisions every day. Hundreds, I'm sure! It starts the moment the alarm goes off - Can I press snooze? (Yes. Always yes.) Can I press snooze again? (Well, that's debatable. How much dry shampoo do you have to use today?) Should I get up and work out? (pfffft... who am I kidding?) Should I wake the kids up already? (but they had a late night - let them sleep a little more!) What am I making for breakfast for the kids? (peanut butter sandwiches for the umpteenth time in a row) What clothes should the kids wear? (times 3 - because you have to choose clothes for all three. Even though you have a hard time choosing clothes for yourself. Also, how many times can you allow the same clothes to be worn in a row? Can I let him wear the same pants two or three times if I change his shirt? Asking for a friend, of course.) Now making school lunches - more decisions. Soup or sandwich? (Oops, out of sandwich meat again. Can I send a peanut butter sandwich even though he had one for breakfast? The answer is yes.) Yogurt or apple sauce? (Both!)




Yes, as parents, we make endless unimportant decisions constantly.




But then there are the big, hard decisions - the decisions that can potentially impact your child's life forever. Sometimes, you antagonize over these decisions and write pro/con lists, ask advice, pray endlessly, research, and then scrap it and flip a coin (well... maybe not). You make what you pray will be the right decision and then you go for it.




And then sometimes you realize HOW WRONG YOU WERE.


Let me start telling you a tale about a bad parenting decision that I've made recently. (I've made many - just only sharing one... for now!)




So, once upon a time, many years ago, (well, two years specifically) Chelsea got to hold a bearded dragon lizard. She fell in love. She spent a solid two years doing research and learning and saving her money. She repeatedly asked if she could buy one and I, being the wise, sarcastic parent that I am said, "Sure. Maybe when you are 12 or 13." thinking, of course, that she would be long over her desire to be a lizard owner.




You see, this whole little plan of mine, failed to take one important thing into account. This little girl has a father - a father who tends to get pretty excited about new things and adventures. Somehow, these two convinced themselves that I said that she could get the dragon when she was 10. TEN... So they gang up. There's many promises made by both Chris and Chelsea, promising that I won't have to do anything for this lizard. (Yeah right!) They will take care of it all. (Snort.) There's some kijiji searching and in November (Yup - she was still 9. I still stand by the fact that I insisted she be 12 or 13!!) last year, Chelsea's dream came true.

Introducing Nacho. Well, technically, the previous owners thought she was a boy and named it Zeus, but after some quick googling, we discovered that she was indeed a girl. So, Nacho it is.

So I'm over here, still convinced that owning Nacho isn't a great idea. (Did you know she has to eat live worms? Like not normal garden worms, but superworms that have mouths and teeth and legs and feet that you have to get shipped to you? And that once they get shipped to you, you have to count them to see how many died in transit?) Well, dear readers, we all know how this is going to play out, right? Me, reminding Chelsea constantly to feed this thing, clean the cage, bathe her, make her salad, water her, etc. etc. and me getting stressed over this thing. Blah.

Then Nacho went into a long hibernation for 4 months - a glorious 4 months of not having to think about this lizard. She just slept and slept and slept and it was good.

(Wow this story is taking forever. Stay tuned for part 2. You might think GETTING the lizard was the poor parenting decision, but I'm barely scratching the surface here.)

Pssst... I think I'm back

Well hello there. It's nice of you to check in. I'm flattered that some of you still do!


I know, I know. It's been a while - a long while. I've missed blogging. It makes me so happy when people comment that they miss reading my writing. I miss my writing too. I miss jotting down the funny stories about my kids, the tales of our everyday woes, and simple updates about life. I could give you a hundred reasons why I stopped blogging but really, they are all lame excuses. Facebook and Instagram makes sharing pictures way easier than blogging, and people comment on those pictures. I like that! It's quick and easy.


Blogging takes time. I sit and write, drink some coffee, walk away from the computer, go back, re-word, start another entry, re-size pictures, drink more coffee, edit, re-read, write more, and finally hit publish.


Then I wait for feedback. Even just a few comments to make me feel like my writing was read by someone and made someone feel something - whether it's a quick laugh, an understanding sigh. When I teach writing to students, one of the lessons that they learn is that their writing has a purpose and that they are writing for an audience. Well, people of the internet, I'm writing for you! Well, I hope you enjoy it, but this time, I'm mostly writing for me.


See you again soon.

Amusement Park Musings

This trip will forever be burned into my memory. Chris and I felt like we had finally arrived as parents. We were going to a nearby amusement park (which I shall not name so that this story hopefully doesn't wind up connected to that park)  with no stroller, no diaper bag, no sippy cups, no baby. FREEDOM! The kids were 3, 6, and 8 years old. Not having to take a stroller was a HUGE milestone! We packed a few water bottles into a backpack and walked in, all holding hands. It was glorious.

After the first few rides, Eli came running up to me and said that he had to go to the bathroom. No problem - until we went to one bathroom and it was closed for cleaning, so we had to run to another bathroom farther away. To put it plainly - he didn't make it. It was a bad situation involving some very poopy gitch. Frustrating and gross, but not unmanageable. I have been a mom for 8 years, I'm not about to let a little poop ruin our day.

So I did what any good mom would do; I took those gitchies off, threw them in the garbage, cleaned up my boy and taught him a new vocabulary word: commando. I've got this.  

I marched out of the bathroom with my boy and Chris looked at me with a question mark and I said, "No big deal. We are good to go." So we continue about our glorious day. We take a break from doing rides for lunch. Chris and I are enjoying a lemonade while the kids are playing in the big play structure when suddenly, Eli appears and says, "Poop pants."

 

Umm... pardon?

 "Eli, do you mean you have to go to the bathroom?" Please, please let the answer be yes.

 "Nope. Poop in pants."

  

... Aw, crap. Literally. Except he's not wearing pants. He's wearing shorts. Commando. And this is obviously some kind of stomach bug because this is no ordinary poop. So, athletic shorts, no gitch, and runny poop. As I'm connecting the dots on what is about to happen, I pick him up and put him on my arm. Annnnnd there it is.  Now, not only in his shorts, but also on my arm. I am horrified and because we were cocky, we have no diaper bag or stroller. I tell Chris I'm going to trek back to the van. I know there are some wipes somewhere in there and I had a pair of sweats in there from when he was potty training (a year ago, so those were going to be short, tight, and hot in August but it would be better than any of the alternatives!)

 

As I'm speed walking through the park and then the parking lot, I'm looking like a crazy, kidnapper wannabe. I'm literally running from an amusement park with a child who has a stunned look on his face. I'm randomly asking any female with a stroller or large bag if they have a diaper that might fit my son. He’s been potty trained for over a year, but obviously, we have a situation of some sort going on. One lady kindly offers me a size 3 diaper. Eli would be at least a 6, but I take it, again thinking anything will help!

So I finally make the endless journey across the muddy, packed parking lot. Of course, as luck would have it, we are in the far overflow parking because we had the audacity to show up 15 minutes after the park opened. I set Eli down and start rummaging through the van looking for, praying for, desperately searching for wipes that I *thought* were in there when Eli pats my leg and in the cutest little voice says, “Mommy? More poop? More poop, now!”

Are. You. Kidding. Me?

What are my options at this point? First of all, I think, whip down those pants and poop in the parking lot beside the van. But, knowing me and my children, someone would have wound up stepping in that and making an even bigger mess. So that’s out. Instead, I spy the KFC popcorn chicken bucket from lunch and my plan all comes together.

That’s right; I actually caught my son’s poop in a KFC bucket in an amusement park parking lot.

 

This is motherhood. Poop in a KFC bucket. 

You’ll all be happy to know that I did eventually find the elusive wipes, a few bottles of water and a pair of shorts, and got him all cleaned up and ready to return. I squeezed his booty into that much too small diaper just in case, for peace of mind, but that was the last incident of the day.

Now I know you are all wondering about that KFC bucket. To get rid of the incriminating evidence, I slowly and carefully slid the bucket into the paper bag, rolled up the top, and deposited that into the park garbage can on a hot August day.

BOOM. Motherhood.

 

Did you just...??

So this year, I'm teaching an all boys kindergarten class. Yup. 20 boys. Let that sink in for a minute or two. 16, 17, 18, 19... 20.

Okay, just kidding. It's actually been really great. They are full of energy and keep me busy, but it's been great.

However, it is kindergarten and I am dealing with 20 five year old boys, so I have plenty of hilarious stories.

Like this one...

I like coffee. (Did you get that from the "Coffee & Chaos" title on this blog?) Okay, scrap that. I love coffee. It's like my special treat for surviving being a grown up.

Friday morning, I realized that I didn't have cream for my coffee. My non-coffee drinking husband said, "Just use milk. It's like the same thing." Sigh. In no way is it the same. I decided I'd skip my cup.

Then the glorious text arrived. "I'm bringing coffees to work today." YES! It's like the Lord knew a coffee was my day maker. A real coffee... not a k-cup-from-home coffee. Glory!

So, all morning I savoured my treat, sipping it as I walked around the classroom. It was a fantastic bit of sunshine in an otherwise crazy day.

And then, from the table across the room, I look up and I see one of my precious students with his face pressed against my cup. And then, oh yes, I see him lick the rim of my cup.

He. licked. my. coffee. cup.

I stand up and ask in complete awe, "Did I see you just LICK my cup?"

"Yeah. Coffee just smells so good." He smiles.

He. licked. my. coffee. cup.

I sadly poured my last fantastic bit of sunshine down the drain. There's really no way to come back from seeing a 5 year old lick your cup. Your wonderful, hand delivered special coffee cup.

Welcome to teaching Kindergarten.

This week's writing lesson? "Things we shouldn't do to Mrs. H.'s coffee."

Kids' rooms

We've been crazy busy the past few months. 7 months actually. I'm (hopefully) going to be sharing some of the progress pictures of the work that we have done. As of right now, the only thing we have left in our plans is to paint the stair banister and railings but other than that... we are done.
MAN, does it feel good to say that!


We worked hard in July and August painting the main floor walls and ceilings and changing all the doors and trim. Outside we had a massive mess of weeds left for us, so we had a busy summer trying to make sense of it all.


We took a break for September to December... well, I still managed to find things to work on, but a break from the major renovations. Then for Christmas break, we decided to change the doors and trim upstairs. The upstairs kids' bedrooms didn't need painting - luckily we moved into a house with two blue rooms and one purple. It's amazing how just updating the doors and trim from the orangey-oak to the white dramatically changed the room, even though we didn't paint or change flooring!


Take Chelsea's room, for example. All we did was change the doors and trim and paint the oak shelf a fun teal color. We picked up $3 of frames from MCC and used Dollarama paint to create a fun photo wall!

Gavin's room was the easiest of all. It's painted a deep dark blue (ceiling included) with some silver swirled into the paint so all we did was just changed the doors and trim and slap up some glow in the dark stars.

(Left picture is from the website when we bought the house.)

Eli's room

Again another quick and easy. His room was two yellow walls and two blue, so we did change his yellow walls to white, but that's it!

And... I'll end it here for now. Thanks for popping in!

6 months of silence.

Wow. 6 months of no blogging. Only 7 posts for the entire 2015 year so far.

It wasn't an intentional break. Really. I didn't get mad and decide to stop blogging. But we went through some crappy times in December and January and that rolled into March with the fire and the buying of a house and then April and May with the fire aftermath and rebuilding and getting ready to sell the house and then the move and then the renovating and then the school starting and then...

Now, not all of the above mentioned was bad times, but for a while there, I was definitely relying on the ol' adage of "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all". It was bad. I cried a lot. I prayed a lot. Then I cried some more. We definitely felt like we were in the middle of some kind of unmentionable storm. And then, eventually...

Now, life is a bit more settled. We are loving our new home. I'm getting settled into my new school year. The kids love their new school. We are all healthy and happy and really? What more do we need?

Change.

2003:

 2004:

 2006:

 2007:

 2009:

 June 2015:

Putting my money where my mouth is

I'm a great mom. I really am but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Remember this post when I explained that Gavin wouldn't pass swimming lessons? 

Well this weekend, we were at a hotel with a water slide and pool, and then we visited a different water park. All summer last year, I tried to bribe Gavin with toys, money, and/or candy almost daily. This kid would not dunk his head under the water for love nor money. He absolutely refused. He was fine with it. I was frustrated.

So this weekend, when we went swimming the first time, I tried bribing him again. Again, he said no way. Not happening. So I opened my big mouth and made him an offer. I told him that I'd pay him $10 every time he dunked his head. Nope. No dice. 

The next day, we went to a water park and played for a few hours. As we were leaving, Gavin yelled, "Wait! WAIT! I need to dunk my head!" Eli had to go to the bathroom, so I left Chris with Gavin and said, "Good luck." He'd often say that he wanted to do it and then stop, so I didn't think too much about it. 

The next thing I hear, Gavin comes running in, saying that he dunked his head 10 times! Ten times! I laughed! He finally did it. Then he looked at me and said, "$10 a time. That's one HUNDRED dollars, mom!!"

Uhh, yikes! I was so hesitant to pay up until the next day he went swimming and spent most of his time underwater. YES!! $100 well spent to break through that fear. 

So yes, I did indeed pay my son $100 for dunking his head. And I am proud of that fact, but even more proud of my son who will now dunk his head!

The funny thing about a fire...

...nothing really.

Okay, not true. Now that I can distance myself from the event that will always be known as "THE FIRE" there really were a few funny parts.

So, Chelsea's version of the fire was a little harder to get out of her. She really doesn't open up much about it. I think out of all the kids, it definitely hit her the hardest. However, when I finally did get her story, it made me laugh.

So, we have talked lots about fire safety and what to do in case of a fire because it is a huge fear of mine. As a parent, you often wonder how much your kids are listening and taking in during these serious discussions. Let me tell you, she takes it allllll in.

So, quick recap - when I discovered the fire, Chelsea was downstairs, getting ready for bed. After I screamed, I ran to go get the boys and on my way back down, I saw Chelsea running out of the house, ahead of me, screaming.

Later, I had heard bits and pieces, but it wasn't until Monday when I took her to school that I really took it all in. We were late for school and Chelsea's teacher had done a great job of talking to the class, and asking them not to overwhelm Chelsea with questions. However, when we walked in, kids all came up and started questioning her and in a loud voice, Chelsea stops, puts out both hands and says,

"Guys!! I was pooping!"

"I was pooping when mom yelled, 'Fire'! So I just pulled up my pants! I didn't even wipe!"

Oh my, oh my... I laughed so hard. She continued on, using great hand gestures...

"Mom always said that when there is a fire, you just GOTTA GET OUT! So I just pulled up my pants and ran!"



Yup. She wins all the awards.

The Fire

Man, oh man... Where to begin? 

On Sunday, March 8, we had a fire in our garage. I swear it was more dramatic than these few pictures make it look, or maybe it was blown out of proportion in my mind. Either way, it was scarier than you can even imagine.

 

We had BBQ'd earlier in the evening like we often do - Chris pulls the BBQ out of the garage onto the driveway, cooks the food, then puts the BBQ back in the garage to cool down with the garage door open. This way, the garage doesn't smell like cooked food or smoke. Around 7:00, I had gone into the garage to get a garbage bag, saw the BBQ back against Chris' car, and since it didn't smell like smoke, I closed the garage door like I always do. 

We had put the kids to bed shortly after and I was upstairs sorting tax papers and Chris was downstairs sorting business tax papers. (Can I just add here that perhaps this is a sign that taxes really are evil?) and I heard a bang. It wasn't a loud, obnoxious bang or anything, so I did what all moms do... I listened for a few seconds to hear if anyone was crying, then went about my business. Chris had been working on the central vac power head earlier, so I just thought maybe he dropped a tool or a kid dropped a water bottle while sleeping or who knows? It really wasn't significant. 

But then about 10 minutes later around 8:00, I heard a noise that I can only explain as a loud whooshing or roaring noise. I ran to the garage because that's where the central vac main unit is because I thought Chris was doing something in there and it was so loud. When I opened the door, I saw that the garage was filled with piles and piles of smoke and it was roaring. I can't honestly tell you if I saw flames or not, but I slammed the door and yelled, "FIRE!! FIRE!!! Chris!! Grab Chelsea and call 911!" and I ran upstairs to get the boys. 

Both boys were sleeping, so I grabbed Eli and his blanket and propped him on my hip and then went to get Gavin. Gavin was sound asleep, so I was quite rough with him, kind of carrying him, kind of dragging him down the stairs. I saw Chelsea run out ahead of me and she was screaming, so I knew she was safe. I actually had no idea where Chris was, but figured he could take care of himself - I just needed to get the kids out. I really had no idea if we had seconds until something exploded, or half an hour until there was any danger. 

There was still lots of snow left, but we ran across snow banks in our jammies and bare feet to our neighbour's house and pounded and screamed on their door for a few seconds. When they didn't answer, we ran to the next house, but the lights were off, so I yelled at Chelsea to keep running until we found a house with lights on. We wound up meeting some new neighbours as we rang the door and barged in, all screaming and crying and yelling. They turned out to be very nice people. ;)

Meanwhile, Chris was calling 9-1-1 and we figure that the Fire Chief was there within 4 minutes, with trucks pulling in just minutes after. Amazingly fast. I called Chris' parents (quite hysterically) to come and they took care of the kids, while I borrowed shoes and a jacket to give to Chris and grabbed some for myself. I had been standing on the concrete for a while in my bare feet... funny the things you don't notice. 

There were a lot of fire trucks, police cars, firemen and policemen. I was just watching the smoke billowing out from the roof and we had no idea what the extent would be. I knew it didn't matter - that it was just stuff and just a house - but it was so traumatic. And, because I'm no fire expert, I couldn't understand why everyone was just standing around in front of the closed garage door while smoke was pouring out of the roof. We were told that they didn't want to give the fire oxygen and that they could hear the propane tank hissing so I guess they knew what they were doing. Haha. They obviously knew what they were doing as the fire was contained to the garage with very little damage, compared to what could have been. 

All while this was happening, our dog was still in the house! I'm fairly certain I was snippy with the fire chief or whoever I was speaking to. I just kept asking him to open the front door so she could come out! I know now that they wouldn't do that because it could possibly give the fire oxygen, but part of me thinks they just wanted their movie moment of coming out of the house with the dog tucked safe under their arm. ;) It was a glorious sight and made my children stop crying and for that, I am grateful. 

What they figure happened was the bang I heard was the BBQ falling over. No one can really figure out why it would have done that. Even if Chris had left the BBQ on, which he isn't sure he did or didn't, that wouldn't cause the BBQ to fall over. However, he does know for sure that he had left the propane tank open, so then when it fell over, it leaked propane everywhere. 

There really wasn't a lot of flame damage in the garage, although our two Christmas trees did start on fire, but everything in the garage is ruined from heat and smoke. The house was fine and we were even able to walk around and grab some things that we needed like jackets, boots, wallets, purses, my cell phone, and stuffies and blankets for the kids. It was doing this that I discovered that some of the lights weren't working, and then we discovered that the fire had damaged the electrical panel in the garage. Hydro came and shut off power to the house. 

Around 10:00 we were told that we had to go to the police station to make our statements. We kind of just looked around and asked, "How??" Both the van and the car were in the garage. Luckily, our neighbour took charge, took the dog and gave us her keys. At least someone was thinking straight, because we sure weren't. We left our house surrounded by lots of people and flashing lights.

We were at the station for about an hour. When we came home, the garage door was shut and there was no one around. It was like nothing had ever happened. There is no damage to the exterior of the house and really, everything looked fine. It was so bizarre. So, naturally, even though it was 11:00 at night, we grabbed our neighbours and some flash lights and went to check out the damage. I'll do a separate post about that - it really is kind of fascinating. The fire chief came back and we all had a nice little chat and then we headed to my in-laws for the night. (Little did I know, we would wind up spending 12 nights there.)

I snuggled my babies for a long time Sunday night. We know how fortunate we are.

This was a horrifying event that I will never forget. We keep being told that it was a "perfect" fire, if there is such a thing. And again, we know how lucky we are.

But you guys, Let's stop for a moment. I can honestly now say that I carried my children from a burning building, running to safety through snow banks in my bare feet, and I'm not even exaggerating. Not even.

Now, go do me a favour and test your smoke alarms and detectors.

Gavin's version

While I'm working on my blog post, I figured I'd share Gavin's writing that I saw at Parent-Teacher today. I am so proud of this guy, and really he explains it all so well that I don't even have to write a post, right? 

That pretty much sums it up. ;) Also, how awesome is it that my son has written about the fire sooner than I have, with illustrations, nonetheless. I better step up my game.

Eli Overload, with a capital O.

 I'd like to apologize for the picture overload that's about to occur. Some of these photos date back to October but I've so neglected this blog that it's needed. Now, in my defense, most of these pictures are on Instagram, so if you haven't added me, you really should.

Anyways, poor third child syndrome. I sometimes remember to take pictures of him, especially if he's doing something ridiculously outlandish or cute, which is pretty much all the time. He's so stinkin' adorable. It saves him, really. I mean, c'mon...

He is such a stinker. Here, he grabbed the proper tiny screwdriver from the drawer and was attempting to change the batteries in this car.

 And here, he climbed into the chest of extra bedding and just was looking adorable.

 Ooh or this? This is typical bath time.

 Here, he is working hard writing a story. Gavin was writing out all the words he knows, because well, my kids are crazy like that, and Eli did not want to be left out.

 And FINALLY, I have one child who likes cleaning and tidying and doing chores like emptying the dishwasher. Don't tell your siblings dear, but if you keep this up, you will be my favourite.

And just when I think he might be in the running for Favorite Hildebrand, he is constantly doing weird, random stuff like this. Allow me to explain that here, he has assembled all of the pieces of the blender and then filled it with potatoes from the pantry. "Why?" you ask. "Why not?" is Eli's attitude! 

 This melts me to the core. I don't often get to read nap time stories any more. Gavin has taken over and Eli loves it. I still get bedtime ones though so I'm doing just fine.

He loves recycling day. Most days, I stop before I set him on the curb. 

 Most days. ;)

 Wrestling, body-slamming, and general physical contact are things he enjoys in his spare time, especially if it involves the older two.

 Although he does manage to relax in his time off.

 He is passionate and does all things to the best of his ability.

 And he loves to cuddle.

 Play dough is a favourite pastime. Here he is pretending to drink the milkshake I made.

 Remember how I said he does all things to the best of his ability? C'mon! Look at that slurp!

And that catches us up to December... I think anyways. Love this guy so much it hurts some days. He is a ray of sunshine, a ball of trouble, and a perfect fit into our crazy family.