I have some thing to tell you about. Ok, maybe lots of thing. So many things, in fact, that I don't quite know where to begin. However, begin I must, so please try to forgive my general lack of word-usage-discipline.
We went to Florida last week, and as I mentioned, it was glorious. Beautiful weather, wonderful friends, our sweet family, sunshine, sand . . . sigh. When can I go back? Caden did, however, not sleep quite as amazingly the second half of the trip as he did the first. But I guess three days of good sleep are better than none? Maybe? Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself since we're back to same-old-same-old sleeping patterns around here. Now that we're back from Florida and finally unpacked (well mostly unpacked), I'm determined to try some of the suggestions y'all left when I complained about sleep a while back. Have I mentioned you're the best?
Most mornings in Florida meant one of us waking up with the kids while the other one slept. Then we would try to quietly entertain the children without waking the sleeping teenager, parent, or friend. I can't speak for Adam, but I cannot even begin to tell you the relief that I felt once the clock finally ticked to a decent morning hour and Zack or Danielle or Adam would emerge from their rooms groggily, wherein I would quickly shove one or other of the children into theireager sleepy arms. Then I'd dash to get my bathing suit on, wrangle Caden and Jayci into their swim suits, rubbing a plethora of greasy sunscreen into their porcelain skin. I always spent extra time rubbing it into Caden's little legs, just because they're so yummy and squishy. Then I'd announce we were ready to go to the beach, and wait eagerly by the door. Actually, I suppose the process wasn't quite that fast because one time Zack announced that he thought it took us 2 hours anytime we tried to leave the house. Snarky Zack.
He must not have realized that we have to bring four hundred things with us when we go to the beach with small children: umbrellas, beach chairs, towels, sand toys, life jackets, sunscreen, sandwiches, water bottles, pacifiers, baby bottles, juice boxes . . . It's unending. The good news is that having all those things make it possible to stay at the beach exactly an hour before one of the kiddos (ahem, CADEN) would start breaking down with exhaustion and heat and wanting to crawl and swim but being physically unable. Finally, towards the end of the trip, we realized we could get him to sleep in his stroller (which is shaded!) if we would drag it onto the beach. The last day, however, he wouldn't even sleep in his stroller so I decided to take him for a walk to calm him down. I DRAGGED that stroller agonizingly through the sand and then walked for a mile or two down the road beside the beach. I would have kept going except it was right about then that I realized that in all my sunscreening-of-the-children I may have forgotten to sufficiently cover myself in sunscreen and now I could feel the sun burning me mercilessly with nothing I could do to remedy said burn, seeing as I was in the middle of the blazing sun about a mile away from our sunscreen or any form of shade, short of climbing into the stroller with my sleeping baby. Zack was amazed at my skin's ability to turn so red.
That day, I also got a call from Glamour magazine. Yup, no big deal, I just spoke with my stylist and the art director . . . I tried not to shriek embarrassingly about the, well, glamor of it all. It was quite hilarious really because they asked me questions like: "what would you wear if you went for a night out on the town?" I paused, for a really long time before responding that I would probably find somewhere to curl up and sleep if I were sans kids for the night so possibly my pajamas? Oh I kid. But I did point out that I would definitely not wear the dress and heels theysuggested mentioned. They also asked what my "style" is . . . Unfortunately, I don't think wearing-my-more-stylish-sisters'-hand-me-downs is an acceptable style, so I fumbled through some words until the stylish suggested maybe I was a little "bohemian" which sounded good (though foreign and a little confusing) to me so I quickly agreed. And then I reminded her that I hadn't lost my baby weight so if they could be so kind to disguise my belly-area in the magazine, I'd really appreciate it. In fact, I probably wouldn't object to a little airbrushing of the tummy-region. To borrow a term from one of the kiddos
Later that night over a game of cards, Zack asked me what I would do if I showed up and they handed me a bikini. I laughed. Then explained how I would tell them they were going to have to photoshop my head onto someone else's body in that case.
Anyways, I go to New York next week (wohoo!) so I will keep you posted on the wardrobe situation. I read an email from one of the other winners the other day, she has given up salt and sugar and gluten and all other delicious things to prepare for our photoshoot. Which caused me to immediate regret the entire bag of Cadbury mini-eggs I consumed yesterday.
Mini-eggs which, by the way, I stole from Jayci's easter basket. I'm pretty sure my mother-in-law put them in there for me anyways right? Our Easter was low-key and wonderful. We went to church, headed to Adam's parents house (and my parents and sister and brother-in-law were there too) where Jayci had an egg hunt and received a basket of goodies and the kids proudly wore their fancy clothing (along with sweet Barbie tattoos) courtesy (again) of my in-laws.
So that, in a very long-winded nutshell, was our past week or so. And now I'm going to go pick Caden up because he is crying loudly since he can SEE me and yet he is not in my arms. That stinker wants me and only me 100% of the time, which would be sweet if it wasn't so darn exhausting.
We went to Florida last week, and as I mentioned, it was glorious. Beautiful weather, wonderful friends, our sweet family, sunshine, sand . . . sigh. When can I go back? Caden did, however, not sleep quite as amazingly the second half of the trip as he did the first. But I guess three days of good sleep are better than none? Maybe? Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself since we're back to same-old-same-old sleeping patterns around here. Now that we're back from Florida and finally unpacked (well mostly unpacked), I'm determined to try some of the suggestions y'all left when I complained about sleep a while back. Have I mentioned you're the best?
Most mornings in Florida meant one of us waking up with the kids while the other one slept. Then we would try to quietly entertain the children without waking the sleeping teenager, parent, or friend. I can't speak for Adam, but I cannot even begin to tell you the relief that I felt once the clock finally ticked to a decent morning hour and Zack or Danielle or Adam would emerge from their rooms groggily, wherein I would quickly shove one or other of the children into their
That day, I also got a call from Glamour magazine. Yup, no big deal, I just spoke with my stylist and the art director . . . I tried not to shriek embarrassingly about the, well, glamor of it all. It was quite hilarious really because they asked me questions like: "what would you wear if you went for a night out on the town?" I paused, for a really long time before responding that I would probably find somewhere to curl up and sleep if I were sans kids for the night so possibly my pajamas? Oh I kid. But I did point out that I would definitely not wear the dress and heels they
Later that night over a game of cards, Zack asked me what I would do if I showed up and they handed me a bikini. I laughed. Then explained how I would tell them they were going to have to photoshop my head onto someone else's body in that case.
Mini-eggs which, by the way, I stole from Jayci's easter basket. I'm pretty sure my mother-in-law put them in there for me anyways right? Our Easter was low-key and wonderful. We went to church, headed to Adam's parents house (and my parents and sister and brother-in-law were there too) where Jayci had an egg hunt and received a basket of goodies and the kids proudly wore their fancy clothing (along with sweet Barbie tattoos) courtesy (again) of my in-laws.