Unadulterated Biased Parenting

Just look at this baby. She is the cutest baby in the world.

And just when you thought the cutest baby in the world couldn't get any cuter, we go and do something like this:

Best Pizza Ever

We were busy the other day. I can't remember what we were doing that made us so busy, but we were busy. My Husband and I both forgot to make plans for dinner and before we knew it it was six o'clock and we had three hungry kids and nothing thawed. We asked our oldest what she wanted for dinner (it's always exciting and slightly dangerous to eat a menu planned by a four year old). She wanted pizza, which my two year old promptly seconded PEEEEEZAAAAA! So we ordered pizza. And it was the best pizza ever. We ordered Donatos, which we don't really like but tolerate because it's the best pizza that will deliver to us. We ordered one cheese and pepperoni and one with everything. My daughter was so excited she drew a picture for the delivery man. What was the picture of? A delivery man bringing us pizza of course. When we opened our pizza we discovered one cheese and pepperoni and one.... cheese and fresh tomato slices pizza. Not what we ordered, did we call and complain and demand our pizza with everything. Heck no, at this point it was almost seven and our formerly merely hungry children were now contemplating canabalizing the baby, who I'm rather fond of so I gave them the pizza, someone else's pizza and it was the BEST pizza ever. Between me and the kids we ate almost the entire large pizza that night. Followed by a demand for more PEEEEEEZAAAAA for lunch the next day. Somewhere there is a very angry vegetarian who got our pizza piled with four different meats. Technically we didn't steal the pizza because we paid for it, but I apologize for stealing your pizza. We gave it a good home.

So Gross

Why is it that the average cute thirty pound toddler can produce twice his own weight in snot when he has a cold?

Belle Epoque

It's almost done! It needs blocked and the belt needs made, but I'm all done with the knitting portion of Belle Epoque. Here it is

Here's an extreme close up of the stitching

Here's what it will look like when the empire waiste is cinched (right now it's held with a length of the crocus bud pattern left over from one of my many attempts to start the pattern. I like the look of this and may use it instead of ribbon for the sash)

I've already started working on my next sweater and much to my Husbands displeasure it is a sweater for me not him. I swear his is next (unless I find a pattern I really need to knit first.)
This is what I'm making now
Bella Paquita
I'm knitting it in a pink wool blend.
And finally here are two of the cutest kids in the world (really I'd say that even if they weren't mine)
Check out that angry face

This isn't at all dangerous, I'm sure the baby won't fall out and get run over by her enthusiastic brother

If Snoop Dawg were writing my blog

Courtesy of gizoogle

Atleast he can aim
My son jizzy turned two. I'm in no hurry ta P-O-Double-Tizzy train him. I want ta buy a steam playa fizzay . Snoop heffner mixed with a little bit of doggy flint. But every wizzle or so he decides ta "izzle Potty." This entails him stand'n by tha P-O-Double-Tizzy fo' five minutes, lett'n out three drops of pizzy eat'n a celebratory chocolate chiznip, promptly followed by pee'n a smizzall lakes on mah floor (hence tha need fo' a steam cleana). Last niznight I heard tha dreaded words "Pee Potty." And he followed tha SOP: stand, trickle, chizzip. Tizzle he wizzent a good twenty minutes witout blingin' on tha floor. I thought maybe we could skizzip this stizzep tonight . They call me tha black folks president. Then I heard it, tha steady stream hitt'n tha floor, but it had a metallic ping ta it. I look up n he had places one of his matchbox ridez on tha floor 'bout a fizzle fizzy where he stood n he was pee'n on it so bow down to the bow wow. His aim was deadly wit it's accuracy sho nuff. I had bizzy throw'n cheerios into tha toilet ta give him sum'm sum'm ta aim at. Should I switch ta matchbox cars? How would I explain thizzay ta tha plumba who would invariably have ta come an unclog mah matchbox ride clogged plumb'n? And whizzat did tizzy miznatch box ride do ta mah son ta deserve siznuch treatment?

Happiness is

Happiness is a dinner without the kids for the first time in two years
Happiness is shopping with your Husband who rarely grumbles and doesn't flinch once at the final bill
Happiness is a Husband who gets the best side order of mushrooms ever and saves the biggest ones for you
Happiness is flannel sheets
Happiness is Bath and Body Works Warm Vanilla Sugar Lotion
Happiness is the new Dean Koontz book
Happiness is Dance Dance Revolution
Happiness is losing two pregnancies worth of weight and fitting your favorite jeans again
Happiness is a child who's teeth have finally broken through the gums and is now giggly again
Happiness is this sweet face

Happiness is marriage "ta dis dawg"

And apparently to my four year old Happiness is being allowed to play with the digital camera. Here's some pictures she took.
The fern

Here's her action shot she took while running

She took a picture of my knitting (something she's seen me do numerous times. In a related sidenote that's the second sleeve to my sweater, almost done)

Here's her picture of her brother

And here's her brother

And here's her brother

Happiness at last!

It's not all lingerie and pillow fights

The love of my life is out of town. He left me all alone with the kids for almost 48 hours. Traitor. Wonder what 48 hours with changing diapers or wiping runny noses or breastfeeding it like. I bet it's pretty nice. I wonder if he's actually going to come home or if he woke up this morning and decided life was too sweet and headed for the border.

The wonderful girls in my playgroup didn't want me to be lonely. They thought it would be better if I were drunk. So they came over for a girls night out. They came after they put their kids to bed, so there were no children or husbands around. We had a great time. But for some reason the husbands all seemed to think the evening would involve lingerie and pillow fights. Whats up with that? We talked about the kids, and our husbands, and all kinds of things, and nary a bra was in sight. My youngest got up and ate some potato chips for a while. But since she didn't nurse I didn't even get to flash my boob at anyone. And all my pillows are in the wash from our recent lice infestation, so there was absolutely no pillow fighting going on. So whats up with the pillow fight fantasy? Wishful thinking?

What am I doing with my life?

Not only do I neglect my kids, but apparently I also neglect my blog.
And check out this face



What would make a cat so angry? Apparently I've been neglecting my dog. My cat Sasha had just finished liking my dog Sage's face clean. Tried to catch that on camera but my cat is too dignified to allow herself to be photographed in such a compromising position. But doesn't my dog look pretty now?



It's a shame the cat promptly threw up afterwards. (You can't make up a story like that. She did, she puked in three rooms, it was so gross. Cat bile is ickier than human bile).

So while I'm hanging out in my puke covered dirty house with my kids running wild with the dirty dog I've been making this:



You can't really tell, but it's a beautiful sweater. It needs sleeves. When finished it will look something like This

but it'll be a while. I think I'm gonna play with the kids today.

Oh and check out the love of my life corrupting my youngest child.



She's listening to Clutch. Put in Raffi or a Sesame Street CD and she rips the headphones off. Put in Clutch and she just sits and sings along.