If I had a million dollars I'd buy you a monkey.

And now you have that Barenaked Ladies song from high school stuck in your head. Admit it.

So we have this running joke in our family. When Bug tells us she wants something, Schmoops usually tells her that he wants a million dollars. (Mama, of course, always says she wants peace and quiet. "Peees an' ky-it!!" Bug will shout in response. She doesn't seem to get the irony.)

Anyway, today the four of us were out running a few errands when Bug loudly announced that she wanted a peanut butter sandwich with honey. (In case you were wondering, she'd basically be content to eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches from now until the end of time. Let's hope it's a phase.) As per usual, Daddy replied that he'd really like a million dollars. That's when the Mama in the passenger seat was treated to the following exchange.

Bug: I want a miw-yon dollars, too!
P, sarcastically:  What would you even do with a million dollars?
B, nonchalantly:  Get some gas.
P:  Really? What else would you buy?
B, matter-of-factly:  Eighteen cents.
P, managing to keep a straight face:  Yeah, you could buy lots of eighteen cents. What else?
B, thoughtfully:  Um, one of those A-B-Cs. 
P: Hmm.  What else?
B: A coupla marshmallows.

Giant blow-up waterslide? Yes, please.

We feel lucky to have the Ortons as our dearest friends for lots of reasons. Last week, one of the major reasons came in the form of a giant blow up water slide that temporarily took up residence in their backyard. Once she warmed up to Scarlet's Grandma Debbie and Grandpa Doug (which took all of two seconds since they are basically the greatest people in the world) Bug was in absolute toddler heaven. Bo's sister Dari pretty much earned her way into heaven just for climbing that bouncy ladder with various two-year-olds under her arm repeatedly for very literally hours on end.

What with it sort of being his profession and all, it was no surprise that we found Bo most often behind the camera, documenting all the fun with a combination of still shots and video. We considered skipping a couple of house payments in order to buy the camera he used to capture the next couple of shots, but ultimately decided it would be cheaper and easier to simply pay Bo to follow us around at every family activity for the remainder of our lives. You see what I mean, of course.

After all the fun on the slide, it was time for Bug's first s'mores experience. Obligatory Sandlot quote (you knew it was coming):

"You want a s'more?"
I haven't had anything yet, so how can I have some more of nothing?"
"You're killing me, Smalls."

"First, you take the graham. You stick the chocolate on the graham. When the mallow's flamin', you cover it with the other end. Then, you stuff."

I think she approves.

Splish splash.

The best part about summertime (besides the sunshine! and the warmth! and the general cheerfulness of all of us who get a bit sullen when we see nothing but ice and freezing air stained by inversion for 3 solid winter months, of course) is the way it is totally acceptable to ditch out on completing responsible tasks in favor of taking the kids to a splash  pad. We met Grammy Lu, Aunt B, and MJ in a neighborhood I sort of wish I lived in for a some watery fun.

It took a minute to adequately slather my so-fair-skinned-she-glows-in-the-dark child in enough sunscreen, but once we did she was all smiles.

Aren't her french braids cute? They'd better be. There was much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth to get them that way.

We kept the baby in the shade for the vast majority of the morning, but he did venture into the sunshine for a few minutes. Mr. Baggins was a greased little piggy in all his sunscreen.

Ultimately, he opted for more comfortable accommodations.

I have lots of chores to complete today after our lazy day in the sun. If you were wondering if it was worth it, I submit the following for your review.

Verdict: Good choice.

Paddy saw a mouse in our garage.

Dialogue:

P: I can't believe I married someone who is so afraid of spiders and mice and...
Me: You know what those kind of people are called, right?
P: What?
Me: GIRLS.

Surely not the last time your sister will embarrass you in public.

My darling little man-cub,

Just how exactly is your mama supposed to get anything done in the world when I have that little mug available to nuzzle?  You are the president and CEO of Distract Mommy, Inc. "Keeping Clean Laundry Unfolded Since 2012." 


Your sister, on the other hand, has recently made a career switch. She has taken a sabbatical from her long time position as head hauncho in the cheerfulness division of whatever company generates happy, bubbly children, and accepted a part time position as Director In Charge Of Completely Losing Her Marbles In Public. I'm sure you remember that melt down of absolutely historic proportions in the parking garage of the Bellagio a couple of days ago. Remember? You were snuggled into your Moby wrap with Mama like the sweet little peanut you are when your tiny little baby ears (and ears of all shapes and sizes within a 2 block radius) were assaulted by the most horrific screaming to erupt from Bug's mouth in her two-and-a-half-plus years of existence. You buried your head in my shoulder in shame, trying to ignore the flailing, writhing copper-headed cyclone attempting to escape the confines of her wimpy little stroller presumably so that she and her temper could halt any and all activity on Las Vegas Blvd. with nothing but her vocal cords and the sheer force of her will. 


I will remind her of this experience someday. Someday, when I really need one of my kids to change my old person diapers, you will be spared the job because I will remind her of how perfectly awful she was on the strip in Las Vegas when she was two and a half. She probably won't believe me. How could she?

Luckily for me, I have visual proof in the form of basically my favorite family picture to date.

Makes me laugh every SINGLE TIME I see it.

I'm so glad that when I placed my order for you, I picked the model that skips two and a half altogether.

I love you to the moon, son. Please don't do that to me, k?

Mama

What We're Watching

The only downside to summer is the lack of good sports to catch on TV. We're sports fans at our house, and Paddy in particular suffers from withdrawals from the end of NBA playoff basketball through the long, hot months until college football starts. As he's not a baseball fan, he's got nothing but the NBA draft/free agency and the occasional MLS game to keep him occupied on the evenings I'm at work.

Anyway, between the lack of decent sports (hurry up and get here, Olympics!) and summer reruns, we've been a little slow on the lazy entertainment around here. Until, as usual, the Ortons swooped in to the rescue! Even though we have yet to get around to following their advice about watching Downtown Abbey (we are currently the last two civilized people on the planet who haven't seen an episode)(don't judge me), they were still good enough to insist we would love the BBC series Sherlock.

In case you were wondering, it's freaking brilliant. (Why are the British so much better at TV than we are?)

As an enormous fan of the original written Sherlock stories, I cannot express how much I am enjoying this series. I thought the films were fun (they are!) but wow. This series is just so fantastic.

There are only 2 things about this whole situation that are upsetting. The first is that there are only 3 episodes per season. While the episodes are each 90 minutes long, it's still fairly devastating to blaze through such fun that fast. 

Worse, though, is the fact that Season 1 ended in the most wicked cliffhanger and NETFLIX DOESN'T STREAM SEASON 2. The Ortons offered their discs to us, but we lack the necessary BluRay player with which to enjoy them. (I said don't judge me.) Looks like we may be borrowing that part, too. 

If you aren't watching Sherlock, you probably should be.

The Cadillac stroller does potty time.

By far the most challenging thing so far about having two kiddos is learning how to leave the house. Loading everyone into their respective safety devices and packing a mammoth diaper bag has me pretty much exhausted before we're even out of the driveway. One of the best things about having Mr. Baggins in the spring (as opposed to October, when Bug was born) is that the weather is gorgeous and I can actually enjoy being outside, if I can ever manage to get out the front door. 

When Daddy is home, walks are easy. We put Mr. Baggins in the main stroller we got with Bug's car seat and put Bug in the cheapo $14.99 umbrella stroller we picked up at Walmart before our California trip and off we go. Obviously, this is not a set up that works well when I'm by myself.


The kids and I tried a few different scenarios, including putting Mr. Baggins in my Moby wrap sling (which I love) and putting Bug in the stroller, and putting Mr. Baggins in the stroller while Bug walked. The problem with that last option is that when I say that Bug "walked", what I really mean is that she sometimes moved in a forward direction in between the times she stopped to pick up every stick, smell every flower, and point at every bug. It's fun and educational and whatnot, but not particularly great in terms of stretching Mama's legs.


The sling was becoming a bit toasty with the warmer weather, so I did a bunch of research and found a fantastic double stroller on Amazon. It wasn't too terribly expensive to begin with, and we had a gift certificate that made it just over $100. Let me just take a minute to mention how much I adore this thing. It's like the Cadillac of strollers, I think, only on a Hyundai budget. I can lock the front wheel in place to jog with it, and with the front wheel unlocked it maneuvers shockingly well for something so wide.

Bug thinks it's the most hilarious thing in the world to hang out with Mister B and Mama likes to see the sunshine, so everyone wins.

So the point of mentioning all of this other than to tell you how much I love my new stroller is to mention one of the more challenging two kid moments so far. The kids and I had wandered over to a cheap clothing store close to my house to see what we could see. After several days of success (turns out I should've publicly complained about potty training on the blog earlier, because it's been basically smooth sailing since then) Bug was sporting her big girl panties like a champ. Just as we were paying for our purchases, the dreaded and all important "Mommy, I need to use the big girl potty!" phrase was uttered. Realizing that attempting to make it all the way home would put her pride and my precious stroller in peril, we dashed to the back of the store.

And that's when I realized there was no way, given the current laws of physics, that that stroller was fitting down the hall to that bathroom. I unstrapped the Bug. Couldn't very well leave the Mister all alone, so I unstrapped him, too. Figured it was best not to leave my wallet unattended, so I stuck it under my arm. My daughter, my baby, my wallet, my cell phone and I carefully made our way into the not-so-clean bathroom, all the while trying to move this whole balancing act quickly enough to avoid an accident.

The deed was accomplished, and then I began negotiating how best to get her up to the sink for obligatory hand washing. And as I peeked at myself in the mirror, baby and wallet hanging from my left arm and toddler hefted up to the sink with my right, rushing the whole process lest someone mess with my beloved Cadillac stroller down the hall, I thought: this is my life now. 

I am so lucky, all the potty involvement notwithstanding.