Mom, you don't need to use an offset spatula, a butter knife will do...

Obviously, blogging has taken a backseat lately to, oh, you know maintaining a FULL TIME growing business and family, but, I seriously worry that, little moments like the ones below and snapshots of time periods in our life will fade to forgotten memories if not captured in writing. Without further ado, I'm going to really really try to write more down... "try" is the operative word in that last sentence (see how I cleverly bolded and italicized it for emphasis?!), so I'll either see you later this week.. or months..or years... we'll see!

---

We're on the cusp of Shane's third birthday and it's just a regular old Tuesday night in the Delanty household, save for the major storms rolling through this evening that has the kids joining us for an extended period of time this evening. So, in light of their later bedtime, I decided to let them help me do a little internet research - actually, to let them do some "pinterest-ing" with me, to which that almost three year old asked me, "mommy, where are the internets - where do they come from?" to which I could only answer.. ."uhh... well, I'm not sure.. probably Al Gore... " which seemed to satisfy him enough.

We decide to start by looking for some example birthday cake ideas - I have priorities people. So, from the other room, Bridget hears Shaney and I discussing baseball birthday cakes and comes sprinting in (apparently she has priorities, too) and then the following innocent enough conversation just made me realize how hilarious this time in my life is:

b: What are you making on the computer?
me: We're looking at ideas for Shaney's birthday cakes.
b: What kind of a cake?
m: I don't know, maybe a baseball field or baseball shaped cupcakes.
b: Well, well (said with that four year old - I'm so excited I can't quite get the words out as fast as my brain wants to say them) then you need to (and I swear, this is pretty much verbatem) consult (she seriously used that word) Liv (she pronounces it "leaf") Hansen in the Betty Crocker Kitchens at howdini.com.
m: What? (laughing because she recited it EXACTLY like that - you could tell it was ingrained in her little brain that way...)
b: (frustrated at my lack of knowledge, sighs and says it much louder in hopes that then I will know what she means...) LEAF Hansen from the Betty Crocker Kitchens

I realize she is referring to the you tube videos she watches on cake making on my iphone/and or ipad and is basically a walking 4 year old commercial for videos like this (one of her favs - "leaf" shows up around 30 seconds in) and this (flip flops - her "second favorite" Liv arrives sporting a short pixie cut around 20 secs this time).

While I kind of felt like a bad parent for letting her watch all these you tube videos (usually right at bed time - can you say sleep issues in her adult future) they certainly came in handy this past easter weekend as she advised me on "dome cuts" and "crumb coats" as we worked on our easter baking projects.


so, there you have it, a little snap shot into a tuesday night in the delant household.

who needs lubely's when you have your own personal mini betty crocker?

Cutest little models - even if they did ruin two of the products

More to come.. I'm saving the real gems for my site.. stay tuned!

As much as I hate to admit it, he's right

Alternate title: My parents and brother seriously still love me? How is that possible?

Hello friends, no for reals, it's me. Here I am! Hello! Apparently starting a new business endeavor completely on your own and branching off from every form of income as you previously knew it, makes for a pretty busy lifestyle. So, I'm not going to try and make up for time lost and write about all the past three months, instead I'm just going to drop a big, heaping, steaming pile of complaints and poor-me whining on y'all. So, without further ado, here we go...

I wasn't exactly the "easiest" of all children. I'm pretty sure my parents will verify this. I have memories of points in my life, in what I know was very young childhood, where I would purposefully see how far I could push my parents. I needed control, I needed to be in charge and when I couldn't be or didn't get my way, I would TRY and insight anger in them even, try to get them to break. And, when they were completely at their wits end? Oh yeah, that's when I'd push even harder.

As I result, I logged many hours in a particularly awful corner of our living room, in a perfectly awful red velvet chair known only as the dreaded "quiet chair" (basically the 1980's version of time-out). I'm pretty sure if there was a bar graph of time spent in the quiet chair, Erin vs. Mark, my brother's would look like a tiny little adobe home, that barely stuck out of the ground, but that sat next to a towering skyscraper - the largest in the world. In fact, go ahead and just look at what I found when I googled this phrase: quiet chair hours logged erin vs. mark jones. Once in that chair, I would go into silent destruction mode - I would bite, punch and pick at the threads on the chair as if to punish it for being so red and velvet and AWFUL. This sounds pretty harsh, but I'm ashamed to say it's all true. I. Was. Difficult.

Well, guess what friends? Pay back is a bitch. I thought the "terrible" two's were rough. Hahahah what did I know, it's all relative, right? I spit on you and your mild tantrums, terrible twos. YOU WERE NOTHING then and you are nothing now.

The tantrums of the first part of 2010 have been unlike anything I have ever witnessed as a parent, or actually, just as a living, breathing, human being. The only thing they remind me of is... well, myself. Oh, and also a few choice scenes from a particularly well-known movie about being possessed, save for head spinning, at least - knock on wood- so far. Oh my god, the appreciation I have for my parents is beyond words. This is really hard. To watch your sweet, loving, caring little babygirl turn to serious exorcist-type behavior is just heartbreaking. And the cause? You name it - bedtime, nap time, morning time, Shane looked at her funny, she wants her Dora shoes, she doesn't want her Dora shoes, she's breathing.

To be fair, she is not like this daily, but it does happen and honestly it happens more often then I'd care to admit. I hate to be angry with her and I hate to feel any kind of bad feelings toward her, but in those moments, the moments where she's kicking me in the stomach from her bed or refusing to say sorry to Shane while screaming the shrillest most awful screams at the top of her lungs as he stands close by with the most confused little boy look, I have to honestly say, I don't like her much. Don't get me wrong, I love the hell out of that little girl, but those times, oh those times, those times are hard. Sidebar: Li'l g, I, in all seriousness, apologize to you, too. I'm pretty sure you probably wore those same confused little brother - what the hell is wrong with my sister, she's scaring the crap out of me - looks a time or two (or forty or fifty) and honestly, 30 years later, that breaks my heart, too.

I feel like we try every technique in our arsenals and usually all of them at once during one "episode" and while I keep telling myself this is a phase and it will get better, I honestly am afraid, very afraid. Because, well, I know myself. And "myself" took a LONG TIME to stop resisting authority or restrictions, and well, umm, actually maybe I'm still working on that. And, honestly, that scares me, because she reminds me so much of myself. Yikes.

In fact, most of the time, when Tim and I are discussing what to do, or buying the latest book on "scream-free parenting" (which, btw, I do not endorse as I have yet to read this book - finding it somewhat unrealistic for me, but I'm still going to try) he likes to remind me of the unfairness of it all. He was not that bad of a child, he did not destroy furniture out of anger or even kick or hit his parents or siblings, well, except for that one thumb biting incident and I can't even remember if he was the "biter" or "instigator" in that one....so, why is he subject to this cruel karma? Fair enough, Delant, fair enough.

So, there you have it - the big pile of parent (poor-me-and-my-daughter's-tantrums) whining. Now, I would be lying if I didn't admit there's a small part of me that admires this in her. I can't help it. She is determined, driven, full of emotion and opinionated. And, even through these awful fits and scream-a-thons, she is still one of the most loving, caring little people I've ever had the privilege of knowing. Who knows, may be one day in the future she'll have trouble keeping up with her blog.. or whatever they are by then... because she is too busy taking on her own business (or even the world) so SHE can be the one in charge.

PS - If any of you have any words of wisdom/advice/so been there/hang in there sister/ about this which does not involve the following duh information:

• Don't let them get to hungry/too sleepy
• Keep a consistent bedtime routine
• Stay calm, keep your voice low

I'd love to hear it! :)

Valentine's Day fun 2010

Loving the sprinkles and chocolate -
she turned her nose up at the cream cheese frosting.. what?!?!

He, however, did not. Got milk?

I couldn't get this kid in from the snow.

Happy Valentine's Day!!

Damn Snucks

Monday, the highlights: Bridgey is running around super excited that she gets an "extra home day" because, even though she seemed totally fine, we *think* had a fever the night before (could have also been operator error on the new ear thermometer) and was coughing and up a lot so we decide to keep her home anyway; Tim is trying to beat the breakfast deadline at school with Shane since we all woke up pretty late due to aforementioned 3 year old up a lot; and the dogs are freaking out ready to eat and go out.

Tim and Shane finally get out the door and I feed the dogs and let them out while starting to retreat upstairs to finish getting ready when I hear a louder than usual commotion outside, and that's saying something. I yell to Bridget to open and let them in and shortly after she tells me she needs help. Strange, I think, but go down only to be greeted with a terrible smell in the kitchen - a terrible, unmistakable smell of.... skunk... SKUNK - Seriously!!?? SKUNK IN MY BACKYARD ??#$%@#%??!!!

Bridget says her usual bad smell line of, "Ewwwie, I smell something stinkkkkkkkyyyyyyyyy". Freaked out I go out on the deck to barely see a puff of black scurrying (I guess they scurry, right?) under my neighbor's fence. I can't even write what was going through my head or what I might or might not have said outloud as I prayed the dogs didn't actually get - bleechh - sprayed. Thankfully, somehow they didn't (although they didn't smell great) and I quickly brought them in, closed the door. Case closed, right? Dodged a stinky bullet there, didn't we? Well, except... except for the fact I have a three year old. A VERY inquisitive three year old who spent her entire home day asking the following OVER AND OVER AND OVER:

"Mommy, mommy, what is a SNUCK?"
"How did that snuck get there?"
"Where is that snuck's mommy?"
"Did the snuck go home?"
"Did Riley and Brogan eat the snuck?"
"Is the snuck going to eat Riley and Brogan?"
"Why is the snuck stinky?"
"Is it because he ate something bad?"
"Where does he live?"
"Is the snuck going to get in our house?"

Funny for us, at some point, she progressed to yelling at the snuck:

"GET OUT OF HERE SNUCK"
me -yeah, get out of here snuck

"RILEY AND BROGAN ARE GOING TO GET YOU"
me - that's not nice, we don't want the boys to get any animals

"I DON'T LIKE SNUCKS" me - why? snucks are nice, SUPER NICE in fact

"MOMMY THE SNUCK IS BACK - IT'S BAAAAAAAAAAAACK"
this was not true, but did send me running to the back door and then opened a dialogue about telling the truth to mommy

"THAT SNUCK IS GONNA GET ME" me-no it's not, bridgey, again snucks are actually very nice animals, sweet, adorable in fact, they wouldn't hurt a fly...

Finally, eventually, for Tim's sanity (since he mostly stayed home with her that day) she went back to playing with toys and not talking about the "snuck" anymore. Whew, case FINALLY closed? Weeeeeellllllllll, except for that other little problem of a 3 year old's memory....

Me: "Night night babygirl, I love you, see you in the morning..."
Bridget: "Night night, Mommy. Mommy, I can't close my eyes tonight.
(she always says this, btw)
Me: "Yes, you can, just lay here and watch your fishies and think happy thoughts...."
Bridget: No, mommy, I really can't tonight...the snuck is going to get me..."

50% trance, 50% dance party

My little Taylor Swiftaholic. AKA "the t-shirt song" is all we listen to ALL THE TIME, all day every day. I don't even know how it started, but it's here and surely a sign of things and obsessions to come...the video is kinda long and the sound is bad, but too funny nonetheless, that I had to post it for future posterity.

And we're off...the longest most random post of all time.

It only took almost 18 months, but he has turned the corner, literally...Shane is officially a walker!!! Just one of the many bonuses of this new found walking is that it basically happened over a weekend. He went from one step here and there to full blown no turning-back-now walking. I think I even saw him run a little yesterday when Bridget made a move toward blue doggie (which he has now decided to call "puppy" for some reason unknown to me since I've never called it anything but blue doggie, but whatever...)

So, as we've known since birth, when he wasn't even interested in breathing on his own, he's a little guy with his own agenda. Stubborn from the get go. My theory is that since Tim and I were the ones who decided it was time for him to be born instead of when he was "ready", he decided to stick it to us ever since by doing everything at his own pace, when he's good and ready. All I can say is thank goodness he wasn't my first or I would have spent every spare moment googling "12 month old not walking", "12 1/2 month old not walking", "13 month old not walking", "13 1/2 month....okay, overstating it a bit.... As it was I only had to google two things, "11 month old not really crawling" and "late walkers". See? See how much I improved internet friends? And if you believe that I have a time share in Arizona... no really, I do!

So, just to appease all you Shaneyheads out there (that's what his groupies call themselves) here's a video of my little drunken sailor from last night to show you his progress. Pardon the craziness that is my house and the bitchiness that is me, but, for the record, he never did call the dogs...

One more fun video for the week so you can also get your Bridgey fix - revolves around Halloween. Big day tomorrow for the kiddos as they have their Halloween party and Bridget gets to go trick or treating with "Grandfriends". Grandfriends is a fun program with the Senior Living Center right by her school - they go and visit them every Friday and play games, tell stories, etc. This Friday is the big day! Her first time getting to go on Halloween and we're told by the teachers that they "really clean up there". She is so "exciting".

Here we are last night preparing our treat bags for the big Par-Tay. For inquiring minds, that is strawberry milk all over her shirt...

Lastly, because OMG, this is too funny/embarrassing/horrible/___ fill in your own adjective/parenting... (make sure you click to enlarge)

HAPPY ALMOST HALLOWEEN!!

It's her birthday today, tomorrow & the next day, at least if you ask her.

Such a momma's girl when it comes to birthdays, isn't she?

Happy third, babygirl!

The Bird Whisperer

I won't capture this in it's hilarious entirety, so I'm not even going to try, but yesterday Tim came running up in my office with a stunned, worried look on his face saying something to the degree of, "I have a special project for you, no, really you're going to like it..." To which my mind quickly wandered to filling out a form with carbon triplicate (hard to come by these days) or picking off the clear plastic covers on shiny parts of new electronics or something equally as AWESOME as those things, only to hear him follow it up with, "There's a bird in the house."

"Like a real life effing bird?" I questioned as he shook his head yes. People, I like a lot of stupid, mundane things, but bird wrangling has never been high on the list. However, I did realize that out of the two of us in the house at the time, I was definitely the best person for the job. I only got halfway down the stairs before hearing the unmistakable flapping/chirp/splat sounds of a bird flinging itself against the ceiling. I retreated, a bird in your house is scarier than I thought. Even a teeny tiny little sparrow has great freak out power when it's flapping around your dining room.

In the end, though, I was definitely satisfied with the outcome of project "get the bird out of the house without killing it or injuring myself". I used a towel, my best bird "chirp chirp chirp, cheepy, cheep" impression and got him while he was (very heartbreakingly) throwing himself at the window in a desperate effort to get away from the crazy lady with a towel shouting bird-people sounds at him. Luckily, he slowed down for a bit and I was able to gently surround him with the towel and very softly carry him to the front door where as he was flying away he looked over his shoulder and let out the sweetest, "peep peep" in a grandiose thank you moment. Pwahaahah, that last part is such bullshit, but it would have been a great ending. He did fly off seemingly uninjured and untraumatized by the whole experience.

The best part of this story is we can't figure out how the hell the bird got in the house nor how long it had been in there for. Is it possible this bird's been living it up in the house for hours or days? We do leave our back door open occasionally for the boys but at the time Tim saw the bird hop down the hallway and look at him, the door was closed and had been closed for all intensive purposes since last night.

Now for the weirdest part (and no not that picture), this whole bird episode occurred during our work day while the kids were at school and at no point last night did birds in the house ever come up when the kids were home. However, as I was putting Bridget to bed last night part of our routine is to go potty before night night and she usually walks in there by herself no problem. Well, last night she kept trying to get me to go with her. Upon pressing her on the issue, I swear on my favorite Jimmy Buffett t-shirt, she looked at me and said, "No, mommy, I don't want to go by myself, I think the birdie is going to get me." When I pressed her further, she added, "The little birdie, he will jump up on me and get me."

Okay, I think we need to start keeping our doors closed a little more since apparently we are hosting a bird hotel over here and we didn't even know it...either that or we need to enroll Bridget in psychic school...

It's OFFICIAL - she is daddy's little girl!

Bridget's room had a "campout" yesterday - we'd been talking it up all week and she was very excited asking Monday and Tuesday if it was "camp day" yet. When the day finally came, the teachers didn't mess around! The campout was complete with a tee pee, tents (made by draping sheets they had decorated over tables), a campout lunch, smores for dessert, and a construction paper campfire brought to life with a mini fan and a guitar for singing songs around the campfire.

The kids brought flashlights, a sleeping bag (she brought her Elmo sleeping bad and was the envy of every other two year old - thanks Aunt Kim and Uncle Mark), and a special "friend" (stuffed animal) to come along (I'm sure none of you can guess who Bridget brought)! It was so cute and the kids were so excited that I was super excited to hear all about it when I picked her up. So, without further ado I give you the conversation concerning the campout:

Me: Bridgey! How was the campout?

Bridget: MOMMY!!!! I went POOP ON THE POTTY AT SCHOOL! (Near screaming)

Me: I know, we already high-fived and talked about that, that's great! But, I want to talk about the campout. Did you go in your tent with your sleeping bag?

Bridget: um, yeah.

Me: Did you eat smores and hotdogs and-

Bridget (cutting me off): Mommy, I don't want to talk to [about] camping more. I want to talk to [about] going POOP ON THE POTTY AGAIN.

And, end scene...

And there was NEVER a question....

I picked up Bridget's weekly school sheet on Friday, reviewed my usual favorite, "funny things children say", section only to find this gem (click on image to view largest):


To clarify, the spilled beer incident happened AFTER I picked her up as I was not drinking at the school nor were any of her teachers.

Just another relaxing day in the pool....

I'm single parenting it this weekend (along with Aimee) as the boys are off having their male bonding time playing golf. It's nice really as it gives Aimee and I the opportunity to enjoy special bonding time with our little ones. In fact, I thought I'd share this sweet video of how I'm spending my time while the boys are gone! Don't you wish you were here, too?

Hope you have a splashing good weekend!

Riding the mushy rails, and I'm not sure when this train is pulling into the station

I'm marking this day, Wednesday, April 22nd, 2009 (still very much in my birthday season in case you were wondering) as a very important day for my first born. To many of you this may not mean much, but a lot of you will understand the extreme significance of the following words Bridgey said after we went in to get her this morning:

"I leave my wawa at home today, Daddy."

And just like that a little part of my heart sank. I'm so proud of her and so excited that all the work we've been putting in to giving her the self confidence and security to give up wawa (her pacifier for those of you who don't speak Bridget) is paying off, but when she completely of her own volition said those words before even getting out of bed in the morning, it was a little more suprising and heartbreaking than I expected.

I then watched her do all the things she usually does in the morning without wawa. She didn't move it from spot to spot as she got ready, she didn't give me a wawa kiss as we said goodbye, she didn't walk out the door with it clutched tightly in her hand or in her mouth and as daddy rolled the window down to waive bye bye and blow kisses, there was no blue wawa to blow kisses around. It was all so strange to me and all so fine for her.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure this by no means is the end of wawa, but it is the beginning of a "bigger" girl time for her. I can just tell. It's been coming for a while, pretty much steadily since she turned two, but every week and every day I see so much more of who she is and giving up such a cherished babyhood item (even for just a school day) is such a milestone for her. Just please, babygirl, don't you dare think about giving up Pinka, my little anti-change heart can't handle that anytime soon!

I must say the real people I am thinking about today are her teachers. While this new found confidence seemed easy this morning, they're the ones that will have to deal with her at naptime and I'm not so sure I won't get an emergency wawa call at some point in the day. You know what, though? You better believe I'll be there in 6.4 minutes with wawa in tow. Baby steps.

We interrupt this 6-part series that is so far only a 2-part series, but that we're still hoping will make it to a 4-part series, to bring you this...

Molina keeps a close eye on baby Pujols as the possibility
of a ball theft is very real and very imminent.

Maybe if I close my eyes baby Pujols will go away and
I can keep the glove and ball all to myself.

Whatever, I still have the glove AND pinka and you're not getting either one of those EVER.

Molina is in position and ready for the pitch.

It's a strike!

Baby Pujols says, "put me in coach, I'm ready to play!"

Let's Play Ball!!!!
Go Redbirds!

SIDE NOTE FOR @strongrhetoric Notice PURPLE couch in background. Jealous, aren't you?

What happens when I let her pick out her own clothes?

She repays me by channeling Cindy Lauder? Not cool Bridgey - oh,and the red/pink/purple combo was just about more than I could take. At some point during the day I believe I told my 2 y/o I was having a hard time looking at her...

At least she's patriotic, right?

Applejacks don't even have a Prize Inside!

While we're getting ready this morning in the bedroom Bridgey is singing a song that went something like this, "over to the ballgame, over to the crowd, buy me applejacks, ever back back back BAAAACCCKKK"

I listen a little closer and sure enough it was her own rendition of "Take me out to the ballgame", I have no idea where she learned this or why she is singing this song in February, but obviously the right thing for me to do was to join in... "Take me out to the ball game, take me out to the crow---"

Bridget: "MOOOOOMMMMMMMYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!" she abruptly interrupts my singing. "You, know that song, too?"

Me: "Well, yes, actually I do know that song. And, to be clear it's cracker jacks, not applejacks, there is a very real and important difference between those two jacks".

Bridget: ..pauses, thinks about it and then...."Oh, that is soooo cool - over to the game, over to the crowd, buy applejacks and come BACK BACK BACCCCCCKKKKKK"

R.I.P. Snowy 1/31/09 - 1/31/09

Yesterday was a ridiculously perfect day for building a snowman. The weather was warm enough to spend more than 10 minutes outside and thus the snow was the perfect big ball rolling consistency (that's what she said).

So, we got to work:

Actually, I got to work, since mostly all Bridget wanted was to lay in the snow and look cute. (Insert a lot of hard work from yours truly here as Bridget laid in the snow and tpd carried in the obscene amount of household items purchased from Sam's only hours prior) and then... TA DA.... "Snowy" the snowperson was born...




Snowy wasn't just any snow person, he was a freaking monster big snowperson with a big snowperson heart to match. However, he was missing a few necessities like, oh you know.. eyes and nose and a pipe to immediately start tarring up those virgin snow lungs. So, we obliged and brought Snowy to "life"....

Bridget was finally thoroughly impressed with my hard work and quickly warmed up to Snowy - amazing for her considering she's usually so freaked out by strangers, but not Snowy. They were fast friends.

Oh, how mighty and strong you were, Snowy, standing there so happy and stoic with broom in your little stick hand.

Snowy spent the beginning of his life doing what snowpeople do - chillin' with his corn cob pipe and watching the world through his eyes made out of coal... life was good for Snowy...for a few hours....

We quickly learned however, that what may be a "perfect" day for snowperson building, may not actually be the perfect day for snowperson living. Something unexpected totally expected happened as time passed... those nice temperatures got even nicer, so nice in fact that entire beings made out of snow didn't "stand" a chance.

The blow to the head was so severe, his eyes even popped out of his head.
Oh, Snowy, the humanity of it all!

I'd like to tell you that no snowpeople were harmed in the making of this blog entry, but that would be a lie. Because one was. One very special snowperson suffered TSBI (traumatic snow-brain injury) and was never really the same snowperson again...

I did learn a valuable lesson from Snowy, however. It is definitely best NOT to talk about snowpeople in relation to human emotions. Using terms like "bring him to life" and "let's name him Snowy" will only result in 2 year-old lifetime trauma when said "friend" ultimately meets a snowy demise on the corner of your step.

We'll miss you Snowy, but we know you're in a better, colder place in that big snow playground in the sky.

Does the glove thing really surprise anyone?

Not the storm of the century here, but some nice little snow and definitely fun for a two year old. So, here are some pictures of my little snow angel as she put it, "I help daddy broom with my broom". Okay.... you go do what you gotta do, kiddo.

Really, she just wanted to eat the snow.
Artsy fartsy of course

Will someone please get this girl a matching set of gloves?

2009

It's not like she had matching ones last year either.
(Same coat, by the way - how value driven of me, no?)

2008

Too long to Twitter...so I guess I have to post it here.

me to tpd (jokingly): stop it tpd, seriously.

bridget: stop it tpd, shuroushly

(tpd still being annoying)

me to tpd: knock it off, you're really starting to piss me off.

bridget: YOU'RE PISSING ME OFF daddy.

isn't that impressive the way she changed tenses of the word "piss" like that? gosh, my baby girl is growing up.

And just like that, a star was born..

Thanks Grandma and Grandpa Santa Claus for this microphone I got at the lake.

I REALLY REALLY like to sing into it...

Hold your applause audience, I'm just getting to the good part....

I may still live with my parents, but that doesn't make me any less of a ROCKSTAR

See I told you all this was only a matter of time... next stop... video camera.