White Trash Formal. . .

The 3rd Annual White Trash Party took place at our house last month yet again.  This year we decided to theme it as “formal white trash” attire and as usual, our friends surpassed our expectations.  And to think, three years ago when Dustin and I were debating on a white trash party or a luau, I thought my friends were too sophisticated for wife beaters. . .I was mistaken.

Cousin Diana and Cousin Chuck in front of the “Welcome Cousins” sign we proudly display in the front yard every year.

Party decorations for everyone driving by to see.

Funny story, I was trying to burn an iron mark on my dress, but it was taking too long.  We decided to use the lighter and my dress caught on fire. . .quickly.  Dustin grabbed a glass of water and threw it on my dress and soaked the ironing board.  It was out in the front to dry but made for good decoration!

It looks like a bad senior prom photo.

Toni and Pat.  We kept asking Pat if he was a pimp and if Toni was his “employee.”

Dustin in his formal wear.

Karmen and Jerry.  Jerry’s clip on hair/mullet got quite a bit of attention.

Trevor

One of the appetizers.  Dustin’s favorite vienna sausages and green olives. . .mmmmmm.

Crackers and spray cheese.

Lela and Steven

Chris and Lindsey

Mmmmmm Jack aka “The Winkie Man.”

Kim and Trevor and Trevor’s sock line.  He golfs alot.  Or he works really hard all year long to get that tan line for our party.

Me and Maggie.  Like my drink holder?

“NO SHUS, NO SHERT. . .NO PRABLEM.”  Do you know how hard it is to spell words wrong?

Jason and his Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt.  I was going to buy that shirt for Dustin as a shirt to wear out in public.  Another man’s white trash maybe your everyday wear!   We tell that to everyone.  You can’t get mad if someone is wearing what you would wear out in public!

It’s not a party until the “pregnant” lady shows up in a robe with PBR and smoking a cigarette.

Jorge and Mande

Amy, Diana and Tracy

Callie and me.  Drink holder still works.

The men.  Pat is by Dustin on the front row and started pimping out my husband for $10.  “Who wants my guy?  Who wants him?”  I thought $10 was a little low, but hey, $10 is $10.

The men, take two.

The ladies

The ladies, take two.

And the White Trash Queen is. . .Amy!

And the White Trash King is. . .Jorge!

Jorge claimed to not be the father.

The Queen and King.  This really is a great picture!

Lindsey and Chris

More words not spelled correctly.

Uncle Sam and his beer

Desserts

The Amazing Jerry and his beer balancing act.  I think he’s going on the road with this. 

Dustin (see his drink holder too?), Chris and last year’s King Lee.

Some of the party people.

More of the party people.

My flash was a little bright on my camera.  Here’s Jeff and the aftermath of me taking a picture.

I’m sure my parents are so proud.

Lindsey and her table pool.  I never knew she was that competitive! 

Doug and Katie

Mande and King Jorge

At this point, Lela has my camera and I kept jumping in front of the camera when she would take a picture.  Not bad on this one!

See Trevor’s face?  The flash is still a little bright.  Jorge’s drank enough that it doesn’t bother him anymore!

Yep, that’s my husband next to Jorge.

“What time is it?”

Hands off ladies, he’s all mine.

Look at the picture above of Dustin and then this one of me. . .we were made for each other!  It looks like I’m saying, “Hey, who took my beer?”

Dust, Steven and me.  Dustin was pretending to lick Steven’s head and then Steven leaned back and Dustin ACTUALLY licked the back of his head!  It was awkward for everyone involved, but no hurt feelings.

Chris and his Coors suspenders.

The original Audio/Visual guys.

Taking my rollers out.

I had some huge curls.

At the end of the night, only a single shoe, a suit jacket and a tie was left.  Not too bad of a party!

my liver is evil and it must be punished. . .

So I finally got to attend my first motorcycle rally.  Three days of no kids and a designated driver. . .hence the title to this blog post.  When am I ever going to get another chance to eat my food at a restaurant when it comes to the table rather than taking a child to the bathroom that waits until my food arrives?  When am I ever going to get a chance to not refer to myself as “Mama?”  When am I ever going to get the chance to do what I want to and not have to think of a 3-year-old and a 6-year-old?  On the back of Dustin’s motorcycle I yelled, “I want these three days to take care of the rest of the year that we don’t do anything!” 

First of all, I’ll admit, I was nervous about what to wear at the ROT Rally.  I knew my best choice for color was black, but my wardrobe to say the least is a little. . .different.  My motorcycle boots are zebra print, oh yah, I’m a hardcore biker chick.  Dustin told me it didn’t matter what I wore, we would see all different types of people there.  Some with leather chaps, some with out leather chaps, some with clothes, some without clothes.  I was totally unprepared for my first biker experience.

To show how not biker I am, I opted for flying to Austin.  I knew I would not be a happy passenger on a nine hour bike ride to Austin and so did my husband.  Apparently my cousin Diana and our friend Cindy thought a plane ride sounded a little more fun, so we set out early Thursday morning to our state’s capital.  FYI:  I’m not that great of a flyer, lots of deep breathing and holding on to the arm rest are involved when the plane drops at leat 500 feet.  Apparently I screamed a little too loud and most of the passengers thought it was funny.

What do I want to do when I get to Austin?  Eat a Chuy’s. . .and get a tattoo, but we’ll get to that later.  Ever since Jess and Aaron lived in Austin for Aaron’s internship, I was introduced to the wonderful food of Chuy’s.  Eat at Chuy’s, check.  Shoot, the trip just started and I’m halfway done with my to do list.  Thursday was lots of walking around at the rally, looking a vendors, pricing tattoos, taking pictures of ourselves in front of an inflatible penis and blow up doll, you know the normal stuff us biker people do.  Hey, when in Rome?  Friday was Luckenbach, Texas.  Dustin wanted to drink a beer in Luckenbach, Texas.  Too bad Waylon and Willie and the boys couldn’t meet them down there!  It took us a little while to find it, but a good band was playing and I got some good pictures of us there.

Friday night was 6th Street.  I have never seen so many people in one area.  Dee Snyder of Twisted Sister led the bike parade from the fairgrounds to 6th Street.  Later that night, he was walking past us and Dustin yelled, “Hey Dee!” and he yelled back, “Hey guys. . .and girls!”  The “guys” were our group and the “girls” were me and Diana!  How many times did I text Jess and Erin that Dee Snyder said hi to me?!?  I also chose this evening to bar hop.  Refer to the first paragraph of me having a designated driver.  So whiskey sours, $2 margaritas and a giant swirly drink helped me experience 6th Street in Austin.  I’m pretty sure I told a lot of people they were awesome because that is what I do when I drink. . .too much.  I also drunk dial my sister. . .a lot.  Too many funny things were awesome and the bands in all the bars were awesome. 

So after the awesome time Friday night and getting back to the hotel sometime after midnight, Saturday morning rolls around and my stomach is rolling right with it.  I vow not to drink while we float down the river, but again refer to paragraph one.  We make the drive to New Braunfels and I have had 11 hours to shake off the night before.  I was alot more still than I have been the entire time on Dustin’s bike and then he turned up his radio and said, “Don’t you love this song?”  Big mistake.  It’s like on Footloose when Sarah Jessica Parker is in that different town that has the bar and everyone is dancing but her and then an awesome song comes on and she yells that she has to dance.  Yep, I was still for 45 minutes, but after that, the music moved me.  It may have moved me ugly, but nobody knew me down there.

If you ever go near Austin or really New Braunfels, you have to go float down the river.  You have to.  Four and half hours floating in a tube, drinking and soaking up the sun became one of my top four moments.  Three way tie for first is marrying Dustin and the birth of both my girls.  And this floating phenomenon beat out the day Dish Network hooked up my DVR (that was a life changing moment right there).  Maybe you could go without the solid drinking for four and half hours and somehow reapply sunscreen, but I wouldn’t trade that day for anything.  Not even all the moments after the floating of the river such as:  (1) The needing Chuck to help me and Diana walk up the path to the shuttle.  (2) The falling off the bike when Dustin hit the chunk of concrete.  (3) The losing my dinner from the night before (because I skipped breakfast and lunch) at the bbq place after we were done floating.  (4) That really nice fellow biker chick who told me from the next stall that “you get that all out Honey and you will feel so much better.”  And then she found me at the table later and gave me all of her tums.  (5) That hour long ride where I swore if Dustin hit another bump I was going to lose my Chuy’s from the day before.  Nope, that day was awesome.

We headed back up to the rally that evening after I took a much needed nap.  That worrying about what bikers wear at rallies went right out the window.  I managed a longsleeve t-shirt, stretch shorts, croc sandals and a bandana with my sunglasses.  Ohh yah, I’m a biker chick. . .with a serious headache that even the sun is hurting my poor head.  I kept thinking of the song “I wear my sunglasses at night.”  That was me.  I managed to hold down a hot dog and half a Sprite, so the evening was looking up.  (I know Mom is shaking her head while reading this and I’m sure Dad has done this before at some point in his life.)  Bret Michaels was the final concert and it again was awesome.  The other half of my to do list didn’t happen because we floated down the river for over four hours.  And at some point on the river I declared that I wanted a battleship tattooed across my chest.  If drinking and bad decisions ever went hand in hand, it was at that moment.  All the vendors packed up at 8:00 p.m. so my ROT Rally souvenir tattoo would have to wait.

Sunday was a little sad because our trip had come to an end and my liver had declared me an unfit owner.  I was however ready to see my girls and get back to my old life.  This trip was, for lack of better words, awesome.  It was nice to just be Steph for three days and get to hang out with adults.  But in the end, I’m glad it was just for three days. . .being a biker is a lot of work. . .and you throw up alot!

There were thousands of bikers coming through Luckenback this weekend and apparently the family of five that included the pregnant mom pushing her 2-year-old in the stroller didn’t get the memo.

Diana’s in the red shirt at the bar saying, “You want one?”  I had so much fun with her!

“Hey Louie,” Dustin, “Cousin Chuck” and “Nancy” enjoying their beer.

Apparently this is what the future holds for my husband if we go to too many of these rallies. . .

I don’t know why people always take this type of picture?!?  It never turns out right.  It’s like I’m saying, “I was here and so were my nose hairs that I’m trying to show everyone!”

Me the Biker Mama

This is our group that ran around during the rally.

Louie and Cindy

Doug and Katie

Chuck and Diana

Dustin and me. . .he takes a lot of pictures like this because I’m always behind the camera.

I’ve got an awesome zoom lens on my camera, so I was swiveling around taking pictures of randomness. . .people, flowers, cows, you name it, I was taking a picture of it.  I later found out that Dustin doesn’t like me as a passenger on his motorcycle.  My dancing to my MP3 player and constant moving is a little distracting for him as well as difficult for him to drive.  I’m still trying to get him to buy those walkie talkie radios for our helmets so we can talk to each other the entire time.  He says no. . .okay, he says hell no.

Chuck never smiles for the camera.  I finally got one of him.

Crap, he saw me.

This is one of the many shirts Louie wore during the rally.  I should have taken a picture of each one each day, they were awesome!

This is us up on the highway. . .still taking pictures, still dancing to my MP3 player.  If we had those radios, he could tell me to be still. . .

Yep, we are pretty high up and I am just snapping away.  Snap, snap, snap.

When we finally went to the Capital, I din’t have my camera, so I was trying to get a few shots of Austin as we flew down the highway.

I already miss home.  Dustin can’t go to Wal-Mart because of all the people.   Four o’clock traffic was not fun with it being 90+ degrees outside.  By this time I had rolled up my pant legs, again, I’m such a biker.

This is the semi right next to us.

Dustin was in the bathroom with me getting ready while Chuck and Diana were in the bedroom.  Dustin put my sandals on and came out of the bathroom and he ran into Chuck wearing my motorcycle boots.  They had a good laugh over it, but I thought my shoes were going to smell if they didn’t take them off soon.

last day of kindergarten. . .

It’s kind of sad that my little girl starts 1st grade in the fall.  First grade will come and go and then we’ll send Ellie off to Pre-K and then college for both girls. . .grab a kleenex. . .I can’t take it.  Wait, what’s that?  I get to delete my alarm on my phone?  No more waking up in the morning to an annoying ringtone?  No more looking in the mirror and thinking, “My hair totally doesn’t look like I slept crazy.”  That’s right. . .it’s time to get back into our old routine.  Nine months out of the year we are not in our routine, but for three glorious months, we do what we want.  And we stay up late and sleep in.  Goodbye school, hello summer!!

This was Dustin’s Friday off, so he got to experience the early morning drop off.  Actually, he got to sleep in two hours and wondered why it was after 8:00 a.m. by the time we left for school.  Silly man, the tardy bell doesn’t ring til 8:15 a.m. and there’s traffic.  Okay, so maybe our small town doesn’t have any traffic. . .ever, but it is humanly impossible for me to get out the door before 8:00 a.m.  Miracles are more likely to happen.

“Let’s go get Emma!”  How many times did I hear that the last week of school.  Ellie understands this nine months out of the year we aren’t doing our normal routine.  She loves summer because her Emma is home and they can have sleepovers in each other’s room every night!

“LET’S GO GET EMMA!!”

. . .and rock on.

Dear Mrs. Thompson,

You’ve been there for all the ups and downs we had during Kindergarten.  From anxiety separation in which she begged you to let her call her Mama to getting our stick switched when she stepped in a rain puddle after you said don’t step in that rain puddle.  You’ve seen our alligator tears and you’ve difused the situation wonderfully.  We are going to miss you, but remember Ellie will be there soon!

Emma’s Mama

Dustin picking Emma up from her last day in Kindergarten.

Ohhh my baby is growing up. . .wipes tear.

compared to two c-sections. . .

I have changed my saying from “It’s totally worth it” to “Compared to two c-sections, this is like a paper cut.”  Yes, I know it sounds a little gross and the visual, well, we won’t even go there, but I feel amazing! 

My breast lift was indeed totally worth it and virtually pain free.  Don’t take my word for it, ask my husband.  He is in total shock at how easy this surgical procedure was compared to both my c-sections.  Granted the hours spent in recovery, I did feel like I was breastfeeding pirahnas, sorry for another visual, but I soon found out that was because I was laying flat on my back.  Apparently the stitches around my nipples were pulling if I was laying flat and I’ll just stop because I have family members that read my blog and that just is weird.  Okay, maybe you don’t have to be family for that to be weird?

However, ANY WOMAN WANTING TO HAVE A BREAST LIFT SHOULD DO SO.  Okay, enough screaming,yikes.  The surgery was Friday morning and by 2:00 p.m. Dustin was picking up egg drop soup for me for dinner and we were hitting Starbucks on the way home.  Apparently Starbucks makes everything better and this is so true.  When will Starbucks read my blog and give me free drinks for promoting their company?  I’m waiting.  Anywho, I was trying to stay awake, so I texted friends to let them know how I was doing and according to Erin, I called her and was still pretty out of it from the pain meds.  Do I remember this conversation?  No.  Was I able to tell Dustin I wanted a grande size chai tea latte but the amount you put in the vente with whip and no water?  Yes.  Strange I know.

The girls were at Mom and Dad’s for the weekend baking cookies and making a very long list for Wal-Mart.  Wii bowling was supposed to be one of the highlights of the weekend as well as doing Papa’s hair.  That was on Ellie’s to do list.  She loves combing my hair and found out that Papa will say yes to anything as long as he doesn’t have to sit on the floor to long with his hip.  And Papa has an amazing head of hair.  His hair lady has told him women would kill for his hair.  It’s trur.  There was only one meltdown when the girls said goodnight to me over the phone.  Ellie didn’t understand why I couldn’t give her hugs and kisses and I’m not sure why Emma was crying.  Even later when I asked her, she just giggled and said, “I don’t know?” and skipped off to her room to go play.

We made it home and it was so quiet as I reclined on the couch.  Sleeping for 10 minutes at a time, wiping the drool off my chin, adjusting the two large ice packs on my chest and then repeating this cycle was my schedule.  Dustin and I finally decided after two hours of that, we’d venture next door to get out of the house.  I felt great and had to stay awake until 10:00 p.m. so I would be able to sleep through the night.  Amber was amazed I was talking without a slur let alone walking on my own over to her house!  Another friend wanted us to come by and because of all the pain medicine I was taking offered to make me a smoothie while our husbands had beer.  We got out of the truck and without missing a beat, I pointed to my ice packs on my boobs and said, “I brought the ice.”  So funny even when I am heavily medicated, I know.

It was so strange coming home to a quiet house.  I kept thinking we left the girls somewhere.  I spent the night on the couch because laying down hurt too much.  I won’t explain again because of the awkwardness for everyone reading.  So when I woke up in the morning after having my boobs chopped up the previous day, it was my neck that hurt.  Go figure.  Saturday was spent watching shows on the DVR and visiting with friends that stopped by to see how I was.  Is this what life is like without kids?  You talk about yourself and watch uninterrupted tv and read more than three pages in your book before you have to wipe someone after they went poopy?!?

Before the surgery, Dustin said I was going to be showing everyone my boobs.  I disagreed, but after taking our own before and after photos, it’s hard not to lift my shirt up and shout to the world, “Look at these sweater puppies!”  Okay, it really isn’t hard to not do that, but  the results are amazing.  I do feel like I should send my friend Lela a card or some flowers because I did show somewhat forcd her to look at a before and after picture on my camera.  It was a profile shot and I did cover up my stomach with my thumb, but still an apology is in order!

We took the bandages off on Sunday and I cried (sappy, yes I know) when I looked in the mirror.  Not from pain, but because how great I looked (minus the stitches and gruesome looking brusing and swelling).  Don’t get me wrong, I love my children, but pregnancy and breastfeeding for over a year with each one has taken its toll on my body and my body did not win that battle. 

Emma and Ellie made it home for lunch and Nana and Papa looked a little tired.  Ellie cried for me at three in the morning the first night and Nana had to hold her in her own bed to help her go back to sleep.  And then the next night, I think Ellie found her way back into Nana’s bed because it was just so darn comfortable the first night.  Ellie’s a kicker and wallower (is that a word?) and so I’m sure Mom got a great night’s sleep.  Emma was screaming from the driveway actually still buckled up in Mom’s car when they pulled up that she got the Hannah Montana movie (thanks, I am so excited about watching that for the 11th time) and Ellie wanted to let me know she wasn’t going to touch Mama’s boobies.  I appreciated her remembering the important stuff.

We took the girls out on their bikes and I covered up the fact that I had large ice packs on my boobs with a huge camera and took pictures of the girls walking down the street.  I looked like a tourist with some huge knockers.  I’m sure I didn’t attract anyone’s attention? 

It’s now late Tuesday night Wednesday morning and we have started our Spring Break festivities.  I am waiting on the dryer to finish so I can put in the girls and my green tye dyed shirts for St. Patrick’s Day we made earlier.  Why did I promise they could wear these tomorrow?  Why did I promise I would wear mine?  How did Dustin get out of wearing a green tye dyed t-shirt?  We are meeting Erin and her kids (Ellie’s best friend and Emma’s boyfriend, Dustin just loves her referring to McCade as the boy she’s going to marry) in town and the kids are going to play.  After the trip in to town today for my follow-up appt., I’m definitely wearing my ice pack while I’m at the mall playground.  Maybe I’ll just look like a tourist if I take my camera. . .with some big knockers.

58 hours and 12 minutes. . .

We started this journey so many years ago with monthly emails about Emma, the countless diapers and my boobs.  Yes, many updates about breastfeeding and Emma holding her head up or doing the littlest thing that could lead to multiple paragraphs about how smart my little girl was and all at the age of 24 days.  Not much has changed about how smart my soon-to-be 6-year-old is, but my boobs have taken a turn for the worse.

Many other breastfeeding mothers have told me the down right LIE of your boobs shrinking back to the size they were and even smaller after the breastfeeding ceases.  That’s right Jess, I’m talkin’ to you!  Ohh, they went down, but more in a directional way than a cup size way.  So needless to say, the hundreds of dollars we saved breastfeeding will be put to good use come Friday when I get my much anticipated breast lift.  The hundreds don’t really cover it, but then again you don’t want to look in the back of the phonebook for a coupon when looking for a cosmetic surgeon. 

I have friends that have had similar surgeries and everyone has agreed that it’s going to hurt.  Maybe this is like the boobs shrinking and everyone is really lying about the pain. . .yah, I don’t believe me either.  “It’s totally worth it” will be repeated over and over again even heading back to the operating room.  “It’s totally worth it” will be repeated over and over again on the 45 minute ride home after my surgery.  “It’s totally worth it” will be repeated when I spill my lunch in the bed because my boobs hurt so bad and pain is shooting down my arms. . .okay who am I kidding, “damnit” will probably be the choice of words followed with maybe a few other colorful adjectives.  Are swear words adjectives?  I must consult Jess on this one.

Needless to say, dinners have been prepared so that Nurse Dustin can focus on my care and not cooking lunch and dinner.  Our freezer is a little packed but I must admit, planning ahead is making me less worried about what I will and will not be able to do a few days after the surgery.  I hate eating breakfast, so I feel as though I’ve made it much easier on him. . .so thoughtful I know.  Actually, I feel like he got me pregnant, so him helping around the house is really his own fault (except for the laundry, I’ll work through the pain or have Ellie do the laundry before Nurse Dustin lays a finger on the dryer.  Ellie really is a good sorter of everyone’s clothes!).  This surgery is elective and not requiring a baby to come out of me; therefore, I feel like taking care of everything before hand will help everyone in the long run.

Notice how there are no photos in this post?  Your welcome.  I could put some lovely before pictures up, but I do like to think of this as PG maybe PG-13 at times blog and don’t want to lose my blog on wordpress.  Speaking of before pictures, they were taken two weeks ago and it was as horrible as I thought it was going to be.  It rated about the same as the initial consultation and having the doctor measure my girls (“the girls” are referring to my boobs for those of ya’ll wondering why the doctor was measuring how tall Emma and Ellie are) while my husband sat in the chair just to the left of me.  I have to admit on an awkward scale of one to 10, that was as pretty close to a 10 as I’ll get in this marriage.  On Dustin’s awkward scale, I think it was only a three, but his scale is off I think.  The doctor was very nice and professional and the nurse wrote down everything he said while I stared at the lovely ceiling tiles.  I was also thinking, “suck in your stomach, you don’t want your muffin top hanging over your pants and he points out another procedure he could perform for a small nominal fee.”  And then the sheer two and half minutes were over and no comments were made.  Exhale and put your shirt on.

The before pictures were taken a few weeks after the consultation in which Dustin informed me that when I’m nervous, I make a lot of jokes and talk at an alarming fast speed.  And here I thought I was just a nervous giggler.  The pictures of the front and the both profiles were taken by a very nice nurse who had the same procedure.  So think of how awkward that was for me trying to look at the placement of her boobs compared to mine while she’s talking me through all the paperwork and I look like I’m just checking her out.  Is this how a guy feels?  Is he just trying to see the placement of the woman’s chest compared to his own and not really looking at her boobs? 

One would think topless in front of a camera would be bad, but forgeting about the temporary tattoo tramp stamp would again make a mark on the awkward scale.  The girls found the oddly large stash of temporary tattoos and wanted to put them on.  Who am I to say no to a stategically placed tattoo so Emma won’t get in trouble at school?  After a few tattoos on the forearms and then making sure Emma wears a long sleeve shirt the next day, my smart brain decided to put a tattoo on Dustin without his consent.  A heart tattoo right in all his hair on his arm for all to see.  I made the mistake of bending over to pick up the remaining 500+ tattoos and wham!  Tramp stamp of a 3″ x 4″ crotch rocket with the word SPEED above it was there for all to see without my consent.  My mom noticed the stamp the next day when I bent over to put in Ellie’s car seat in her car before my appointment.  One of those swear word adjectives was sad under my breath and off to my appointment I went.

Well, the countdown has begun.  As of right now, I’ll be in la la land in 58 hours and 12 minutes and will soon be saying “It’s totally worth it” for the first time. . .or some gibberish about my dream or wondering where Dustin is because I did that the last time I was knocked out when I had a c-section with Emma.  Wish me luck!  I’m going to need it. . .so will Nurse Dustin.

three little bakers are we. . .

Much like cleaning and ironing, I am not too fond of baking.  As a stay-at-home Mama, those are probably some of the important qualities one must possess to be a stay-at-home Mama.  Baking is too much exactness for my taste.  Measuring precisely and using a thousand different utensils.  And don’t even get me started on the watching and waiting.  Not leaving the oven for too long because we’d hate to burn those cookies.  On my old oven, you had to turn the knobs rather than pushing buttons and let us not forget about the 2005 fiasco of the broiled cookies.  Bake and broiled look alot alike when you just don’t care to bake.

Now cooking I love.  A palmful of this and a sprinkle of that not to mention the around the pan with olive oil and voila!  you are cooking.  So there are maybe a few more steps involved but give me cooking any day of the week over that baking crap.  Yep, I said it.  It’s baking crap.  And as I am writing this, in the back of my head I am thinking about the cake Emma wants me to bake for her birthday party. . .crap.

Anywho, at some point in life, all children must bake.  The girls frequently visit the kitchen while I am cooking dinner and are my little taste testers but yesterday was different.  Apparently while I agreed to a “No Nap Sunday” after church, I thought to myself, “Self, why not just bake something with the girls?”  I was a glutton for punishment.

Actually it went really good and the girls had a blast getting to mix all the ingredients with their little miniature baking utensils and getting all sticky while rolling the biscuits in balls for me. 

I learned that a 3-year-old doesn’t understand why you can’t just drop 1/2 a cup of flour from two feet above the mixing bowl.  I also learned that a 5-year-old who has a fondness of butter can barely resist dipping her fingers in the bowl.  Another food for thought if you will, would be that doubling the recipe is a must when cooking with said 3- and 5-year-olds.  It is not fun for and nor will a 3-year-old and 5-year-old willingly take turns mixing the brown sugar, flour and cinnamon.  Which leads to my fourth discovery that letting your daughters bake with you makes you gain weight because now instead of the planned 16 cherry bites there are 24 mini bites as well as 24 cherry bites.  Seriously, if I have to eat another one of those delicious morsels of cherry pie filling and flaky biscuit with the strudel topping. . .and I’m off to the fridge yet again this afternoon!

Three little bakers are we. . .and apparently if you are a little girl, an apron is a must.  I think my beehive hair fits my apron style.

I’ve got the Limp Bizkit song Rollin’ stuck in my head watching the girls roll the dough.

I have decided that if this baking thing becomes a weekly or monthly activity, we have got to get more counter space.

The topping made a little bit of a mess, but the final product was amazing!  This was one of three batches.

Now I’ve got Rollin’ Rollin’ Rollin’ Rawhide stuck in my head.

Don’t worry.  We were all done with our pastries before Ellie started playing with Daddy’s beard. . .

and sticking her fingers in her nose apparently.  I’ve put some weird things in my food, but boogers are not one of the ingredients.

This was sweet Ellie getting Daddy her princess pillow to lay on as well as a blanket.  She was helping him relax that afternoon.  Then Ellie kept pulling the blanket higher and higher and then sat on Daddy’s throat and cut off some of his air supply.  Sweet Ellie.

Christmas, take four. ..

Finally.  Christmas has come to a close.  Round 4 is over.  Hands down, these were the funniest pictures I’ve ever taken at Dustin’s parents’ house.  We had a ton of fun and again took the girls’ pajamas because we knew we wouldn’t get home until way past bedtime.  Playing Nerts was definitely the most hilarious part of the day, but then again, opening up more presents was the highlight for the girls.  Hope ya’ll enjoy and we’ll see you next year!

Oh yah, I’ve still got it!  I don’t want to start over again mind you, but I’ve still got it. . .after Tacie brought me Adyson’s blanket and told me exactly how to get her to sleep. . .I’ve still got it!

The pandamonium of Christmas.

And the Most Photogenic Couple of 2009 Award goes to. . .

“OMG!”

Emma and her apron from Aunt Katy.  I could say that Uncle Wes took part in buying this, but something tells me it was more Aunt Katy.

This was Adyson with all of her presents.

Uncle Wes teaching his niece Ellie how to block a punch.  I think next came how to take a punch in the face!

Ellie and her Uncle Wes.

Emma’s new earrings.

Someone (I think Katy drew his name) got Dustin a Harley-Davidson giftcard at Mema’s house on Christmas Eve.  Trae assumed it was from him and Tacie and started telling Dustin how Tacie felt awkward at first going in there.  After realizing he just told Dustin what they got him for Christmas in a few days, Tacie thought she’d fool Dustin by writing this on the card.

Papaw opening an Academy giftcard from us.  See Adyson eyeballing that giftcard?  We start them out young going to Academy.

The girls having fun with one of two 75′ of butcher paper Aunt Tacie bought them.  We didn’t break out the paints at Meme’s house but it did take a while to find all the paintbrushes Emma threw everywhere when she jumped up and down because she was so excited about the painting.  There was a hole in the package and paintbrushes went flying.

Dustin had no idea about the camera his parents got him.  Unlike myself, my husband loves surprises.

Trae and Tacie

Dustin wearing my new hat. . .at this moment, I’m so glad I didn’t get underwear!  I think you are too!

I know, you have no idea who got this for Adyson.

I got this at the Oklahoma City craft show back in October.  Startin’ them out young to look like biker kids!

My gun knowledge is very limited, so when I asked the question, “Is this a real gun?” only a few people laughed.  Katy didn’t know either.

Darrell’s new gun.

Wes’ ginormous hand holding Darrell’s new gun.

We love us some Hello Kitty.  I finally had to make Emma let me wash her hoodie because she wore it quite a few days in a row.

Ellie painfully watching Pas open up a present.

Ellie deciding to help Pas open his Christmas present.  The anticipation was killing her!

Trae and Adyson

Kristen and Shannon (Dustin’s cousins) came to Texas for Christmas and brought the girls a ton of Princess goodies.

Dr. Ellie’s Vet Office is now open.  The thought of giving an animal a (pretend) shot made Ellie so happy.  Again, why do we not do good with live, breathing animals?!?

Emma waiting for the doctor to call her back for Catty’s check up.  Ellie walked around all afternoon with her doctor’s coat and had decided early on in the day to put her pajama pants on.  I swear she looked like Hugh Hefner!

Is it a guitar???  Is it a fishing pole???  Okay, that last one is a stretch.

Ohhh wait, this is Dustin’s family we’re talking about. . .it’s a gun case.

Poor Adyson.  Paying her dues early on as the little cousin and being dragged around the livingroom in a box.  At least she’s smiling!

This is exactly why we have that talk before Christmas and in the car before going to someone’s house to open presents.  “Emma, what do you do if you get a present you already have or don’t know what it is?”  Emma responds with, “Say, ‘Thank you very much.’ and then ask Mama about it later.”  Apparently she didn’t listen too well.  I just love her facial expression.

Ohhh now she gets why she got staples.  She got her very own stapler.  This is such a better face.

Ellie listened a little more than Emma and that’s why she’s like, “yeah, tape?”  Then she found her stapler and all was right with the world.  Their stockings (as well as all four rounds of Christmas) were craft related.

Katy and Wes

Trae and Dustin got gun holsters (I know, total shocker) in their stockings.

Yep, that’s them drawing their pretend guns.

Gun powder was in Darrell’s stocking.

Meme’s stocking had a gun pouch in it.

And this is where the Nerts game started and you got to see everyone’s competitive side.

Katy won that hand.  Dustin won’t get in her way again!

Everyone had to do their serious face aka their poker face.  This is Tacie’s first attempt.

Here’s her second.

Meme’s serious face. . .remember, she’s got a gun pouch.

Wes’ first attempt at a serious face.

Wes looking like he is posing for a statue built in his honor.

Now we’re getting the seriousness.

Emma, while eating a cookie, is doing her serious face. . .or pooping, I’m not sure.

Shannon’s face. . .or she just smelt Emma’s poop.

“You want some of this?”

This is actally Ellie’s “show me your muscles” pose.  Her serious face and muscle face are both the same.

Seriously, would you mess with this guy?  Drinking a beer and wearing an NRA shirt, would you really mess with my father-in-law??

I’m totally about to laugh because I have no poker face.  If I get a pair of queens, I just start smiling and then Dustin looks and me and shakes his head in dissapointment.

Wes was the score keeper of Nerts.  No calculator, adding and subtracting positive and negative numbers. . .he and Katy are the big winners. . .yah, I’m thinking he cheated too. . .I’m also a sore loser and hope my girls don’t inherite that lovely trait!

How many times did we “pretend” we were burning ourselves with the fake candle flame???  The best is when Darrell put his tongue over it and it looked like the flame was burning through his tongue. . .best Christmas ever!