Logan’s Birthday

Finally!  I just downloaded 221 pictures onto my computer, including all of the pictures from Logan’s birthday.  There are some real gems!

The day started with presents.  Under the watchful eye of his older brother, he tore right into the goodies.

Later that day, Logan helped me bake his cake.  And by helped, I mean he went to town licking the beaters and the bowl.

Late that afternoon, Logan and Connor decided they wanted to have a water day. That’s the kind of thing you can do in Houston on March 22.

Only it really wasn’t that warm on March 22, which you can see on Connor’s face in this picture. This was pretty much the end of water day.

I little birthday drama…I think he bumped his head on the table while jumping and spazzing around about the prospect of cake. Poor kid.

It was a short lived moment of distress. Finally it was time to blow out the candles!

And time for a little brotherly love. I love this picture so much.

All in all, it was a great day!

I accidentally chopped my hair off

It started out innocently enough.  For the past few weeks, I’ve been meaning to make a hair appointment, but as any mother knows, something like getting a haircut is a luxury that is often hard to come by.  Friday morning I decided that I would just bite the bullet and take Logan and Camryn with me.  So I called a new place, a place where several women from my church go, and I made an appointment for later that morning.  Since all I wanted was a simple trim and for the front to not be so much longer than the back, I just figured I didn’t need to be picky about who did it.  Raphael was the winner since he had appointments open at 10:30, 11:00, 11:30, 1:00, 1:30…hmmm…maybe that should have been a red flag…

My lovely children and I arrive promptly, and I tell Raphael what I would like.  After my hair is washed, Raph starts cutting.  He starts at the back, and I settle down in my chair, smiling at my good fortune.  A spontaneous, same day appointment, and children who are behaving good as gold?  It’s too good to be true!

Raphael move around to the side of my hair and I start to get the feeling that something isn’t quite right.  Instead of pulling my hair up and cutting it in sections from the top, he pulls all of my hair flat against my neck and trims the bottom.  And he does it again…and again…and again…moves around to the other side and continues to cut only the bottom of my hair.  At this point I figure he’s just getting started and the shaping will come next.  Nope, not so much.  He goes all the way around my head, bluntly cuts a few whispy bangs, and hands me my bill.  I’m a little bewildered at his technique, but I decide to wait until I get home to pass judgement.

I get home, dry it, and flat iron it.  You know you’ve gotten a bad haircut when you have to pull out your own shears to cut the hairs that are 2 inches longer than all the rest.  My hair looked like a square mushroom.  I don’t know how to describe it except that it was uneven, blunt, and I am absolutely certain that Derek could have done my hair as well as Raphael did.  I tried to get a picture of it, but it really doesn’t do it justice.  Maybe you can tell how uneven and unshaped the ends are, and it certainly lacks that “I just got a professional haircut” oomph.

So I did something I’ve never done before.  I called the salon back and asked for a do-over.  “Sure dear,” the receptionist said.  “When you come back, just tell Raphael exactly what you want and he’ll do it for you.” Uh, thanks, but no thanks.  The problem is I DID tell him what I want, and he didn’t seem to understand the need for cutting my hair in sections, or even cutting all my hair for that matter.

So I filed the whole Raphael experience away in the “lesson learned” category and called another place.  It’s got a good reputation, and even though it would be another new person, it really couldn’t be worse.  Plus I couldn’t even get an appointment until late Saturday afternoon, which is a step up from Raphael.

At hair appointment number 2, Peggy informs me that in order to really get the mess cleaned up, she may have to take a little length off.  Okay, I’m fine with that.  Just make me cute again.  She cuts and cuts and cuts some more.  I’m thinking it’s awfully short, but again, I’ll wait until it’s all said and done to pass judgement.  She drys and flat irons and sprays and fluffs and spins my chair around to reveal this:

Don’t let that big smile fool you.  I was freaking out on the inside.  I do think I’m going to like it, and it’s only hair…it will grow…but I was just not prepared for such a drastic change.  It’s a good thing that today was Sunday, so I got up and fixed it for church.  All the sweet ladies made me feel better about it.

So that, my friends, is the story of how I accidentally cut my hair off.  Derek will argue that it was not an accident, and maybe it wasn’t in the truest sense of the word.  Whatever.  It’s an accident in my book.

Insanity, I tell ya!

So you know how last week I went to Arlington so the kids could be out of the way while our new tile floor was installed?  Let me tell you about what’s been going on since then.  We got home on Wednesday night.  By Friday afternoon, we had a new kitchen floor, a new bathroom floor, and a new fireplace.  They all look amazing!  So amazing that our yucky 14 year old baseboards look terrible.  So we asked our guys about painting baseboards.  And if we’re going to to that, we should probably go ahead and have them paint the door frames….and the chair rails…and the built in bookshelves…and the window sills…and the bathroom cabinets…and the dining room…and the hallway…and…well, that’s it.  Oh, and what about getting a new roof?  Since it’s the Week of Home Improvements, a new roof would fit right in to the schedule.  Two roofing crews showed up bright and early Monday morning and did the entire thing in one day.  Good thing, too, since it rained Tuesday and today.

The bottom line is my house is a chaotic, crazy mess.  Well, maybe it’s not that different than normal.  It just smells a little more fumey.

They should be done painting on Friday, and hopefully in between soccer pictures, Logan’s birthday party, and another birthday party I’ll have time to get things put back together and post some pictures.  It’s so shiny and pretty and I love my floors and fireplace, and I love home improvements.  And now that I’ve tasted the sweet nectar of someone else doing all the work…well, let’s just say it might be a little harder to ever go back to doing these sorts of projects myself.

My Middle (and I don’t mean my belly.)

My middle baby turned 4 years old today.  In fact, at this exact moment 4 years ago, I was 45 minutes away from meeting my second son.  I was deep in the throws of epidural bliss.  I had no idea that I was quickly going from a 5 to 10 and that I would be pushing soon.  I remember getting all situated and flipping the channel to watch Oprah only to feel the pressure.  It only took a few minutes of pushing before we welcomed sweet Logan Bennett into the world.  What a great 4 years it’s been!

He is such a joy.  All of my children bring me joy in different ways, but Logan’s exerburance and zest for life is absolutely contagious.  He is seriously hilarious and keeps me laughing all the time.  He doesn’t just walk through life or watch from the sidelines, he runs and plunges in head first.  He is in constant motion from the moment he wakes up until the moment he goes to bed.  He is fearless.

He is such a dichotemy.  He is all boy in the way he plays and the way he acts, but he is also the sweetest, most affectionate little love bug.  He doesn’t necessarly want to cuddle…oh no, that would require that he be still for a period of time.  But he is full of hugs and kisses.  Good-byes take awhile with him because he has to give a hug and then a kiss.  And then a running, leaping, knock down hug, and then another kiss somewhere random like the elbow.  And then he needs to blow several kisses and catch several back.  Finally, he has to come out to the car for one last hug and kiss and then wave and blow kisses from the end of the driveway until the car is out of sight.  He’s got a very similar routine at bedtime.  He gives and recieves no less than 10 hugs and kisses every single night.

Happy Birthday, my sweet Logie B!  It is an honor and a joy to be your mother.  I thank God every day for you, and I pray that you always keep your joy, your sweet spirit, and that you grow in His image and always love Him wholeheartedly.  You are the greatest middle boy I could ever ask for.

Now slow down on the growing, okay?  It’s just going by way too fast!

P.S. All of the amazing pictures in this post were taken by Cindi.  She is the best!
P.P.S. Logan wants pancakes for his birthday dinner. Love his choice.

Chubby arms in cute little tank tops

Back in high school and college, I had a tank top obsession.  I think it started because (and I’m not trying to be all hoity or anything), I just liked my arms.  A tank top and a pair of jeans was my standard uniform.  I always liked my arms better than my legs.  That’s not so much true anymore…in fact, I’d rather not show my arms or legs, but that’s neither here nor there.   Back in the day when I was playing volleyball all the time, when I could bench pressed 85 pounds (is that even a lot?  I clearly remember thinking that I was big time when I benched 85 pounds), back in the days when I thought I was a bit chubby at 5’9, 140 pounds, and a size 6,  I wore a lot of tank tops.  I loved my tank tops.  I had the hardest time purging any of those tanks, because every single one of them had a story that went along with it.  If there was ever an article of clothing I was attached to, it was tank tops.

I still love tank tops, although they aren’t quite my standard uniform like they were 10 years ago.  But this summer, tanks will be the standard uniform for the new lady of the house. When I put this outfit on her this morning, I literally squealed with delight and munched all over her baby arms.

She’s already got quite the collection, and I get a little giddy every time I open her closet and see them all lined up in a row.

**I am going to interupt myself to say that this is totally not what I had planned for this blog.  Sometimes I sit down to blog one thing, and then something totally different comes out.  I had no intention of writing about my tank top obsession.  I was just going to blog these cute and silly pictures with little captions.  I think it’s getting late.  I get a little wordy and delirious when it’s late.  I will now continue with my blog as I originally intended it.**

This is one of Camryn’s favorite faces to make.  I say it’s her fave because she makes it all the time.  I introduce to you the scrunchy little nose face.

I have no idea what to call this face.  I go back and forth between thinking it’s sort of cute and being totally creeped out by that eye.

He loves her so much.  It’s so amazingly adorable that it makes me want to have like 10 more kids right this very second.

But she wasn’t really thinking it was so cute tonight.  Sometimes a girl just needs her space. 

And sometimes a girl just wishes her mom would put the camera away and feed her already.  The frustration was building.

And then she was serious about it.  I’m not even kidding, mom. Not. Even. Kidding.

So I swooped her up and kissed all over her cubby little arms.

While we are gone

Saturday morning, the kids and I loaded up the party van and headed to my parent’s house.  Derek stayed behind because, for one thing, he works in the real world where there are no spring breaks.  But the main reason is because we are getting our kitchen floors redone!

Here is what out kitchen looked like last week:


The wood floors look pretty from a distance, but trust me, they were a mess.  Especially by the back door.  Water blew in during the hurricane and left a nice, 3 foot wide area of warped wood.  When we first bought the house, I loved the wood floors.  But, it didn’t take long to realize how impractical wood floors are in a kitchen.  They are scratched, water damaged, and I feel like they were never really clean because of the special wood cleaners I always used. I’m sure the not clean feeling had nothing to do with the fact that I loathe mopping.  It’s a good thing the floors were brown so the dirt can just blend right in.

All that is to say we are getting tile in the kitchen.

We decided that we should also have them take out the carpet in the master bathroom and put in tile.  I mean seriously, carpet in a bathroom, especially one used by children and a cat, is just not a good idea. All they have done so far is rip up the carpet, so there is not much to show except this.

At first glance you might be wondering what you are looking at.  I know I was.  That is the side of our bathtub.  And that forest green and maroon stuff is the wallpaper they found behind the trim.  Our house was built in 1994 at the height of the forest green craze.  It was everywhere: the master bath, the other bathroom, the kitchen backsplash, and the fireplace.

Which leads me to the final project of the week.  Bye bye, forest green fireplace!  I will not miss you at all.


Preface…please excuse any typos.  and i wish you could see me typing right now.  i just sliced my finger up real good.  darn my domestic endeavors.  i decided to make my man a good saturday night dinner instead of making him scrounge for leftovers and i sliced my finger open in the process.  the boys thought it was cool.  and jusy to prove to you that i am making a lot of ytped, i did noy vackspace any of thid dentenvr. (I did not backspace any of this sentence.)

so connor has reached an age where he is picky about clothes.  who am i kidding…the kid has been dressing himself and opinionated about clothes since he was 3.  after a few purchases that got a big fat thumbs down, i decided to ask him what he does like to wear.

“Connor, what kind of pictures do you like on your shirts?”
“Um, anything with wheels and feet.”
“Wheels and feet?”
“Yeah. Like cars. or wheels. or a picture of feet. Or maybe like a picture of a man running.”
“And what colors do you like?”
“Just all of them. Well, not pink. And not purple. And not light green because when I look at light green, it makes me feel a little funny inside.”


Tonight for dinner, Connor ate 5 eggs.  Yes, you read that right.  Five eggs.  That was in addition to two pieces of toast, a fruit cup, and a glass of chocolate milk.  It is seriously insane how much he is eating!  I’ve decided that instead of saving for college for the kids, I need to start investing so I can afford groceries when the boys are teenagers.  Logan wasn’t too far behind C, putting away 3 eggs, 2 pieces of toast, and a fruit cup.

Connor and his eggs tonight reminded me of the time that he drank cup after cup after cup of ice water at bedtime.  I genuinely thought he was dehydrated, so I kept giving it to him.  It wasn’t until he excreted all 48 ounces of water at once all over his bedroom floor that he shared his real reason for drinking so much water.  “I wanted to have a stomach as big as Santa Claus’.” he told me.

I thought maybe he was going for a crazy egg eating record tonight, but now, 2 hours later, it seems he was truly that hungry.  For that I am thankful.  I have a feeling that cleaning up the after effects of an egg eating fest would have inducted me into a parenting Hall of Fame that I have no interest in joining.  The mere thought of all those eggs (runny, fried eggs, I might add) makes me shudder.