1st Easter Egg Hunt

We got the funnest offer to go to an Easter Party with our Big Girl Cousins Peyton & Maddie & couldn't wait for the Play Date to get here! Their Mom, My cousin, Ginny asked us along with a few other Moms & Kids to her In-Law's Back Yard for a fun Easter Egg Hunt/Picnic.

Sophie couldn't wait to get the dress-up jewelry on. She sashayed all around that backyard with old costume jewelry the whole time.

While the other Mommas were hiding the eggs, we came inside for a little craft time.

Once the eggs were hidden, they were off!!

Considering this was the first time the girls were at an oficial Easter Egg Hunt, they did great!

They stuck together in the beginning.

Izzy wasn't as sure of herself as Sophie was.

I'm not saying Sophia was aggressive or anything, but I may or may not have seen her throw an elbow or two {wink, wink} to get some stray eggs that had fallen in to the Monkey Grass. Then Sophie went all rogue on us & crawled into an azalea bush to get a lonely little orange egg.

It was full of "gowd phish," Momma!!

Then they ate as much candy from the eggs.

As much as they could.

Before Momma put the camera away.

Is it a Pistol or Revolver?

I'm sure if you ask my weapon wielding brother, he'd tell you the correct name for this here toy gun. {Smile Josh, you're on the Internet!!}

Regardless of what the proper term used for this toy, I'd like to tell it a few things:


Dear Annoying Toy Gun,
You annoy me. Really annoy me.

I hate your popping sound.

It grates on my nerves so bad I want to throw you through a window.

Too many times to count, ALL.THREE.OF.MY.CHILDREN have gotten their fingers smashed in the hammer. Oh, the howling that ensued - and that was from the 5 year old!

I won't even tell of the times you have fired & woken up my two-year-olds EARLY from their afternoon nap!

I can appreciate that you bring immeasurable joy to countless children. I know that boys {and girls, alike} have pretended to be Old West Cowboys hunting down train robbers for years & years with you on their hips. I understand that you are used on a daily basis around the world to shoot imaginary bad guys.

However, I think you understand that I must do what I have to do.

I'm sure that you feel that I am doing the unthinkable.

It is a Child's worst nightmare.

However, You must go in the trash.

Not just the trash can, but under something big in the trash can.

You know, so that when one of the kids opens it to throw something away, they can't yell out, "HEY! This isn't supposed to be in the trash!!"

You're going down, Mr. Annoying Toy Gun!

Other than snapping my finger your hammer, there's nothing you can do about it either!!

Well, maybe I'll just give you away to St. Vincent de Paul.....

God Made Dirt

....and clearly, dirt don't hurt....

We have Two-2-Year-Olds

I sit here with very little to say about our Girls turning Two Years Old.

I am still trying to process where our time has gone.

Two Years

24 Months

104 Weeks

730 Days

In that time

they have become

walking,

talking,

running,

talking back,

sassy-frassy,

bow wearing,

smarter-than-smart,

cuddly,

snuggly,

sqeeling,

giggling,

fussing,

strutting,

sashaying,

barbie loving,

coloring,

movie-watching,

swinging, sliding,

zoo-walking,

tractor-riding,

book-reading,

flower-picken'

TWO-YEAR-OLDS.

What am I gonna do with them?!?

Check Two off the Bucket List

I'm sure if you ask most people my age, they've got a long list of things to accomplish in life; a Bucket List, if you will.

Say for example, skydiving, seeing a Beatle in person {check one for me}, climbing a mountain, seeing their children grow up & successful, etc, etc, blah, blah....

Those are all good for me, who doesn't want to raise successful children? Who wouldn't want to climb a mountain? Those are all fabulous aspirations. Fabulous.

My aspirations, You ask? Oh, well.

I'd just love to make it through the day with out spilling a bowl of rice & gravy on the floor.

I'd love to make it through the week without having to vacuum my house more than three times.

I think it'd be FABULOUS to make it once in one hour without yelling about the most ridiculous things that shouldn't mean a hill of beans in the long run.

Because, seriously, this time is gonna pass before I know it.

This time of messiness & chaos are going to be replaced with quietness & teenage hormones.

At that time I will wish I had more time to kneel on the floor next to them while they let me wipe their faces clean from the millions of oreos they just gobbled 1 hour before supper time.

sigh...

Actually, the ones I need to check off the bucket list today are:

Number 1. Having an MRI. Not just any old MRI but a Brain Contrast MRI. What is a Brain Contrast MRI, you ask? Well, if you do what I did & Googled it the night before, you might find side affects as such:
nausea, vomiting, dizziness, fainting, not to mention, the shot of dye they put in your arm midway through the testing phase.

"HaHa!! Finished? Not yet, Hon. You're only half-way done. We've still gotta put the dye in your arm & push you BACK in that there mind numbing tunnel you just hyperventilated in."

Which brings me to

Bucket List

Number 2. Hyperventilating in aforementioned MRI Test.
Yes folks. It happened. In the 90 second prep-time before the sweetest nurse in the world pushed me into what I thought was gonna be the tunnel-of-death, my heart started beating fast.
Really fast.

I thought I had it all together. I thought I did. She gave me this bulb thingy to squeeze if "I needed her" & "we can talk through intercom."

Whatever, I giggled.

I closed my eyes when she began pushing me in. I didn't open them until I felt the bed stop & there.I.was. My face about three inches away from the tunnel. Oh yeah, there was a plastic type mask over my face that was in between me & the three inches of the tunnel.

Yep.

I squeezed the bulb that I had just giggled at. I squeezed it four more times.

Intercom: How ya doin', Hon?

Me: Um, can I have a minute?

Intercom: Do you want me to pull you out?

Me: Yes, um, FAST.

Intercom: I'm coming.

Me {trying not to rip that mask off as I come out into fresh air}: I'm really sorry. This is happening all so fast. I mean, I just have headaches. I feel fine. Do I really have to do this?

Intercom Nurse: {patting my shoulder, handing me a tissue} Well, you don't have to do anything you don't want to but wouldn't you like to know what could be causing your headaches? It's going to be okay. {handing me another tissue} It'll only take about 25 minutes & I'll talk to you the entire way through.

Me: sniff, sniff, okay, I'm good. I'll be fine now. Thanks for the tissue.

Truly, after the meltdown, even through the clicking & loud knocking noises the machine makes, that was the best quiet time I've had in the last few weeks.

Seriously, I'll NEVER google a procedure again.

Well, at least not the night before.

Just for worries sake, even though no one reads this besides my family {and you all know the test results already} all the tests came back negative for anything wrong with my head.

MRI's don't show lack of sanity due to two-year-old-twins.

p.s. as they were pulling me out of the tunnel for the dye shot, I apologized for "earlier" and another nurse walked in giggling, "don't worry, EVERYONE cries."

Whatever.

Ice Cream Season

This isn't the 1st time the girls have had ice cream.

But it's the 1st time their neurotic mother let them eat

Their.

Very.

Own.

Cone.

No One told them to share.

Most days it just comes natural.

As natural as eating ice cream cones.

From McDonald's.

No One told Sophie the cone is eaten last.

As with most things, she made her own way.

And then left the mess for Momma.