Being A Mom Is...

...hard.

And it's not always fun. *gasp!* She say whaaaat?! It's not. It's exhausting. It's emotionally, physically, and mentally draining. There are good days. There are bad days. It's not always (hardly ever) easy. But...

It.

Is.

Always.

Worth.

It.

Always.

I can't tell you how many times I've picked up handfuls, nay, armfuls of poop out of the tub. And folks, they're not always solid. I've never seen someone so afraid of something as Harper is of poop.

I've been baptized in bucket loads of vomit...not the cute baby spit-up kind (that's actually not cute)...but the stringy, chunky toddler puke. I can handle poop. Vomit and I aren't on the best of terms.

I've been bitten, scratched, pinched, hit, choked. I've been kicked in the chest, throat, stomach, and crotchal area countless times while changing diapers. My body has been pulverized by four arms and four legs and possibly more...I think they grow limbs when we wrestle on the floor.

Some days, I've been useful only as a "Mama horsey" who totes her ginormous kids around on her back like a beast of burden, knees crunching on the floors.

I've been given the evil eye. I've had them roll their eyes at me and huff away and whisper about me. It hurts.

If they get the slightest runny nose, it morphs into a full-out epidemic and for at least a week, we're up every 2-3 hours during the night and I'm holding them all throughout the day. Their nursery looks like a hospital room with all the humidifiers and Vicks Vaporizers and cups of water and snot suckers and medicine syringes.

When they're not sick, it's always a surprise whether they're going to take a nap or not. I'll look at them and think..."Take a nap. Just take a nap. It's fun for everybody. Take. A. Nap. Why won't you take a nap?? WHY?! TAKE A NAP! TAKE A NAAAAAAAP!!!!!!!!! When you get in college, you'll realize just how important a nap really is and you'll treasure them. YOU'RE WASTING YOUR NAPS. YOU'RE JUST THROWING THEM AWAY! FOR THE LOVE, TAKE A FREAKING NAP!!!!!" And then I remember that exact same conversation with my mom when I was about 4. And I did treasure naps in college.

Getting them to eat a meal is like trying to get Congress to pass a bill. It's purt near impossible. Every now and then, they'll eat great. But, it's like I'm the 300 Spartans and the twins are the Persian army. Sure, I hold them off and win, but it's a battle and I'm beaten and bruised at the end of it. There's only one of me and like 700,000 of them. And I think..."Eat. Just eat. Why won't you eat? I haven't eaten since yesterday at 5:30 p.m. I don't understand why you won't eat. I'm trying to keep you alive!! EAT!! FOR THE LOVE, EAT!!!!!!!!"

And when I finally DO get to eat, I have to snarf it down so fast because inevitably that's the time when they need me the most and the world is ending. It's weird how it works out like that. You know in A Christmas Story, the narrator says that his mom hasn't had a warm meal to herself in like 13 years. I haven't had a non-soggy bowl of cereal in 2 years. Not quite the same, I know. But, I just want to eat ONE BOWL OF CEREAL in peace. Just one.

They try to tell me things all the time and some of it is understandable, but sometimes they get really frustrated and I'm trying to work and they just repeat it over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...see how annoying that is? And they're like, "Mama! Schwazoo mekah schwazoo mekah schwazoo mekah schwazoo mekah." I finally give in and look at them, "What? What do you want?"

"Schwazoo mekah."

"What does that mean?"

"Schwazoo mekah."

"Why can't you speak English? Two years should be enough time to learn it."

"Schwazoo mekah."

"Okay, the stray cat has a better grasp of the language."

"Schwazoo mekah."

"I can't help you. I'm sorry."

"SCHWAZOO MEKAH!! Water?"

"You want some water?"

"Yes, please."

"WHAT THE HECK?! Why all the 'schwazoo mekah' stuff?"

"Hehe." (mirthfully running away)

When we hear the keys jingle in the door knob, we know Daddy's home! And the three of us push each other and throw punches to try to get to him first. DADDY! SOMEONE NEW!

Most days, I look like I could walk right onto the set of The Walking Dead and nobody would know I wasn't an extra or that I didn't have any special effects make-up on.

During the week, we make "big plans" for the weekend, like hiring a sitter, getting dressed up, and hitting the town! Come Friday, we look at each other and say, "Let's just stay home, order Chinese take-out, and Redbox something." (It ends up being more fun and restful than going out anyway.)

But all of that stuff is far outweighed by the joys and rewards that come with motherhood. When they are sick, and David and I take turns holding them through the night, I'll lay on the couch in their room, feeling the weight of whoever I have against my chest and in my arms. I can feel her back raising and lowering with each breath. When she gets on the verge of a deep sleep, her breaths slow down, and she starts twitching. Her feet, her hands, her arms, her shoulders. And I try not to wake her as my body shudders with giggles. David does the exact same thing. He would kill me if he knew I told y'all this, so don't say anything. When he's getting into a deep sleep, he'll start twitching and I'll laugh to myself. And I love that his daughters do it, too.

When I paint my fingernails and toenails, they'll ask me to paint their "feegahs and piggies." And they'll run and show David how pretty their nails look.

When we brush their teeth, they'll lean over the sink and give the most pitiful, but cutest excuse for a spit. They want to be grown up so badly. They like to cook and feed me. They like to brush their babies' bald heads and sing to them. I taught them to make the dinosaur eat the cows and make a crunching sound and I'm so proud they stuck with that because it freaks people out.

Before we had the girls, you would hear people say their kid(s) did something funny and they were just dying laughing. And I would always think, "Yeah, I'm sure it was pretty cute, but how funny can a kid really be?" Oh...pretty stinking funny, let me tell you. I just laughed because Piper Lee came running to the gate and said, "Maaa-(buuuuuurp)-ma!" and then ran away. They're completely ridiculous. David and I will be in stitches just sitting in the chairs watching them at the end of the day. Jumping on the trampoline with them in the afternoon has gotten to be one of my favorite things ever to do. I will have tears streaming down my face.

I feel like having kids has made David and I grow even closer. Not just because we share genetic make-up with two other humans, but because we have a common adversary. A common mountain to conquer. A common goal: Survive parenthood. I'm glad he's in it with me.

But, those baby girls make us so happy.

Despite all of the up-all-nights and cranky days and napless afternoons and having to learn to understand an alien language, kids are the greatest things. God called us to have kids and He's never failed at giving us the energy and mental capacity to make it through the day. Sometimes, it's just baaaaaarely enough, but it's always there.

And I know the exhaustion is just a phase and soon, they'll be in elementary school and I'll miss them terribly during the day. And then they'll be in middle school and too cool to hug me in front of their friends. And then high school when we're fighting all the time and I'm grounding them from their holographic games and hover craft. And then they'll head to college and we'll be like WOO HOOOO!!!! Except we'll really really miss them and look through baby pictures and not even think once about or even remember the "hard" days.

And it makes me appreciate my own mom even more. She put up with a lot of crap. And would say stuff like, "You'll understand when you're a mom." And I'd always think, "Yeah, okay, crazy lady." She was so right. Mom, zip it. I just admitted you were right, no need to rub it in. I know you're smirking. And thank you for letting the four of us live. And I'm sorry the other three kids weren't as perfect as me. I know that made it harder on you.

Being a mom is hard. But it's so worth it.

Little Manipulators

As the girls get older, they get wiser and more devious. I was expecting that to happen, but I wasn't expecting them to manipulate David and me the way they do. But, I'm catching onto it. At least I hope I am. It could be a long con. Oh man...I hadn't thought about that.

For example, during any meal, mainly supper, we'll most likely put something in front of them they're not going to want to eat (i.e. everything). So, we'll offer them a bite of chicken, like, "Here, let's take a bite. You'll like it."

"Ooooh, no...thirsty. Uh...milk! Water! Juice! Milk! Thirsty!"

So, we'll offer them a drink of something. They'll take a big swig. Then, we'll go back to the chicken.

"Ooooh, no! Thirsty! More milk!"

Geez, are they fish? Another sip. Another chicken attempt.

"MILK!!!"

Another sip. By this point, their eyeballs are swimming in milk. They'll hold the cup to their lips, not drinking, but just blocking the entrance to their mouths. You're not really thirsty, you little fakers! You just don't want chicken. They still try that, but we're totally aware of the gig.

Another thing they do during the day is try to take toys from each other. Most toys, we have two of, but there are a few things that we just have one of and those are the prize items. Not because they're awesome toys, but because there's just one and it's more valuable because of it. So, someone will be playing with it and the other someone will want it. This is something really only Harper does. I'll hear this blood-curling scream and from the living room comes running Harper, crying and holding her head. She's blubbering, "Pi bite Sissy. Ouch! Oh, ear! Pi bite ear!" Well, an ear is a strange thing to bite when a hand is much more accessible and convenient. But, I'll go into the living room and see Piper Lee minding her own business, playing with the toy. I'll assume that Harper was bitten by Piper as a means to take the toy from her. I'll give the toy back to Harper. The end.

Not so much. I noticed Harper doing this more and more and I'd ask where Piper bit her and she'd hold her right ear. I'd set her down, we'd go to have a talk with Piper and I said, "Show me where Piper bit you," and she'd hold her left ear. I thought that was strange. She did the same things with the fingers or feet or knees that Piper had bitten. It was as thought she was FAKING.

One day, I happened to see the series of events. Piper Lee is playing so peacefully by herself and Harper obviously wants whatever she has. She tries to take it, but PL (the quiet but scary one) growls and snatches it back. Harper grabs her head in extreme pain and runs to me. Ohhh, my sweet child...I figured you out.

One of the most hurtful things they do is ask to go outside to jump. We put on our shoes and jackets and head out. I toss them up on the trampoline and zip up the enclosure. "No! Mama jump!" They unzip the door (yes, they figured out how to do that, sigh), reach for me, and pull me up. It just melts my heart that my children want me to play with them. I'll jump a little just to give a slight bounce and they'll run back to the opening and say, "Off, off!" Girls, we just got up here! But, I'll lower them safely to the ground and right as I'm about to step off, too, they'll say, "No, Mama jump! Zip. Up." Those little punks want me to zip myself back up in the trampoline. It crushes me. But I'll jump and get up really high and then they'll want back on. Uh, huh. It's a lot more fun when you have someone heavier on there with you, isn't it?

Sometimes I use their powers of persuasion to my advantage. Like, "Hey girls, go give Daddy a kiss...and ask him to make me some hot chocolate."

"Daddy! (kiss) Mama! Chocolate!"

Love those kids.

The Stories...Edition 2

This story comes to us from an "Anonymous" contributor. But, you might could guess who it is. And I would say she is a lucky, lucky gal...having given birth to such a beautiful baby girl...a marvel really. The world is better for it.

when i was giving birth to my second daughter, i was in the hospital for 4 days prior to her birth, being induced, because my blood pressure was high. it was late august/early september in the deep south and you know how hot that can be. i was miserable being in semi-labor every day but not progressing fast. finally, on september first, she was ready to enter the world. would you believe that about 30 minutes prior to them taking me to the delivery room, the power went out in the hospital. even though the hospital had a back-up generator for essential functions, the air conditioning was not one of those functions. it was easily 100 degrees in the hospital, i had been in labor for 4 days (induced labor which is very painful), and i had to transfer from my hospital bed to a stretcher (this was in the old days). neither the bed nor the stretcher could be electrically raised because there was no power so i had to physically get on the stretcher myself while in lots and lots of pain, hungry and with sweat literally dripping off my entire body. finally, i make it onto the stretcher and as they are wheeling me out of the room, the nurses hit the door frame with my stretcher and almost throw me to the floor. at that point i yelled out...OH ****....only to look up and see my pastor standing right there looking at me. he never said a word to me about that outburst and never brought it up again:)

This next submission is also from an "Anonymous" contributor...what is up with the anonymity? It's like you don't want people to know you pooped your pants. This was also the story David picked as the winner of the giveaway.

Several years ago, my whole family took a trip to Disney World. While at Epcot, we ate at the restaurant in Paris. The meal was delicious! Roast chicken and onion soup :) Half way through the meal, my daughter got really sleepy, so I held her in my lap while I continued to eat. Then I felt a warm sensation run down my leg. My child had peed not on herself so much, but all over my white capri pants. Great. I went to the restroom to try and clean up and that’s when it happened. Stomach cramp. Uh oh. Not good. Maybe roast chicken and onion soup in 90º weather is not such a good idea? There are no empty stalls and I am about to, well ... go. Finally a stall! I run inside take care of business (first properly lining the seat with a proective covering). Ahhhh, relief. I’ll deal with the pee soaked pants later. As I finish up, I go to flush and notice the paper seat cover is stuck to my rear. But there’s more than paper suck to it. At that point it was too late. The poo paper had gotten all over the back of my pants. So now I have my daughter’s pee and my poo all over my clothing. I thought surely someone in my family would come check on me soon. It felt like I had been in there for hours, but I couldn’t leave the stall. I removed my pants sat back down and cried. A grown woman. Stuck in a stall. Pantless. Bawling. Finally, my mother came in to check on me. I burst into tears and told her I needed new pants. Just go, I’ll be here waiting. And I did wait, about another hour for her to return with $70 pants (hey - Disney aint cheap). I cleaned myself up, put on horribly expensive and ugly capris, regained the small amount of dignity I had left, and walked out of the bathroom with my held held high. My family was outside of the restaurant trying to contain their laughter. As I walked past all I said was, “not one word. not ONE word.”

This story comes from Courtney over at The Life and Times of Me. Of all the things in all the world in front of any particular age group...you picked it good, girl. I'm trying to think of how you would recover from this. Bless you. Heh heh rocket ship.

Once I was teaching youth for Patrick because he had to study for a test or something along those lines. I don't even remember what the lesson was about, but I was trying to say the words "rocket ship" only it came out "rocket s***t" in front of a room full of 13-17 year olds. They thought it was hilarious. I turned 27 shades of red.

This one is from my sweet super stylish Amberoo, a.k.a. The Pink Pixi! She has made me spend way too much at Sephora with all of her recommendations. Okay, the running theme of the Dr. Peppers was awesome. Whatever you do, SAVE THE DR. PEPPER! If only I had seen that stair incident. I'm just picturing it...over and over...I love you, girlie.

so...i think i normally block out my most embarrassing moments...or maybe i just don't get embarrassed?
but, when i was in college at auburn i took a philosophy class that i LOVED. but it was a super small class in a super small classroom. during this time in my life i carried a 20oz dr. pepper with me everywhere i went. naturally i would take a sip during class on occasion. however, i happen to have a spastic right hand. and one day as i was setting down my dr. pepper my hand spazzed and the bottle flew and landed right at the feet of the teacher. luckily he liked me...
that very same day leaving class in one of the busiest buildings on campus, which just so happened to have A LOT of stairs, i slipped and tumbled down the stairs in front of a crowd. never let go of that dr. pepper bottle though.
luckily i just think stuff like that is hysterical...

These next two are from Jenny at The Underside of the Universe. So many reasons I like Jenny. Her middle name is Ruth, for starters. That gets her points right there. She's also one of those people that has the most interesting and unusual stories. She's super crafty, too. I mean...awesome crafty. It makes me sick. You make me sick, Jenny Ruth. I can barely write in cursive.

I can't tell you how many times I've done the exact same thing as the following story. Maybe not the Marilyn Manson backpack incident, which is superb and David nearly lost it, but definitely done the thinking someone else is my husband. I've actually held another guy's hand before.

And this isn't the "best", but to make you feel better about your mom stories, this past summer, Stephen and I had just come out of seeing Thor at the movie theater at the Summit. We both had to go to the bathroom, so we went in our separate doors and said we would meet outside when finished. I came out and found Stephen reading something on his cell phone, so I went over to him and stood closely by him. And then I got really close so I could tell him something about a weird shirt someone was wearing--as in our heads were just a couple of inches away. One little move and I would've kissed him. Only to look up and see someone who looked nothing like Stephen. He also wasn't dressed like Stephen. What was I thinking. So I looked at the strange man and said, "You're totally not my husband." And immediately walked away to see Stephen come out of the bathroom. Face flushed and red, I hurried him away as fast as I could.

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When I was a senior in high school, I was president of the largest club in the school, and I would often make announcements over the intercom in the mornings concerning the service projects and such that our club was doing. I was also an athlete and very involved around the school. I wasn't "popular" but was very well known, and the whole school knew who it was when I was making morning announcements.

One morning, a lost backpack had ended up in the office. This was during the time when kids thought it was cool to "paint" or write on their backpacks with whiteout. This particular one had some artwork and the name "Marilyn Manson" very largely and boldly painted on the front. My announcement was at the end, and as I was finishing, the assistant principal asked me to announce that Marilyn Manson's book bag was in the front office. So, me having no clue who the heck Marilyn Manson was, did so. Over the entire school. During morning announcements. And everyone knew it was me who did it. As I cluelessly walked back down through the hallways, I could hear laughing and giggling coming from each homeroom. When the bell rang to go to 1st period, some friends came up to me laughing and talking about how awesome that was. "What do you mean? Why is everyone laughing?" Apparently the assistant principal and I were the only ones in the school who didn't know about Marilyn Manson, and that this person was neither a girl or a student at our school.

My blunder became classic fodder for laughs and was even featured in the student council Christmas assembly skit the next year--after I had graduated!

Here's one from Katy over at Monster Proof! I can't believe Robby is 8 months old. That's ridiculous. He was just born. What happened? Katy has a German Shepherd named Harper, which I adore, because my Harper is kind of like a German Shepherd. Less furry. But, she's pretty formidable on the outside and a big teddy bear on the inside. Katy, when I was reading David your story, I snorted from laughing while envisioning you hanging off the ski lift. Well, I've never been snow-skiing so my hat's off to you.

I have to choose ONE?!?!

My dad took my brother and I with him on a business trip to Switzerland when I was a junior in high school (torture, I know). We decided to go skiing, and while I wasn't that experienced, I thought, "Sure, I can handle the Alps."

Beyond the graceless actual attempts at skiing, I had never been on a T-Bar ski lift before. My father got on first, and made it all slanted, and I tried to load...and failed miserably. Shortly after it started moving, I slid down, and was hanging off of it by my hands, ultimately falling off about 1/2 way up. I had to take off my skis and walk all the way down the mountain as people shouted at me in German. The upside was I didn't know German, and had no clue what they were saying...

(Would the time I was skiing and ran into a picnic table have been better? I don't have much luck with the whole skiing thing...)

And the last one is from Jamie B. over at Jamie's Rabbits. Now, I've never met Jamie, but she knows my sister Sara somehow. And she also knows Erin and a few others. I need to find this connection. She's hilarious, though. I am so so so happy (and sad) that this happened on your first date ever. I know it wasn't awesome then, but gyah, it makes for a good story. I do that all the time in the theater. I have grabbed so many über personal body parts in the dark...accidentally, of course. People in the theater just need to know I'm gonna be crossing some personal boundaries.

First date - ever. So nervous...spend hours getting ready...struggle through dinner trying to be so cute and funny and so lovely that he would for sure want to ask me out again!

Finish dinner and go to a movie at the Summit (which was BRAND NEW at this time). It's a Saturday night, so the movie theater is packed and we are a little late. We walk across the front of this PACKED movie theater, wondering if we will even be able to find two seats together - except I don't walk. I slide on someone's spilled drink. I awkwardly manage to not fall by flailing my arms around and doing the running man. The packed theater laughs and some give me a standing ovation. Needless to say, I was so glad the movie theater was dark and I didn't have to talk.

The Stories

Here are the embarrassing stories...edition 1.

You guys, this is Emma's embarrassing story. Emma...that cracked me up. I laughed so hard at your story and your following comment. Thank you for submitting it anyways. :) I'm trying to decide whether I would have left the water park or kept on trucking. Hmmmmmm...I would have stayed. Every other person's got 'em. Also, Typhoon Lagoon at Disney had a similar bucket thing. Definitely will have to remember not to stand under it.

It was my freshman year of highschool, and my youth group decided to take a trip to Carowinds one summer night. We were sectioned off in groups, and I was with a few girls and a few guys. We were all walking around, and decided we wanted to go to the "kid's water park" part of the park. There was a giant bucket suspending at the top of a pole, and it was being filled up with water. When it gets full, it dumps the water onto whoever is standing under it. So naturally, me and a couple girl friends go and stand under it. I was wearing a tankini that was a little "loose" up top (if you know what I mean), and let's just say I was not expecting this: hard. water. pressure. The bucket fills up, and then pours the water on top of us. Well... my tankini was no match for that water pressure because the shoulder straps and top part CAME DOWN. At and amusement park. In front of men, women, and children. Bad thing is: I didn't know it. I was just relishing in how refreshing that water felt because it was so hot outside. It was a good 5-10 seconds (and when something like this happens, 5 seconds is an ETERNITY) before my friend looked at me, eyes bulged, and she started laughing so hard. Ummm, yeah. So. Embarrassing.

I will refrain from telling the story of when I was on a youth lake trip riding a water tube, when we hit a big wake, and well.... I'll save that one for another giveaway :)

And here is Laura Grace's story (David's younger sister). Girl, I had NO idea this happened. I'm trying to remember who Dr. Miller was. Either way, this was AMAZING. I wish I had known this earlier...think of the jokes we could have been making all these years. "Watch out, you guys! LG's reaching for something on the floor! No telling what she'll try to touch!"

It was an average day. College. American Lit. Dr. Miller. Ripped. Single (divorced). Walked the aisles as he taught.

Every day started with a quiz on the previous night's reading. "Number 1"...Crap. Already misspelled my name. What a way to start the day. As I erased what I'd written, I tried to scrape the eraser shavings off my paper. But alas! The paper flew off my desk! Me, always quick on my feet, or butt in this instance, ninja-ed my hand out to grab the paper mid-flight. But, my head had been down. Dr. Miller was coming down my lane....Let's just say my hand grabbed something that wasn't paper. Something that was below his waist and above his knees....

Speechless.

"Why Ms. Tinsley!, he exclaimed, "I haven't had this much action in a LONG time!!!" (And yes, he really, actually said this.)

Mor-ti-FIED.

This one makes me cringe so hard. And makes my heart hurt for the poor soul who endured it. And I honestly have no idea what that boy in your story was talking about. Don't worry about it. He's probably a hobo now. Or the guy that smell-tests air fresheners for cars, since he's apparently obsessed with smelling things. Oh, and yes, typing...I wish it had been an elective in school for us. Mom made us set an egg timer and type every day for not 10...not 20...but 30 minutes EVERY DAY. Well, every week day. Our fingers got a break on the weekends. However, I am grateful now because I can type 96 words per minute with 3 errors...BOOM! Beat that, Hugsy! Psh...I'll always be the best. Anonymous...we all cringe for you.

I bloomed early. Really early. As in my Aunt Flo came for the first time when I was 10 years old…the summer before I started sixth grade. In sixth grade (the first year in middle school) you had to take a sampling of each elective class so you’d know what to pick the following two years. EVERYONE had to do EVERYTHING…drama, fine art, practical art, chorus, typing (why was THAT an elective?), home ec, and shop. Like most kids, up to that point, I took a shower every night. Well, you know what it’s like when your Aunt visits. You’re a bit more oily and smelly. So we had done PE that day and the next class was shop. UGH. Hated that class. This nasty, mean boy was lined up behind me getting out the door and he proceeds to tell me LOUDLY that I smell like “period juice”. I have no idea if he meant it, but from that day on I ALWAYS took a shower every morning. Which also accounts for me using the highest rated deodorant I can, lotion every day, perfume every day, and even aerosol deodorant on my feet. I’m psycho, but you won’t smell me.

Phoebe Ball: Part 2

(So glad you liked the penguin party pictures! Thanks you guys!)

As many of you know, Phoebe Ball is one of my most favorite games. David's cousin Brittany taught us to play many many moons ago and it just gets awesomer and awesomer. If you didn't get to read the first Phoebe Ball post, including how to play the game, you can read it here.

It's such a great game. No score. No winners. I mean, let's be honest...nobody's a winner when they play this game. As you can see, Eric holds the record for "Creepiest Drawing Ever". But, you guys...I may have a new contender.

Over Christmas, me, Mom, David, Noah and Bryan sat down to play. Everybody else (cough cough Sara Dad Peter cough cough) was being lame. LAME-O. Whatevs. We don't need them. Normally, we stick to movies for the category. David hates that, but I'm in charge, so...the category was movies. I don't even remember who started this sequence of drawings. I think it was Noah. I didn't save the timeline. Think, Ruth, THINK! Regardless...the title of "Beauty and the Beast" came around to Bryan. And this is what he draws...

WHAAAAAAT?!?!?! IS?!??!?! THAT?!?!?!?!

It's horrifying! Is that a tail or a mutated arm thing with which the beast clubs its victims? The wiry, razor sharp grimace. I think it's smiling a little. The dead, lifeless eye.

I don't know which one will haunt my dreams more...

Eric's Intergalactic Monster Lion King

Or Bryan's Mutated Humanoid Beast

It's Party Time!

Saturday, we had the girl's 2nd birthday party. And it was SO much fun! Oh my gosh, I think I had as much fun as they had...even though they still don't really quite get that it's a party for them. They had a blast, nonetheless. At their 1st birthday party, Mom and I were already trying to decide what to do for this years'. So far, all two of their birthdays, we've kept the theme around something cold because they were born in the coldest winter in the history of all time. And until they pick their own theme, we'll just keep doing cold stuff. Last year was snowflakes. This year was penguins.

(I borrowed a lot of these pictures from Dad and Papa T [David's Dad]).

And everything was black, white, and all things penguin.

Penguin Caviar (chocolate candies)

Aptenodyte Bytes (chocolate orange cream-filled cupcakes)

Baked Silverfish (it's kind of obvious what they are)

Krill Kisses (also obvious)

Squid Twists (these are those Synder's of Hanover chocolate-covered pretzels that are AMAZING. I dare to say they're better than Flipz.)

Penguin Poo (cocoa dusted truffles)

Crustacean Crackers ( bacon-wrapped cheesy butter crackers)

Bacon-Wrapped Cephalopod (bacon-wrapped smokies with brown sugar)

The spread and Mamaw sampling in the background.

We also had fresh glacier water from Antarctica.

"Penguin needs a water break."

"I hear that."

Mom made this super fab banner!

Penguin building station. The kids weren't sure at first what to do with this. Reid grabbed a handful of the "skins" and toted them around on his arm like a rugged trapper in the frozen wasteland carrying penguin pelts home to his ice house.

Virginia Kate

Building penguins!

Little Finn and Shane

Bryan and VK

The twins and Reid

Water break. Okay, back to partying.

Reid

The hearts for the penguins.

Holland, the professional penguiner.

I adore this picture. Megs and Harps.

Mmm...plastic is delicious.

Opening the loot! They got the cutest stuff, you guys.

Finn

Story

Ashley and Savannah

Virginia Cake

Such a great day! I was sad it was over. We're already planning next year's par-tay! Unless the girls decide they want a particular theme, of course. Yay for birthdays!!! And penguins!!!