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A Life in Status- March #3, 2013

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(Come see for yourself)

I spent a long time finding the right outfit for the Nebraska Public Television taping this week, only to realize I’m pretty much going to look like a female version of Mr. Rogers.
#cardigans #makessense

Josh: Mom, you make the best cocoa ever!
My secret recipe? Half a package of the cheapest instant cocoa mix and lukewarm water. Genius, I know.

Josh: Mom, you love Jesus in your heart AND you make the best cocoa. That’s what makes you a good wife.
I’m sure Brian would agree.

It’s not that I don’t like winter, I just really hate matching 6 people’s socks every time I do laundry. Bring on the sandal/flipflop/barefoot weather!

When you have your first baby you wonder why in the world anyone would sell a pirate-themed onesie that says, “Argh, change me booty”. By your third boy, you stop asking questions and just buy it.

(I was putting spring clothes in the boys’ dresser)
Josh: We both have dinosaur t-shirts?! Danny, LET’S HUG!!!!!
The only appropriate expression of brother fashion excitement.

I rolled out of bed this morning to find I had spent the entire night on top of a small, plastic dinosaur. The Princess and The Pea I am not.

I thought it was kind of irritating when my boys were running around pretending to be Spiderman. That was before I knew about Transformers. . .

Me: What time did you come to bed last night?
Husband: I don’t know. The last thing I remember was you handing me a Peep. Then I woke up and it was stuck to my shirt.
Wild and crazy nights, parenting-style.

Josh: (coloring a picture) Mom, what color is Crystal’s (his cousin) skin?
Me: What do you think?
Josh: Is it like yours?
Me: Yep.
Josh: What color do I use for that?! Orange?
Aw, the eternal question.

Child is crying and screaming about how he doesn’t need a nap. Translation= he desperately needs a nap.
Thank goodness I’m fluent in Toddlerspeak.

Josh: Mommy, your mouth smells like my favorite chips.
#caught

Daughter: (holding her Bible) Mommy, who the bad guy in this book?
Me: Um. . . well. . . it’s kind of complicated.
Daughter: No, it’s Goliath.
Close enough.

I thought I wasn’t too nervous about going to the Nebraska Public Television taping today. Then I couldn’t figure out why the van wasn’t starting. . . until I realized I had my key inserted into the garage door opener instead of the ignition.

Josh: Mom, after you get your TV hair and make-up, can we see you while you still look pretty?
Sigh. . .

Danny (singing): Iron Man, Iron Man, does whatever an iron can.
If this is true, I have seriously underrated Iron Man.
#newfavoritesuperhero #superlaundrypower

Josh (singing): Transformers, robots in disguise. Transformers, more that eats the eyes.
Either he’s not singing that right, or that show is a lot more gruesome than I remember.

My hair and make-up still look so nice from the professional help I got before the TV taping this morning, it’s now seeming anticlimactic to make hot dog muffins for dinner.

So do you ever get all scandalized by pictures from your childhood? “Look! We’re all running around the back of the station wagon WHILE IT’S DRIVING! Where are the carseats?!” Sometimes I wonder what our kids will be scandalized by. “Wait- we weren’t in five-point harnesses while eating?! We could have fallen right out of those chairs and broken our heads!”

It’s kind of weird to click “follow” on Twitter when it’s your pastor’s profile. Feels very literal.

Hint for Babies: If you want us to think dropping that toy off your highchair tray was an accident, say “uh-oh” AFTER you do it. Not before. You’re welcome.

I keep hearing Danny play with his favorite action figure who he calls “Toby One Kenobi”. I’m guessing that’s Obi-Wan’s cousin. And apparently he’s a dinosaur veterinarian. Makes sense.

My warm weather clothes are now in the closet. Taunting me. I can hear them laughing.
#stupidmidwestendlesswinter

Me: Josh, that lady who is singing is named Aretha Franklin. She’s singing about how her man should treat her with respect. She is a very strong black lady.
Josh: Just like me.
Well. . . I guess he’s half right.

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