Its time for

another series of amusing yet unrelated photos!

This looks a lot like Dan and I in the kitchen:

"Why are you left handed? It looks all weird when you beat the eggs. Here, give me the damn whisk."

I think it's written into our DNA somewhere that metal pots are to be used as percussion instruments. 

"Ohhhh, you know, I've just been reading this whole time."

"Yep."

You win some. You lose some: 

Genevieve: "Oh em gee, Payne! This is totally our song!"

Payne: "Only fifteen more years to go..."

"Follow the blue soiled foam road, Genevieve!"

Those are from our window seats, where Stella lives. I apologize.

A birthday story.

We had a party for Genevieve yesterday, which was really fun.  I also learned a few things.

A) Don't have thirty people over to your house in Texas at the end of July and use the oven for three hours straight.  Yeah, I raised the temperature by ten full degrees. Oops!

B) That thing where "they" say not to pick up your kids by their arms, thus overextending their shoulder joints? No really. Don't do that.

C) Little girl is really really lucky to be surrounded by people that love her. She had a great birthday!

So Dan and I make the birthday cakes. It's a tradition.

This time I found a picture on the internet I liked:

 

(Credit goes to iambaker.net )

And I was all "Ohhhh cute! I wanna do that!".

I bought the necessary supplies, but as the day drew near I realized "Rachel, you suck at cake decorating. You know this, and you have as much chance at making a cake like that as Ethel has of winning a dachshund agility tournament.", so I modified my expectations a bit and just ran with the Neopolitan aspect and ignored the gorgeous icing rosettes part.

So I baked the cakes and Dan iced them. Then it was time for assembly and we fought. We always fight about the cake. It's also part of the tradition. I believe Dan uttered the words "It reflects on my artistic ability" only partially in jest this year.

Are you ready for the Piece de Resistance?

Voila! (kisses fingers)

 

Ok, so iambaker it is not, but it's homey; cute; yes. Hmm.

Payne was totally jazzed about that cake, y'all.  He saw it pre-assembly the night before and asked for nearly 24 hours "We eat cake now?".

"At laaaaaast, my looooove has come aloooooong"

Then Genevieve got to try a slice. I was afraid she would taste the icing and wig out like Payne did as a baby.  He hated it.

Nope. Not a problem with this one:

She's a cake snarfer. 

Payne Nirvana: 

Connor was all "Get that thing away from me." 

Um, gross. I think we've reached Baby Zombie face makeup stage. 

Then it was time for a bath. I picked her up by her wrists to carry her in there because she was covered in slime and accidentally pulled on her shoulder too hard. 

Here's Dan soothing her. Pretty sure he was saying "I'm sorry Mommy hurt you."

Ganging up on me already...

She did eventually recover from her sports injury and enjoyed her new gifts!

Dan took this photo today, since she is officially one!

Bring on toddlerhood! I'm game.

Let's see, as a one year old, Genevieve has seven teeth, is standing independently for 10-20 seconds at a time, and has taken a step or two in order to reach only her very favorite people (all men, by the way) several times.  We've also stopped bottles and formula, and as a result she wants a full Cowboy Breakfast by 7:30 every morning. I now know I'm capable of grating cheese in my sleep, which I guess is good.

We love her so much. Welcome to birthdays Baby G!

Oh, my kid brought the funny today.

This morning we were lounging on the couch, and Stella chose our rare moment of snuggling to attempt to yack on the rug.

I yelled "Go outside Stella!".

Payne asked "What her do, Mommy?"

"She threw up."

Payne: "Her need a bowl!"

Then he asked me "Mommy, you know you cute?".

Yes, yes I do, son.

(Ok fine. He only asked that because I ask him if he knows he's cute all of the time)

Then we went to the grocery store and he lifted my phone from my diaper bag to take this artistic set of photographs:


I sense some "entitlement of modern youth" commentary here. Hmm. Yes.



A baby shoe juxtaposed with cage-like material. Very deep. Are we ever really free?



Aaaand the only food he recorded was the ice cream. Poignant.

We went to dinner with my parents and on the way home Payne informed my father that he needed to clip the toenails of the dinosaurs at the zoo with his "pwiers" (pliers) and "then they be fixed".

Then my Mom got out of the car to pump gas, telling Payne "I can pump the gas because I'm strong!".

Payne's response: "You OLD".

Thank you, and good night.

Lord knows the boy loves a good costume.

However it has recently come to light that his sister, well, doesn't:



Payne was definitely the superior parent during this whole fiasco. I was cackling and taking pictures while he patted a sobbing Genevieve on the back saying "Is ok". Eventually he'd had enough and turned to me, saying "Take it off, Mommy.".

Sheesh. Ruin my fun, Mr. Responsible.

Funny things my kid says:

- "what's he's name?" I will mourn when he actually pronounces "his" correctly.

- This morning he sidled up to Genevieve, put his arm around her shoulders, and told her "Geev, you got to have fun.".

- "Gee-veev! Let's be teamwork!"

- "orn" as in "on". So my kid is embracing his southern locale?

- "My not in targe. You in targe." We've been having lots of discussions about authority lately. Heh.

- "Oh Woord" Hey, at least we got his taking of the Lord's name in vain down a notch on the scale of offensiveness...

Things parents consume at an alarming rate:

1) Plasticware.


I have no idea how anyone raised a child before the era of petroleum products.

No. Idea.

2) Paper towels.

Oh God, the paper towels. I can't remember the last time I had the honor of finishing a roll. They always get shoplifted out of the kitchen whilst I am unaware and disposed of. Payne once engineered a paper towel road through the kitchen, down the entry way, and through the family room while I was (apparently very focused on) doing the dishes.

3) Dairy products.

I'm fairly certain there's a cow somewhere out there with our last name stamped on it's withers. Both of my children have an ardent love for milk, cheese, and yogurt. Payne is roughly 80% dairy.

"Ma, I know cheese, and what's between these two crackers ain't it."

Further evidence...

That Genevieve is actually a Rodent Of Unusual Size.

 

I could line the tub with some cedar chips, throw in a nice XL exercise wheel, and save myself a lot of time and effort.

Ugh.

Tuesdays, eh?

I love them.

The other morning, Payne refused his breakfast, yelling "I dohn WANT my bredast cookie!".

I ignored. He furtively pushed it off of the arm of his chair.

It became very silent.

I looked up from my coffe cup as a result of the aforementioned silence, to find this:



Sneaky cookie snarfer, that one.

Of course Payne was incensed and insisted that he did indeed want that cookie and he would die without it now. Heh.

Payne aquired a new friend, Filmore:


I packed Filmore up for church this morning, and Payne then requested him. When I informed him that Filmore would be waiting to re-emerge until we were at church, he responded with "But turch is bad! Jesus wihw steahw Fihwmore, and then I wihw be MAD."

So I guess Jesus loves Volkswagons...

This afternoon Payne emerged from his nap ready for action:



Then Filmore was located and he scored some random Snapfish stickers:



and then he drew all over his legs with my pen. Heh.

Ok, I'm lazy.

Payne wanted to build with blocks. I was lounging with the dogs.

I didn't want to move.

So,

Wait for it...

We built the Ethel Tower.

Get it?

Heh heh heh.

Go ahead and get my autograph while it's cheap.

My house could be haunted and I would never know.

Stuff moves around here without my knowledge on the daily.

-All of my belts were missing until Sunday.

-Dan lost the insole for one of his shoes for a good three months.

-We lost the T.V. remote for TWO YEARS. I assumed Payne had thrown it in the garbage at some point, but then a cleaning lady came as a gift when I had Genevieve and when I got home it had been placed very neatly on the coffee table. I still have no idea where it was hiding for the better part of my son's life.

-Dan routinely unpacks his work suitcase at his hotel and finds a coaster, or matchbox car, or some other token of our child's (or a wee spectre's?) affection.

-I just got up to use the bathroom and found all of the toothbrushes laying in the sink and pointing towards the drain.

The positive spin on all of this is that having stuff get stolen and shifted about the house continually has really improved my marriage.

- All of Dan's socks are gone? The baby must have taken them.

- There's a massive puddle of soda on the wood floor? The baby must have knocked Dan's Dr. Pepper can over.

- Can't find an important reciept? The baby ate it.

I'm positive that we both know full well the majority of the time that our grievances of the day were probably the fault of our spouse, but it's awesome having largely mute scapegoats. Nobody hates the baby. The baby is cute, holds no grudges, has no vices.

I plan to use this method to avoid dealing with relationship issues until "the baby" is out of law school.

Ahhhh....