The boy child decides he will die without a fish.

Which is Mike.  Mitchell decided to be terrified of fish the moment we walked into the fish store.

The conversation goes like this:

Mike: "Let's GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!"

(Side note: I don't particularly like getting 'OUT OF THE HOUSE'  So saturdays end up with me in my pajamas.  sitting.  being lazy.  doing nothing but tackling my children around and pretending to watch football.  I like and enjoy it.  Mike, on the other hand, has to do something every day.  Usually that something is go to work.  And on Sunday's it's go to church.  Which leaves saturday the only day to do nothing, but alas, he can't handle it.  Sometimes I tell him to take Mitchell to the park, store, etc so I can continue to be lazy, but then, sometimes I give in and we do random things like: Walk down to the pool at our complex only to find that it is closed for the season then wrangle screaming children in the car trying to convince them that we're still going swimming! and end up paying like 20 freaking bucks just so we don't lie to our children.  Or drive around and look at houses.  Or go to sonic. (that's always my choice, and my idealistic getting out of the house 'adventure'))

Meagan: "well, my dad is in town, and we're going to lunch."

Mike: "In like 5 hours! LETS DOOOOOO SOMETHING!"

Meagan: "like go to sonic?"

Mike: "Lets go get a fish for mitchell.  He's always wanted one, plus it teaches him responsibility"

Meagan: "You mean our 3 year old came to you and told you he wanted a fish and he's going to take care of it? This was communicated to you? I'm suspicious..."

Mike: "Mitchell do you want a fish?"

Mitchell: "Yes." (Note: He's dropped the "yeah" and always emphasizes the 's' in "yes")

Mike: "Will you love it?"

Mitchell: "Yes."

Mike: "Will you look at it?"

Mitchell: "Yes."

Mike: "Will you feed it?"

Mitchell: "Yes."

Meagan: "Oh my gosh fine! FINE! We can go get a fish.  Like a beta or something?"

Mike: "No.  I hate beta fish.  I killed mine."

Meagan: ".......sooooo..... a goldfish?"

Mike: "Yes.  Then we can get 2."

Meagan: "Okay 2!! Then we can name them Bonnie and Clyde"

Mike: "Or Tyrell and Prior"

Meagan: "Or Shake and Spear"

Mike: "Or we let Mitch decide"

Mitchell: "House."

So because Mike and I have an unhealthy fear of spending money, we go to Hobby Lobby to get a fish bowl and some rocks.

He *did* end up liking the fish.

I'm 99% sure the fish bowl we decided on is a vase.  But you can't beat $4.  And the rocks, we desperately tried to convince Mitchell to get the natural sea stone black variety.  But he wasn't giving up on the blue glass stones so FINE. We bought the blue stones.

And then we headed over to petco.  Where Mitchell exclaimed that fish were "so scary" and would not pick a goldfish out.

Being determined that today was the day we were going to get a fish, Mike found an employee to get some goldfish.  She was really unhelpful and basically told us we had to have a filter/pump for any fish except beta (Mike: "We're not getting a beta!") and referred us to the aquarium store. Which was kind of strange, I thought.

So we went to the aquarium store.   Mitchell did not like any of the fish.  That did not stop mike us.  Apparently, fish need air, which is what a pump would give them.  Pumps are only 5 dollars, but attaching it to the 4 dollar vase we already bought wasn't going to happen.  Mike started suggesting duct tape, but I shot that down real quick.

According to the fish expert, who was much more helpful and nice than the local Petco manager, we had three options: A beta, tropical betas, or change the water out every other day so the fish get air.

Hm.  And what do you think we chose?

Yeah, the much more labor extensive option.  It's fine.  Cleaner water is better anyway.  Oh, except you can't change the water out completely,  only 1/2 of it.  GAHHHH. WHY ARE WE BUYING A FISH?!

So, because we're both unsure of how this fish thing is going to work out, we decide on "feeder fish" aka: the 10 cent goldfish normally bought to feed other fish.  The guy at the aquarium (after spending 30 mins answering all our ridiculous questions) said "you're doing these fish a huge favor." and I thought, "maybe.  We'll see"

We bought 5.  I'm still not convinced our "fish bowl" is big enough.

We settled on names:

Law and Order SVU style.

Meet:

Taking pictures of fish is harder than I thought.

Detective Stabler (moonlights as "house" and/or "pluto")
Detective Benson
Munch
Casey Novak
Cragen.


So, Sunday morning, Mike has found one of the fish has died (Detective Benson). He's pretty upset and comes running in and waking me up.  To which I say "Can you not make this a big deal? You're going to upset Mitchell"

And he, in a melodramatic mood apparently, says: "Fine.  Since I'm the only one in the house that cares about THIS FISH.  I will take care of it!"

Oh. my.  well.  This is just lovely.

I'm pretty sure he had a small funeral, by himself, in the bathroom, but I'm not sure.  I feel bad, I do.  I mean, the fish should not give up after less than 24 hours of being in our care.  We're not that bad...

Until this morning.  When I was, again, changing out the water, I forgot Casey Novak and she fell in the sink.  There was a lot of screaming and shaking from me and a lot of "get it! Get it! AHHHHHHH" from Mitchell, who, well, I'm trying to teach him responsibility right?! and a lot of blubbering mocking from Ali.

We saved her.  Barely.  I'm not really sure I can handle this.

Which brings me to my next thought "How are our children still alive? They are much more difficult than fish."

But cuter.  And more fun. Even if they do start refusing any and all hair clips.  Time for bangs? (noooo)

Goo-Goo Turns One

Which is pretty exciting for most people.  I, though, basically sobbed for an entire week prior.  BUT. I held myself together on the actual day.  Which, I think is the first time I did not cry on a birthday.  Except Mike's birthday, since I never cry on his birthday.  I think it's funny he's getting sooo ooooold.  haha.

Anyway.  This year went by far too fast.  Mike keeps showing me pictures of Mitchell when he was Ali's age, and it's freaking me out.  They have to stop growing up, or I might die.  I'm already getting gray hairs, and I'm only 24.  What's worse than that, is that I keep putting off my long overdue hair cut because I told myself I needed to get it colored "the next time" and well.....I don't want to start coloring my hair on a regular basis.  Just to hide the grays! This is ridiculous! And I look ridiculous because my hair is a dead color of brown and I'm being stubborn about something that's not going to get any better.  Unless I dye it.  But that's not really better, is it?

So I told Mitchell to stop growing up and he patted me on the head and said "okay".  That's wonderful, Mitch, thank you.  Can you try your green beans? "NO DINNER TODAY!"

Fine.

Anyway.  So Mitchell was really excited about Ali's upcoming birthday, and spent the 2 weeks or so prior singing, "happy birthday to goo-goo" all day.  and night.  It was pretty funny.  We did our tradition of balloons tied on all of our kitchen chairs, and Mitchell woke up very pleased.  Pleased enough to wake his sister up, and show her himself.  He's so flipping adorable to her, I can hardly stand it.

We made homemade pop tarts for breakfast and they were disgusting.  I don't recommend it.  Pinterest suggested pie crusts and jam.  I thought it sounded okay. No.  Just no.  Never again.

I stayed up till 1am finishing a dress and baby doll, and I have no idea why I kid myself into thinking I am capable of sewing.  I'm totally a wreck. And I always end up at my mothers.  And end up driving her insane by my threats of giving completely up and/or throwing things against the wall.  She keeps telling me I'm a perfectionist.  To which I laugh.  And then remind her of my non-exsistant housewife skills. Seriously.

So, I've come to realize that the Easter dress I made her last spring, was my fault.  Simplicity does not equal simple.  I still think that's stupid, but I'm done ranting about it.

"Mom, what IS this thing?"

However, when someone actually tells me to my face that their down syndrome daughter makes these dolls, and shows pictures of her never-sewed-a-day-in-his-life son making them (those are not lies!), I tend to believe that it is a "beginner" or "Meagan approved" or "Meagan will be able to make this without her mother" project.  Um.  Lies.  All lies.  This was quite possibly the most frustrating thing I've ever made.  Ali thinks it's some kind of mutant and won't even look at it.  It had potential. And I'm fully aware that this is my problem, and that obviously some people can do it.  And the pattern was excellent.  Seriously.  I read through it beforehand like 33 million times and convinced myself it was going to be easy.  It was pretty tricky.  And that's fine.  I think I prefer shopping in cute doll shops anyway.

*sigh* I'm over it.  I'm going to stick to making "simple" (not simplicity) dresses and drawing pictures and pretend to know exactly what I'm talking about.  Even though I have no idea.  No idea. I do plan on figuring out some kind of clothing for the mutant baby doll to wear, since the gown I made her at 4 in the morning, washed out her skin color, and it sort of really does look like a mutant.

And the dress took 2.5 seconds to make, and I think I like those kind of sewing projects. If I ever sew again. Which, at this point, is not likely.


So Ali and Mitchell and I played all day long.  They were in the best mood, which is not really unusual.  I'm pretty lucky to have such awesome kids.

I decided this year to try to make a fondant cake.  So I found a marshmallow fondant recipe and got all the stuff for it.  And then, being caught up in all these projects, didn't put a lot more thought into it.

That's not a joke either.  So I made the fondant, and covered the cake.  Thinking, at this point, this was a really good decision, because the top layer of my cake was falling in crumbles, so the fondant, literally, held the dang thing together.  After all these sewing fails the night before, this made me kind of giddy.

Except that, I had no thought whatsoever what to do at that point.

Uhhhh.  I didn't even dye it! It was just white!

Kind of hilariously, I dyed some scraps of fondant pink and found some old gel decorating whatever in green and made some flowers.  Sort of.  The stems looked weird so I tried to wipe it off and start over, but it looked even more weird, so I just.....did it.  Emma came in and excitedly exclaimed I did the graffiti style.  Awesome.  I'm even legit.

So the cake, obviously, looked ridiculous too! I decided all these major fails kept me laughing all day, instead of dwelling on the fact I no longer had a baby.

Oh, and also, the dress I made her was pretty short, and I spent a week and a half trying to find white leggings that do not exist in the state of Utah.  Which is sort of funny, because everyone and their dog wears leggings.  So I did end up making some white leg warmers that were kind of funny.  That Mike really really detests.  I think they're cute!

Basically, here's the cliff note version of this post:

1. Birthday breakfast: Fail
2. Birthday cake: Fail
3. Birthday doll: Fail
4. Birthday dress: Debatable
5. Birthday brother: The best
6. Overall score: Mom didn't cry!

We had a party later that night, which was a lot of fun.  We had my family over and Mike's step sister and her cute family over.  My mom made her the most adorable sweater and hat I have ever seen in my entire life.  So cute, every time I put it on her I take a million pictures.  Mike's family got Ali a stroller and darling, darling, baby doll that Ali adores.  And I mean adores.  She sleeps with it, and will not let it out of her sight.  And forbids Mitchell from touching it.  And she seems like she finally understands what the stroller actually does but still insists on removing the baby doll from the stroller.  Angie and Amy both got Ali new clothes, which are always needed.  And we got her some other little fun toys that Mitchell still thinks are his.

And she's walking now.  Almost everywhere.  And she talks a lot.  Not that we can understand her, but she babbles constantly.  It's really funny.

Still cannot believe the child is a year already.  Where does time go?

Mitchell has gone from talking a little to FULL ON NON STOP COMPLETE SENTENCES IN THIS YELLING VOICE.

Seriously.  And it's so funny.  But he gets mad when you laugh at him, so Mike and I do this weird smirk thing to each other.  Mitchell has opinions about everything.  He calls all of his stuffed animals his "friends" as in "NO! IT'S MINE FRIENDS!" and insists on sleeping with all 15 of them every night.  And will not rest until every last one of them is tucked away safely in his arms.

He's also really dramatic.  "I SOOO HUNGRY! MAMA! HUNGRY! I SOOOO HUNGRY!!!!"

"Do you want some oatmeal?"
"no."
"A sandwitch?"
"no"
"Yogurt?"
"no..... Juice?"
"Juice? Are you thirsty?"
"I HUNGRY FOR JUICE!"

I'm just happy they play together, pretty well.  There is bound to be fighting, sobs, tears, and bloodshed, but the two of them do really well for the most part.  It is so fun watching them play nicely together.  Mitchell loves showing Ali how to do things (like, climb on the couch, open the toilet, scream for joy, and poke eyeballs) and Ali follows Mitchell around everywhere.  She's like his little shadow, and has this lost look on her face when she can't find him.  He still climbs in her crib, but now I find him reading to her instead of trying to bounce her out, which is good.

And last but not least, the halloween candy I bought last week is gone! And 2 pounds have been added to my stomach. I do this every year.  Next year, someone remind me that buying candy early is not a good idea.  Especially since no one living here has any sort of self control, apparently.