And then out of nowhere....

Ali decides "santa" is bringing a puppy dog for Christmas.

Um, no.  Santa brings toys and doesn't bring anything "alive"

Mitchell, also wanting a puppy dog, says "why?'

"Because.....it would....get so so sick...on the sleigh.  It's too cold in the sky for puppy dogs.  Only Santa and his reindeer and all the toys"

I'm seriously telling both children on a daily basis NO DOGS for Christmas.  Conversations have included these gems:

*You have to be 5 to have a dog.  It's basically a law.

*You cannot get dogs for Christmas.  No one can.

Then they watch Lady and the Tramp, where the Mrs. gets a dog for Christmas.

*Well, Santa definitely doesn't bring dogs.  Not for anyone.  It's his rule.

*NO DOGS

*NO DOGS FOR CHRISTMAS

*You have to be so. much. older.

(to Mitchell, "so much older" means "hairy".  The other day, he lifted up his shirt and said, "look at my back, mom." Cautiously, I rubbed his back, and said "it's niiiice" He said, "do you feel that? I"M GETTING HAIIIRRRRYYY!"

oh. my.  Yes!  You are getting hairy, Mitch!  To Mitchell, body hair=dog. car. driving. going to school everyday. marrying Ali.  going on a mission.  Yesterday, hairy meant building a boat like Nephi.   This is something we discuss all the time. If I say, "no" he says, "can I when I'm hairy?")

So after finally convincing both children, a puppy dog was not happening for Christmas (and I'm sorry! But I don't even really like dogs unless it's Daisy or her offspring! And I'm allergic to an insane amount of them) Santa shows up at Mitchell's school.

"GUESS.  WHO.  CAME. TO MY SCHOOL!?"

"Who came, Mitch?"

"SANTA!"

"Did you sit on his lap?"

"YES! And GUESS WHAT?!"

"what?"

"Santa said we CAN get a puppy dog! We can! We can!"

Ali, also having the comprehension of a 5 year old (seriously, it's frightening) says, "A puppy dog! YAYAYAYAY!  Santa gets puppy!"

Me, frantic, "oh, no non non no nnNO NONON ONONN NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Mitchell, "Yes Mom! Dogs DO NOT get sick on Santa's sleigh! They never do! Santa says he keeps them 'wheel-ee' 'wheel-ee' warm.  He does!"

Santa.......Santa.....we are supposed to be on the same page here, friend.

Actually, my initial reaction was to call the school and yell at them because this was  months of coming up with ridiculous excuses to both children and spouse of why getting a dog is a terrible, no good, very bad idea.  The barking, the peeing, the tearing up everything, the whining, the hair cuts, the vet, the sickness, the dog period, ohmygosh the dog period, the yard (the yard! The pooper scoopers! THE POOPER SCOOPERS!)

I made a declaration:
"As mother and main (read: only (scary, right?)) cleaner of this household, I nix the dog idea right. in. the. bud. right now.  RIGHT NOW! There will be no mention of dogs or puppies or any other living thing (remember the fish.  REMEMBER THE FISH!?) for as long as I deem necessary unless A.  dad takes the dog to work everyday until it's potty trained and doesn't ruin anything.  B. Mitchell can do the poop-scoop thing.  C. They are old enough to feed it, love it, and generally take care of it.  In essence, we will revisit the dog idea when I am certain this whole responsibility thing will not fall on me exclusively.  Which, if we're talking realistically here, means probably never."

I'm so mean, I know.  But I would be a lot more mean taking on a dog I never wanted, lets be honest.

Of course the whole "Santa and the dog" emergency happened to fall on a very busy day.  I accidentally shipped a package via amazon.com to my "default address" which happens to be the mean 'ole lawyer-ing up-ing on *my* dime apartment complex of the devil.  These people are the worst. And they really don't like us.  Like at all.  As in, not even a little tiny bit.  The feeling is mutual, believe me.

So, in a haste.  I call fedex.  Who ships through USPS.  Who can't reroute the package.  The printing label is already printed. And before I can even blink, OH MY GOSH IT'S LEFT THE SANDY OFFICE!!! IT'S ON THE TRUCK! Someone stop it! Someone help me!!!

Frantic, I call the local store and the manager answers at 6:45am in the morning.  I'm almost in tears, and he's like "relaxxxxxx, it hasn't left the office.  It's not even here yet.  ......We just update the tracking things randomly.  ..........No, I'm not really sure how it all works."

"So, can you reroute it?"

"um, no."

"well, I *did* update my address with you people.  Someone over at your corporate office told me it'd "probably" be okay, but I'd really not rather chance it.  Will your system ship to my new address by default"

"uhhh, it should I guess.  I don't know.  Probably not."

"so, what can *I* do.  Can you hold it for me at the office?"

"yeah, I *could* but I can't do that till it scans in here, which it hasn't.  And usually we just scan it here and it goes out the same day.  But I'll watch for it.  What's your name/old address?"

I gave him my info, and expected a lost cause.

And then, Mitchell had school, and "Santa" threw me a massive curve ball. I'm still really mad at "Santa".

And then, USPS man calls.  "Hi, Meagan? Your package is here.  We just marked it as 'attempted'."

"Seriously, you're the best USPS man that has ever, ever lived!"

"Juuuust make sure to bring your photo I.D. to pick that up."

Funny story.

Ali likes to destroy everything play in my wallet.  Toss all the cards out.  Usually, I catch it and put them all away.  And then, one day, I did just that.  And then, later that day, someone said "can I see your I.D.?"  and I was like, "Sure......What the? What! Noooo! Where is my license?! Oh, my gosh! I don't have I.D? I have a temple recommend? .....No? I have a Sam's Club card? ...See?? It has my picture on the back when I was 19?........ Seriously? You'll take that? Oh my gosh thank you I'm sure I'll go home and find my drivers license somewhere. I shouldn't be driving without it."

....

....


..............

months go by and I'm 99.9% sure Ali threw it away (she just loves doing that).

And so, yes, I've been driving around without an I.D. for around 2.5 months because I'm *hoping* my driver's license would magically appear somewhere like under Ali's mattress or in some random drawer somewhere.  But after deep cleaning a handful of times, it hasn't shown up anywhere.

So, I call the DMV "I lost my I.D. what documents do I need" "Proof you exist legally.  That's basically it.  Unless your address has changed" "oh, it totally has! Because this is the best day ever!"  "then you'll need 2 bills in your name"

fine.

Except *no* bills are in my name except tmobile (who's online site is down temporarily for maintenance but only for people who have to have a temp. password sent to their phone.  Which shouldn't have happened in the first place, because I've had the same password there since I got my phone, at 18, but apparently I was typing to fast/frantically and got locked out of my account.  Niiiiiiiiiiiice. Or someone hacked my account.  Hopefully not. As this day was going, it was probable)

And rocky mountain power, where my name is spelled wrong.

GAH.  So. I check the mail hoping to find the water bill, which is also in my name, but no dice.  I'm relatively happy to find that 3 Christmas packages have arrived- I was not an idiot when ordering those. Also, a note from amazon saying I was denied for their credit card because I don't have any accounts open for a significant length of time, or some other nonsense.  I barely remember applying.  It was a fleeting thought of me thinking I should build my credit, at midnight or 1am, even after I researched and found that it was one of the worst cards you can own.  I'm not really sure why I do anything late at night.  So I laughed at the notice and threw everything in the car and went to my mothers, who had some shampoo for me, was talked into traveling the state with me, and who called me "frazzled" about 1.5 million times.  The first time was earlier that day, after I thought I locked myself out of the house after I thought I couldn't lock the door when taking my son to preschool after Mike stole my garage door opener, which is the last one that works because we can't figure out how to change the batteries.  And all of the keys open different doors.

Also, I was sick with a massive cold and didn't want to do anything anyway.

So, la-la-la-ing and stop-hitting-each other-ing, we arrive at Grandma's house.  Mitchell and Ali are so excited to tell Grandma and Papa they *are* totally getting a puppy for Christmas, while I am trying not to curse "Santa" in front of my children.

Meanwhile, on my laptop trying to find bills in my name that don't exist.  I call, again, the DMV, who says a bank statement is fine, so haha! In hand with a Rocky Mountain Power bill that seems way too high for winter, and a bank statement that should really have more moolah in it, we all drive to the DMV to get my license to get my package so I don't have to deal with the evil apartment complex while simultaneously trying to tell Mitchell and Ali they are not getting a dog this Christmas.  I said, "Mitchell! I called Santa (the real one, the one who doesn't actively try to destroy my life and my children's childhood) and told him that mommy and daddy wanted to get you a dog later.  When you're hairy! Mitchell's not having any of it.  "I'll get you one for your birthday! When you're five!" He's mad at me, and insisting that a dog is still happening in 10 days. (10!)

The DMV has to retake my picture 3 times ("no, really, I swear I'm not blinking.  It's just my eyes").  I had no idea about the picture thing and wasn't wearing lip gloss or blush.  And I was sick.  And apparently blinking.  It's going to be just stunning, I'm sure.

And then go up to the counter, and surprise! They can't take 2 things from online.  Only one.  I must have looked like I was going to cry.  The nice lady (who was really sympathetic about the whole "Santa" thing, and suggested to buy an electric dog) said, "do you have any mail in your car?"

I do! I have 3 packing slips AND a rejected credit card application statement!

She says, enthusiastically, "Go get them!"

So I run to the car, grab the 3 packing slips (see how it says "billing address" here.  It's the same as "shipping address" that counts right? I should totally remember to check that those 2 things match in the future) and the reject letter and she says "this will work!"

I can't even believe it.  No, I really can't.

Meanwhile, my awesome mother is having a heart to heart with her grandkids at the DMV.  Something about dogs and Santa.  And something clicked.  And Mitchell took me up on my earlier bribe of a dog for his birthday.  Which is going to have to happen, unless he forgets.  If he forgets, heck-to-the-no.  I am, however, betting he (nor Ali) forgets.  July.  I have till July to enjoy being dog-less.  Dang "Santa" is ruining my life.

And so, with a paper copy of my new license in hand, I go to the USPS office and wait in the forever and a day long line.

I get to the counter, "I'm here to pick up a package"

"Do you have a slip?"

"no."

"A tracking number"

"technically, yes.  But I didn't bring it.  The guy on the phone said all I needed was a photo ID"

"fine."

And she takes my name, and goes and finds my package and takes my ID.  Looks at the ID, looks at me.  Says, "did you.....change your address...."

"today? yes. today.  I am that awesome, yes."

And finally, I left the post office.  Went home and then to activity days where only one girl showed up and then realized......

that package was shipped in two. separate. boxes........

Here we go again!

Sometimes, I don't think my kids are normal.

So we did the "thankful turkey" thing.  And this was the first year Mitchell seemed to grasp the concept of being grateful.  "What are you thankful for, Mitchell?", I asked.  And his answered ranged from, "Heavenly Father and Jesus" to "my wife" to "underwear pants"  And I think Ali just thought we were listing random things, so she's thankful for "Ali and babies!", "Red!", "'W!'", "Chicken!", "Grammy!"and "Twinkle Little Star!" All good things.  The world *would* be a lot different without "W".  And chicken, too.

The turkey hangs nicely on our fridge.  A good reminder, I think, we can never be too thankful of anything, really.  Including underwear pants.

And then it started snowing.  To Ali, that meant "Snowman! Snowman! TALL! TALL! TALL!" I had no idea she knew the song, and then Mitchell said "Build a Snowman! Build a Snowman!" and then, before I had a chance to say anything (re: "it's a blizzard, out there.  Ali would literally blow away") they were both running/screaming/dancing in circles, chanting "YAY! YAY! YAY!" which is something they both have learned how to do fairly quickly in their little life, probably because it seems to make my protesting invalid.  So we bundled up a lot and put some weights in Ali's shoes, and trekked out into our backyard with high hopes of snowman-building, but what actually followed, was an snowball ambush of me, mom, and then lots of laughter and wide-legged toddling because they both had about 25 pairs of pants on, and 3 pairs of socks+boots each and they couldn't run fast, at all.

However, I, being fearless, only wore one layer+coat so I instantly won the snowball fight (2 against 1, even) but since they have an endless amount of energy that exponentially increases every second of being outside, the snowball fight lasted half of an afternoon.  After I was finally exhausted, they insisted we build a snowman and complete the task that would have been finished hours ago, had Mitchell not started the snowball fight of the year.

And after rolling and lifting and scraping dead leaves off Mr. Snowman's body, I looked ahead to see both kids chilling on the back patio, watching the whole process.  "Why are you not over here helping me?" Ali laughed at me and Mitchell said, "Oh, mom.  You doing a good job! He's so handsome!" And then I said, "This snowman is a girl, Mitchell" Which Mitchell responded, "No you're a girl! Snowmen can't be girls!" Which, after I thought about it, had to be true, otherwise we'd have "snowwomen" and I don't think I've heard anyone say "snowwomen" So I'd start a snow-feminist-movement, but I don't have any more spare time.

And finally, I, finished the snowman, and went inside to find some face-things. Which was a (baby) carrot nose and some grapes.  And finally, we declared it complete.  I bribed the kids to come inside (we were on hour 6, and that's not an exaggeration) with some warm hot chocolate (which we have to call "warm hot chocolate" otherwise it's automatically too hot to drink -ever-) and they both seemed delighted to come inside.  Then I said, "Wait! We need a picture!" Mitchell always thinks this is a good idea.

But Ali....

pretty much thought all the talk of warm chocolate milk were lies.  No smiles. No standing by Mitchell.  Just screams "CHOCOLATE MIIIIILLLLK! CHOCOLATE MILLLLKKK!"  It's coming! Take a picture! JUST SMILE!

The child is such a pre-madonna.  Especially, when it comes to food.

Actually, she refers to herself as "Ali Pin-cess"  (well, also, she refers to herself as "she" a lot lately, which is really funny.  "She likes it! She likes it!")  Every morning, she puts on a little tutu and parades around the house dancing/spinning/declaring herself a princess.  This also means, we watch a bunch of princess movies, and the child loves Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty.  We went to the opening of the Outlet Mall by Thanksgiving Point (Actually, we were going to visit the dead animals at Cabelas, but then I we got a little sidetracked by the new shiny mall.  Hello, Coach store.  This is what I want for Christmas, Mike.  No, not the bag, the store.  The whole store.

Anyway, Oshgosh had all the disney princesses (teenagers in pretty dresses) walking around so parents would practically be forced to shop there, but I voluntarily took Ali in to say hi to 12-year old Cinderella. Ali was too excited to say anything so she waived.  And then let Jasmine hold her.  Aw.  And then waved "bye" to all of them when we left.  Fun.  I would love to take the kids to Disney.  Tomorrow, if I could.

Her maternal instincts have kicked in, so she cuddles her babies and puts them down for naps.  I tried to put her to bed, one night, after a long day of Ali being generally a terror, and she looked right at me and  said, in a stern voice, "No!" and looked away from me.  That was the first time she had ever said no to me, so I chuckled and said, "Do you want to try that again?" "NO!" So I went over and picked her up and said, "Bedtime!" She flailed her arms and swung her little body hard enough that I almost dropped her and she said, under her breath, quickly, and suspiciously just like her brother does, "stop it! stop it! stop it!" okay, really? Are we really going to do this?

So this became the general nap-time routine for awhile.  I tell her it's naptime, she yells and me and pretends like she's a teenager, ready to attack.  After putting her in bed for a nap, the other day, she starting crying big crocodile-drama tears and Mitchell came running up the stairs "Ali's awake?"

"No, Ali is mad because she doesn't want to go to sleep."

"Oh, I go cuddle her"

"No.  Don't go in her room.  She's really tired, Mitchell"

"Okay, I go make sure she has her baby and water"

"No.  She has her baby and water, I promise she's fine"

{brief pause of about 2.8 seconds}

"Mom, Ali's awake.  She wake herself up! I go get her!"  And like lightening, ran in her room.  "Ohhh Ali!  Don't cry!"

So I go in her bedroom, and try to lay her back down for bed.  Of course, she's mad at me, so she's screaming for Mitchell to help her.  "Mitchell! CUDDLE MITCHELL!" and me, "Lay down, Ali, you have to take a nap" and Mitchell, "ooohhh baby.  It's okay! I cuddle you! you want to watch the princess movie with me? I hold you and we watch the princess movie!" Ali: "Movie Mitchell!" I'm still trying to get her to lay down at this point so she wiggles out of my arms screaming "Stop it! Stop it! Let go! Mitchell! CUDDLE MITCHELL MOVIE!"

are you serious? This is really happening?

So I say, wimp-ly and a little sob-ish, "you have to take a nap."

and Ali says, "BABY! It's QUIET TIME! GO! TO! BED!" and just like that, puts her baby doll down for a nap, pulls the covers up on the bed.  "Shhhhhh," she says, "it's nap time.  Go to sleep." She leans down, kisses the babies forehead, "Goodnight.  I love you."

And then turns and holds Mitchell's hand and they start walking out of the room, and she turns to me and says, "baby's going night night.  shhh."  and I'm left standing there trying to figure out how she conned me into making her doll take a nap, and not her.  I'm such a push-over.

Oh, yeah, go ahead and watch that movie with Mitchell. You definitely don't need a nap.

 Meanwhile, Mitchell, wanted to relive the snowball fight with dad.  Mike's a pretty good sport, and just stands there while Mitch chucks snowballs at his face.  They both  came inside soaking wet.

And I gave into Christmas.  Mitchell and Ali got sucked into the retail Christmas decorations that were everywhere, and it was too cute to not give into them. And then I found a pretty shelf to hang my stockings that I love, I couldn't resist.  I finished them just in time last year, so I'm really glad I get to enjoy looking at them this year.

And Mitchell started the whole "I need to take a lot of pictures of me." phase, again, that he probably picked up from his Aunt Madeline.  

They're probably related.

The Awesome that is Halloween

This year, I decided to go old school and classic and dress my children as Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf.  Along with half of Utah, it seems.   But still, just as adorable as ever.

I was going to make Mitchell furry wolf gloves, but after 1001 mishaps I told him some wolfs have orange mittens instead.  Because that's totally true in fairy tales, I'm sure. Part of the problem is I procrastinate everything, including Halloween costumes, till the night before.  Which usually leads to the morning of, working till 3 am. 

But these might be my favorite -ever- and I really liked Pacman last year.  

Mitchell had a Halloween party at school, which is year round, so he's off track till the middle of November since the second week of October.  So, his Halloween party was around the 12th or something, which means I procrastinated his costume till the 11th (or something), and stayed up all night, because "appliquéing a wolf face" was not as easy as it sounds.  Without any sort of vision.  But it was so awesome looking when we finished.  I ordered a plain grey sweatshirt online, and I'm 99% it was a girls, but that is not my fault.  

And I bought a pattern for Ali's cape.   In my head, it felt like it wouldn't be that hard.   I almost attempted it my myself, actually.  And it was simplicity, which I swore I would never attempt again, but the little cape was a million times cuter than it's competitors, so I ran with it.   And then stitched the "stay stitching" together, after un-picking it (without a seam ripper, by the way, because Ali kept hiding from me, which I realize isn't the best toy for her to play with, but she climbs and she digs.  And I think she uses her nose, or some other sense to find things she shouldn't, because the child finds everything), which, sort of defeated the original purpose of the stay stitch.  And then got so tired of trying to understand the big words, just sewed it together how I felt like.   Which worked, surprisingly.  And then even top-stitched it, which the pattern didn't indicate you should or need to, but I decided to be amazing and do it anyway. And Ali is a perfect Little Red.  And I love the short cape. 

My mom threw a spooky dinner monday, which was delicious and so fun.  She let Mitchell take a rubber black bat home, which Mitchell decided to follow Ali around and scare her half to death.  Seriously, she was terrified of it. And after threatening to throw the bat away if he didn't stop, he gently held it out to her, and said "Ali.  It's pretend.  It's not real.  It's just a toy" welllll, the kid would make a near perfect parent if he wasn't the one terrifying her in the first place.

And then, went around the house, explaining that everything was pretend.  "See Ali? It's pretend."  And soon, she learned the word pretend.  How to say "pretend, not actually the meaning, because then at lunch she held up a hot dog and said "hot dog! pretend!"  

And so, trick or treating, the houses all decked out in Halloween stuff, I said "Ohhh it's sooo scary!" and Mitchell said "MOM.  I TOLD you.  It's PRETEND. It's not scary."  Right.  Well, okay.  

So we all went trick or treating and Mitchell and Ali would walk up to the door.  Mitchell would turn around and say "I ring the door bell?" We'd say yes.  We taught Ali how to say "trick or treat" which sounded like "trick teet!" It was adorable.  They'd drop candy in Ali's bag and she'd say "dank ooo" and hold up her hand for more, haha.  And Mitchell would just talk, and talk, and talk "I a wolf, and Ali is Little Red Riding Hood! She's my sister! We go to another house now, okay? We come back later, maybe.  But not today. Okay bye!!"

It took forever to finish our (really really long) street.  And one street left both kids with a completely full bag of candy.

And we got home, put Ali in bed, turned our lights on and opened the door (we have a storm door) so we could catch trick or treaters before they rang the doorbell.  Even though it was a little past Mitchell's bed time, we let him stay up and hand out candy to the trick or treaters.  Which was just as fun for him as collecting the candy himself.

I told him he could pass out two pieces of candy to each kid.  And when each kid came to the door, he commented on their costumes, "you look soooo nice!" "oh, you're so handsome!" "you are sooo pretty!" "oh, are you so scary?" hilarious.  And after a handful of kids came to the door, he said to me, "mama.  I gave that princess 3 pieces. She was really pretty" haha.  alright, then.

And then the next day, searching his stash, he found a black spider ring.  He held it up and said to me, "MOM! Now I can marry Ali!!! I can marry her in the backyard!"

"What!? No! You can't marry Ali.  She's your sister.  Someday, you'll find a nice girl and..."

"No, mom. I'm not going to get married in the temple anymore.  I'm going to marry Ali in the backyard"

"But why don't you want to get married in the temple?"

"I don't want to be baptized"

"Why?"

"Because I can't go underwater."

"Well, you have to be a little bit older.  And Daddy will help you.  It doesn't hurt."

"Mom, I AM a little bit older.   And I CAN'T go underwater.  People can't. Boys can't.... girls can't... it hurts.  It really really hurts"

I think I just stared at him.  This conversation was happening while he was in his room, taking off his clothes, putting on some different clothes, and then he walked in to Ali's room and found her a nice sweater and a short skirt.

"Ali can wear this to get married.  ALI! COME GET DRESSED!"

And she did.  I buttoned up her sweater and said, "You guys can't get married"

Mitchell said, "Yes.  And then we will dance!"

Which sparked Ali's interest.  "Dance with Mitchell? DANCE WITH MITCHELL!"

"After we get married, Ali.  Come on"

And he grabbed her hand and led her down the stairs.

And at that point, I decided to give up on trying to convince them to *not* marry each other and I yelled "DO NOT GO OUTSIDE! YOU CAN'T GET MARRIED WITHOUT ME!"

And Mitchell said to Ali, "Wait, Ali.  We can't get married without mom.  You going to take pictures of us, mom?"

Oh, yes. Totally.  I may even show this at your *real* wedding.

My children, marrying each other, in the wedding clothes they picked out themselves.

And so I sat outside, and they held hands for a half a second and then started dancing.  Mitchell then yelled as loud as he possibly could "I'M MARRIED TO ALI! YAY!" And then the both started yelling "YAY! YAY! YAY!" and spinning/dancing in circles.

oh, man.

Mike came home about 45 seconds later and I said, "oh, you just missed their wedding."

"whose wedding?"

"Mitchell just married Ali"

Mitchell said, "yeah, dad.  I married Ali.  She's my wife"

Since then, Mitchell refers to Ali sometimes as "his wife".  And he also cuddles her more.  Which, surprisingly, is what Ali usually prefers.  Which is sad for me, because she used to climb on my lap/lay next to me and say "Cuddle mama?" and I always say yes.  And now, when Mitchell is in the room she says "Cuddle Mitchell?" and Mitchell holds her now.  And if I protest that I would like some cuddles from one or both of my children Mitchell says, "No, Ali is my wife."

I thought they'd forget about the whole "wedding" thing, but they haven't.

And finally, Mitchell learned how to ride that bike we got him in July.

And Ali loves her little trike her grandparents gave her for her birthday.

No bakery will ever hire me. Not even the walmart variety.

I screw up birthday cakes.  Every person, every year.  With the exception of Mitchell's first birthday, and that's probably because I was praying the entire time.

Seriously, it was adorable.  It doesn't even look like it came from *me*

Lets review:

Mike turn 27.  He wants a german chocolate cake.  The recipe my mother gave me didn't indicate you were supposed to cook the frosting, and it was gritty tasting, and slid off the cake. My mother wrongfully assumes I know the basics of cooking.  He never asked for a german chocolate cake again, by the way.

Mitchell turns 2.  I decide to make a carrot cake because he loved it two weeks prior.  Mitchell took one bite and refused the rest of his birthday cake.  Failure as a mother.

Mitchell turns 3. I tried to frost it warm.  Lack of time, I think.  Still edible, but....

Ali turns 1.  I decide to try fondant, for the first time.  And did not give the cake much thought after that.  So, the cake falls apart, and is successfully held together with white fondant.  I made some ugly flowers to go on top.  Had no idea how to attach fondant to fondant, so there was green frosting, um, everywhere.

Mike turns 29.  I accidentally bought "powdered chocolate" instead of cocoa. The cake was 2x as sweet, and frosting too.  Non-edible.

Mitchell turns 4.  I burned his cake and served it anyway.  It wasn't very good, obviously.  It was hard to see it was burned, in my defense, because it was chocolate.

And now: Ali turns 2.  The cake falls apart.  Literally.  As in, I got the entire thing frosted (barely) and one-third of the cake fell away to the floor and tried to convince the other part to follow it. Right before my eyes.  Almost in tears, Mike immediately ran to Sam's Club.  Whose buttercream frosting is made with shortening.

Falling apart so pathetically

However, the fallen cake was probably the best tasting cake -ever- (but you can't give a birthday girl+guests handfuls of cake) and with that, and the huge sheet cake from Sam's, we have *so* much cake.

I'm sure you're all thinking I should probably just stop making birthday cakes.  And while I'm sticking to that for now, birthday's will come next year, and it won't even cross my mind to buy a cake.  It's way more fun messing it up.  I mean, I can have cake for breakfast, every day, for two weeks this way.

Mike took a long overdue day off work and spent the day with us, which was so fun.  Mitchell woke up excited for Ali's birthday.  He sang "happy birthday" to her over and over again.  He was so extra darling to her all day, which I didn't think was possible, actually. She opened a gigantic Mickey and Minnie Mouse coloring book (courtesy of Mitchell) and colored all morning.  Mitchell had preschool, which he declared he wouldn't be attending.

"Why don't you want to go to school?"

"It's Ali's birthday"

"You still have to go to school"

"But it's Ali's birthday"

"But your teachers would miss you sooo much, and you'd miss show and tell!"

"But Ali will miss me so much!"

"I promise Ali will have so much fun with mom and dad"

 "You will not put her to bed?"

"Um....no.........?"

And he went to school, finally.  It's a little sweet, but mostly alarming, that he worries about Ali being alone with mom and dad.  I'm not sure what he thinks actually happens when he's not here.

And when he returned from school, we all went to Gardner Village for some birthday lollies.  Which is my favorite tradition to date.  They have all their Halloween witches out, and we walked around and found them all.  Ali was terrified of them, though, but instantly was comforted by her sucker. Awesome.

Mitchell had a baseball game later that day, which was supposed to be his last game, but then they did a  "makeup" game because the first game was cancelled due to weather.  Even though it was sunny.  I love that the kid is in baseball, but it makes my day a little stressful- mostly because dinner has to be served on time, and nothing is ever on time when I'm in charge.  But, I do love watching him run around the field, even if it's in the wrong direction (seriously).

After baseball, we had family over for some (Sam's Club) cake and ice cream.  And presents! We gave Ali a Calico Critters dollhouse+hedgehog family.  It's darling, and I couldn't resist all the little details and charm.  And she loves it, which makes me so happy.  The hedgehog children jump on the bed, the mother cooks dinner, and the dad climbs on the roof.  Mitchell plays with her and turns all the furniture upside down then "cleans" it.  I love quiet, classic toys.  Kids have such wonderful imaginations.  Mitchell wanted the house to "fly" which involved him carrying the house above his head, swinging it back and forth, but I nixed that real quick, to his dismay.  It was bedtime and Ali carried it upstairs to her room.  Which was adorable, and I'm so glad she loves it so much.  They've played with it all morning.

Mitchell had the "mom" hedgehog making the little bed this morning and kept saying "sheet!  sheet!  sheet! sheet!" in an angry sort of chant, which, you know, coming from the mouths of babes, sounds like, well, something dad would say, haha.

I said, "Mitchell, what are you saying?" and he picked up the small blanket and said "sheet? she's making the bed"

 ".....is she mad?"

"yes.  mom doesn't like cleaning"

haha....oohhhh....I'm such a good example.  I told Mike when we're millionaires, I'm hiring a live-in maid.

My mom+step dad gave Ali a little tea set, which is also so adorable.  She didn't need any help "pouring" the tea and giving everyone sips.  Which, I'm sure, they all really loved, because she had a cold.  I can't wait to have tea parties with her!

Annnnnnddd! It's time for a big girl bed.  I made her the cutest quilt (that would have been cuter if I could have convinced my mom to appliqué it, but she thought I should learn, being in the business of appliqué and all.  And my circles are terrible.  Actually, really terrible.  People keep telling me no one will notice, but no one has not noticed, but it's done and quilted and I finally finished the binding 2 days post birthday (the quilt is huge! I couldn't finish it in one night) so now it is big-girl bed time.

We went to Target and let her pick out her own sheets (she wanted blue sheets) and came home and got her bed all set up, and it's adorable.  She loves it.  And now we can read stories in Ali's bed, which makes Mitchell so excited.  And she doesn't get out of bed, either.  She climbs right up, giggles, rubs her little head in her pillow, holds her baby (book, and water bottle) and goes. to. sleep.  What is this? You're continuing to be the easiest child ever?! It took 2 months to get Mitchell to get into bed, and to sleep, without crying, and it didn't take any effort whatsoever with Ali.  Seriously, I just put her down for a nap and she went to sleep without any tears whatsoever.  I'd say it is my parenting (ha), but she was born this way.  I'm just happy naps still exist!

Naps in bed, naps on mom.  Or both. 

And finally, mom made her the cutest hat and mittens for her adorable coat I'm obsessed about.  This child could model, I'm telling you.

Happy birthday Goo! We love you!