Cutest Little Tea Party

 

We Love the Beach

Even when it is dang fool cold.

Seriously. This one insists on wearing her bathing suit in February. Like a Canadian.

The beach is more fun every time we go. At this age, for both of them? The beach is just perfect. They walk with me. We find things. We learn things.

We met a little girl who found 3 starfish.

We watch the surfers.

We play.

We let the wind through our hair and the sand through our fingers.

We count how many jellyfish bigger than our heads we find washed up on the beach.

We make plans for the future.

We daydream.

We bask in the love that has brought us all together.


Where is your favorite place to be with your kids?
Out of your home, I mean...

Fairy Tails and Owwws

Eden's bangs are all out of control lately, and I refuse to cut her curls.
Come to think of it, Madee's bangs are pretty long lately too, they have been sporting the same little Pebbles Flintstone ponytail on top of their noggins.

Madee calls them "Fairy Tails" and takes hers out right away.

Eden calls them "Owwwwws"


They are really enjoying the beach these days. They could play in sand and water till cows come home.

Also? BOATS!
and SURPERS!
and FWENDS!

It is a total score!

And Boom Boom is getting the hang of this surfing thing. So he looks all kinds of happy at the beach too.

"Take me surfing, Daddy?"

These girls are total beach babes now. With their little princess wings? They have the confidence to take on all the fishes!

Gorgeous beach bum smile.

"I go surpin TOO!"

I like to bite this chin meat.

Madee just looks so natural on the beach. Her hair, her swagger, like she was made for surfing.

I die of her cuteness DAILY.
Seriously. Somebody pull out the paddles.

We call them "Mood Swings"

It was another rough night. Eden is just going through a time, and in the bounds of this living space, there comes a point of crying it out that is too much for the rest of us to bear. Or sleep through. I was up several times with her last night, and then, when Boom Boom had woken up early to sneak out for a run, Madee woke up and cried and cried and cried and seriously I am in a hurricane of whining and crying lately.

And that is a lot of my daily existence.

And some times are harder than others. Because sometimes I just don't have the energy to attack a mountain of whining and crying and clouds and cold. Sometimes I just don't know how we are going to make it through the day.

And then I have some coffee. Take my Prozac. Hop on Twitter.

Read a little from this guy's website. Cry a little.

Hug my babies. Real hard.

And find that strength that isn't in me, but is just from somewhere else.

I pack a lunch, get the girls fed and dressed, and take them out in the world to show them things, even if we are just driving by them and pointing from the window as rain beats down on the truck.

It isn't easy to be the Mom.

But I also know that it isn't easy being them either, being Eden, dealing with the mouth pain, not being able to help herself to things she cannot reach, not being able to say what she already means. wanting everything that Madee has, not being able to walk yet, because she really wants to.

And it also isn't easy being Madee, being in this swirl of emotion and new reaches of awareness that just make everything confusing and strange and uncomfortable. Feeling out of control of things and events, but understanding more and more that she could control these things, or that she will at some point. Being told "NO!" all the time. Being thrust into sharing everything - her mom and dad, her toys, her dogs, her space, her time, her food, at a time when she is just discovering ownership and independence and individuality, yet is still vulnerable to feeling like or wanting to be a baby again.

And Boom Boom? Well it isn't easy being him either. I won't get into why, because he is old enough to tell you himself, but he is tired and stressed and dealing with his own things right now.

Oh, and there I go again avoiding talking about myself. I guess I am not in the best place right now. I don't want to talk about it, I just want out. Out of the funk, out of the fog from being so tired, out of the emotion that is 3 females taking turns crying in our house. And I don't want to talk about it because I hate to admit weakness. It is like once I do, things start getting worse and the crap starts to pile on to test just how much I can carry before I fall down. And it's little things.

It's all little things! (well, except the lack of sleep!) but seriously, things are looking up in so many realms that I should be enjoying those developments (moving to FL, upgrading my blog) and I just want to cry because Madee is helping herself to the refrigerator YET AGAIN for what is like her 4 or 5th yogurt in 24 hours, despite the fact that ask her not to help herself, despite the fact that I feed her in the morning, despite the fact that now I'm crying because I feel like I must not feed my GIGANTIC GODZILLA children enough.

So here goes my pep talk, welcome one and all, seriously, if you ever need a pep talk COME TO ME I am like a SUNSHINE ENEMA.

***********************************

I have a dream. And in my dream, my new BFF from twitter, who only lives 2 hours away, and I jump a plane for Vegas, buy gorgeous new clothes and go dancing and drinking and hustling gambling winnings from old bald men for MORE GORGEOUS CLOTHES and then end up renting Segways and chucking hot dogs at at the porn card flickers while drinking vodka tonics and chanting "Big Freaking Potato" all night. Then we go into a tattoo parlor and get a tramp stamp of loaded potatoes with bacon and cheese and then run by the chapel to become "blood sisters" in a ceremony presided by a big lady Elvis. Old Bloated Elvis, not the cute one.

And then we go bet all the rest of our money on Keno while eating chicken fried steak and drunk dialing everybody in our cell phone lists and then we win a BAZILLION dollars and BUY BLOGHER and we are the QUEENS OF THE BLOGOSPHERE and we run around arm in arm singing that "Schlameel Schlamozzle" song from Laverne and Shirley.

And now I've found it. I have my strength to make this a wonderful day.

All because of my new imaginary friend.

I FEEL SO MUCH BETTER NOW.

Alrighty kiddos! lets get out of the house!

A Little Weekend Romp

You know, I tell people their kids are cute all the time, but with a standard like the ones my kids have set, I often mean it in a "well, all kids are beautiful" kind of way.

But I don't mean it that way with little Eamon Van Quig.


He really is so cute. And with the adorableness between he and Eden, he really could be a Van Quig someday. In fact he is SO cute that I barely have any pictures of my own kids from this weekend. whataterriblemomiam!

We love Tate and Jayde so much we never want to leave their house. In fact, legend has it that Boom Boom dropped in to stay for 2 weeks and ended up squatting for several months, so I think Jayde gets nervous on Sunday mornings when it doesn't look like we are packing up to go home.

I don't have a picture of Tate and Jayde, but if I could find anything in my house to represent them, it would be my favorite little figurine which is approximately 1 inch tall. notice the break on Tate's little face? That is probably where Jayde bitch slapped him.

Jayde and I haven't had a lot of time to hang out (in this life), and I may not have mentioned but I AM TOTALLY IN LOVE WITH HER and possibly come on a little strong. And awkward. Lucky for me, Jayde has a natural disapproving look, but a HUGE heart - a combination that works together quite nicely. I would even venture to say that this visit she got enough of me to actually gain a slight appreciation.

I guess she is into clutzy forgetful people who yell at other people who are constantly laughing/reminding/rubbing in how clutzy and forgetful they are.

SHUT UP TATE!

Ahem.


So the Quigleys live in Minneapolis, and other than the bitter cold and stuff, it seems like a pretty cool town. Or at least a town with some cool factor. In some places.

These horses look happy.

The carriage rides remind me of Orlando.

Horse poop definitely stinks more than baby poop. It's the little things that make me consider myself lucky;)

I like this whimsical picture of Tate and Eamon. I especially like how Eamon's head is showing up the same way other lights in the background do. Angel.


Tate's butt and a weird car.

The girls bunked up in the double bike car stroller. Nope. That didn't last very long.

A random wedding near the ruins. I love how hubs is holding her dress.

Tate. GAWD I WISH HE WOULD BLOG! Funnier stuff from no one else's mouth has fallen. He kills me. He also takes a lot of pictures. Down his pants. Priceless.

Jayde, on the other hand, takes a little time to do such things. She was also kind enough to put about the most attractive picture of me to grace the internet, ever. Thanks Jayde! All that hiding behind the good pictures I find of myself is for naught.

She also just joined me on Twitter, an enormous Christmas gift, quite a bit early. And boy is it nice to have a direct line to communicate our snarky outlooks on the daily grind to each other. Thanks JAYDE! (But I mean that one!)

I am sure her Christmas gift will include these pictures of her pretty little baby boy.



The neighbors at Tate and Jayde's have several RVs on their property, and as Boom Boom and I throw around the ideas of where we want to settle, I will admit that parking the Tioga in their driveway and putting the Wii in it for the guys to live out their video game playing, rum drinking, bad word using bachelor alter egos while the women and children seek refuge inside the Teeny Tiny House has crossed my mind.

If I were to start a commune, it would be a Family Sized Fun - Teeny Tiny House fusion that would blow your little minds. 800 square feet 4 adults, 3 babies, 3 dogs and 3 cats.

I can see the logo now.

(An Aside: check out these ruins in Minneapolis. CRAZY. I mean what is that? History, I tell you!)
Little girl walking on a BIG BRIDGE.
So I guess this post may also fit my "Bridge Picture of the Week" requirement. There are LOTS of bridges in Minnesota. Maybe it is all those lakes or something.

This one was built in 1887.


Under a bridge downtown...


Sadly, we had to leave. But hopefully they will come occupy our own 800 square feet (or less) soon!

And if the E's get married one day, I really do think they should both change their name to Van Quigley.