Ocean Lizard Animal Zebras
And just like that, we almost have a 4 year old. 4. How. The only thing you really need to know about an almost-4-year-old boy is how much of the day is spent in an alternate universe. There are about 12 seconds in a 24 hour period we are not living in the land of make-believe. It’s fun, creative, cute…all of the above. It’s also incredibly hard to play along. The plot lines in his make-believe world are super complex and ever-changing. I can never quite keep up with which character he is in which moment, or what my role is, or what foods/activities/words he does and doesn’t eat/do/say as said character. And just when you think you’ve…
Stroller Splat
During a recent catching-up-on-life conversation, a friend of mine said, “I know it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, but from what I see on Facebook things are going well. You look like you’ve always got it together!” Hold up. Wait a minute. If that is the impression I have given at any moment in time, I am failing miserably as a human. (I also feel sure she never read about my, you know, severing my dog’s tail, leaving my laptop on the hood of my car, or befriending a cloud of gnats with the human poop on my calf…all exciting life events that took place within the past 12 months.) But,…
Attack of the Giant Baby and his Threenager Sidekick
We’ve had a crazy busy past few weeks with Hutton’s birthday, the mister’s busy season (February is prime corndog season, if you didn’t know), a solo trip to Nashville to hang with some awesome college kids, some first trimester bleh-ness, and, of course, the mid-season return of Suits. Love me some Mike. And Harvey. Marvey? Moving on. Remember when I used to write letters to Beckett on big milestones? Poor Hutton. I have yet to do that. I do, however, find time to make this series of slow motion videos entitled, “ATTACK OF THE GIANT BABY”. A video posted by Sarah Brooks (@sarahbrooks13) on Feb 17, 2015 at 8:05am PST Surely he’ll appreciate those…
Sock Bandit & Costume Roundup
The face of a little boy that tried to eat a snail*. And a wood chip. And an acorn. And smashed bug guts. The great outdoors are fun, aren’t they? (*picture taken by the mom who actually debated for a few seconds between messing up freshly painted nails or digging the snail out. #boymompropz) Sock Bandit When Beckett was about a year old, he developed a love affair with the Swiffer. Like, would whine and cry to play with it at play dates, instead of the thousands of mom-tested, kid-approved toys in front of him. Hutton is following suit. Not with a Swiffer, but something equally as awkward: socks. All shapes and…
Nekked Cheerio Hoarders
When Taylor got home from work he found a post-it note saying, “ARM YOURSELF” with a can of silly string underneath. A war ensued. It was the second best decision made in our house this week – the other being the unnecessary 8oz of cream cheese we added to a white chicken chile recipe. Uhyesplease. The Art of Nakedness It doesn’t matter these days how many clothes I put on my 3 year old boy or how difficult said clothes are to take on/off. It doesn’t matter if they come with 14 buttons or none. Zippers or elastic. At some point during our day (usually at several points) I find…
for real tho…life as of late
It’s been a while since I’ve just documented life as of late which, coincidentally, is what the title of this blog is. And I have a hankering to write words without having to think too hard about them, so howsabout a little update post for my own sake. Like an update on Beckett. He’s 3 and really good at being 3. He is a little tootface that makes me laugh on a minutely basis. Have you seen that little chunky kid who says “apppparennttllyyyy” a lot? That’s Beck with the words “actually” and “seriously”. It’s amazing. He’s potty trained for the most part, and he’s really good at entering a…
A Bugsday to Remember
I recently posted a really sappy Facebook post about Taylor and what a sweet spot our marriage is in. The truth is, I still feel like I should butter him up after last week. Some of my favorite humans invited us to go to the Hillsong concert here and, for once in the past 3 years, we were on time. Showered, dressed, kids handed off, and pulling up to the venue with 20 minutes to spare. I’d never been to the American Airlines Center, so I didn’t know what to expect, but apparently the lot was pretty empty. Taylor: Why isn’t anyone here? Me: I don’t know. Maybe it’s a small crowd. Taylor:…
Play-Doh Therapy
RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus) is the gift that keeps on giving, apparently. My boys contracted it several weeks ago which is old news…except it’s the fun kind of virus where just when you think it’s gone, it morphs into something else. It’s been a vicious cycle of grossness ’round these parts, which is why I rocked my Warby Parker glasses recently. This is a conversation I had with my eye doctor during my emergency appointment, compliments of “broken eyeballs” (the words I actually used to describe the reason for my visit…because I’m 12): Doctor: Wow, yea. Your eyes are super red. Me: (Drr. That’s why I’m here.) Doctor: Have your…
Turning Over a New {Palm} Leaf
At lunch with my dear friend Amanda today, I had to choose between wiping poop off my forearm or vomit out of my hair first after a dual eruption from the wee one. Just livin’ the life, you guys. Livin’ the life. Really though, I’ve already hit rock bottom this week, so I’m hardly even phased by such a decision. Airborne Acer Probably the hardest part about having multiple kids so far is getting them ready and in the car, along with all 5,564 of their “essentials”. Step 1 is getting Hutton strapped into the infant carrier. He screams from the time the buckles snap to about 5 minutes into…
Subway Truths & Other “I seriously just said that” Toddler Moments
I picked the worst table at Subway yesterday. We ended up at the one sitting pretty much in the middle of the restaurant. The people waiting to order are standing so close the table you’re nervous about elbowing them as you dive into your footlong meatball sub. So when Beckett piped up in that little high-pitched voice that carries as well as his momma’s, everyone within 10 feet could hear. He looked at something, pointed, and yelled, “MOMMY – WHY THAT MAN COLORED LIKE DAT?” (And for the record he didn’t say “dat”. He named an animal of the same coloring that I refuse to type out. It still makes…
