Happy 4th Birthday Tate!

Tate's birthday was last Thursday, February 19th. Too bad I didn't blog that day, huh? Anyway, I wanted to give my sweet baby a tribute on his birthday. Let's just close our eyes and pretend that it is February 19th.

Happy Birthday to the Master! Master Tate is just one of his many nicknames. The nurse at the hospital gave him that one when we was born. We also call him Saboozie, Tater Tot, Monkey, and I have the habit of just calling him Baby. Not too long ago Tate said to me, "Mama, the Master wants some chocolate." Hmmm...maybe someday we should let him know he's not the Master. Maybe we should just call him Tate.

He's about 7 months here....

Here he is in the blue bonnet fields of Texas...(1 yr)

Check out the blonde on that boy! Who knew a blondy could come from me? Actually, Willy was blonde and Tate reminds me so much of him. Here he is at 2 years old...

Ever since Tate was born, he has followed Taylor and Carter around like a puppy. He likes to do whatever they are doing. Even if it is hiking Superstition Mountain...he used to call it "Duperstition."

Tate loves Show Yo. (Show Low, AZ)

I love Tate's smile. He can light up a room and make everyone happy.

Tate is definitely the baby of the family. He is definitely a mama's boy in every sense of the word, however, he realizes that there are a few things that he likes that Mama doesn't....like wrestling. Diet Mt. Dew and QT trips. That's where Daddy happily comes into play.

I love his chubby feet. I kiss them all the time.

I love his cheeks too. I kiss them all the time, and he lets me! Since we are talking about cheeks, I actually love his bum cheeks as well. I like to kiss them too, although I realize that will have to stop soon. :) I'd take a picture of his buns because they are so cute, but is that crossing the line??? Probably.

Here he is at his Bob the Builder birthday party. He had a great time with his friends. Now couldn't you just gobble him up along with that cake? Happy Birthday Tate! We love you!

This Is Where I Belong

We've been in our new house for nearly four months now. When we first moved in, all three kids took some time adjusting. Taylor and Tate both had trouble sleeping. Taylor got over it, but Tate, who has always been a great sleeper, began sneaking into our bed at night. I am one of those people who JUST CAN'T SLEEP IF MY KIDS ARE IN MY BED. Even as newborns, my babies are moved to their own room ASAP. My motherly ears hear everything from each breath they take to an involuntary silent toot. Not only that, but who likes a foot in their face? Or an arm whack? Or a mammogram? Or being pushed all the way to the edge in your king size bed? Have you ever noticed too how kids are able to make a 90-degree turn while sleeping with their parents? Tate sleeps normally in his bed for Pete's sake.

Back to my point...Tate has been periodically sneaking into our room at night. Yes, it's only once or twice a week, but like I said...I CAN'T SLEEP WITH KIDS IN MY BED. In the beginning, I would get up and walk him back to his bed and tuck him again. It's always hard for me to fall back asleep though. Then, it turned into me just letting him come in because I was too tired to get up and walk him back. Then, it turned into Tate coming in with his pillow and blanket and placing himself in our bed without me even noticing until of course his foot began prying my mouth open.

I keep having talks with him and telling him that he needs to stay in his bed, especially since he is going to be 4 in a couple of weeks. Well, last night he came into our bed once again in the middle of the night. I let him. I snuggled with him and tickled his face and kissed his cheeks. I then fell asleep and woke up later with his melon of a head smashed into my neck and his feet in Willy's face. I couldn't take it any more, so I gently picked him up and carried him back to his bed. As I put him down, my sweet baby looked up at me at said,

"Mama...this is where I belong."

Oh how I love that kid.

The Imaginary Football

So....I haven't felt like blogging for awhile. We've had a crazy, trying couple of months, and every time I thought about doing a post, it just seemed like one more thing to do. However, I've had this cute little note that Carter wrote sitting on my desk for some time now staring at me. Maybe cute isn't the right word. Not only was he really ticked off when he wrote it, but it also reveals things about our family...that we aren't perfect. (I know it's hard to believe...I scream June Cleaver.)

Anyway, Taylor and Carter have been fighting more with each other this last year. They have been best friends for so long, and now as they are growing up, they are so much more competitive with each other. Everything has to be fair, ya know? Sometimes it drives me nuts!

People that know Taylor know that she loves to write stories and express herself in that way. She and Carter had just had a fight, and rather than say mean things to him at that moment, she wrote it down, and then of course left it in a place where he'd see it. I wish I still had her note because it was pretty dramatic. She addressed it to an "Imaginary Fairy" something to the effect of:

Dear Imaginary Fairy,

My life is awful. My brother is this and that. He gets away with everything. Why must I have a brother like that, etc, etc, etc.....

From,

Taylor

So, Carter must have found the note because I found this note in his room:

Dear Imaginary Football,

Okay, let's stop there. I'm going to jump into Carter's head for a second. He's thinking, "Hey, that's not such a bad idea writing a note. I'll even make sure everyone sees it...but there is NO WAY I'M WRITING TO A FAIRY. What else could I write to? Hmmm....."

Let's continue:

Dear Imaginary Football,

I have been treated with no care. I haven't been loved by my family. I want to be loved. It's great to have a 7 year old kid to blame. It's ME! Please help me.

Love: Sincerely,

Carter

We'll never know if the Imaginary Football came to his aid. He is such a sweet boy and is definitely a peacemaker. I can assure you that he is loved beyond measure. I can also assure you that I am not June Cleaver, and sometimes I feel like I really mess up. That's just part of motherhood though, I'm learning. I am so grateful to be a mom to my three beautiful, fighting children. It's going by so quickly, and I'm trying to hang on to every moment...even these.

I'm ALIIIIIIIIIIVE!

I just yelled aloud, "I'm ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!" as I just sat down to type, so it seemed a fitting title. It's been a crazy month with moving. I had so much help, and if you were one of those people, I cannot thank you enough.

I'm behind, so I'm going to start with some Halloween pictures. This is also the door to our new house. Tate is Mike Wazowski, Taylor is a waitress, and Carter is Eric Byrnes from the D-backs.
Here is my only close-up of Taylor...and she's with all the boys.

Here's our Eric Byrnes. (Oh how I love both of them!)

Lil' Man Tate sporting a smile.

I'll end with Chicken Man. Tate and his friend Madelynn followed this poor guy around all Halloween night. Tate even honked his chicken buns at one point (or maybe it was me...no, it was Tate.) The Chicken Man was then nice enough to pose in a picture with his two fans.

It was a great night! Still have lots of candy. Here's a shout-out Emiwee....remember when you would only allot yourself one piece of candy everyday, and you had candy until the next year? I think about that every year!!!! What discipline!

Headless Chicken Goes to Disneyland

Over the last few weeks, I have been running around in circles like a chicken with its head cut-off and have accomplished what seems like very little on my list of things to do. In fact, I'm questioning if I should even be blogging right now, but I'm going crazy and I needed a release!

Here's the scoop in a nutshell: We put a bid on a short sale house in May. Then we forgot about it. We were contacted 3 weeks ago and offered the house. We went to see it again and realized there was a lot of work that needed to be done to it, however, we felt good about it and went for it. We found a renter for our home, jumped through 80 bazillion (pretty sure that's a number) hoops for financing, and closed on Friday. "Yeah!" I say one minute. "Uh-oh spaghetti oh's," I say the next minute when I think of everything that needs to be done before we move in. (Paint, broken glass, pool problems, cleaning, wallpaper removal, etc...) It's hard leaving our home and moving into a house. I know that with some TLC it will be nice, but for right now, I'm a little nutso.

So, what's the best way to handle stress? Disneyland, or as Tate says, "Dizzyland!" We actually had the trip planned before all the crazy house stuff hit, so we had to go. It was GREAT! Here's a few pictures from our trip.

Sweet Lil' Taylor at Minnie's House

Are you sure, Carter? Are you sure you want that hat? Out of the thousands of souvenier choices? Are you positive? No doubt at all? 100% sure? How about a t-shirt? Ya sure? Alright, goofy hat it is.
We're all a little traumatized after Tower of Terror. Tate wants to know why on earth his mother, who tucks him in at night and kisses all his owies away, would EVER take him on the Tower of Terror. Well, I did. People were staring at us with that closed-mouth smile. He had a death grip the whole time and at the end of it, his bottom lip curled and he said, "That was scary." Then I said, "Call the cops. Book me for child abuse." He did all the scary rides...not bad for a 3 year old. We will await the long-term effects.
Pluto will make it all better.
We also went to Newport Beach. Tate shook it like a salt shaker. I think he gets it from me.

Who are Kim and Bob? No clue. May they have true love always though.

That is one good-looking half of a boy, if I do say so myself.

Willy and I do apologize for not wearing his speedo and my thong. It was a little chilly. Next time. Behold...the Seagull Whisperers...

As far as preventative seagull control goes, these 3 kids are the best in the world.

We had such a nice trip. Now it is back to work and back to reality! It's moving time!

P. Diddy Carter

Carter asked me yesterday,


"Mom, what is a 'brother from another mother'?


Wow. Hmmm. Not sure where to take that one.


I just told him it was like a best friend.


Then he said, "Great! Isaiah and me are brothers from another mother!"


Oh well.

The Oreo Bandit

So, I made some cookies. Not just any cookies...Homemade Oreos. Mmmm. I don't ever make homemade oreos just for fun. They are used strictly to impress, if you will. But they are for sheezy tasty, and they are a great way to say thank you to someone. It turns out that I had four awesome women to thank.

It took me 2 hours to make those flippin' oreos with the homemade cream cheese and pink-tinted frosting. I was definitely multi-tasking all afternoon and feeling a bit on edge. I happened to have a busy week with church responsibilities, my preschool and my own family activities, so my window of time was limited to that afternoon only.

When all five dozen cookies were done, I took several out for my own family (because I'm kool like 'dat) and put them in a ziploc. I took the rest and packaged them in cute bags with a nice pink bow with THE EXACT AMOUNT IN EACH BAG FOR EACH FAMILY. I then placed the bags in the freezer so the cookies would stay nice and fresh. I could then deliver them in the next couple of days. Please see Exhibit A below:

You may be asking, "Why go to all the trouble Leslie?" Is it because I am a Martha Stewart wanna-be? Is it because I have an extra two hours everyday that I needed to fill? Is it because I have nothing else to do but hum a tune and roll dough balls? No, no, and no. I did it because I wanted these women to know how truly appreciated they were. (And let's be honest...to impress. Otherwise I could have just bought oreos, right?)

Now, let's back up and look at this cute guy.

Please see Exhibit B below:
Yeah, he's cute alright. Cute and always hungry. You know what happened. It is such a husband thing to do. While I was out, this cute guy and our children finished off the cookies that I had reserved in the ziploc. That's quite alright...that's why I reserved them some. Well, apparently, they were really extra good because when I walked in the door later that evening, this here cute guy is chewing and chomping on yet another oreo. He had helped himself to a cookie in one of the pretty bags with the pink bow AND THEN RETIED THE BOW...SO THAT MAYBE I WOULDN'T NOTICE???

Me: "Where'd you get that?"

Cute guy: (Acting all innocent) "The freezer."

Me: "You have got to be kidding me." (The steam is shooting out my ears.)

Cute guy: (Huge twinkle in his eye, trying not to laugh) "I didn't think you needed those anymore."

Me: "When in our 12 1/2 years of marriage have I EVER packaged cookies for you to eat?! I had those counted out perfectly for each member of their families! I can't believe you ate one!"

Cute guy: "Sorry. They are just cookies. I'll make some more if you want."

Me: (I'm just plain getting nasty and rude now because I WAS SO MAD) "Oh no you won't Mister! I want them to taste good and look cute!"

Sneaky Willy. Sneaky Willy sent his wife into a psychosis.

I woke up the next morning thinking that maybe I overreacted...oh, I was mad at him. I didn't let him off the hook though...he really needs to NOT be eating cookies packaged with pink bows...EVER! (I think that's pretty engrained in him now...heehee) It's not the first time I've gone psycho on him, and I wish I could tell you that it was going to be the last. Do not worry though...no need to contact the Dr. Phil show. We are going to be okay because he is the cutest oreo bandit I know.