Paul + Pauline (and some other things)

Okay so I'm still not entirely convinced that my little brother isn't pulling my gullible leg here but ...

this is my brother Paul (on the right - in the event of any confusion!!) and the little lady he escorted to (on? for?) his college's homecoming court (I hope that's correct). Her name is Pauline. Paul claims Pauline and her mom (mother of nine! love it) are dedicated readers of the blog and thought they'd get a kick out of some posted pics.

So I'm believing and delivering.

Lie and tell me they aren't the most adorable. You can't do it. Because they just are.

Anyway, I may have made the bit up about "dedicated" because how dedicated can anyone be to reading a blog who's genre is: complaining ... but still. I hope any mothers of nine that read this blog just get a nice little chuckle every now and again over my pathetic leedle plights.

So Paul and Pauline. That was the main event.

Moving onto less exciting.

Mouse in the house. I was down in the basement a few minutes ago with the big kids when out ran a baby mouse. Just like that! Into plain sight. Julia jumped three feet right onto the nearest raised surface and Sebastian chased it around and I freaked. Until I put a glass over the brave little sucker and trapped it's bottom until Simon gets home from work tonight. Simon suggested I slip a piece of paper under the glass and just flip the glass over and take it outside.

Where is the hysterical laughter emoticon?

RIGHT.

One thing at a time, Dr. Dreamer. Let's work on my gigando medal-o-bravery first. Milk chocolate or platinum will do. Either/or.

Life hacker what. So I like the blasted pumpkin spice lattes just fine but I really, really, really love the stupid salted caramel mochas to a fault. A big fat fault. I've found that purchasing any kind of caramely creamer (chocolate caramel, or whatev) and then salting (with sea salt because iodized table salt just kind of takes the fun out of it, you know?) the caramely creamed coffee is a very worthy subsititue for the real deal.

Don't hate me cuz you ain't me. Don't laugh and rain on my parade but I'm going to at least attempt to make a truck cake for Sebastian for his second birthday this week. Yes, I feel guilty because Julia got store bought cookies for her birthday this year but you know what? I tried last year. I did. It's a mostly selfish act because the cake will be carrot (my favorite) and the dirt is going to be crushed Reeses (my other favorite) and his big presents are going to be the trucks adorning said cake. Three birds - one very time consuming stone. I'll post pictures if it's 1/29304829348204th as okay looking as the real deal. And I realize Pinterest has way crazier cakes to shoot for but I know my limits and I know them well.

Stage mom. So I think I've touched on the fact that Julia is obsessed with ballerinas, performances, and anything to do with dance dance dance it's a toddler thang. I found some tap shoes in her size on thredUP and after missing out on a pair of cowboy boots for Bash last week I snapped them up and then happened to mention my genius purchase to Simon the other night. Never have I ever seen the man google (while simultaneously guffawing and eyebrow arching and looking at me like I had 9 new heads) something so fast in my life. "Do tap shoes ruin wood floors?!!!!!!!!!" and he was waving all the rants from fellow dumb parents in my face in about .000005 seconds flat. Fine, point taken.  (And there are some toddler boy tap shoes still for sale if anyone is in the market to ruin their floors like I was. Formerly fun mom.)

Triathlon Training. But not. Not ever. I saw this on Facebook (thank you Megan Rose!!) and thought it looked doable for the first fewish minutes of nap time?? Maybe? At least the first week?

It's getting a little bit too cold to run in the mornings so we'll see if I can stick to this. 

Pumpkin farming, apple picking, crisp fall weekending. Nope.

Call weekend for the lose.

But you know me and sports so lets focus on the Irish and the Cardinals victories yesterday ...

oh, and Pollyanna attitudes. Love those.

(Sebastian striding straight for the fake tree bark chips that would go straight into his mouth. Always. Grow up, dude.)

Anyway. Have a happy rest of the day ...

Or don't ...

I'll never know.