I don't even know where to begin...

Anyone out there remember THIS STORY?  If so, it just got a whole lot more interesting:

Mainly because my mother-in-law teaches 3rd grade.  LOL?  Living On Lipitor?  Really?!

I'm obviously out of touch with today's youth.  And I mean that literally, not sarcastically.  Because my mother-in-law has YBS, CTN, and IDK'ed me all afternoon, and I have no idea what she is talking about.  It is like I don't know how to communicate with her anymore.

Case in point:

Of course it does.  

Basically, if you need to know what some sort of random acronym in a text message means, Gran's your woman.

In other news, I can't tell if I'm looking forward to or dreading the next time she LOLs something.  Hopefully, there will be some context clues in the message to help me figure out if she's laughing, sending us love or discussing her cholesterol meds.

Some of the fun things we did while Trevor was in Canada (a photo blog)...

We hung out at White Rock Lake, watched the sun set and Banner got to go on his very first boat ride:

We went to the Arboretum and showed CEO all our favorite gardens:

And, finally, we went to Penn Farms at Lake Joe Pool for an afternoon of fun and exploration with Jeep:

I made a chart for this post. No kidding.

OMG. I'm actually going to do something I said I would do! I know, I know: MIND BLOWN.

Here is how Trevor and Banner compare according to their well visits between birth and age 2:

Of course, this would have been more interesting if we actually had data on Trevor in the twenty-odd months that transpired between four months and two years.  I can only assume that Trevor was remarkably healthy between February, 1977 and October 1978.

Not that I'm judging, mind you.  I have it on good authority that Trevor was a handful.  

All this kind of makes me want to track down my baby book and see how thorough Grammy Pammy was back in the day.

What makes me laugh, though, is Trevor's reaction to weighing (almost) two pounds more than Banner at age two, but being over two inches shorter.  He thinks that makes him akin to a bowling ball.  But he wasn't.  If anything, he has two extra pounds of hair on top of that toe head:

Trevor at his second birthday party.

Other interesting tidbits from Trev's baby book?  The fact that Trevor was eating LEMON PIE at his first Christmas at the tender age of 10 weeks.

See last line in black if you don't believe me.

Which just goes to show that babies that were never breastfed and fed LEMON PIE at two months can turn out just fine.  I need to remember this if/when I ever breed again, because I was all nuts-o-cracko obsessed with Banner being exclusively breast fed and not introducing solids until he was six months old and blah, blah, blah.  And even when he started eating solids, I was all like, "Oh, no!  Not RICE cereal.  Not MY baby!  We've got to start him on oatmeal or he'll grow to up to be obese and diabetic!" 

(The boob milk sent me to the top of Mount Crazy fast.  I see that now.)

Comparatively, Banner's daddy was formula fed from the get-go and feasting on dessert before he could roll over.  And, no.  Trevor isn't diabetic.  He has only had one cavity in 37 years, and - despite all the studies that suggest a link between formula fed babies, increased risk of allergies, and what have you - Trevor has no known allergies, 20/20 vision and has incredible hair to boot:

Spencer and Trevor. 
Proving yet again that those G-wink genes are STRONG.

Meanwhile, my mother breast fed me for thirteen months and I have terrible allergies and myopia.

Figures.

Why I'm not using the ice days to decorate for Christmas...

So, it is day two of this whole ice storm thing, and I just realized I haven't left the house since Thursday night. Trevor and Banner went and got hair cuts at 8:30 this morning, because Banner's school was supposed to have a Parents Day Out today from (9 AM to 1 PM). We were going to use the opportunity to run downtown and pick up our race packets for the half tomorrow, but the marathon was canceled yesterday. As was Banner's appointment with Santa for pictures at 1:40 AND Parents Day Out. Which means my son now has a fabulous haircut, but no where to go.  And we can't go outside anymore because Banner keeps trying to lick the metal gas meter.

All this may or may not explain or have anything to do with this:

He is napping with my pink piggy neck pillow around his waist
 and his beanie on his head surrounded by a sea of blankets and toys.
Because, obviously.

We have a hard time keeping that beanie on his head when he is outside in frigid temps. But he insists on wearing it to bed. Someone please explain this to me.

Siiiiiigh, toddlers.

In other news, apparently everyone else is using their ice days to decorate for Christmas. Except we already did that the weekend before Thanksgiving. I know, I know…I probably deserve this for "not respecting the turkey" and letting Thanksgiving have its day. But Thanksgiving was wicked late this year, and - quite frankly - if it wasn't for Trevor, I probably wouldn't have bothered. Mainly because Christmas always feels like a bunch of extra clutter to me, and it seems silly to get all the decorations out of the attic for only 2-3 weeks. But Trevor is LOVES to decorate for Christmas, and would happily vomit holiday-themed nick nacks all over every spare square inch of surface space if left to his own devices. So, we compromised: he got to decorate as long as we did it early enough to warrant the effort, and I got veto power on all the superfluous crap.

Go ahead. Call me Scrooge.

And for all you peeps who think it is sacreligious to decorate before Black Friday, you *almost* got to me and made me feel guilty. Until I remembered that I don't like to decorate to begin with, and I was planning on EATING said turkey on Thanksgiving, not respecting it (except for maybe how yummy it tastes).

But to Thanksgiving's credit, it (along with the Fourth of July) is one of my favorite holidays. I love that an entire day dedicated to being thankful, eating and spending time with family. If that involves throwing up some twinkly lights and garland while contemplating how many servings of mashed potatoes I can eat after running the Turkey Trot, so be it.

Banner, for one, is thrilled with the tree, ornaments and Little People Nativity (thanks, Aunt Lynn!). His favorite tree-related activity is taking the ornaments off the tree (especially his special "Elmo" ornament I bought him this year) and sticking the lights up his nose. And don't even get me started on how much he loves the nativity set. Baby Jesus keeps ending up on top of the manger, and "Frankensheep" attacks the three wise men four or fives times a day. It is completely awesome. As is the fact that Banner liberated drunk Santa from the tree this afternoon and had him standing over Baby Jesus as if toasting the infant during story time at the manger:

Bad Santa.
(The cow is a little too excited about Santa's bottle.)

Of course, my mother-in-law thinks I should hide drunk Santa so the above predicament doesn't happen again, but where is the fun in that? Because, quite frankly, drunk Santa is a fabulous addition to an iced over world where your 23 month old has somehow figured out how to GET OUT OF A BACKWARDS SLEEP SACK.

Granted it has only happened once this week, but that was one time too many. Trevor and I are back to sleeping in fear of the 3 AM pee soaked nursery.

At least we still have some left over duct tape...

I'm too happy, tired and FULL to care if any of the following makes sense...

I don't even know what to say about Thanksgiving.  Mainly because it has been an awesome day THAT JUST KEEPS GOING AND GOING AND GOING AND GOING.

Seriously.

We woke up at 6:30 because we registered to run the 8 mile Turkey Trot like a$$hats.  It was 28 degrees.  I was cold.  As is evident below:

Please stop taking my picture, Trevor.  I can't feel my face.  

Because "I can't feel my face" means "selfie".  Obviously.
Also, why hasn't anyone ever told me that I have a Jay Leno-esk chin?!

I've decided Trevor is suuuuuuper annoying to run races with because he insisted on arriving at the starting line FORTY FIVE minutes early.  And that was with all my efforts to delay standing in the cold for no good reason for as long as possible.  Mentally, I compare it to that time he was in charge of our travel itinerary and got us to BWI SIX HOURS BEFORE OUR FLIGHT TO DFW in 2008.

Yeah, still not over it.

Luckily, the freezing temps got our booties across the finish line in a respectable (if you are us) hour and twenty minutes.  Because the trot was only the beginning of our day, and we still had showers to take, country club clothes to don and a certain little, hyperactive dude to pick up from Gran's house.

This is what my kid looks like watching Toy Story after being
fed a slice of pecan pie for breakfast by his grandmother.
OMG.

As Gran would say, "wilder than a hoot owl".
I don't even know what that means, but Ban was it.

Not that she did it on her own.  Uncle Spencer helped.
(Not that MY kid needs much convincing to eat pie!)

When we arrived, Banner was just starting to come down from his pie-induced sugar high and poor Gran looked like she needed a nap. 

(I have a bad feeling that the only lesson Gran learned this morning is to only give Banner sugar immediately before returning him to us.  Lord help us.)



Post-race blurry iPhone family photo attempt #1

Post-race blurry iPhone family photo attempt #2

Thanksgiving PART 1 was at Brook Hollow.  We attempted to take another family picture.  It didn't go well.  But Banner was wearing a collared shirt and sweater and I had actually made a rare attempt at blowdrying my hair, so we had to try.  Mimi is a patient soul:

And, yes, I realize that you can't even tell that I made an effort hair-wise.  But I assure you:  said effort was made.

Then it was on to food.  Banner is thankful for sweet pickles.  

This is Banner's first of THREE plates.  Every pickle was consumed.
Banner is to pickles as I am to olives.  No kidding.

The time between plates two and three was spent running around the golf course like a crazed maniac.  A friend of Trevor's from high school tried to convince me that Banner doesn't weigh enough to injure the putting green.  But I'm not so sure.

At least, we calmed down (briefly) to have a deep conversation with Uncle Baaaaa:

Then, it was home to nap (for a mere 45 minutes) before Thanksgiving PART II with Gran and Pop-Pop.  

Banner was running on fumes, with *almost* explains the following videos.

Dancing to Selena Gomez at half time.

The annoying chicken.

And to clarify, no one was able to capture a video that adequately depicts Banner's INSANE energy level tonight.  BECAUSE WE WERE TRING TO KEEP PROTECT HIM FROM HIMSELF, not photo/video document.  But, believe me, Banner was a complete and utter spaz.  

Needless to say, we were home by 7:30.  Banner was bathed and asleep by 7:45 and I am in my PJs at 8 PM.  But AT LEAST I AM AWAKE.  Trevor is snoring as I type, but still clutching the TV remote like his life depends on it.  Like I'd even attempt to change the channel to anything but football.

(Not because I've been trained well, but because I'm too exhausted to care.)

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

LOL...

On the lighter side, Banner's ear infection DID shed light on one of the greatest mysteries of the summer.  Namely, what Trevor's mother meant when she texted LOL. 

It had all started when Trevor's mom nearly got in a head on collision with a car going the wrong way late one evening the month before:

Wait.  What?  Head on collision?  LOL?

And then there was stuff like this:

But the final straw was when his mother LOL'ed Banner's ear infection while we were in Wyoming:

Because, obviously.  

But at least she wasn't laughing AT us.  

Plus, the whole thing definitely gave Trevor and I a much needed giggle in the mist of a very trying situation far, far from home.

And, well, LOL now means multiple things in our family, which is oddly fabulous.

My mother-in-law is awesome.  Just sayin'.

LOL