I have decided my new goal with Easter (and Christmas) is to not worry about "keeping up with the Joneses". Holidays have gotten way too worldly. I don't care for it one bit. It's like a mini Christmas in April and I'm not gonna do it. The tough part of this is I worry about the boys not really understanding why they don't get as much as others. Easter was very simple this year at the Wright house and I honestly don't think they even noticed. For that I am grateful.
There is entirely too much candy in this house that's for sure. I don't know why I choose to torture myself every year and buy so much. I only got three small bags and it still filled up 60 eggs. My thighs are cussing me right now. What's a girl to do? It's just so delicious.
My little men on Easter morning
Easter egg hunt with my fam
Let me give you another reason as to why I suck as a mother.
Here is a pic of Dilon looking for eggs
Baylor looking for eggs
Dax looking for eggs
and Grif looking for eggs......oh wait. That's right. No picture of Grif at the egg hunt (well he is in the background on Dilon's pic but that doesn't count). Let me just improvise and take one at home. It's totally the same. And I wonder why the poor kid has issues.
A group shot that turned out as great as most group shots get with a handful of little kids waiting to find their eggs
Happy Easter everyone. Pictures to come of the Wright clan.
I don't do pinterest. The computer takes up more of my time than it should already, I'm not going to add more things for me to explore. Even though I have never been on pinterest I have seen the links with fun things people have tried to copy and it turns out terribly wrong. I made some Reese's eggs a couple of weeks ago from a link that someone shared off pinterest on facebook. While others may think mine fall into the 'gone terribly wrong' category I like to think I nailed it. Go me!
There is one thing I really, really dislike doing. Okay, there are a few things I really, really dislike doing but one thing in particular that I have to do now and I don't want to.....paint. The entire inside of my house (minus two bedrooms). Anyone out there bored and want to come do it for me? I haven't decided if the worst part is actually painting or prepping to paint. I am so sick of fixing holes and dings and trying to make everything look perfect. I know as soon as I get everything done I will probably have a good 24 hours of beautiful walls before someone throws a toy or bumps a chair over dinging/scuffing them up again. That's alright. I'll take a house full of boys over beautiful walls any day (most of the time).
Good news is I have one room complete. We had issues with our bathtub and had to replace it. Which means the walls had to be fixed. I've painted it twice (2 coats each time so really 4 times) because the first color we picked made me nauseous every time I walked in the room. I guess if a room is going to make you sick it may as well be the bathroom. Convenient if you ask me. Anyway, the walls have been done for a week or so and no new dings yet. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I just know I am going to be the one to put the first dent in the wall when I fall trying to get out of my big old beast of a tub.
I was talked into getting a big soaker tub without realizing how tall the darn thing would be. Who talks someone into a soaker tub when it is a shower combo? I was not thinking when we decided on this and after I saw it, it was already installed. I didn't want to make a big deal of it so I just let it go. I am trying to be positive about it but I hate the thing. I don't even like to bath. I'm a shower girl through and through. The first time the boys got in (which is why the walls still look like crap in the picture) I about lost them. I thought about getting the floaties out for Baylor but that would have required me going into the crawl space and I avoid that at all costs. I make the kids dig my totes out when I need them.
I will soon be investing in a pole vault pole to get in and out of this thing. When the guy came to do the walls around it he asked if we had to invest in another water heater. I don't know if he was joking or being serious. It does take about half the day to fill it with water.
I know I need to shut my mouth and be grateful we have a shower with hot water.
We have a little game at this house the kids like to play. It is always played at night time or in the wee hours of the morning. To play you have to be 3 or younger or else be the mom. I lose this game 89% of the time. Nate has lost, well never. You see, I don't think Nate has actually ever played. I say it's his turn very,very soon. It starts with a kid who needs to be sleeping but isn't for some unknown reason. He quietly (as quiet as a 2 year old can be) sneaks into my room, climbs on my bed, falls on my face a time or two, and squeezes between me and the hubs. We have a king size bed but Nate thinks his spot is smack dab in the middle which leaves me hugging the edge. It's awesome. The next move in this super fun game is me dragging my tired rear out of my nice warm bed and half sleeping take the 2 year old back to his bed. Minus two points for me for running into the door frame giving me a bruise on my forehead and a stubbed little toe. What is the point of that little pinky toe anyway. I swear it was only put on my foot to be stubbed time and time again. Back to the game. I get the two year old in bed tucked in nice and tight. I slowly turn to walk away and test the waters to see if he is actually going to stay there. Not happening. He shoots up just as soon as he watches me walk out of the room. I do a 180 in half a second flat to make sure he does not jump out of bed again. I have no other choice but to climb in bed with him. Score 5 points for the 2 year old. I lay there for what seems like 3 weeks until I hear the long deep breathing sounds I have been waiting for. Now is the challenging part of the game. I need to somehow maneuver my way out of his bed. He has his armed wrapped around my neck in a death grip and his leg wrapped half way around my waist. It takes me another 3 weeks to get detached from the kid. Every few minutes his breathing becomes irregular and I freeze in some awkward contortionist pose because I just know he is waking up and I can't - I won't - let that happen. I ignore the charlie horse that feels like it's ripping my calf apart. I am super human at 3 in the morning. A charlie horse stands no chance against this 2 year old I must not wake. Finally. Freedom. 5 more points for this mom. I pull out my James Bond moves and avoid every creak in the floor until I am snuggled back in my warm bed hugging the edge again. I wouldn't want to wake up the hubs and make him move over. I am right in that floaty feel good state, almost asleep, when my heart sinks. I hear the pitter-patter of little feet running into my room again. I give up. You win 2 year old. Well played little buddy. Well played.