I like gummy bear | i love gummy bear | gummy bear song english

I can recall saying to mothers of other toddlers, "I thought age 3 was WAY worse than age 2 for my kids." But I couldn't remember exactly why. My babies will be three in January. And now I remember. "I do it myself." All day. Every day. Times two. Slowly leading me to to insanity. Picking out clothes? I do it myself. Taking off and putting on clothes? I do it myself. Taking off and putting on socks and shoes? Yep. I do it myself. Opening the door to the garage. Hitting the garage door opener button. Opening the car door. Putting on car seat straps. Buckling car seat straps. Getting out of the car. Closing the car door. Opening doors at stores and restaurants. Wiping nose. Packing backpack. I do it myself. (Note: Often, there is only one thing to do - like close the car door. So, then we have to open and close the car door twice - because, well, there's two of them and they both want to do it themselves.) I am now late to everything. Every time. I know that t

These guys started Mother's Day Out yesterday. They will go on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9:30 to 2:30. Their first day was terrific. C even told me that playing outside at school was "awesome". They played and had circle time and ate lunch at a table with the rest of the kids. Next week, they'll stay a little longer and have naptime too. (We'll see how that goes...) I think I'm going to really enjoy the time on my own. It's been a while. I didn't think I would miss them. And I didn't while they were there. But when I returned and saw them through the doorway, minding their manners, sitting at the lunch table like such big boys? And when their faces lit up when they finally noticed I was there? My heart ached just a little bit - partly because I realized that I had actually missed them a bit and partly because I realized, in that moment, that my babies were on their way to not being my "babies" anymore.

My two-year-olds to each other: Rock, Paper, nuh, nuh, GO! (with rochambeau hand movements) ******* My six-year-old, during a gourmet sloppy joe dinner last night: I have a sesame seed bun. My seven-year-old: I have a delicious and nutritious whole wheat bun. My six-year-old: If I plant these seeds, will it grow bread? ******* My two-year-old at his very first movie last week (very loudly, as the prehistoric squirrel in the Ice Age movies appeared on the screen to start the film): OHMYGOD! WHAT IS THAT? ******* And, I'll leave you with this. What my six-year-old does to her brother when left unattended.

I won't re-tell the Omaha story here. I posted pics and words over at KCKidsFun - click here to read Weekend Family Getaway from Kansas City: Omaha . And we'll be headed back next summer for sure. I've only been asked about it every day since we got back. A big hit.

Those faces. I could eat them with a spoon. So awesome. I love them.

My husband doesn't blog. Doesn't really understand what a blog is. But I took some video footage of the little guys today and he just put together this perfect picture of life with C and H...

The only one of my four who touched the salsa. He had his own bowl. Which had to be refilled before dinner was over. This is, of course, the same kid who eats Buffalo Chicken Dip with Frank's Hot Sauce ... (sorry for the poor photo quality - phone pic in dark restaurant...)

My people. A whole afternoon with just my five favorite people. (And the animals and other freaks at the zoo.)

When would be the best time to pull this one out of the old archives? Sandals but no pants? Check. Fruit snacks? Check. Kickass sweatband on each wrist, just so he doesn't lose his grip on the snacks due to slick perspiration? Check. Forrest-Gump-on-the-bench position? Check. Oh yes. This photo will be very useful to me in the future...mwahaha...

The freckles are really coming out on my older kids' faces this summer. They were simply unavoidable. My husband and I are both freckle-faced and -shouldered. We can slather as much sunscreen on as we want - still freckles. I embraced mine early on - and my kids like theirs. I'm glad. I like them too. At the Browne's Market Irish Street Fair, June 2009 And then there's these two. Their freckles will come, I'm sure. Probably not for another year or two. But as much as these little guys make me mad/crazy/tired/crazy/frustrated/anddidImentioncrazy, look at these faces. Sigh. I can't get enough of these faces. At the playground, May 2009

Fight. A case of the hurt feelings. Beg mom to pick me up and console me because the mean twin did mean things. A typical day in the life...fight, whine, whine some more. Is it terrible that I grabbed the camera instead of breaking it up? Nah.

People all over town are bitching about the cooler temps we've had so far this summer. "It's June, I'm tired of the rain, It should be hot, blah, blah, whine, whine, bitch, bitch, blergh." Talk to me in mid-July, jerks. It'll be so fucking hot on the baseball diamond bleachers that the sweat will be running down your back and into your butt crack like Niagara Falls. And then you'll be bitching about the heat and the electric bill and your hair and the humidity. So, bite me. I like this mild weather. It enables us to live outside and enjoy our yard without changing clothes three times a day due to sweat. The little boys love to eat out on the deck. A very nutritious lunch of hot dogs (with ketchup, yum!), pretzel sticks and apple sauce. A stalker in the trees below the deck: Oh hi! It's just Dad, pruning dead branches off the redbud. This is why I like a mild June after a very rainy spring. This is my backyard, people! It's heavenly. Except for the

We have a largely finished basement but there is a portion (it's actually under the garage) that is still unfinished and we call it the dungeon. The dungeon is where all of J's music equipment is - you might remember that he plays in a band from this post or this post . The kids are only allowed back there when one of us is with them - so it's a big treat. All four of them like to play the electronic drums. The bigger ones are showing some interest in learning to play the guitar. Here is a glimpse into some family time in the dungeon: J on the Drums on Vimeo . My 39-year-old playing the drums - and a few other folks. The tricycle that H is riding? Was mine as a toddler. And I didn't realize how anti-paparazzi C is. M was there (you saw her briefly) but I think G was reading a book somewhere. Shortly after this was recorded, we left for Red Lobster . (And if you enjoyed reading about Red Lobster, you might need to check out the Red Lobster Server blog . Oh. My. God.)

I'm sitting here, scrolling through my Google Reader with my littlest child. As he sees photos, he remarks on them. A photo of a sleeping child on a mommyblog? "Wook! A girl sweeping!" (It was a boy.) A photo of Taylor Swift, 16 year old country singer/ex-girlfriend to a Jonas Brother? "Wook! Is Gwandma!" (My mom will now probably anoint him her favorite grandchild.) A photo of Jon Stewart, short Jewish comedian? "Wook! Is Daddy!" (Who is actually a 6'4" non-Jewish guy.) Farrah Fawcett? Also Grandma. Jessica Simpson? Grandma. Miss California? Grandma. Such a thoughtful child. No?

Bill Murray as Carl Spackler in Caddyshack . My youngest son as ... Carl Spackler in Caddyshack .

Gimme a head with hair Long beautiful hair Shining, gleaming, Streaming, flaxen, waxen Give me down to there hair Shoulder length or longer Here baby, there mama Everywhere daddy daddy Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair Flow it, show it Long as God can grow it My hair Did you know that my older two used to be able to sing the song "Hair" from the Broadway musical of the same name? Way funny. Courtesy of the Broadway Kids CDs. One of my two-year-olds has been perfecting a David Cassidy as Keith Partridge coif lately. I loved it. It was awesome. You can't see the flowy-ness of the back in this picture. Be assured that it was flowy. Today? Not so flowy. The littlest one got his hairs did too. And so did the girl. She's just so stinkin' pretty it makes my heart ache sometimes.

Sometimes I'd like to put them out with the recycling on Friday mornings. And sometimes, I don't. Today was one of the times I didn't want to unload them on the sanitation workers.

I was sitting at my kitchen table working on a writing project while dinner was in the oven earlier. And I kept feeling a very cold draft at my legs. I looked around. All doors and windows within eyesight were closed. All of my children were in the hearth room, watching TV. And whining about dinner. I got up and walked into the living room and foyer to see if the doors and the chimney flue were closed. They were. A blast of freezing air hit me at the top of the stairs to the basement. I ran down the stairs to find the back door wide open. It's 32 degrees out. And my evil 2 year old monkeys had turned the heat off. (New obsession. They drag the piano stool to the thermostat and mess with it. I'm looking into those clear plastic covers with locks they have at schools.) I'm fairly confident they unlocked the door and it blew open in the weather today. No idea how long it was open. I was immediately searching the basement - tv room, toy room, bar, bedroom, bathroom, unfi

On Thursday afternoon, I had to ask my 7 year old to not sing quite so loud in the waiting area at piano lessons. Song choice? "Bad Medicine" by Bon Jovi. Also, my 2 year olds can sing "Shattered" by O.A.R. and "Fall for You" by Secondhand Serenity. Waaaaay too much Top 20 on 20 on the XM while dropping and picking up big kids at school. I guess that's what happens to the youngest kids - they learn pop songs instead of Disney songs. Fine by me, believe me...I'm getting a little tired of The Little Mermaid . Don't despair for their childhoods though - had to ask the littlest peanut to stop singing "Rain, Rain, Go Away" at the top of his lungs during dinner. He also belted out "Baa, Baa Black Sheep" last night, out of nowhere. "Yesh shir, yesh shir, fee bags fuh."

My husband bought me two new lenses for Christmas. One is a long lens for kids' sports and backyard wildlife. The other is a 1.8 for good close-ups. The kind that I so expertly describe to my sister (a professional photographer) as "the ones that get blurry in the background". So, here is a glimpse of my idyllic mornings. Post-school drop off for the big kids. I get to relax and sit at the table with the newspaper and coffee and enjoy the solitude and the silence. Except I don't drink coffee and I've never, ever experienced solitude or silence during the waking hours of these two.