Thursday, August 22, 2013

The Great Chick-Fil-A Slime Disaster


Every Tuesday night Chick-Fil-A has Family Night. My husband works late every Tuesday night, so every Tuesday night the kids and I can be found at our local Chick-Fil-A. Sometimes we even go when it's not Tuesday. In fact, I often find myself starting stories with, "This one time, at Chick-Fil-A..."

I'm not joking when I say they know us by name. Like, every employee knows each of our names. 

(By the way, did you know that Chick-Fil-A offers a service called "Mommy Valet"? You can actually take your carfull of kids through the drive-thru, order and request the Mommy Valet service. When you pay at the window they will ask you if you need a highchair, placemats, condiments, etc, and when you finally herd all your little ones inside, the employees will have your table all set up for you! Amazing!)

So this one time, at Chick-Fil-A, it was Family Night. We LOVE Family Night. On Family Night they always have some sort of theme or craft like Superhero Night or Pirate Night or Glue-A-Bunch-Of-Crap-On-Construction-Paper-Which-Will-End-Up-Crumpled-On-The-Floor-Of-The-Minivan Night. The boys LOVE the activities and I LOVE the fact that I get 10 minutes alone with my Cobb Salad while they complete said activity. On this particular family night it happened to be Make-Your-Own-Slime-Night (the theme could have had something to do with science, but I wasn't exactly paying attention. I was with my salad).

As the boys gleefully rushed back to our table with their little cups of slime, I knew this could only end in one of 2 ways:
1) I put the little cups in my bag for safekeeping until they somehow "get lost" in the trash can OR
2) I can spend the next week picking dry crusted slime out of my carpet and off of the furniture. 

I decided to go with option 1. 

Of course, the minute we returned home they remembered their little treasures and cried, "Where is our sliiiime? Can we play with our slliiiime now, Mommy?"

Drat! My plan is foiled!! But I WILL NOT succumb to option 2!! 

"Alright, boys, you may play with your slime, but you can only play with it outside! DO NOT bring it inside! Now, where do we play with it?? Outside, that's right."

For a few brief minutes that night our normally chaotic house was peaceful. I could hear the boys giggling as they stretched and poked their slime outside on the porch. I sat just inside the door nursing the baby and checking Facebook just being present in the moment. 

Look at this serene family atmosphere you've created, Momma! You are really getting the hang of this mother-of-3 thing. I mean, before you know it, you're going to be writing an advice blog for other mothers!

Of course, in parenting, the second you begin to think that you have it even a tiny bit figured out, your child will be right there to prove you wrong. So, so wrong.

"NNNOOOOO!" wailed Jack from the porch. He burst through the door in hysterics. 


I watched in horror as my son frantically pawed at his greasy head, sending tiny beads of blue slime, as if in slow motion, soaring through the family room. I confess, at that moment I was less concerned about the possibility of Jack going blind and more agitated about how to clean the slime-droplet-coated carpet.
What's a Momma to do? She takes a picture.

A bath, one haircut and a professional carpet cleaning later, our home is now slime-free.

Tonight marks one month since the Great Chick-Fil-A Slime Disaster. So, to celebrate our recovery, we went to Family Night at Chick-Fil-A.

And, I kid you not, as we walked in I noticed a little sign informing patrons of the Family Night activity.
It said “Make Your Own Silly Putty!”

Sunday, August 18, 2013

If Spiderman Ever Needs a Day Off...

This is Aunt Boo.

She has big muscles cause she does this all day:

And this:

Naturally, Jack wants in on the action.

Luckily, Aunt Boo is a good teacher.

He's starting to get the "hang" of it! (You're welcome for that amazing pun.)

I think his Spidey Sense is tingling...

Friday, August 16, 2013

Rock City: My Kind of Hiking

I’m an “indoorsy” kinda girl. Lucky for me, my husband tends to avoid excessive amounts of nature as well. We’ve never been camping or rock climbing. We generally opt out of activities that cause one to get dirty and bug-bitten. The most outdoorsy thing we do is eat dinner on our screened in porch.

A few weeks ago, on a trip to Nini and Pop’s, my mother suggested a family hiking trip one morning. Understandably, I was not enthused. Nini, being rather indoorsy herself, explained that Rock City is a paved walking path you can easily hike in flip flops and a cute top. Plus, you can take your Starbucks.

Yes, amongst the trees and ancient rock formations and all the nature stands a lone Starbucks.

One mocha light Frappuccino, please! This is my kind of hiking.

 Rock City, located on top of Lookout Mountain in Georgia, combines the perfect amount of kitsch and charm as you hike the (paved!) woodland path through enchanted gardens and caverns. Lovers Leap, the pinnacle of the hike, offers a breathtaking panoramic view of seven states.

Jack & Nini on top of Lover's Leap

7 States: TN, KY, VA, NC, SC, GA, AL

Sweet Henry was enthralled. He poked his head in every cavern and investigated each crack in the rocks. He chased butterflies, squealed at the 100-foot waterfall and bounced along the swinging  bridge.

Jack, on the other hand, may be taking after his parents. When I asked him if he had a good time at Rock City he promptly replied, “Yes, but it’s not as fun as the mall.”

Here are a few more photos from our "hike":

Spending time with my grandparents.
I am blessed that my children are so close to their great-grandparents!

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

My Little Love's Language

This is my Little Love.

He doesn't say a lot, but it's evident he has an older brother when his limited vocabulary includes words like "burp," "Spiderman" and "McDonald's."

He doesn't say a lot, but when he does speak, it is a language all his own.

"Back-a-bee" somehow means "pacifier"

"Shay-she" is his word for "blanket"

"Cah-co" obviously translates to "ice cream sandwich." (Yes, my 20-month-old cannot say his own name, but you’d better believe he’ll communicate for McDonald’s and ice cream sandwiches.)

I'm not fluent in Henry, but I know enough to get around. 

Tonight my little love, lashes drooping, crawled into my lap with shay-she in hand. "Mama! Back-a-bee?"

"Yes, Sweetie, here is your paci."

He snuggled into my shoulder for a minute, then sat straight up. He popped out his beloved paci, pointed to his lips and exclaimed, "Mama! Moo!"

"Umm...A cow says 'Moo'?"

"Mama!" he insisted, pressing his lips with more intensity, "Moo! Moooooo!"

"You want a kiss?"

"Ya! Ya! Ya!"

I happily obliged and before he replaced the paci he gave me a little grin and said, "La la lu!" 

La la lu too, Sweet Boy. La la lu too.