If You Give A Mouse A Cookie

Clearly Laura Numeroff & Felicia Bond dealt with toddlers before conjuring up this story.


I've decided that between Avy's predictability and my ESP skills, we could come up with a story of our own.

Here Goes:

If You Sit A Red-Head Down for Breakfast
written by Little-Red's Mum
photographed by aforementioned

I dedicate this story to the little red-head mouse that keeps me running all day.

If you sit a Red-Head down for Breakfast, she'll want to pray of course.
As soon as she sits in her seat, she will fold her arms and point to the person she chooses to pray.


All the eating will no doubt produce much mess, so Mom will clean it up and take the trash outside.
When Mom clicks the door to unlock, Little-Red will hear that ever-so-slight sound from across the house and come petering down the hallway, through the living room, and out the back door to play with her ball/slide blow-up set.


All that playing will make Little-Red tired & she will surely then need a nap. So, of course Mom will head to the cupboard to get A's bottle. As soon as Avy sees her bottle being reached for, she will start to say, "BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!"
just like the microwave...
b/c she knows that's where it's going.

After Little-Red Mouse wakes up from her nap, she will undoubtedly need a little snacky-snack. Her responsible Mother will take her to the pantry and as soon as Little-Red sees the wood shelves, she will start to bend her index finger and say, "CH..CH..CH!" as if she's spraying room spray. So the 2 will set out throughout the house spraying room spray.
1st in the living room.
2nd in all the bedrooms.
3rd in the bathroom.
4th back to the living room.
5th a final spray in the kitchen.

Little-Red will have her choice of which spray she wants Mummy to spray, and 99% of the time it will be the red can; the Cranberry Mango.

Upon restoring the sprays to their rightful shelf, Avykins Mouse will traipse past the refirgerator. Walking past the fridge will cause her to smack her chest as if to say, "Please." Mom will open the fridge and Little-Red will unquestioningly choose herself a clementine, and then ask for a little shot of whipped cream on her finger.



As her Mom puts her in her high chair to eat her hearty snack of vitamin C and pure fat...
Yep, you guessed it.
Little-Red will fold her arms and want to choose who will say the prayer.

THE END.

The funny thing is, this is all very true.
high chair = prayer
clicking lock = outside play
.........and so forth.

As mentioned previously......clearly Laura & Felicia live in the world of toddlerhood.

Things that make me secretly smile

Shhhh.....don't tell anyone.

Pam & Jim

Family after-dinner dance sessions

Free contact case in contact solution box

Zac Efron

Pierce Brosnan

Thinking I'm out of TP only to find a fresh new roll waiting on the back of the tank

The smell of Tat's deodorant

When the tamale man knocks on my door & sells me tamales out of the back of his truck. Yummy dinner for cheap.....and no prep on my part......sweet.

Tools, Cars, Superbowl, Steak, Baywatch

Great, now that I've got the attention of the male species, I can continue.

Regardless of what your sweetie pie says, she ABSOLUTELY wants to know she's your Valentine come February 14th.

I'm making this task easy, simple, painfully brain-less for you.

Check out my other blog: DEARSAVVYSHOPPER

I've got it all on there:
Flowers for less
Sweet Treats for less
Jewelry for less
Romantic dinner for less

And ladies, if your man pulls through, I accept thanks via chocolate.

Today's the day I quit. --- Care to join me?

What am I quitting? Simple. Lard. Butter. The heavenly cream stick. Call it what you want, but I'll refer to it as my prize material posession. House on fire? Grab the butter. Burglar in the house? Take my cash stash, leave the lard. Flood? No worries, fat floats.




Here's the deal:

(Men readers, don't seem shocked that I'm discussing breast-feeding here. After all, if you read this I assume you have a wife or sister that has given life through home-made milk.) Continuing on.

I'll be honest. I was fortunate to have some good breast-feeding genes - thanks mom!- and could eat what I wanted and my milk-making body would use that energy for baby food. It was heaven!



I became a serious lover of butter. SERIOUS LOVER. It went on everything. And you know that etiquette rule where you're supposed to butter the broken off piece of bread right before it goes in your mouth? Well I did that...after I buttered the whole thing twice before. And then I'd put a little extra lard on the crust. Come on, who doesn't?



Anyway, since I no longer expend billions of calories a day on my own personal dairy farm, I need to stop consuming billions of calories.

I don't see myself being successful at giving up cookies or carbs or anything drastic. So it's just butter to start. And not butter completely, I'll still eat things with butter in it of course...I just won't be spreading it on everything I consume.



And so far I'm 1 for 1. As I slathered butter on A's pancakes this morning, I didn't give in. I didn't take a bite or lick the knife after I was done.



So my question to you:

Want to join? You don't have to give up butter, but surely there's SOMETHING your mind, body, spirit, or emotional health can do without?

clipping your fingernails & leaving them in the sink? (hint, hint)
talking on your cell phone while driving?
lindt truffles?
late bedtime?
whole bag of popcorn?
ill recycling habits?

Tyler's non-brownie point quote of the day

Preface:
Since Little Red has been teething and experiencing the Pirate Poops, she's seen it appropriate to awaken at severely obscene hours of the morning.

Sunday night's conversation went a little something like this:

Tyler: Whose turn is it to hit the gym tomorrow morning?

Hayley: It's mine. Nobody went to the gym Saturday morning, we went on a family togetherness hike instead, remember? But since I took the early am shift, it's my turn for the gym on Mon.

Tyler: Um...I think I woke up with A on Saturday.

Hayley: You're kidding, right? Here's the breakdown:

4am- Hayley & Avy

5am- Tyler & Avy

6am- Hayley & Avy

And now for the quote of the day:

"Don't think that just because I stay in bed at 4am doesn't mean my sleep patterns aren't disrupted when you 2 get up"-Tyler Atwood.

Really, Tat? Did we disrupt your precious sleep patterns at 4-in-the-freakin-morning?
Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive us?

Disrupted sleep patterns...HA!!!

Let's hear it for the BoyS!

It appears the Pirate Poops haven't walked the plank yet so it made for a long night for the one on diaper changing duty...me.

When I woke up, I looked and felt like a drunk lady who had been hit by a bus. You know, the one with frizzed out hair in satin pj's with a sleep mask crooked on her face? Do you catch the image I'm trying to paint for you?



Mr. Atwood and Manny -aka Uncle Austy- came to the rescue.

*Warning: if you're sleep deprived and have jealous tendencies, stop reading at this point. Otherwise, carry on.*

Boy Hero #1:

Tat decided to fore go his morning for the gym and wake up with A & her leaky diaper, saturated jammers, and soiled crib. He put her in the shower as I sprawled across the bed for a few more minutes. What a doll he is.

Boy Hero #2:

I laid down to snooze with Avy during her nap.
She woke up.
I didn't know though b/c Uncle Austy snuck in and took her.
I continued sleeping.
I had an afternoon nap for nearly 3 hours!
He walked her to the post office.
He walked her to the park.
I woke up and quietly had a snack, the whole thing, with no interruptions.
I was able to make a quick stop in the restroom without fighting little hands to drop the toilet paper roll.
I posted some finds on dearsavvyshopper with the help of only my 2 hands and 2 eyes.
I then went to the gym while they had their fun afternoon.
How lovely.

So I say, let's hear it for the boys. Come on and give the boys a hand.

For more info on my sweet buns Tat, you can read a post dedicated to him by clicking on this pic:


In case you need more proof of why you need an Uncle Austy, you can read a post dedicated to him by clicking on this pic:

Love you, Boys!

Pirate's Booty out the booty

I love Pirate's Booty.

When I need a little salty afternoon pick me up, they're there for me. When I need a quick treat to throw in a baggy and snack as I drive, they're my go to grab.

However...

I think Baby A's body doesn't agree with them. I think they give her the runs and the spews. I've noticed a trend that the few times she's purged and squirted, it's been mysteriously related to a recent gobble of Pirate's Booty.

After Monday nights episode of foul smelling white poops and ralphers all over Dad's work clothes, I'm willing to cut whatever it takes from her diet. Ahoy, matey. Yar' goin in the trash.

Wacko Tobacco

*Disclaimer*
If you're a smoker and you're reading this, I assume you already know that tobacco is harmful, right? You do understand that it's deadly, right? Okay, with that said, I can now write this post and not feel I am dropping a bomb on you.

So I was heading down the road today and an interesting phenomenon happened to catch my eye.

A young fella in an up-to-date car
... not an ancient elderly in a 20's Ford Model T ...
was smoking a pipe. So of course I think to myself,
"Self, why don't you see more pipe smokers around town? Why are all self-killers cigarette users?"


All I could come up with was laziness. I guess it's like when I want a steamed milk I head to the Bucks. Why pour myself a mug-o-milk and pop it in the microwave for 5 cents when I can swing by Starbucks drive-thru and have one made for me -with caramel mind you- for a few dollars?


Why stuff your own pipe when you can suck sweet cancer that's already prepared for you? You do the math.

New tricks at Casa de Atwood

Homegirl is such a little lady these days. The following contains supporting proof:

1- This week she has become obsessed with not only peeling her own oranges, but also chucking the remains in the garbage like a responsible little lady.





2- She has recently fallen in love with her princess dress-up gear and loves wearing it around the castle, like an elegant little human.



3- I have no pic to prove this one, just take my word for it. She loves to tell me when she's about to do a number in her diaper. Yes, she grabs her little diapered buns and says, "Momma. Poo-Poo." Now that's lady-like.

Hello. My name is Hayley and I'm addicted to children's books.

There, I said it. I LOVE kids books and more than anything I LOVE to find them at stellar prices.

If you read my Dear Savvy Shopper blog, you know where this post is going.

I had originally promised you that I wouldn't mix-n-mingle the 2 blogs, but it becomes nearly impossible when I find a deal I'm passionate about.

So I wanted to give my local book-lovers a heads-up:

Every 3rd Saturday of the month, so this month, JANUARY 17TH, the Santa Clara Public Library... the big pretty one off of Homestead, near the big Central Park ... has their used book sale. Sometimes it's out on the sidewalk, but the lady at the Library told me this one would be in one of the inside back rooms starting at 10 am. The earlier you arrive, the better b/c the good books go fast.

And you don't have to show a library card or anything...just plop your dollars down and the books are yours.

Anywho, they generally have an awesome assortment of children's books to choose from, and I was able to score all of these for $5!!! Sometimes they have an early-bird special where you can fill a Trader Joe's bag for $5...it's a magical moment for me.

If you don't live here, but are interested, you should totally check your local library to see what they do with their "discard" pile.

Happy reading!

Need a new lullabye?

Don't try this one.

Background:
On our way home from Utah, Avykins got a little tired and bored, as any good toddler or adult should after riding in the car for hours upon end, so her sweet Father tried his hand at the Lullabye writing and performing business.

There were only 3 repetitive notes, likely C, D, & E...and then C, D, & E again...and again...and again, so for the sake of a good song, put these words to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

As a point of reference, the following images show the stars of the song...Kitty and Ducky. Some of the pics are a bit Where's Waldo-ish...you really have to look to see them.


The tune went a little something like this:

Ah-Hem.
Avy loves her little cat,
She sleeps with it and puts it in her mouth.
She likes to play with it all day, but one day it turned into a real live cat.
So Daddy saw it in the backyard,
And shot it with his BB gun.
We don't like cats and we want them all dead,
But mommy said to Dad, "Don't kill that cat!"
So Daddy didn't really kill the cat,
He just pretended that he did.
And then Avy's Ducky and Kitty Cat,
Had a little baby named Quack-ety Cat.

Does this disturb anyone besides me? I think the most unsettling part of the performance was that Baby A really liked it and demanded an encore at the end by erupting in a pleasing applause. Hmmmm...