Here are the cute overalls that TWO was supposed to wear for our family photo this Sunday.

  
How did this happen? Ask the dryer. We’re not on speaking terms right now.

Thanksgiving is 3 weeks from today and I am already salivating at the thought of it. I want to make almost everything in the November issue of Southern Living. But after bingeing on ONE’s Halloween candy for two days, I decided to put myself on a no-sugar diet until Thanksgiving … when I (and Southern Living) will more than make up for it.

Husband had to work late last night, so my mother-in-law came over to accompany us on our trick-or-treat outing. Thank goodness I had her there to help wrangle the pirate and the tiger. Sometimes I don’t know how I functioned before we moved back to Louisiana. She tried to take some pictures, but 6:00 p.m. is a horrible time of day for us and they just wouldn’t sit still.

Happy November! 

My next-door neighbor is knocking on my door. She has an uncanny ability to stop by when I look like this (or worse).

 I will not be answering.
 

We never found the other shoe, but the replacements are pretty cute.

I am glad to be working in the home because this is what I seem to be best at. I like to grocery shop, I like to fold clothes, I like to put things in ziplock bags and label them neatly.

Today I rearranged TWO’s closet and now it makes much more sense.We went through it together and evaluated each piece, “What Not To Wear” style.

Stacy and Clinton would be so proud.

My friend who shall remain nameless told me that show Here Comes Honey Boo Boo on TLC was mildly entertaining, and then Husband came home and caught me watching it, and the next thing I know my son is naming his new stuffed animal Honey Boo Boo.

So I guess … meet Honey Boo Boo. The newest member of our family.

 

This bitch just barged into our house with her go-go juice and cheese puffs and made herself at home.

It was craft day at school, and ONE brought home this little guy. I just love him.

I live for this stuff.

Last night I was clipping the kid’s fingernails, because I lead a very glamorous and exciting life, and I stopped to look at ONE’s 4-year-old hands. I feel like I don’t stop and take the time to look – to really look – at my children often enough.

ONE’s fingers and hands have gotten so big. I can’t remember the last time I really saw them. He has clubby hands that come from my side of the family, with stubby, bitten-down nails and a trace of grease leftover from the other day when he took the chain off his bike. He has big boy hands … the kind that are used to build forts and space creatures and houses out of Lincoln Logs.

He laughed and said, “What are you doing, Mommy?” I told him I was just looking at his hands. Then I told him how big he’s getting and before long, his hands will be as big as mine. Then we discussed his plan to become a train conductor.  

This morning, TWO and I walked ONE to class and were returning to the car when I noticed our shadows on the ground. My baby is walking. And before I know it, he’ll have big boy hands, too. So I stopped and took a picture and I am so glad I did, even though I look like a boxy giant with a teeny tiny head.

I wouldn’t trade this day for anything.

I have a wonderful mother-in-law. She is letting us use her hotel points to get a very nice room in New Orleans this weekend in celebration of making it through 7 years of holy matrimony. 

It’s only 4 days away, but we haven’t discussed it much — mostly because we’re afraid we’ll jinx it … a weekend alone? No children? Free to hold hands, walk at our own pace, do what we want?! We haven’t done this in well over a year, maybe longer. I honestly can’t remember for sure. 

I can’t wait.