Well, hello there!

Yes, my dear friends, I DO realize that the last time I dug up this 'ol blog and did something useful with it, my son had just turned 1. Now he's 2 (and a half). AND I would apologize profusely (you know me) for keeping you all out of the loop, but alas, I am here- and, well, we all know you have facebook. So stop it. I just have to say this once, (again) just to get it off my chest- Susan P VanSickle, this is alllll your fault! (with love, my dear). If it weren't for the aforementioned long-lost-since-having-been-relocated-all-the-way-to-Dallas friend (again, with love, dear) I wouldn't have even remembered that I had a blog that needed dealing with, and I would not be spending my valuable Sunday finding templates for blogger on various websites and checking and changing font sizes and colors. You know, when you find something of sentimental value, you can't just throw it away, you have to DO something with it!! (whatever the eff that means). So, I'm mommy blogging again. ON MY SUNDAY. ;).Yes, I have but 2 glorious Sunday afternoons a month, when my dear son is out having 'daddy time' so that I can have that valuable 'mommy time' i.e.- 'get the effing house cleaned before I lose my mind!' time. But, more on that later. Blogging. whew. We'll see how this goes, I'm not making any promises.

OK. SO. As I'm font-shopping, I'm also trying to think about what in the world to blog about on my first attempt back from the dead.  I go to the kitchen and grab a cup of coffee, head back to the bedroom to get my glasses, and all the while I look like I'm doing the 2-step  down the hallway because there IS. SO. MUCH. CRAP. ON. MY. FLOOR! (remember, I'm blogging- not cleaning my house right now). That is when the giggles set in. You know, those uncontrollable I'm-pretty-borderline-crazy kind of giggles. And I got out my camera. I feel like I'm collecting evidence for my son's future wife. Kind-of secretly LOVING IT. You see, my beautiful blonde boy has 2 things that he loves above ALL else. 1. Shoes. 2. Piles. If he loves it, it goes into a pile. or heap. or mountain. Even better if it's a shoe mountain. Trader also has this thing about tables. they should NEVER stand on their legs. Always on their tops. I wonder what it is that all toddlers possess that screams into their brains: "GRAB, PULL & DROP. now repeat". Are they still discovering gravity?? dang. Below are some photos of what I have to look forward to when I get off this computer. Note-  Mothers, lock your daughters in the house. When this child turns 16, I have a feeling he's gonna know how to par-tay.

 Notice the pants on the table. Apparently, in order to Swiffer correctly, one must do it without wearing pants. I also love how the mess always tends to gravitate towards the window by the front door. Lets show the whole neighborhood how messy mommy's house is!! ;-)

Welcome to the playroom. Piles. Upside-down tables. crayons. cars. empty toy boxes. chairs thrown into corners. I wonder what would happen if I just didn't clean it up.... ?? I mean, could it really get any worse?

 What is it about dresser drawers that scream "PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE- EMPTY ME ONTO THE FLOOR!!!"? Thank goodness this is just one drawer. And it's laundry day, so it was mostly empty. ;)

 Dear God, thank you for creating the individual who invented bathtub crayons. Amen.

Aaaahhhh, and there it is. The shoe pile. Every. Single. Day. Trader runs to my closet, tries on every single shoe, and then throws it down onto the floor. 

To all my lovely friends without kids- remember this: When you're running SUPER EFFING LATE to work and cussing all the way out the door, be thankful that at least you're not trying to find your super- cute gold strappy sandals in a mess like this one. Because honestly, one of them could be in the pantry. or the garbage. or the toilet.
And to all of my lovely friends with children- you know that moment, when those big blue eyes look up at you, and those tiny hands drop whatever (God forbid) they're holding, and they say: "Mommy, loves please. I love you" and they wrap you in the best damn hug you've ever had. Yep. That's what makes you (almost) not give a damn about the strappy sandal in the toilet.