Dying Easter eggs is a yearly tradition, one I think Jared might actually enjoy more than the kids. He is forever trying all different color combinations, which usually results in at least one hideous brown egg - but not this year! Progress.
And in News That Should Surprise No One, Avery was in it for the food.
The easy access just proved to be too much of a temptation.
I've been in kids'-crap downsizing mode lately.
I'm not sure what caused the change, but I realized holding on to all this baby stuff, clothes especially, is ridiculous. Holding onto itty-bitty onesies is not going to prevent our kids from growing up at lightning speed.
So I spent hours one afternoon sorting through stuffed tote after stuffed tote, saving my favorites from each child's tiny wardrobe. There are so many memories tied to some of the outfits, and I will admit I shed some tears.
My babies aren't really babies anymore.
In the end Jared dropped three garbage bags full of clothes off at a local consignment shop and we sold the crib to my cousin. The breast pump that served me faithfully through three children sold quickly on Ebay. And with all the stuff leaving our storage areas, I feel a little more at peace with saying goodbye to the baby stages and welcoming all the new stages to come.
Last week I embarrassingly landed wrong while doing a burpee- an exercise move created by Satan himself. And in true nurse form, I toughed it out for a week before admitting defeat and getting an x-ray.
The verdict: a broken hand.
I'm currently in a half-cast/half-splint for the next two weeks. And I'm saying hourly prayers that my kids are kind to me and slow to realize just how much at a disadvantage I am.
Just typing this pathetically short blog post has taken a ridiculous amount of time. And one-handed dishes is the most laughable task ever.
Heal quickly, hand!