The BANANA gods must be angry . . .

So Mr. Mac has been wanting to make banana bread for 6 days now. Each night, as we get ready to read bedtime stories, he wails in agony, having just remembered that we failed to make the banana bread that day.

So today, we did it. Or at least we tried to.

I gave each boy a bowl of bananas to mash (we were making two batches), and left the room for 5 seconds. When I came back in, Carter had headed for asylum in his room, and there was a mashed/smashed bowl of bananas--in shards and goop--on the floor. Oops. Despite the fact that it was unintentional, Carter was hysterical.

Many banana-inspired tears later, I coaxed him to come back out and bake with us.

Mac and I, in the meantime, had pureed the bananas and poured them into the bowl. Mad that he didn't get to puree, Carter stomped to the table, rather emphatically grabbing a bowl he thought was his. Um, yeah, you guessed it, it was the bowl with the puree. Which was "emphatically" sloshed all over the table, chair, floor, rug, and Carter.

Bummer. No more bananas. We ended the night with three delicious loaves of pumpkin chocolate chip bread.

My house smells . . .

MARVY.
My mother-in-law owns a cleaning company and sends very friendly cleaning ladies to my house every other week to clean the ENTIRE house.
(Even the sides of the toaster and the INSIDE of the garbage can *sparkle.*)
My boys couldn't be happier (CLEAN-AHOLICS that they are),
and I get to practice my SPANISH for a few hours.

My hydrangeas are a little worse for the wear--either they received a spritz of Windex or they are perishing from the delightful lemony-scented fumes,

but HECK--
My newly mopped floors make me HAPPY.
Hooray for Kathy!

We {heart} footwear

Happy Valentine's Day to us. And to you too.
To me from Matt:

To Matt from me:

To Carter:

To Mac:

WANTED . . .

my camera.

Tragically, when we came back from Christmas, one of us misplaced the camera. (I'm not naming names, but the perpetrator is the only person at our house who is not a chocoholic.)

Anyway, I've really been missing my camera the last couple of days because we had a few Kodak moments that alas, I cannot share with the world at large. They shall remain only in my memory.

Here's what you've missed:

1. Beltman and Pullup Man: Today, about 10 minutes after I made what I thought was a valiant attempt at convincing my kids that they must be clothed to go to the park, they came out of Mac's room ready to go. As Beltman and Pullup Man. Beltman was wearing five belts, a soccer medal, one skeleton glove, and a backwards baseball cap (and underwear--that is it). Pullup Man was wearing a pink swim diaper (Matt bought those last year on accident--for some reason Ariel didn't tip him off that they were for FEMALES), one jazz sweat/wristband, one scuba diving glove, shades, and flips (and that is it). They proudly announced their names and powers. They looked awesome, and they knew it. (p.s., I made them slightly alter their costumes for the park--but only slightly.)


2. Carrots and Edamame taking a ride in an ambulance. Courtesy of Mac's lunch. They were seated very tidily in the front seat, one carrot stick and one edamame per seat.


3. A self portrait of the author, NieNie style: Because I have cause to celebrate. Today I met a mom at the park, and as we chatted about our kids, she confessed that when she first saw me, she decided I must be the nanny because I looked too young to be the mother. (Bless that woman.)


4. A Valentine: Made for me by Carter a few days ago when he told me I was not allowed to come out of my room for 10 minutes. I acquiesed, not knowing what my acquiesence would cost me. When I came out, the house and the brother still looked intact, so I thought no more of it. But yesterday, he announced he could not wait for Valentine's Day to give me my present. He ran to Mac's room and pulled a picture from behind Mac's bed. (*sweet boy*) It is a beautiful likeness of yours truly. Complete with realistic, VERY bloodshot eyeballs. "See the bruises on the eyeballs, Mom? I know that is what eyes look like. I was paying attention."

See, now aren't you sad about my camera, too?

Death by . . .

Chocolate.

This weekend, Matt and I went to a fundraiser called Death by Chocolate for his work. Essentially, in addition to hors d'oeurvres and a little hobnobbing, we walked around a room, sampled chocolate truffles, triple chocolate mousse,

tuxedo chocolate pie, chocolate ravioli, chocolate dipped strawberries, chocolate cheesecakes, and more. You name it, we tasted it. Even "chocolate" chili--which pretty much tasted just like chili. After sampling all of it, you get to choose which one was your favorite, and vote for it. Does it get much better than that? I had a hard time deciding between the white chocolate covered potato chip cookies (sounds SO gross, but they were FANTASTIC!) and the tuxedo pie. Matt's favorite? The chili--the least chocolate thing in the room. Of course.

Overheard

I took the boys to see Lion King, the musical, this past weekend.

In preparation, we borrowed a copy of the movie and watched it multiple times so they were familiar with the story, because (gasp), they had never seen it. Oh, I tried when Carter was little, but it seems like my boys only like the Pixar Disney flicks and none of the older ones--except for Peter Pan (but that has pirates in it, of course). They have a very discerning taste when it comes to style of animation--or whatever.
But they really enjoyed the movie. They started growling alot (ok, more than usual) and pretending they were "the red one" (Mufasa) or the bad uncle (Scar, obviously), etc. when they would play throughout the day. The night before the play, I let them watch a little bit of the show right before bed. I was doing a little laundry and caught a piece of their conversation as they watched the scary part where Mufasa dies. It went like this:
M: Carter, I am the red one.
C: I'm Simba. Hey Mufasa, you're going to die.
M: (grief stricken) Oh, I am! I am going to die! Oh no!
C: Mufasa (with real emotion), here it goes!
M: (in anguish) Ahh! I'm dying! Simba, I'm dying. Oh. Now I'm dead.
C: Yeah.
M: Simba, why do you look so sad?
C: Because you're dead, Mufasa.
M: Look, Simba. You're trying to snuggle with me. But I'm not snuggling back. Because I already died. Are you so sad?
C: Yeah. I might cry (convincingly).
M: Mmmm . . . I'm tired of being the dead red one. Now I'm a hynedo (hyena). I'm going to get you, Simba!
And on it went. It was HILARIOUS. They were very in to it.
I was a little worried about taking them to the play (It was a full on Broadway performance in a nice theater, and Matt was at youth conference), but it was so fun! The actors dance in the aisles, and the costumes are AMAZING. (the pics don't do it justice--to see more, go here. My boys were enthralled for 3/4 of the show. And then they both promptly fell asleep (it was about 9:30). At the same time. On me. (A fact they adamantly and indignantly denied the next day.)
I was so proud of them--they were very well behaved (the girl next to me might have begged to differ, but for C and M, they were AWESOME). Thanks for Grandma Smith for the tickets!

WWF

What does your family do on a slow Sunday afternoon? After a few hours of pirating, rescuing, and general mischief, Carter and Mac resorted to a good ol' wrastle. This was about 10 minutes into it, so you can tell they were losing their steam. But pretty funny stuff.