Pickled

 Oh my heck, some exciting things happened this week. Mostly this:


WE GOT A NEW BUNKBED!!!  Unfortunately, we haven't gotten the new full-size lower bunk mattress.  So we threw GG's toddler-bed mattress on the floor in what-will-be her bed space and she's been happy as a clam.  Except for when she jumped up from bed too fast and totally smacked her head on the top bunk.  Sorry babe.  That sucked. 

She's going to upgrade from her crib/toddler bed mattress this week when our friend Amazon delivers the new memory foam full size mattress ($208, tax free, free shipping, since I must overshare about all my shopping adventures...)  That's right, she's going from her hand-me-down-from Ella cracked plastic 4" crib mattress that we bought at the Dreaded Walmart EIGHT YEARS AGO.  The sad little mattress that Hannah now sneaks on to as soon as Gretchen vacates her bed.  (Hannah is too fat to jump onto Ella's bed.  And no WAY is she jumping on me & Colby's bed.  It's kidproofed to keep small sneaking children out.  You practically need a stepstool to get into our bed.)  The point is, our dog is gross.  She stinks.  Even right after the groomer she stinks.  She's a fat stinkey bulldog that NO ONE wants to share a bed with.  And now GG won't have to!!!  Woo hoo!!!!!!

I will never have to hear "Hannah, GET OFF!!!  GET OFF MY BED!!!!  HANNAH, ARE YOU DEAF?  GET OFF MY BED!!!!" again. 

(For the record, yes, Hannah is deaf.  And stubborn.  So we suspect that even if she could hear and understand your 5 year old tirade, she would just look you in the eye, blink, fart, and go right back to sleep.)



Most of you probably already know, but we have a less-than-slight pickle obsession at our house (note the toy kitchen pickle in GG's mouth above.  That's not her tongue.  That's a plastic pickle).  I think I've mentioned before that Ella's been restricted to one pickle a day, not till after 10am.  (Because yes, she wants one as soon as she wakes up).  Gretchen has been ho-hum about it.  Pickles are fine, but not a daily staple.  Except for this week at the grocery store when she saw BABY DILL PICKLES.  OMG, seriously?  BABY PICKLES?  Yes.  It rocked her world.  She was delighted.  And because I am nice, and also worn down, I bought it for her.  She called them "Sweetish Pickles" (though they were dill) and held them in the crook of her arm through the store crooning, "Oh, my little sweetish pickles!  Are you ready to come home with me?"  And, because I didn't place any restrictions on her pickle consumption, she ate the whole jar that afternoon.  THE WHOLE JAR.  This is what happens when you try to unload groceries while helping with homework while getting dinner going while cleaning the bathroom. 

And in the soap-opera world of preschool, Gretchen has found a new best friend. 
GG:  Can we go somewhere?
Me:  Where?
GG: Some place fun.
Me:  Um, maybe... (sense my level of commitment and excitement)
GG:  Can I invite my Best Friend?
Me:  Uh, which best friend?  (She has about 4 options)
GG:  Ummmm...I forgot her name.
Me:  You sound really close.
GG:  HAILEY!  Her name is Hailey.
Me: We'll see.

We'll see is my answer to everything.  Can we get this song on the radio so we can listen to it ALL THE TIME?  Sure, we'll see.  Can we go to Old McDonalds and get ice cream?  Sure, we'll see. 

But can we spend the afternoon in the hammock and set my pastels out (only to be knocked over, "But that's ok, they still work," I say with gritted teeth because that's what happens when you share your precious things with small people.)  YES WE CAN.

 Ella wanted me to show you that she can jump through the hula-hoop like a jump rope.  She's really good at it. 

Ella also wants to share NOTHING.  When asked, she said, "NOTHING."  Then giggled.