let them eat cake!

I know I haven't officially gone public... but I am sure the 10 of you reading this you probably already know that Baby Phelps #3 is on the way and is joining our little freak parade on October 7th.

Being pregnant while chasing a 2 and 3 year old has really hurt my blogging abilities, so please forgive me for being MIA (for the record, I was 8 weeks pregnant during the toddler ski school episode... something I am sure my doctor would NOT appreciate).

Today was one of the most monumental days in any pregnancy... the day we "found out".  Let's face it, I will never be the girl that can wait to know what the gender of the parasite taking over my body is until delivery day.  From my now vast experience in the delivery room, I know that day is "surprising" enough that I don't need any extra excitement. 

Andy and I did decide to let his family in on the fun this time around, and because they are totally NEVER invited to any of my OBGYN visits... EVER, we came up with another plan.  The baby cake.  We asked Andy's super talented aunt to make us a cake that was either pink or blue on the inside so that when we cut into it we could all hear the big news together.  It is becoming more and more common (I stole the idea from my besties... the Duggar family), so I thought it would be the perfect way for all of us to share the excitement.

So... after a delicious meal (taco soup), it was time for dessert!!!

Look out world... there is another Baby Girl Phelps coming this fall!!

How I Went Crazy, aka: Toddler Ski School

If you are wondering why you haven't heard from us in a while... it is because we are still recovering.

It was one of our greatest parenting adventures to date.  I was on a mission.  Determined.  Now can you tell me why I thought I could teach the babies (who have only been walking for 1 and 2 years) to strap on a pair of skis and hit the slopes like alpine pros?  Let's just say... it will be a few more years before their olympic debut...

My first obstacle... how in the world do I even describe skiing to people that have barely seen snow in their lifetimes?  Obvi!  Just do what any mom would do.  Everything ski-related would now be "magical", "special", and have something to do with any of the following... robots, dinosaurs and fairy princesses.  Bribery would be key... this was going to take a LOT of snacks. 

So we began our "long journey" to the "big mountain" (aka: the biggest hill Weston, MO could find, complete with at least 3 inches of man-made shaved ice).  We got our "special stickers" (lift tickets) and headed off to get our "robot boots".  You know you have made a big mistake when they don't even make Moo-sized boots, but nothing that 2 extra pairs of socks couldn't fix.  So 4 boots, 5 pairs of socks, 4 pairs of pants, 2 pairs of snow pants, 6 shirts, 2 jackets, 2 hats, 4 gloves, and 67 gallons of mom sweat later... it was time to get our skis (by this time... all the "magic" was gone for mom).  My 25 and 40 lb babies were now tipping the scales at at least 150 lbs a piece at this point... let's add 4 long pointy skis to the mix. 

Doesn't she look excited?!

All of that... just so they could pull the toddler freak out as soon as we hit the snow.  Carter kept yelling to get "down" from his skis.  And Moo was obviously too cool to look so ridiculous.  Ugh... snack time anyone??

Back inside... off with the coats, the gloves, the hats, the boots.  3 bags of snacks and a lot of convincing later, it was time to try again.  There was no way in hell I was going out like this.  Everyone knows Mom Rule #1... never let the babies beat you!

Snack time!!!

And yes... her finger is permanently up her nose this winter.

It was time for a new approach.  This time I would gear up, pick up Carter and his baby skis, and ski him down to the "magic rope" so we could go up to the top of "dino mountain".  Wow... things have changed a bit since I taught ski school in college!  It was like my own personal version of the world's strongest man competition.  My legs were shaking like I doing the log toss (note to reader: yes...  I am a former avid watcher of above competitions).  Carter and I made it up the hill and down once before I was forced to institute "let's take turns with dad".  They did a great job (I like to think mostly because of my motivational comments from the bottom of the hill).  And the cuteness factor was off the charts!

4-Time Olympic Gold Medalist Carter Phelps

Olympic Downhill Champ and Supermodel Caroline Phelps

Let's just say, it was no coincidence that we went the last possible day we could before the snow melted.  It will definitely take an entire year to train and get the courage to try this one again.

Those Little Effers...

From: "pajamajeans@customerstatus.com" <pajamajeans@customerstatus.com> To: kyleescarter@yahoo.com RE: Your Pajama Jeans Order

Thank you for your recent Pajama Jeans order.  Unfortunately, due to the incredible demand for Pajama Jeans we have run out of stock for your order and will not be able to ship to you right away.  We are deeply sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.  Currently, we expect to ship your order by the end of April and will send you an email with FedEx tracking information at the time of shipment.  Please note, you will not be charged for your order until the time we ship.  If you have any questions or concerns please do not hesitate to contact a live Pajama Jeans representative at 1-866-347-9047, or visit us at customerstatus.com to view the status of your order.  Again, we are deeply sorry for the inconvenience this has caused and thank you very much for your order.  Sincerely, Pajama Jeans Customer Service YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!  Can anyone out there tell me why they are attempting to sell a product that obviously only exsists in my dreams??  Cyberspace voting time... do I hold out to see the masterpiece that is the Pajama Jean or do I cut and run and get my $50 back...  Life is so hard.

Grab the Tylenol... I have Bieber-Fever!

Come on... you can't tell me that you are not as obsessed with Bieber as I am. 

Just look at the kid!  The hair!  The smile!  The mini-Usher dance moves!  And that squeaky pre-pubescent voice!!!  You just can't listen to JBiebs without remembering what it was like to walk the halls of middle school.  I haven't met Bieber in person (yet), but I can tell you that he also probably wears too much cologne (some stench from Hollister), has an acne problem (although, you wouldn't know it because of his contract with ProActiv), and wishes he has a legit reason to shave his face.  Nonetheless... I LOVE HIM!  Please don't think I am a creeper!

So, being a true Bieliber, I obvi had to see the cinematic masterpiece "Never Say Never."  I borrowed my favorite tween and headed off for a true social experience.  I have to say... ABSOLUTELY hilarious!  Watching little girls scream and confess their true love for the man-child that is Bieber for 2 hours... I cannot think of a better way to spend my Saturday night!  Highly entertaining!  My recommendation... steal a 12 year old (so you don't look like a freak), run to your favorite theatre, and log some time with the Biebs. 

And, no... I am not too old to have My World 2.0 in my CD player.  And, yes... I do think Bieber was snubbed at the Grammy's...

Snow Ice Cream 101

My dad is an interesting cook...  being a bachelor most of his adult life, he has created some "special" recipes over the years.  He has grilled many a "bloody steak," makes a mean pan of hamburger and onions (ingredients: hamburger and onions), and his "famous spaghetti" comes straight from a can (come on dad, you're Italian for crying out loud).  So, as I watched the snow falling yesterday, I knew it was time to introduce the babies to one of Papa's specialties... SNOW ICE CREAM!

The sacred recipe for snow ice cream is obviously only to be shared from father to father, so I made Andy call up my dad to get the tips.  I said, "Come on... it is my dad.  I am sure it is probably just snow and milk or something dumb like that."

Turns out... I was waaaaay off.  Dad said, "Make it like you are making egg nog, then add some snow."  Whaaaat???  My dad knows how to make egg nog?  And is it even called egg nog without the booze?  You will be shocked to hear the culinary masterpiece that is my dad's snow ice cream. 

• 1 "normal-sized" bowl of snow (white, not yellow)
• 4 eggs
• some milk
• some sugar
• little bit of vanilla
• little bit of salt

4 EGGS!  Are you kidding me!  Anyone else out there surprised that I survived my dad's obvious attempts to poison me and my sister with salmonella in the mid 80s?!?  I mean, that is not like a spoonful of cookie dough, that is like a snow protein shake!

So we spent this afternoon making snow ice cream with the babies.  Andy vetoed the eggs for the kiddos, but after swearing that it didn't taste the same, I made him add an egg to the "grown up" version.  We went with one... and let me tell you... DELICIOUS.  I can only imagine what 4 tasted like back in the day.

Next up, happy hour for mom and dad.  The special... snow egg nog, extra whiskey!!!

Fogo de Chao-down!

I survived... eating more meat... than any human should ever consume.  I am basically a t-rex at this point.

It was date night for my and my better half this Saturday.  We packed up the babies and shipped them off to Damma & Rara's for the night.  After years of reading the ads in the American Airlines magazine, it was time to see what this Brazilian steakhouse thing was all about.  Our partners in crime, the baby brother-in-law and his east-coast girlfriend, were in tow.  Could we do it??  Could we conquer the mountain of meat??

The first course... the salad bar.  Now please, who in their right mind would waste precious stomach space on a salad bar?  But this one was different.  Breads and cheeses and veggies... oh my!  Not to mention an entire bowl dedicated to strips of bacon and the largest asparagus ever created.  We are talking state-fair-winning, mythical asparagus.  I knew the boys couldn't handle it.  I knew that salad bar was going to be the end of them.

Now, I am reasonable lady.  I sampled some of the delights from the salad bar from heaven, but knew I had more important things to tackle.  I mean, come on... I am from Kansas.  It was meat time.

So, if you are new to this like me... there are a few things to learn.

1. That may look like a coaster on the table, but it is not.  It is your ticket to meat paradise.  Flip it to green when you are ready to go, back to red when you feel like you are drowning in protein.
2. The sides: mashed potatoes, polenta, and bananas (I know, strange).  They come on toddler-sized plates.  Don't be sad, they refill them approximately every 30 seconds.
3. The bread: Hmmm.  Let's say cream puffs with out the cream.  Doughy crescent roll balls.  Great for breaking the meat cycle.
4. Most importantly... remember it is a marathon, not a sprint.

So I flipped that baby to green and was ready to go.  Literally within 1 minute the "meat men" came galloping to the table.  Oddly enough, they were wearing exactly an outfit I sported many times in 2005... gauchos, tall boots, and a white shirt.  Each one with a different type of meat on stick.  We are talking EVERY cut of beef, amazing pork and chicken.  These dudes even had sausages (heehee).  Before we knew it, we were all self-proclaimed "meatatarians".

Turns out the the New Yorker was the last woman standing... and she doesn't even eat meat normally.  She couldn't get enough.  We all left officially "meat drunk".  It was the best drunk ever...

If I ever decide to take the farm international... Brazil will be my first choice!!

Hittin' the Gym...

If you are thinking this is a post about working out... you are both right and wrong...

The "gym" is Sylvester Powell Community Center in Mission, KS.  It is, in fact, a gym... but only cool if you are under 5.  The fine folks in Mission understand the shear desperation of a mom trapped with toddlers in the winter time and, for that reason, fill an empty gymnasium with bouncy houses, ride-on-toys, play houses and climbing things.  And for the mere cost of $2 a kid (and your sanity), your kids can get out all of their energy while you chase them around like a chicken with your head cut off (hence, the work-out).

At the gym Winter 2010 with our bestie, Brandon

(note mass chaos in background)

Winter 2011, Moo with her boyfriend Chase

If you want to see parenting (or lack thereof) in action, this is the place to be.  There are 5 different types of parents at the gym...

1. "Sit and Drink Coffee Mom"... This mom thinks her kids are perfectly behaved.  So she sits on her laptop or blackberry while her little angel (almost always a "big kid") is busy running your little angel over with a tricycle.  I am jealous of her optimistic and carefree approach.
2. "Overprotective Helicopter Mom"... The most annoying of the parents, this mom thinks her kid is some type of national treasure and never leaves the 12 inch radius of her kid.  Heaven help you if your kid attempts to play with her kid.  It won't be pretty.
3. "Follow Your Kid Like a Lost Puppy Mom"... I would have to put myself in this group.  The gym is uber-boring and to avoid being either Coffee Mom or Helicopter Mom, I walk (usually run) around following my kids saying things like, "We play nicely." "We keep our hands to ourselves." "We don't try to strangle our friends."
4. "Hyperactive Grandparents"... UGH!  We appreciate your effort, but water aerobics isn't until noon.  You are waaaaaay to excited to be at the gym and it shows.  Your poor grandchild is becoming a toddler social outcast because you buttoned his onesie on the outside of his pants.  But kudos on bringing your own lawnchair.
5. "Super Athletic Dad"... This dad is not at the gym to play, he is there to train.  His 2 year old is obviously some type of basketball prodigy because it is all he will let him play.  He practices 3-pointers, dunking, dribbling, defense, free throws...  while his kid just stands there with snot running down his face looking at him.  Save it for the draft, or at least until your kid reaches 3 feet tall.

The gym is not for weaklings, so I give props to any parent willing to take their kid into the belly of the beast.  Here are my tips... hide your sippy cups, dress your kid in a bright color or pattern so you can find them in the mayhem, stay out of the bouncy house unless your child is interested in pursuing a career with the WWE (mine totally are), and please... use... HAND SANITIZER.