Trouble

I encourage this

I'm perfectly fine with this

I'm okay with this

And even this (if you're going to play in the garbage, it might as well be the office garbage)

And I was okay with this until the banging-on-the-floor started

But this

is Trouble.

Regrets

Why did I think a play make-up kit was a good idea for a birthday present for a 5-year-old? Why did I not foresee the clown faces, the tattoos (apparently a play make-up kit these days is not complete without them), and the clawed nails (which do NOT stay on 5-year-old fingers, thereby resulting in random choking hazards for little H, many tears for Sweetie, and countless pleadings for me to HURRY and STOP whatever I'm doing to reattach the nail). As I reattached Sweetie's nails for the first time, I vividly remembered, suddenly, doing this same thing when I was a girl and the trauma of the nails that won't stay on.

1. Open windows and breezes--spring weather coming back again! 2. A quiet house, 3. the 6 Milk Duds left in the box

When we aren't celebrating birthdays

we're staying busy with daily life.

T-ball season came to a close. (And my Nikon D90 camera stopped working exactly 1 year from the date we purchased it, thankfully still under warranty, so these pics leave a little to be desired.) Mister ended the season with a few double plays and some great hits. Sweetie loved pounding the plate with the bat before she hit. It was a fun team this year--both neighbor boys to each side of us were on the team as well as our two good friends' boys.

We made the trek to the Gila Valley temple open house.

Mister built his Knex roller coaster, a 2-day affair.

We met good friends at the ASU/BYU baseball game, where Mister, amazed that not everybody cheers for BYU, told me, "Mom, they're talking trash to me."

We broke out the slip n' slide for the first time. We also went swimming for the first time, but I didn't get pics since I was wrestling with H, who wanted to go head first into the pool the entire time. (And the water was too cold for my liking, thanks to our wonderful, long spring this year.)

H also had his first, and hopefully last, x-ray (after choking on who-knows-what and refusing to eat for almost a week). I've been going to physical therapy for my lower back. It seems that having three babies, one almost-nine pounds, can take its toll on the body. And the kids have been counting down the days to the end of school--this week!

More birthday pics than you ever wanted to see

I survived birthday week. But just barely. I feel like I'm treading water here lately, not going anywhere or making any progress and barely keeping my head above water. So here's a recap of the birthday happenings:

The Sunday before Mister's bday we had our family party with Mister's requested babyback ribs, little smokies, pickle spears cake, ice cream, presents, and games.

Then, the Tuesday of Mister's bday, we took Krispy Kremes to his class and went out to Panda Express (Mister's favorite) before his tball game. The Saturday after, he and Sweetie had a joint friend party at Chucky Cheese.

The next day (Sunday), after my students' little piano recital, we had Sweetie's family party with cake, ice cream, presents, games (she requested to play spoons, with pictures of her as a baby). She got 2 new dress-ups, as you can see. So, she needed to have her friends over Monday morning on her actual birthday to play dress-up. We painted fingernails, had a brownie and lemonade tea party, and they played mermaids. Mermaids have to go down waterfalls at times, as you can tell. All I can say, is Phew! I'm glad it's over. I love birthday week, but it's also exhausting.

Did I mention that I grew up in Utah?

And was an avid Jazz fan? (Although, unlike some of my coworkers at the Church office building when I worked for the Liahona, I did not don a Utah Jazz shirt under my dress and flash people with it in the elevator in some kind of misguided fan solidarity.) Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Yes, it's true. I was an avid Jazz fan. Yet somehow my children look like this:

Apparently, sports team loyalty is traced through the father's genes.