Zombie eating beetles for the win

My dog tried to eat that yesterday. Toddler-in-training attempted to touch it and screamed like a baby when it took flight. Yeah, I know, she is a baby, but that's beside the point.

I post this photo to Facebook asking what the eff it is because I was clueless and have never seen a beetle like it in my life. That's a total of like 30 years of bug catching, frog saving, tadpole fishing, night crawler hunting interactions with the wild ... and never had one of these crossed my path. I was aware enough to know it was a beetle of some sort, obviously, because I'm not an idiot.

Responding with lightning speed, a friend posted in awesome yelling-at-me caps that it's a carrion beetle. Excuse me. *clears throat* CARRION BEETLE.

Laundry mishaps

I could totally be a good housewife if I really tried. But, I get distracted.

Or multitask.

Or both.

Usually, it's both and that's why I have four loads of laundry that need to be taken care of, dinner is kind of thought about most days and my kids tend to run naked and wild for a couples hours ... every day.

Things just get crazier when glitter is involved.

We be jammin'

I'm getting closer and closer to being a Flower Child. At least in my head that's where I'm headed.

In reality — because let's face it, I rarely live in the real world even though it's nice to visit — I'm following in my mom footsteps. Where am I headed with this? Preservation.

No, not preserving mankind or anything like that, but, like, actual preserves. Jams. Jellies. Home canned make-my-mouth-water salsa and stewed tomatoes. Growing up we did stewed tomatoes every year for as long as I can remember. We worked all summer in the garden growing a variety of tomato species — roma, beefsteak, whatever — along with bell peppers and onions so we'd have enough for stewed tomatoes and fresh eating.

When the baby starts growing up

"I can do it myself!"

Well, OK then.

Toddler-in-training has got a mouth on her and an attitude to boot. She's also been working tirelessly on her sideways glare — you all know the one. The kid in question doesn't want to listen but can't help but look your way after being scolded, so without turning their head to give you the full-on stink eye they just turn their eyes like pissed off little cherubs. Yeah. She's getting really good at that.

Saturday morning was just icing on the "my baby is growing up" cupcakes for this Mommy. So much for my holding her hand to come down the stairs after she put me in my place; I couldn't even hold my hand out for her to grab in case she started to tumble because she pushed it away! I got the "myself" talk and then the glare and I decided I simply needed a caffeine IV to get through the day.

Worth the break

Ten weeks away. This is like starting over.

And man, have I been busy not folding laundry while stepping away from my Internet addiction. I have been busy doing other things though, you know, because I have two kids both going through their own version of the Terrible Two's. Josie's trying to catch up on all the temper tantrums she didn't throw over the last year and Charlotte is keeping pace in order to be done with this nonsense by the time she actually reaches 2.

I can't complain much because compared to other kids, mine are relatively low-key and easily calmed. Like last night. We got ready to sit down for dinner and, as is my norm, I refilled the girl's milk cups. Josie insisted she didn't want more, so I just put a splash in to make sure she'd have enough for dinner. Oh the tears! You'd think I tore the head off her favorite stuffed animal and laughed about it in front of her. The fight was on, and I really didn't have much fight left in me (and what parent does at 6:30 p.m.). She was angry enough about it she refused to eat. She didn't want any macaroni salad, not even the eggs — which, as everyone knows, is every child's favorite part of any cold salad.

Superhero Mom took over, swooped down and guzzled that splash of milk and all was forgiven in the land of Temper Tantrumville. Seriously. I drank the little bit of extra I gave her and she was happier than a dog with a new bone, ate her dinner and went on for a fairly calm night. The whole incident lasted maybe three minutes.

Even the Boy shook his head, amazed that the only thing she wanted was no extra milk. I don't know where she gets this strong willed thing from ... nope, not a clue.