video vednesday: i'm readin' a book, pig, i'm readin' a book.

today's video is sponsored by this photo of finneas:

 

 

 

how lindsey lohan ends up being a dead-on illustration of motherhood. who knew?

the other day i was driving home and thinking about celebrities.  (as though i have to tell you that - you should pretty much assume that regardless of what i'm doing, i'm thinking about celebrities.)  and i started thinking about how it must be weird to walk out of walmart all bloated and just-woke-up-looking with a grocery sack full of ben and jerry's and tampons and have about twelve hundred camera guys jump out from behind the bushes and then sell your unfortunate photos to any tabloid who will take them and then the tabloids print that you're pregnant or aren't bikini-ready or going through a divorce and then everyone is all, I HATE THAT GIRL, and you're all, all i wanted was some freaking cinnabon ice cream like a normal human being. 

(also, you should pretty much assume that whenever i'm thinking about celebrities, i only think in run-on sentences.)

and yeah, that would be super annoying.  and totally invasive.  but then i was all, but that's part of the package when you become a celebrity.  no one forced you to be famous (except, i guess, for people who are famous for being kidnapped or something).  you chose this. 

it got me thinking about how people might react when i complain about mothering stuff.  how i'm all, i hate being covered in someone else's barf and also is it too much to ask to sleep all the way through the night and i hope my house is never a crime scene because my carpet is definitely not blacklight-ready and stuff like that.  i bet some people are like, yeah, i could see where that sucks, but you chose it.

and back again to the whole celebrity thing.  i bet many celebrities must see paparazzi simply as a necessary evil to doing what they really love.  take lindsey lohan for instance.  (or, so i don't get sued for libel, we'll call her finsey schmohan.)  lindsey lohan (whoops) has to deal with all her personal crap getting plastered all over the front page of the checkout line smut magazines.  and that must really suck.  but she deals with the hard aspects of fame so that she can pursue her first love, which seems to be flashing her cooter at any given chance.

and back again to the whole mothering thing.  this is just one of the myriad ways that mothering parallels being wildly wealthy and internationally acclaimed.  i chose this life.  if you're a mom, you chose this life.  and yeah.  it really, really, really sucks sometimes.  but all those ways that your life has become infinitely better as a result of being a mom couldn't come without all the literal crap being thrown your way every day. 

so the next time your kid snuggles you or colors you a picture or doesn't crap his pants, just think of all the hard things you went through to get to have this opportunity, and be grateful.  think of your kid's smile as the cooter-flashing moment amidst all the paparazzi.  or don't.

so, here's a question: what are some of your favorite cooter-flashing moments that make the rest of your paparazzi life worth it?

'member that time monday.

hey, 'member 'member that time monday?  bringing it back old school today.

hey, 'member that time in college that i decided to get a lip stud, but how the gemstone on it got lodged under my skin when i bit it weird while eating mac and cheese?  and remember how my new roommates' friends, who were total strangers to me, had to drive me to the piercing place and hold my hands while i had it extracted and i bawled like a girl baby?  and remember how the guy had to replace the stud with a giant surgical steel ring because my lip was so swollen?

i looked goood and made an awesome first impression on my roommates' friends.



feel free to post your own 'member that time!  just please link back to http://teamvanvoorst.blogspot.com if you do!

weekly blahblahblah.

i'm just going to make this short and sweet.  what were we up to this week?  some random stuff and then getting the flu.  five van voorsts down within twelve hours of each other.  it made for a very messy, stinky, grouchy, miserable day yesterday.

although, i'm extremely grateful for my amazing sister, who came over to help me even though she was feeling under the weather herself.  she even watched my daughter projectile-spray puke all over the cabinets and didn't even blink an eye.  (see? right there i bet you cringed, but she actually watched it, put penelope in the tub, and then tried to insist that i not clean it up but rather leave it for her to do.  that is servanthood - dealing with someone else's pukey kid and also their puke.)  (also, i did not let her clean it up.  before you go thinking i was that cruel to my baby sister i would like to state that i cleaned it up myself.)

bleh.  hoping today goes better, although i'm a natural-born pessimist and i'm pretty sure we have typhoid fever and are on the brink of death.  i apologize if i die of this and you end up being the one who has to clean out my basement.

brace yourself.

i keep a running list of ideas to blog about.  my current list looks like this:

1. finneas.
2. neck beards.
3. penelope.
4. lindsey lohan's cooter.
5. how to keep organics from ruining your life.


prepare yourselves.  this is happening.

video vednesday: if i met ryan gosling, he would want to build me a house.

(please ignore the swear word in the title; the video is clean.)

we voted.

i took the kids voting this morning.  (please note that they are dressed.  A+ this tuesday morning for paige van voorst.)

it was awesome.  four whole minutes of wrangling the kids, trying to explain that we were getting to pick who gets to help make our rules and protect us and decide how to spend our money.  totally over the kids' heads, so i just filled in my bubbles and stuck the ballot in the automated ballot-sucker machine...at which point atticus freaked out because the scary machine stole our paper.  then it was back out in the rain to hop in the van, at which point atticus asked me to drive around town so we could scope out orange road cones.

 

 

 

 

if you're able to take your kids with you to vote, i'd encourage you to do so!  even if they're little, they'll get to see their parents exercising their right to vote, which is something so many people in the world do not have the privilege of doing.  i know pretty much everyone and their mom is on facebook, on the phone, and on your porch trying to get you to vote, and if you're anything like me you're probably all, 'i get it, bozos, and if you call me one more time i'm not going to vote just to spite your stupid face.'  (in fact, one of the guys i voted for was based solely on anti-that-guy propaganda that actually got me really excited for his stance on stuff.) so i'm not going to try to convince you to vote - i'm sure you've already decided whether you will or won't. 

but if you do, i encourage you take your kids.  if voting is important to you, let them see you do it.  plus the old ladies that check your voter registration love it.  they'll cover your kid in 'i voted' stickers and double check your address on your registration so they know where to come to kidnap them.  but that's the risk you'll have to take if you have adorable progeny.  oh, the burdens of parenting in america.

schlumpkins.

so, like i mentioned last week, we carve/paint pumpkins every year for todd's birthday.  last year was the first year we let the kids paint pumpkins, and they talked about it all year.   they were super excited when the time rolled around to do it again.  (please ignore the terrible lighting.)

 

 

 

 

even finneas got in on the action this year.

 

 

 

 

 

all the kids' finished pumpkins.

after the kids painted their pumpkins, we had a very special birthday dinner prepared for todd:  grilled cheese and spaghetti-o's (-slash-tomato soup for me), and mocha cheesecake for dessert.

 

photos of grilled cheese are always gross.  photos of grilled cheese after dark under overhead lights are really gross.  however, the creepy jimmy carter face staring out from under all that bread and cheese makes it a little better... maybe.  this is our "you're special" plate that i use for special occasions.  yes, i know it's decorative and not food safe, but it was free at a garage sale and it's funny, which trumps all.

 

noodling on what to wish for.

 

 

a couple of days later, todd and i carved our pumpkins during naptime.

 

 

 

my not-so-secret main reason for wanting to carve pumpkins in the first place.  roasting these bad boys and eating them until i'm nauseous and can't look at another pumpkin seed until next october is my idea of a fantastic time.

 

 

 

 

 

todd always gets super creative with his.  i'll have to show you some of his past pumpkins sometime.  the first year we did this, he carved this insanely intricate old man with a tear running down his face.  i don't remember what i carved, but i'm pretty sure it looked like it was done by a handless child.

 

i'm not super creative with mine.  last year i was pregnant and craving mcdonald's, so i just carved a big M into one side of it and a burger and fries into the other side.  this year, i'm even less original.  i'll have to show you the photos of the one time i tried to carve catherine zeta-jones. 

 

and the unveiling of todd's:  it's plex from yo gabba gabba, for the kids to enjoy.  he was supposed to have pupils in his eyes, but todd pulled a samson and busted them out accidentally.  so it looks more like wall-e than he was hoping, but i still say A+, todd van voorst!

 

 

and there you have it:  a very lengthy post on todd's b-day celebr-antics.  go here to see the one time todd depicted a whole scene from ezekiel on his pumpkin.  i told you - he's crazy good at pumpkin carving.

weekly 'wut up or shut up.'

let's jump right in - what were we up to this week?

 

well, we finished carving/painting our pumpkins, which i realize i still haven't blogged about. maybe next week.

 

penelope got a pedicure.  and, as always, her hair is a mess.  she's going to be super mad at me when she gets older that i never really bother to brush her hair (or put pants on her) but always really bother to take her photo.

 

 

the kids dressed up for halloween to go trick-or-treating downtown.  my mom made their costumes - she's a maestro at stuff like that.  if it were up to me, they'd probably go as gym rats every year so all i'd have to do is dress them in sweatpants.  but no.  i have a loving mother who makes me look like i actually put some kind of effort into halloween.

 

atticus was the hamburglar (todd's idea):

penelope was a candy-crazed little red riding hood (todd's idea - not the candy-crazed part):

and finneas went as waldo (my sister's idea):

 atticus got his new glasses and a sucker from the eye doctor:

 

 

i also got my eyes checked since i busted my glasses and needed an exam before i could order new ones. they dilated my eyes, which was fortunate for me so that i could throw up the guns and rock the frameless shades:

 

and penelope turned two and a half.  she wasn't thrilled about it at first...

...but then i told her she was just that much closer to being able to buy her own scratch tickets and she perked right up.

and i was reminded that inflatables season is upon us.  and more than a little flabbergasted that someone spent hundreds of dollars to make their yard look like this (and also, flabbergasted that they'd pick that paint color for their house...shudder):

relating to paige van voorst at the eye doctor.

so, don't you hate it when you have an eye doctor appointment right after eating at buffalo wild wings and then you stick your face in all those machines and your breath comes back at you all spicy hot and gross?  well, i do. 

and also, does it make you super self-conscious when the doctor is all up in your grill looking at your eyes and you just know you're breathing your chipotle breath right into his mouth?  it does me.

and also, isn't it the worst when you have to walk out of there with your glasses stapled-slash-sautered together in the middle and no hope of getting a new pair for two months, so instead of wearing them you have to hide them in your van and try your best not to act blind/drunk when you meet your new quilting group later that night?  it really is.

glad to know i'm not alone in feeling this way.