Turkeys!

Even with the plague my twinkies are packing on the poundage!

Coop-meister is 11 lbs 12oz

Punky Peter Pants is 11lbs 6oz

Hey-oh! Love it. Although I believe Logan was about 16 lbs at this age. I do believe we will not have the same problem with the twins as we did with Logan when it comes to those little blue plastic swing set swings... you know.... when his hamhocks got stuck in the leg holes.

In need of a germ-exorcism

I have done approximately 65 loads of laundry in the last week and a half. Sadly, I am probably only slightly exaggerating. So I have OCD. Let's just put that out there. I have it, I know it, and I am slightly over-the-top with it. However, I have a hard time seeing the negativity with this since my household is rarely ever sick. With kids and their parents in and out of my house Monday through Friday, a snarfley dog, and just life.... I am really constantly cleaning. I have to say, I got much worse when I became a mom. I am that mom who will cringe when a child sneezes at the library, and the sound of a cough anywhere near me or my little ones makes me want to run screaming towards the nearest exit. But the worst of the worst of the worst, worst, WORST is vomit. Emetophobia. I haz it.

I don't do puke. I don't like to puke. I don't like to clean up anyone else's puke. I don't like talking about puke, and if you puked anytime in the last 45-90 days, I would rather you not come within 200 feet of me or my family. I am THAT freaked out by it. So when I woke up at 2:30 am last Saturday morning hugging the porcelain thrown, I could have sworn I was in the depths of Hell. That was, until, my sweet Logan woke 10 minutes later heaving all over his PBK quilt. We had made it 3 years and almost 3 months with a child and NO barf. I suppose our luck had ran out. Logan, thankfully, was perky and cool by late Saturday. I however, was barely hanging on to the thread of life for days. Holy crap.

So when we had gone a whole FREAKING WEEK with NOTHING.... I thought we were more than in the clear. 'Fraid not, my friends. Friday night into Saturday, my sweet little baby Parker refused to eat, and after a 12 hour hunger strike, introduced us to baby vomit. Sigh... So here we are, Monday, and Parker and Cooper are still fighting this virus and I am on the verge of a breakdown. Auto-pilot all the way, cleaning, washing, laundry, oh, have I mentioned the LAUNDRY! The freaking laundry! I cannot begin to imagine our water bill. I am So. Done.

But you know what makes me laugh? Oh man... you all thought I was psychotic about germs before... Hahahahahahahahahaha! Oh my peeps, you ain't seen nothing yet. I swear to all that is Holy that I will do everything in my power to never get anything like this again!

Months of the Year

My sweet boy singing from October 2010 - The Months of the Year

Parker Punky Peanut Pants

Yep. That's the one that is sticking for my youngest behbeh. Poor kid. But for now, Parker seems to love it, especially when I put it to song. In fact, I can put anything to song these days, and often do, since my babies love it like a fat kid loves cake. Even if I am just singing about the contents of my laundry basket, or the unflattering nature of a nursing bra.... the babies seem to think I am rad.

Logan becomes a Big Brother

Video Monday

Since I finally learned how to get videos from my Flip to my computer, and onto the interwebz, I can now share some Mini-McGowan Cuteness with the world!

I wasn't able to see Parker and Cooper on their first day, nor was I able to be there to watch Logan become a big brother, but I got to see it on video, which I suppose is the next best thing. Watching these videos now, three months later, makes my heart ache. I remember those first days as being exciting and unbelievably terrifying. So much unknown before us and I can't help but feel a twinge of excitement when I think of how well we have been able to adapt and deal. I mean, Brian and I have been able to rock this parents of three thing, and we still like each other. I am so filled with happiness and love, and don't feel nearly as overwhelmed as I had anticipated, which in turn makes me feel, simply, that we got this.

Scoops McGoops

Scoops McGoops. Scooper. Scoopy. Pooper. All names for my sweet middle baby, Cooper. These nicknames were not planned out, they just kind of came about, which I guess is how the best of alternative names for babes make their way into households. Like Bugaboo. If you ask Logan "what are you" he will say "Mommy's Bugaboo", shortened to Bugs. Parker is somewhere in between Bean and Pookie. Parkey sometimes? Pooks perhaps? Not sure yet what will transpire.

But as for my Scoops. Scoops McGoops. He is gonna be a mama's boy. By "gonna be" I mean that he is already a full-fledged, hide under the skirt, snuggle in my bosom mama's boy. He is the snuggliest, sweetest, calmest baby I have ever met. Not much upsets this guy. He doesn't like to be hungry, but really, who can blame him. Other than that, if he does cry? A snuggle on mommy's chest and all is right in his tiny sweet little world. So much of Cooper reminds me of Logan as a baby. Peaceful and quietly content.