of making this:


carne bistec - colombian steak with onions and tomatoes, yet another recipe i found over at gina's. however i had no tomatoes, and didn't feel like making the rice after i caught the kitchen on fire. gina told me i needed to get the skillet REALLY HOT and add my oil and then add my steak. well, there was a fiery love fest in my skillet once i added the oil. it made me hot. and my kids were screaming at me, like the house was on fire or something. and i didn't want to stand and watch the water boil....

ok, first of all, check this out. . . .





"mommy, did you see the easter bunny, because i'm pretty sure he was supposed to come and, like, leave me something."


he finally found it. and he totally didn't care that he was pulling his easter goodies out of a trash can.


irie wasn't impressed. she stared at it for a long while. we each got a look like "dude. it's a trashcan. what do you want me to do with it?'



daddy finally let her in on all the wonders that she'd find inside. uh huh. a spiky rubber pig is all it takes to get her giddy with excitement.



i'm proud to say those smiles are sans candy, and all about colorful goldfish. my mother bought 84 plastic eggs to hide for the easter egg hunt and when i told her "no candy" i think i disappointed her more than cohen even knew he could have been. luckily, i have at least this easter before he knows to demand jelly beans and chocolate.

of course, we had to have pancakes (cohen's favorite) and scrambled eggs (irie's) but i didn't get any pictures of my cute bunny shapes before cohen ripped their ears off and irie threw all her food on the floor (for fun. cause that's how she rolls.). just trust that it was beautifully gourmet.


p.s. check back in for part II a little bit of easter... only it'll be a lotta bit, considering i have a problem when i have my camera in my hands. my finger develops some sort of uncontrollable twitch and i can't make it through a minute without taking at least 784 pictures.

i thought i had found the jackpot when i happened upon hacienda del lago down the street from my casa. i was lucky enough to find it when they first decided to start renting their home for lodging and special events, so the rate seemed fabulous. the hacienda is a sweet little bungalow atop a hill overlooking the lake and the grounds are GORGEOUS. the fabulous white peacocks roaming the grounds are pretty awesome too. even if they sound like dying cats when they talk to each other. had i chosen this venue, i'm pretty positive that dying cat would wail in the middle of my "hell yeah, i do!"

turn into this squirming, writhing ball of evil? in just a matter of seconds.


of course, if you're a parent, or ever had the pleasure of living with a small bipolar person who has not yet found words to describe what she's feeling, you understand.


i've found that the best way to soothe a tantrum. . . .


is to stick a camera in her face.








here come the tears. it wasn't actual physical, emotional pain until those tears formed.




i mean if irie really had the words, she'd be using them right now. jeez, all she wanted to do was stick her fingers in those fabulous holes she found in the wall. . . sorry, irie. we can't have a fried baby. people would ask questions.



but mommy knows her little miss iriebean.


and i know that as quickly as that tantrum came, wreaking havoc on our lives for those 4 and a half seconds, it would leave before the tears dried.

together, chancellor and i make a hoarder. not the animal kind or the dirty adult diaper kind, but the shopping bag kind. i do the buying, he does the shoving of the purchase (still in it's bag) into any closet space available. i look for the purchase later, when ready to use, and inevitably end up buried in a closet full of . . . bags of purchased things. i then become overwhelmed after looking through only two or three bags and finding things i had purchased (and repurchased) that had been missing for months, close the closet door and... go to the store to repurchase the unfound item. along with a few other things i need. just to be brought home. and stuffed. in a closet. to be lost. and repurchased. again.

we are working on our issues.

tlc will NOT be making a visit to our house to help us work through those issues.





i spent my day off last week going through irie's closet. she slept in our room (in her own crib) for the first (almost) year of her life. eventually, she started taking to pelting anything within her small reach at my closed eyes, and she had to move into her own room. that room had been designated the guest/craft tomb room. yes, craft tomb. the place where all of the ideas i had, for a split second, been obsessed with, go to die. along with the shopping bags. i might show you a picture of this room, if i had taken one. i was afraid, though, that the closet might eat my camera, and i don't like unflattering pictures anyway, so there is no actual evidence of the hoarding. unless you talk to people who have lived it. and they only discuss that horrifying experience with their therapists, so that information is privileged.

oh wait... cat's out of the bag.

anyway, i spent thursday clearing out the closet (and you would not believe the number of index cards, notebooks, graph paper, and pens i have. or how many gone-forever-cute-baby-girl-clothes opportunities with the tags still on i came across. seriously.) and this process took FOR-EVER. not because i was having any problem going through it, but because although cohen had once played with all the toys i found in the closet (at length, i might add), the "baby toy discovery 2011" must have struck a nostalgic chord, and he insisted upon pulling each toy out and playing with it again. irie followed suit because she thinks her big brother is obviously the smartest, most fabulous person on the planet and, of course, all of the pretty colors and sounds. i do believe she said "woooow!"

yesterday, chancellor was at work, cohen was visiting his daddy, and while irie was asleep, i had full reign of that room and was able to go through each bag, each set of craft supplies, each piece of mail, undisturbed. no one was there to say "OOOH MYYY GOOOD MOMMY THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR BUYING ME THIS NEW TOY 3 YEARS AGO WHEN I WAS ONLY AN INFANT, IT'S THE BEST RATTLE EVER!!! !!! !!!" or "age, seriously, do you NEED that? like, in that quantity?" or "mommy, bottle," while pointing to her dirty diaper with her "stinky" face. i was able to organize it in a neat and easy-to-find bagless fashion. and THROW AWAY random ass crap no one has any business keeping anyway. yay. first step to recovery.

and today!! we handed that room to it's rightful owner, and boy was she excited to play in it! i suck, and have no pictures, because i wanted it to be cute and clean and organized and, as she learned thursday, irie pulled out every single toy, to play with all at once. i'll get them up very soon though, because it's seriously cute. and bag free.

ohmygoodness! stumbled across this fabulousness at BetterAfter.

my baby girl is no longer a baby. she walks, she talks, she feeds herself. she falls, she screams, and she throws her food on the floor. she's growing up so quickly and it dawned on me that i might not hold another baby of my own. the days of placing my child in a comfy spot on the bed on her back and knowing she'll still be there (on her back) when i return from a mad dash to the restroom, are over. not only will she not be there in that spot when i return, she will have escaped from the bed, put on too much makeup, stolen the car keys and on her way to meet her boyfriend at the mall before i know it. oh well. this is life. but i have the 41 thousand pictures to remind me of my little baby girl.