So, I just googled it and apparently my pals are still technically toddlers which according to Wikipedia is 1-3 years old.  They are toddlers….and they play T-ball.  Sort of.

There is actually not a lot of playing of T-ball that goes on.  There is actually none if I am being honest.  I will tell you what there is a lot of though….crying.  Lots of it.  Not listening…..lots of that too.

I can’t believe they actually line up and pretend to listen to Coach Dylan and Coach Cory.  These two guys deserve a statue in their honor and I cannot for the life of me figure out how they got roped into this gig.  It has got to be community service of some sort…or maybe they lost a giant bet.

They actually do put the ball on the “T” and hit it.  Each kid gets about 834 tries and 833 of those swings make perfect contact with the “T” but I have seen it happen.  I have seen contact and it was brilliant.  L.A. did it on his 834th attempt.  It was amazing.

Eden just looked damn cute in her giant bows.

There use real balls.  They use metal bats.  There are no helmets.  There is no order.  Not an ounce of order.  If you are watching it from across the street it probably looks like 16 three and four year old’s have been dipped in honey and are running from a swarm of angry bee’s.  Coach Cory told L.A. to run to first base and he did, he really did, but he kept going…and going…all the way to the playground on the opposite side of the park.

My favorite part was when my pals got into a fight on second base.  They did not want to share it.  Eden refused to leave and go to third so L.A. took matters into his own hands and whopped her with his “ball bag”.  Yes, that is what he calls his mitt….his “ball bag”.  Then they both cried….and cried and cried.  Then Mom almost cried.

2 weeks down, 6 to go.  Wish us luck.

I have an obsession with Taco Bell.  I cannot tell a lie.  I do not know what it is but it gets me.  Every.  Single.  Time.

I am not sure what it is – the fake sour cream that comes out of what appears to be caulk gun or the Doritos taco or the powdered beans.  I don’t care either, all I care about is how delicious it is.  It has been that way since I was a little kid.  When we were little, Grandma Vogel would take us to Taco Bell and let us order whatever we wanted.  If we wanted the expensive mexican pizza and 4 tacos with “sour cream”, no problem.  We were usually only allowed plain tacos or bean burritos when Mom was in charge so this whole “order whatever the hell you want” thing was a dream for the Vogel kids.

My kids have (thankfully) inherited my love for mexican food, particularly crunchy tacos and even better – Taco Bell.  If I ever give them a choice for a dinner entree, it is always the same – “tacos and beans with sauce”.  They would pick a crunchy taco over a chicken nugget any old day.  I love this because then I get to partake in one of my favorite things.  We don’t eat a ton of fast food but sometimes Mommy wants a break and sometimes when she is tired of saying “no” we hit them up.  I am not afraid to admit it.  Too many people out there try and turn their nose up at fast food and Mom’s that give it to their kids.  Let’s get serious, EVERYONE has a Happy Meal here and there and it is ok.  If you really don’t, more power to you I guess but I am not sure we can be friends.

I was out running errands with L.A. the other day which was a treat in and of itself.  I love when I get to spend time with my kids one on one.  Being twins means they do everything together, all the time.  We had family in town for Easter so Eden got to spend the day with Papa and Aunt Sas downtown and L.A. and Mommy went grocery shopping and to Target.  I told him that Mommy would take him out for a special lunch.  When I said “Special Lunch” I had no idea it would be Taco Bell.  His request was this, “Mommy, I love you so much.  Can we have Taco Bell?”  The kid could have said, “Mommy, you smell like a garbage butt and have 386 wrinkles on your zitty face.  Can we have Taco Bell?” and the response would have been the same.  Hell to the yes.

So my best big guy and I waltzed in to Taco Bell, sat down in the plushest booth and he out ate me by a long shot.  This kid ate 3, yes 3 crunch tacos with “white sauce” and a pintos and cheese (with extra sauce, naturally).  I was impressed.  Mom stuck with 2 items – a crunchy taco supreme and a meximelt.  I suggest you try and replicate my order some day, you will not be disappointed.

So here’s to Taco Bell, “sour cream” and spending the day with my favorite big guy…..I suggest you all go treat yourself and “Run to the border.”

(For the record, I cannot get on board with this whole taco Bell breakfast.  The whole waffle taco thing literally makes me want to hurl. There is no need to use a waffle as a taco shell, there just isn’t.  Man up and wait until 11:00.)

Oh pot roast….why do you have such a bad rap?  Most people think that 200 year old ladies with purple hair make you in their pressure cookers from 1947 that are covered in flowers and something orange.

I have been corrected and for the record, Thank you.  Thank you very much.  I am personally not a huge meat lady but once in a while I like to have  bite of my husbands steak and LOVE a good bacon cheeseburger loaded with mayo (yes, mayo) and NO Ketchup.  Ketchup makes my skin crawl.  The sight, the sound and even the mere thought of the vile condiment makes me want to hurl in my “Hanes Her Way’ ladies large full hip underpants.  For the record, once the sides are more than 5 inches that means they are underpants (because at this point , they are not panties, they are straight up underpants and your grandma wears them too).  They are giant and the bonus is that if you forget your bra and you have had a kid or two, simply tuck your boobs right into your underpants and it is like a leotard.  See, I am saving you money already?!?!?  It is like a grandma panty/bra/girdle combo.

Anyway, I degress.  Back to the Pot Roast.  My mom who is one of the most exceptional cooks in the world by the way made pot roast one visit and I was so disappointed on the inside that my loins hurt.  Seriously Mom?  Pot Roast?  No thanks….I’m out.  I really appreciate you making it for dinner but I am not a big meat person so I will take  pass and have cereal (or sneak out this back door to Taco Bell).

I got talked into sitting down and trying it.  Just a bite she says.  Ok, I am game.  Let’s do this – pot roast.  Pot roast.  Pot roast.

Holy balls.  BEST.  Thing.  Ever.  It was this tender and flavorful shredded beef crumbling with amazing seasonings that even my kids loved.  My daughter said, “Mommy, can you please make us this meat?  It is delicious and brown with a lot of juice.”  She had me at delicious although brown and juice did not hurt.

It does not look like anything high brow so I wasn’t  expecting some elaborate recipe….maybe a bouquet of fresh herbs and reduced red wine or something.  No.  Not even close.

When I called LA in and told him we were having Nonie’s pot roast for dinner he squealed with delight.  “I LOVE THAT NONIE MEAT”

You have a crock pot?  Perfect.  Thrown a “roast” in there.  I buy whatever is on sale.  Don’t forget I am frugal and fancy but mostly frugal.  Damn you DAD!  I use about a 2 lb chuck roast but let’s get serious – I flat out ask the butcher what is on sale right now that will make the best pot roast tonight.

So I turn my crockpot up to high….always high.  Throw that piece of meat in.  No searing on both sides, nothing.  Add one can of cream of mushroom soup, one pack of Lipton onion soup mix, 1 cup of beef or chicken bouillon, whatever the hell you have.  I never have beef so I always use chicken broth.  I then add some fresh sliced garlic.(about 5 closes)  FRESH – not the minced stuff along with some salt and pepper to taste (about 1/2 tsp each) That is it.  Seriously.  Let it cook for about 5-6 hours and turn to low and add potatoes that are quartered (think GIANT fries).  Actually before adding the potatoes I take a tiny ladle and skim off all the fat and discard.  Keep this cruising along for about another hour then add some frozen peas and serve that stuff.  So easy that you think it is going to taste like hamburger helper but it is damn good.  I challenge you to try it.  When I have more time I make it over mashed pots versus roasting them at the end with peas.

The leftover shredded beef I cook down with cilantro, onions and cumin and make homemade enchiladas and quesadillas with them.

Keep in mind I eat tiny portions and put sirracha on EVERYTHNG.

Super good and beyond easy old school recipe that you will love.  Give it a whirl.  I promise you will enjoy it.  I really is best over homemade mashed potatoes b/c the sauce it makes (after you skim the fat) is like a delicious gravy.  I worked today so there were no homemade pots in our future….

This little guy even loved it.  Seriously?  Look at that face and deny him more “brown meat”…..I can’t do it.

Wait, that sounds a little perverted but it stays.  Abbott gets the shaft on a lot of things and I thought this was supposed to happen to the middle child, not the baby – the GIANT baby.  My giant baby gets scraps of hand me downs and wore Christmas pajama’s to bed tonight and to add insult to injury, they were WAY to small.  I nearly needed a shoe horn to get the pants on.

He does not get the shaft on attention or love though.  He is my compadre, my sidekick, my piece of the puzzle.  We do everything together, all day, every day and we love it.  His smile makes you want to attack your day and get a billion things done, it is like a tiny shot of espresso.  He is my tiny but giant love of my life.  I miss him when he sleeps.  His smile goes a long way and I NEED it.  One thing I did not need was his hair.  The poor guy was blessed with a ton of awesome things in his life but his poor hair was not one of them.  It is not even like hair.  It is like whispy stands of orangey silk.  It could not be thinner or straighter.  He needs a toupee and he is one.  Well, today was the day.  Haircut day.  FIRST haircut day.  He was starting to look homeless and more and more like Linus from the Peanuts gang with every minute that passed.

So, when my twins got their first hair cut’s, it was a whole to do!  We went to one of those fancy kid’s places where they video record it and save the hair in glass vials, give you certificates marking the occasion, take their photo for a commemorative frame.  You know, really do it up nice.

Abbott, poor Abs.  We marched outside (in a light rain and a soiled diaper, no pants and just a dirty pajama top),  I strapped him in the giant big wheel/car contraption and took a before picture.  Oh Linus!!

He was sad.  “Mommy, where is the fancy chair that looks like a race car with the kid’s movies playing?  Where are they going to sign my “First Haircut Certificate”?  Why am I sitting out in the cold rain with a rusty fiskars coming at my head?  Oh and by the way, where are my pants?  And, could you change my diaper?  I think I dumped about 36 minutes ago and it is starting to stink.  I ate corn for lunch.”  “Why am I in this old big wheel car thing?  You said we were going to the salon to get my haircut?  This looks like Salon Salmonella and I want out.”

oh Linus, it is for your own good.  Just sit still so I don’t give you that haircut from Dumb and Dumber.  You know Lloyd Christmas….Jim Carey.

Just sit still.  Don’t you dare move so I can get it just right……I am going for a David Beckman look with a touch of that Clooney sex appeal.

Wait for it….wait for it……

And…..ouch.  I tried.  Welcome to the family Lloyd Christmas.

Tomorrow I will be experimenting with some hair gels and possibly a home perm.  Wish me luck.

Well, it has been a while since you have heard from us over here at Camp Gerbrecht.  Holy. Balls.  No, we did not finally take that trip to the beach.  We took that trip to the toilet….and the garbage can….one by one.

It happened.  The flu.  Of course it happened one by one and worked it’s evil ways through the family one by one.  Poor L.A. got hit twice.  First and last.  That sucks.  He also added an ear infection on the second one just for fun.  He always has kind of been a show off, hasn’t he?

There is nothing worse than seeing your children sick, really any kids for that matter.  Even the annoying one’s.  There is just a sense of helplessness that takes over you and literally makes your heart hurt.  It also makes your gag reflexes hurt.  I have cleaned up more vomit, done more laundry and even cleaned toddler diarreah out from under my finger nails.  That was my favorite part by the way.

I will tell you what might have been worse than the poop under the finger nails – Dad being in charge while I was down.  I was down hard.  I am talking nearly shitting my pants while barfing over the edge of my bed and filling up my poor bathroom garbage can with a vile concoction of stomach acid and macaroni and cheese.  Meanwhile, my kids are crying outside the door to come in and watch Mommy throw up.  I put ear plugs in, a sleep mask on and tried to shut out the world for 24 hours.

I could not stop vomiting and my husband really did have some sage advice for me.  “Just go to sleep and you will stop puking.”  Really?  Really?  Thanks for the advice Dr. Kevorkian.  That is precisely what I will do.  Just shut my eyes and drift off to sleep dreaming of rainbows and pinot.

When I finally rejoined the world of the living after 24 hours, I shivered my way downstairs, took one look at my house and turned around and walked right back upstairs and crawled into bed.  I was in no way prepared to deal with the tornado called  “Dad was just in charge for 24 hours”.  So, maybe my pals wore the same pj’s for about 48 hours straight.  Eden’s hair never saw a brush let alone a bow and the baths never got drawn and I am sure they had a nice healthy layer of cheese on their teeth due to non brushing.  It happens…..as long as it only happens once a year because I cannot do that again.  If I am going to be that sick I better have had a knock out night before.  Those days are long gone because being hungover is just not in the cards.  There is nothing worse than being hungover with crying babies and shitty diapers.  Nothing.  It has happened a couple times since everyone was born and I am just not cut out for it anymore.    After a couple open bar weddings and girls nights.  Ouch.

So Mr. Flu – you have been warned.  Stay away.  We are done with you….done for good.  I am not impressed with how you simply overlooked the flu shot that the entire family injested in the Fall.  I am not impressed with you making my poor babies cry for hours on end.  I am not impressed with what you did to our insides.  Mostly, I am not impressed with your timing.  One by one?  Really?  Next time, just get it all over at once.  Please.  And give me some advance notice so I can call my mom.  That would be helpful.

Until next year Mr. Flu – screw you.  You are a vile beast and even though my mother said never to use the word “hate”, it applies here.  I hate you.  There.  I said it.

See you in 2015 Mr. Flu.  Until then – up yours.

As a mother of three little kids, I have battles EVERY day.  “Mommy I want to wear this Xmas tshirt to school in April.” “Mommy, I have to wear 3 pair of socks today.”  “Mommy, I need to sleep with this bag of sharpies.”  A couple of these things happened today because I picked my battles.  Yes, L.A. went to school in a holiday tshirt and wearing three pairs of socks but he did not get to go to bed last night with a bag of permanent markers.  You know why?  I pick my battles.  Sometimes it is not worth arguing over something so silly as what the kid wears.  I save all my energy for the big stuff.  Stuff that causes bodily harm or property destruction.  Sometimes my kids look homeless because they are now in the phase where they like to dress themselves and I am totally fine with it.  In fact, I try to encourage it at this point.

Abbott is too little to be battling me about what he wears or what time he goes to bed.  I am still the boss in regards to those items but he is the boss of the toys.  When he sets his mind on something, there is no changing it.  Yesterday was one of those days….and it involved a tampon.  A super plus one at that.

First thing in the morning he got into my purse and found it.  I tried to take it away and he cried.  I decided that he could carry it around, what’s the harm and he will set it down in 5 minutes and move on to something else, right?  Wrong.  So wrong.  He carried it around for about an hour so slowly but surely the wrapper came off.  Jackpot!  When he found out there was more to the new toy than an orange wrapper, he squeeled with delight.  It had a string!  It had two parts that he could take apart and put together…over and over and over again.  No problem, he was being quiet.

Then it happened.  It was time to leave the house.  I couldn’t really let him leave the house with a super plus tampon.  We had errands to run…in public.  I am not one to care what people think at all but I decided a one year old should not be cruising around the Jewel with an unwrapped tampon.  I broke the news to Abbott.  The tampon was staying home.  He did not take it well.  That is actually an understatement.

He was devastated.  Crushed really.  He howled for a good 10 minutes and I tried to give him another toy to distract him.  Not a chance, it was not happening.  He wanted that tampon and he wanted it bad.  Ugh…time to pick my battle for the day.  Do I let him take the tampon?  Well, maybe he will take it to the car and then drop it from his car seat and I will be in the clear.  Ok, fine, you take the tampon but it stays in the car, deal?!?!  He seemed to be on board.

He held on to that thing for dear life and just had this look of contentment on his face.  We got to the grocery store and he had a death grip on the thing.  Fine, you can hold it in the cart, just until we get into the store then Mommy gets it back.  It is a “parking lot tampon” only.  Deal?

No deal.  Not even close.  We got into Jewel and I tried.   He was grasping those 2 pieces of cardboard with every ounce of strength he had.  I could not pry it out of his hot little hands.  What the hell.  Battle lost.  Have your tampon Abs.

So my guy and I cruised around the store with his tampon.  He took it apart and put it together over and over, tapped it on the shopping cart like it was a drum stick, put it in his mouth like it was a sucker.  People stared and I just stared right back.  Yes, my kid has a tampon.  It could be worse right?  It could have been a knife or a sharpie.  At least it was new.

We stopped by a friend’s house and he marched right in clutching that damn thing.  Now it was looking a little ratty.  The cotton is coming out of the tube and it is dirty.  I keep telling myself it is helping with his eye/hand coordination.  He can take that thing apart and put it back together in about 2 seconds.

So yesterday I lost the battle.  The tampon battle.  It won’t be the last either.

Abbott and the Tampon – 1

Mommy – 0

Next up – the maxi pad.

I am not kidding when I tell you that it was 66 degrees today in Chicago.

Sixety.  Six.  Degrees.  The hot kind of air came here.  For real.

We have been living in a polar vortex and wearing snow pants to school in March.  My husband used the snow blower 10 days ago.  I got frost bite getting the mail 5 days ago so you can imagine what 66 degrees felt like.  It felt like a dream and a damn good one that ended with George Clooney and Taco Bell buffet.

I took a client out to look at fancy houses this morning but was home by noon and we were outside until the sun went down.  I felt like it was 1984 and all I was waiting for was my mom to tell me to get inside and drink my Tang and watch Mork and Mindy.  Running around without a care in the world.

We sidewalk chalked and scooted and swung and slid and most importantly fought.  You know, just because you move the party outside does not mean the fighting stops.  It NEVER stops.  96.74% of the time the twins are the best of pals but the other 3.36% (I think that math is correct) they are in a jitsu/karate/tae kwon do/fight club setting that makes you want to rip every hair out of your head and chin.

Today the problem was we found some giant random black ball in our yard.  God knows where it came from but it was VERY important and apparently whoever had the ball was even more important.

After I pulled out my new line (I have one for every season/holiday) – “Do you want a chocolate Easter egg?  Yes, you do?  Then give the ball to your sister for one minute…..give it to her for 2 minutes and you can have a jelly bean too.”  Works like a charm…..EVERY time.

You know what else we did?  We hop scotched.  When was the last time you chalked one of those out and hopped your little heart out?  Do it.  It was so fun and way to funny.  My pals are not very coordinated so watching them try to hop on one leg in the correct square was almost as funny and uncomfortable as watching Joh Travolta butcher Idina Menzel’s name at the Oscar’s.  That was bad,  Ouch.

Miss Eden – I tell her that she is my most favorite little girl in the whole wide world,  Hands down,  I have so many people in my family that are so close but no one will ever top my dream miracle baby girl  who is my very best girly pal.  The love of my life that Eden Barbara Anne.  Her and her 2 brothers got it all.

We scooted…..at a very fast 3 miles an hour.

We peeled around the dead yard for a few hours and scooted over the dead brown grass with everything from bikes to cars to scooters to pushing carts to plain old running feet – muddy feet.

And we busted out the side walk chalk….best deal ever.  1.00 for a whole bucket of chalk which will last an entire afternoon.  I stopped myself before I drew anything offensive and stuck with the standards….”Mommy, draw a pig!  Write my name!  Draw a Minion! Draw a rainbow and Mike Wazawski!”  I can oblige, no problem.  I am the world’s largest crafty nerd to this is right up my alley.

I asked someone to draw a box of wine and a yoga studio and cot for me to take nap on…….no one came through.  Bastards.  At least Taco Bell people…..come on.

We took over the swing set and had the standard twin/pal slide race.

As you can see…..a certain hairy one got a head start and greased his pants with crisco and his brothers vaseline we rub on his tiny buns before a diaper change.   That’s my guy.  I cannot argue with the way that adorable mind works.

So 66 it was and it was a dream.  We loved every second of it and have more amazing times to come out there.  I just ordered some ridiculous “above ground pool” for the backyard for the summer.  15 feet wide…It comes with a ladder to get in.  My husband is never going to talk to me again when he comes home and sees this thing set up.  I checked.  It can accommodate 3 adult “floats” along with various pool toys.  Ha!  He wouldn’t let me get a trampoline because he thought that was too “trashy”…….just you wait.  This is going to be amazing.  It even comes with chlorine tablets and a filter so you can keep it up for the long haul.  So, plan accordingly…..ditch your pool pass and come on over.  I also just ordered a 30 foot long snake sprinkler for the kids.  We do not mess around…….or maybe we mess around too much.  Oops.