This Week in Photos

One of the only times they weren't screaming or pouring water on each other's heads just to be jerks. 

If you aren't drinking pink champs nightly, you're doing it wrong. 

New hair. Still getting used to it. Yikes. 

Girl's trip with my girl who hates pictures like I stick  a camera in her face all the time or something.  I birthed you. You'll pose for a damn picture. 

Lately {in pictures}

The Truth About Getting Ready for Family Photos

So, you finally made the decision. You picked a photographer, paid your deposit, and you have a date picked. There is a myriad of things to do to prepare for your session. On the eve of our family's yearly photos, I thought I'd share a few steps to getting prepared.

1. Start drinking. I don't care if your photos are scheduled for 1 hour from now or 1 month from now. Start drinking. You'll be glad you did. I'm on glass of wine #2 as I type.

2. Spend an inordinate amount of money on "nice" clothes for your spawns who will INEVITABLY stain them the second you put their clothes on them. You will stand them up after having fully dressed them, and without batting an eyelash, there will be a giant stain on the front of one or more of them. My plan is to keep them in diapers (sans Maddie) in the car, fill them full of food & milk, and dress them the second we are getting out of the car to go sit in that damn field.

3. Tell your husband the dreaded news. Offer sexual favors if he will just put on a happy face & pretend he wouldn't rather be having a prostate exam than having family photos taken. Also, make him drink.

4. Bring bribes. Candy, toys, I don't care. If you don't bribe your children, you are failing at parenthood.

5. Bring extra clothes. They will ruin them.

6. Relax. The kids are acting like massive douche tarts, your husband is wearing tube socks with skater shoes, and you are sweating like a stuck pig. All you have to do now is relax, let the photographer direct you, and then be amazed when you have not one, but an ass load of REALLY good family photos that you get to keep forever. The beauty of these images is that no one can hear you swearing or the kids screaming and/or crying. Win/win.

And just because you know you want to know, I give you the Rosenbohm wardrobe. Yes, I'm good at this. Yes, I made that fecking floral crown, and if she doesn't keep it on her damn head the whole time, there will be weeping & gnashing of teeth.

Jax & Jett :: shirt & shorts // Old Navy |  shoes // Target

Maddie :: romper & kimono // Target | shoes // Old Navy | floral crown // Me

Andrea :: dress & shoes // Dottie Couture

Josh :: shirt & short // Old Navy

Get Over It

If I see one more post about not believing everything you see on social media, I am going to stab my eyeballs out.

If you are offended by pretty pictures of 1. pretty people, 2. pretty food, 3. pretty vacations, 4. pretty hats, 5. pretty children, 6. anything pretty that you don't have, then get off the internet.

 If you're offended by cake, just don't even try to be my friend. We're over.

Yes, we all do it. Perfect setting, perfect lighting, just the right angle, hip pop, snap, filter, sappy caption, post. Pretty pictures a villain does not make. So, get over it.

Let's back up. I have received messages about how my house is always clean, my children are so beautiful, my hair is amazing. Let me be the first to dispel this outright lie. If there is a picture of my house, it's usually my in-law's house when we're at the pool. My children can look beautiful; they can also look like creatures from the black lagoon. If there is a picture on social media of my hair, it is because I have actually taken the time to dislodge it from the permanent grease bun on top of my head, wash it, and curl it. Get over it.

Now, when I see posts like that or a recent influx of posts about not believing "everything you see on social media," I, literally, want to vom. Do you know how bitchy that makes you sound? Get over it. Some people see life through rose-colored glasses. I'm sorry you don't. Get over it. Some people wake up "sunny-side up," like my dumb sister would say every dumb morning when she dumb woke up. I'm sorry you are a cranky bitch. Get over it. Some people are photographers who are insane about perfect lighting, angles, edit, and emotion. I'm sorry you are aren't. Get over it. Some people are supes fashionable and like to show it off. I'm sorry you rock mom jeans. Get over it.

Get the freaking freak over it, people. If you're that bothered by it, ask Jesus to help you stop being such a butthole. Take your own pretty pictures of your pretty hair, and your pretty kids, and get over it.

/endrant

a.

Groundhog Day

Stay-at-home moms get a bad rap. Yes, we stay in our yoga pants all day, but this is not a choice. It is by default. I try to look like a girl more often than not as the boys have gotten a little older, but I will admit that most days I'm rocking the mom bun, yoga pants, & I'm free-boobin' it.

If you have ever wondered what it is like to have twins & a toddler, have ever desired to have this combination or happen to fall into this scenario, allow me to enlighten you to how things run around here.

Somewhere between 6:00 & 6:30am: boys wake up to nurse. I am, usually, deep into a creepy dream about an ex-boyfriend and drooling on my pillow, but I stumble in, grab the boys & nurse as I fight sleep. Boys go back down.

7:00am: In a hushed whisper, as close to my face as humanly possible, "MOM! MAMA! CAN YOU TURN ON A CARTOON FOR ME?"

Turn on cartoon. Back to bed.

8:00am: "MOM! MY CARTOON IS OVER. CAN I WATCH SOMETHING ELSE? AND I'M ALMOST STARVING. CAN I HAVE SOME CEREAL?"

Cereal, cartoon. Back to bed.

9:00am: Boys wake up. Nurse.

9:01am: Insert Chai tea IV.

The morning is a blur as walkers are whizzing around the room, Maddie is, as per usual, lining up her toys and yes. You guessed it. In her underwear.

9:30am: Feed the boys vomit cereal breakfast.

10:00am: Pile into the big bed for cuddling, talking, phone games, and to annoy the bejeezus out of the parents.

10:05am: I'm over it. Emails. Boys are fussing by now. Naptime.

11:00am: Boys are awake. Time to take photos of the boys in their swag for the blog. 

- Set up the room. 

- Dress the boys.

- Get Maddie to jump around like an idiot to make them smile.

- Lose my shit because Jax is trying to roll off the bed & kill himself, Jett is sucking on his shirt, his shoes or his fingers, and Maddie is screaming at the top of her lungs.

- Manage to get ONE shot. Post it. 

- Pretend like life is picturesque.

- Dry my pits that are now dripping sweat.

Her Tiny Tribe                                                                   Made by Molly

 Made by Molly                                                               Riley Clay Designs

 guguberry

12:00pm: Lunch. The boys get bottles, Maddie wants "sprinkle cheese and 5 pieces of apple." Ugh. Fine. Eat whatever you want.

12:30pm: Boys back down. Threaten Maddie with naptime if she doesn't hurry up & finish her damn food.

1:00pm: Silence. 

2:00pm: Once I have reached the end of Pinterest, Instagram & Facebook, work my fat ass out. 

2:45pm: Shower. Look like a girl again. Take a selfie to prove that I got dressed. And because #narcissism.

3:30pm: They are awake. Snacks. Cartoons. More chaos in the living room.

This happened. Texted Maren, begging her to tell me that it was ok that the kids were driving me crazy, so I hid in the pantry, dipping my carrots in Nutella. She assures me this is normal.

4:00pm: Operation: get these kids out of my house, unless it's spring thru fall & then I'm FREEEEEE. Working, but FREEEEEE.

Kids vs. no kids. Either way, there's always Starbucks.

- Kids: hoofing it through Centerra, sweating & swearing under my breath that I will never ever take these monsters angels out in public by myself again.

And the comments.
"Oh my! You have your hands full."
"You aren't having more, are you?"
"Bless your heart. You must be exhausted."
"Are they twins?" "No, I stole one."

- Working: jumping around, making fart sounds to make other people's kids laugh. 

5:30pm: In the door. Pants off, bra off, hair up. Dinner.

6:00pm: Bath.

6:30pm: Nap. 'Toons for Maddie. Emails, editing, cleaning.

7:00pm: Bath for Mama. Really, this is just me laying in the bath, Instagramming.

8:00pm: Editing, emailing, rewashing the laundry I put in that morning.

9:00pm: Maddie is down for the night. Friends marathon for Mama.

10:30pm: Bottles for the boys. Adult time. And by adult time, I mean, we both lay next to each other on our phones while Parks & Rec plays on the TV. 

11:00pm: Pillow over my face, drooling.

6:00am: Wake up, repeat.

Most days I think, "What the hell was I thinking?" But then, this:

And I'm like, "You guys are so lucky you're cute."

Happy Thursday, moms. We're all having the same day. Go hide in your pantry & spoon some Nutella into your mouth. We've all done it. No judgment. Just solidarity.