The Beal Family

I finally finished the last episode of Dance Academy and so here I am. Off the couch. Ipad put away. My eyes.....slowly adjusting to natural light again. What a relief!  I had to watch this hideous Australian dance show medicinally, as a tactic to stay awake for the past week as our entire household fell victim to a nasty spring cold. We have all shuffled around in various states of disarray and sleep deprivation for days and days. There was literally NO sleep. Minus Gabe of course, who I feel confident could sleep through the second coming, trumpets be darned!

Spencer had it the worst of course and he basically walked around crying with a fever clutching his toy story friends buzz and woody repeating the words "cloo cloos" over and over again - which is toddler speak for turn on blues clues IMMEDIATELY before I kill you with my whining. Let me tell you - death by steve has to be one of the worst ways to go. I never want to see his awkward khaki pants or comb over ever again! And as a fun little parting gift, Spencer is now fluent in jazz hands. Great. 

(Or...as Spencer would say: AWKWARD!)

Brigitte, bless her heart, has been a complete train wreck. A stuffy/runny nose has only one emotional response from her: extreme hyperactivity coupled with signs of a total nervous breakdown. She fought me on everything! One of our major battles with Brigitte is wardrobe. She will only wear certain colors, textures, and combinations of things. Never pants. Never sleeves. Never blue. So she basically lives in pink sleeveless dresses. And you know she wont let me touch her hair! If you try to pull it back or put it up she acts like you are trying to scalp her because she wants it long like "sleeping duty" and apparently stuck to her neck with syrup as is the going fashion these days. And when she is sick - well you better get ready to jump when she says jump - or pay the price! (dont judge me, I have two other babies who's rooms are in dangerously close proximity to hers and if she wakes them up...I CRY.) I want a warmie milk she'd say - of course this would be at 3 am. So I would go downstairs and make her one, come back to her room, hand it to her, and she would immediately start to wail like the Woman in Black. 

Because it was in a purple cup, not a pink one. Or the lid was the wrong color or didnt match the cup. Or maybe she screamed because it wasnt quite 'warmie' enough. By 6 am I had room serviced her wild requests no less than 50 times...and I was on the couch with a diet coke in one hand, asleep sitting up,  nursing Benett.... as she was outside jumping on the trampoline singing "be our guest" at the top of her lungs. In a small cotton t-shirt. At least she can blow her nose all by herself...one tiny square of toilet paper at a time. Although, we do find giant piles of crumpled up tissues all over the house like a squirrel has taken up residency. No, more like a badger.

Benett our little prize - even with a cold - is a little gem. Just plug him in, rock, repeat. He is getting quite good at nursing and smiling simultaneously. He is way into toys right now so he spends a lot of time "working" in his exersaucer..and if you happen to catch his eye he will reward you with the cutest fattest sounding belly laugh.  He gets up to eat twice in the night, but he goes right back to sleep so its not so bad. What? What am I even saying? Of course its bad! Benett - go to sleep!!!!

Gabe. Gabe Gabe Gabe. The longer we are married the more I am cluing in to the reality of my situation. How do I put this, delicately?   

I am married to....Clark Griswold.

Have we all been glued to our computers waiting for updates on his new blog RV DREAM? Oh yes. We recently acquired a new camper truck situation circa 1986...complete with mountain dew colored carpeting adorning every nook and cranny of the (shall we say rustic?) interior. I can serioulsy hear Clark's voice every time I glance in the backyard and it catches me eye: "THAT THERES AN RV".

I get it, I do. I know what Gabe is imagining and it looks something like this:

But the reality I fear, is....more like this:

Anyway, its a fun project for him and I hope it turns out so we can spend hours and hours together this summer in the middle of nowhere, sleeping on vinyl mattresses cooking dinner in our tiny tiny microwave and showering under our water bottle shower. Better yet, I hope Im pregnant again just so I can adequately test out the 'crapper" with incessant bouts of morning sickness. (I can hear you all in unison: PLEASE NOOOOOOO!) 

Well that about wraps up the past few weeks. I can hear Benett upstairs cooing for breakfast and Spencer's diaper is drooping between his knees so clearly hes due for a change! Also, its time to start wardrobe negotiations with Brigitte because its a school day and the Lutheran church where she attends doesnt consider dora panties proper pants to accompany tank tops. And so it BEGINS.