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October 2013

Now that the weather has turned off cold again here in the Great Plains, we have resorted to our usual, indoor play areas around town. Before I had children, I didn’t understand or appreciate the beauty of a place where parents can corral their children like cattle while they sit by the entrance/exit with a cup of coffee and their electronic device of choice. Before I was a mother, those indoor playpens were little more than noisy, filthy Petri dishes that got stuck at the end of the mall near JCPenney and the family bathrooms. Before kids, I avoided these areas like the plague. Now, I RUN to them.

Bring on the E. coli!

Bring on the botulism!

We’ve got a bag full of sanitizing wipes to defeat it.

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Maybe one day, when she’s finally able to speak in complete sentences, Averi will tell us what she’s thinking in this photo.

What She's Thinking

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The winners of the 3 months of delicious NatureBox snacks are:

Rachel Fish:  “Yes I do!”

Kelsey:  “I don’t ‘hide’ snacks, but I let my hubby know that there are only a certain number of ‘non-chocolate’ things for me, so please don’t eat them if you can help it! haha”

Congratulations, Rachel & Kelsey! Contact katy@katyinacorner.com to claim your prize.

THANK YOU to everyone who participated! If you didn’t win the giveaway, but still want some delicious, healthy snacks delivered to your door, use the code “KATY” on the NatureBox website to get 50% off your first month of snacks!

When Hangry Toddlers Attack
(This post and giveaway are sponsored by NatureBox. All stories and opinions are my own.)
 

As a mother of two toddlers, I have learned to accept the fact that we will rarely venture out of our home without some sort of meltdown. Either we’ll skip Averi’s afternoon nap, and she’ll repay us with a Toddlers in Tiaras-worthy hissy fit, or JJ will wake up too early that morning and decide to do that whole-body limp thing every time we try to get him to walk. And since he’s a 3-year-old man-baby and weighs almost as much as I do, this is probably a fun scene for complete strangers to witness.

[Why can’t that woman control her teenage boy? And WHY is he wearing a diaper?]

Okay, he’s not that big.

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classclown2

I know for certain I successfully made it through 13 years of public school, though there are very few things I actually remember. I could probably only recall a dozen or so specific memories:

1)  There was the science teacher who accidentally wrote a 4-letter-word on the board.

That’s a pretty memorable event when you’re in middle school.

2)  Then the same teacher made us blow up balloons and make decorations for her dog’s birthday party.

Okie-dokie.

3)  And then she sat in front of the entire class on a barstool with her zipper down THE entire day. No one told her.

I still feel bad I never told her.

4)  And then there was another teacher—NO! Actually, the same one!—who told us that she was a reincarnated peach tree.

I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

5)  And then there was the boy who kissed me on the mouth (uninvited, thank you) in front of my sex ed teacher. I was MAD. I may have slapped his face.

And that summarizes absolutely everything I learned in middle school.

Oh, but there was one more thing:

6)  I performed a weekly, one-woman show.

One of my classes took place in a trailer, and our teacher would go AWOL for hours at a time at least once a week. I now believe that she had some significant problems in her personal life. Honestly, I’m not so sure I wouldn’t also hide under my desk and shoot rubber bands at the students if I taught middle school. (Yes, that actually happened.)

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Mandatory Family Fun

I’ve told y’all before that I’m not a huge fan of over-the-top, Pinterest-worthy birthday parties. For one, we don’t have the money to shell out on crafts supplies that I will purchase and then never complete. Second, our kids don’t eat sugar. At all. And I can’t think of a single kid (or parent for that matter) who would come to a birthday party without cake and ice cream. And, third, I can hardly get up the energy most days to “cook” for my own picky eaters. So, the idea of entertaining a bunch of other people’s picky eaters is pretty overwhelming.

Those of you who know my mom well probably just shook your heads and said, “The apple sure did fall far from the tree.” And you are absolutely right. Really, the apple fell off the tree, and while it was in mid-air, was swept up in a tornado, hit by a truck, and dumped in a field of buffalo manure in Kansas.

[Oh, no. Katy’s using metaphors again. Someone call a therapist.]

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lettertomydaughter

So, I created this letter for my daughter, and now I’m SOBBING. I can’t even see to type. So, let’s just hope this is relatively free of errors.

I’m sobbing because:

1) our baby girl turns 2 today and

2) I was dumb enough to make a video montage to commemorate it.

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The winner of the gorgeous gloves is…

Judi Miller:  “Love my sweaters & boots!!! A free 20 seconds, that’s all I had ;)

Congratulations, Judi! Contact katy@katyinacorner.com to claim your prizes.

________

Fall is in the air (literally) for us here in Kansas, and I got seriously bitten by the fashion bug this weekend.

Leggings and tunics and boot socks, oh my!

I spent the entire day Saturday at a local outlet mall—by myself—

Yeah, I can’t even finish that sentence it’s so beautiful.

By myself. That phrase deserves a sentence all its own. Actually, a whole line…

By myself.

Yeah, I think it needs caps lock, bold, italics, and an exclamation point.

BY MYSELF!

[Overkill, lady. We get it.]

So, I walked around Legends Outlets in Kansas City…

BY MYSELF!

And though I found some great deals and a few essential items to add to my wardrobe, there was nothing quite as detailed and beautiful as what I’m giving away today!

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season_05

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.”
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, ESV)

For everything, a season.

And it seems that our 3-year-old and our almost-2-year-old have joined together to drag us all—kicking and screaming—through the “break down,” “weep,” and “war” seasons of life. Every day feels like a cage match. Every. Single. Day.

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Last Tuesday morning, Brian came into our bedroom and sat by my side. I was in a deep sleep after a restless night, and he gently shook my arm to wake me. My eyes struggled to focus and find his gaze, but once they did, I knew. I just wasn’t sure who.

“Katy, your parents have been trying to call you. PawPaw passed away this morning.”

I immediately closed my eyes again and visualized his face.

millionaire_15

I pictured him smiling. He was always smiling.

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