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Nice piece of information here: When I was pregnant with Mason I went to see Tool twice (once when I was barely showing and some chick rubbed my belly and proclaimed he would be a rockin baby, and then again a week before I was due) and I also saw Pearl Jam sometime in the middle. That kid got to experience more awesome concerts in the womb then he may see in his whole life. When I was pregnant with Maiya I got free tickets to go see Madonna. I’ve never been a huge Madonna fan, but that was a pretty impressive show! Whatever she is doing-yoga, starving herself, colon cleanses, I should be doing because I want to look and move like that! Anyway, I didn’t know I was having a girl at the time, but figured I must be if “it” was going to a Madonna concert. Julie, Pammy and Cat will totally know why I had to buy Maiya this shirt. Girl Power!

Pioneer for new hair products...aka breakfast

She was totally at that tour...I think it was the Paris show

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I just found this post in my drafts and realized that I am about to turn 28 and totally forgot to post this! Wow, is my memory going already? All I can say is holy moly that newborn baby is a walking talking maniac toddler now!

I always wondered what I would be like when I got to be about this age…and now I am that darn old to know!

27 year old Karyn

27 year old Karyn

birthday hike

birthday hike

IMG_0878

the view-it's no birthday cake, but it will do :)

the view-it's no birthday cake, but it will do 🙂

So just in case 12 year old Karyn ever time-travels, reads my blog, and wants to know what its like to be 27-this is for you!

Being 27 is nothing like you will expect it to be. If you think you have things figured out now, well, your wrong. That’s all there is to it. YOU WERE WRONG. Life is a million times better than you ever could plan or expect it to be. The kicker is that its also a million times harder. I was pooped on and puked on, on my 27th birthday and couldn’t even eat birthday cake or have a cup of coffee when I was dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour to feed a newborn baby. Believe it or not, but NONE of that matters-I got to spend my birthday with my family-who mean everything in the world to me. Yes it sounds cheesy, but you won’t know how true it is until one day you get dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour with no caffeine to stimulate your brain and realize “Holy Shit, I’m 27, I am that old, and I am HAPPY!

Pardon my screeching when Maiya starts walking. I am just so excited that baby can finally walk!

We have a lot of issues with personal hygiene in this house.  I think I owe it to the internet to write an entire post on how many days I can go without showering, how that even happens, and tips on how to fool people into thinking you aren’t one of those dirty hippie types until you go and tell the whole world…ooops. Maiya HATES, I cannot express this enough, HATES getting her diaper changed. Six to eight times a day I get to pick up my sweet baby, set her on the changing table and endure kicking and screaming, and throwing, and growling, and tears, and me holding my breath and trying not to yell SHUT UP ALREADY. According to my calculations, we have changed her diaper approximately 4,200 times since she was born. And every single flippin time you would think that we just came up with this brand new game of torture.  But I didn’t start this post to talk about Maiya, this is all for Mason.

Since he was a baby Mason has hated getting his fingernails clipped. I was always trying to find ways to distract him and nothing ever worked more than once. Now he has no problem with his fingernails, but oh holy god in heaven, do not try to clip that kids toenails. Worse than changing Maiya’s diaper. Worse. I have never seen such enormous tear drops. He gets so upset that it makes Maiya upset and then there we are all crying over his toenails. That was a good time. We have tried every bribe possible. Can you believe that eating a tootsie pop, trying to distract him by making him count the licks to get to the tootsie roll and promising a bowl of ice cream after didn’t work?! Oh well, we can always wear shoes so no one knows what a bad mom I am.

Until you look at his hair. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! Mason has also decided that he will not get a haircut. When you ask him when he is going to get his haircut he will tell you “None day! I don’t need a haircut! None day Mom!” So then I ask him what he is going to do when his hair gets long like Mom’s hair. “It won’t. It is just going to get cooler and cooler.” And what if we took him to a cool place where he could ride a motorcycle while a pretty girl cuts his hair? “None day!” He won’t let me comb it, and cries when we wash it, but he tells me his hair will get “cool like a snowcat driver.” I have to admit that about 75% of the time his hair looks awesome. It went through that weird growing out stage, but it really did get cooler and cooler. How did he know that?! The problem is that when he wakes up his hair is insane. If we leave the house before noon he looks like I adopted a homeless boy. My plan was that after running around on some hot summer days he would be asking me for a haircut. 3 weeks of mid-90degree days and my plan has backfired. Plan B is to remind myself that his days are numbered in the hair department and to let him enjoy it now. My brothers went through the no haircut stage in high school, 3 1/2 is a little early!

I totally remember fighting with my mom about showering when I was a kid. I guess this is my payback….sorry mom!

We are a strong-willed bunch over here.