Yep, he's a Hudson.

Flash Flood works diligently, proving his worthiness as a member of The Hudson Storm.

Mastering the art of scaring his mother to death... Check.

Obsession with mud... Check.


Blankie addiction... Check.

Making sure to cuddle with Momma just long enough to calm her nerves, and make her secretly wish she would always be the #1 lady in his life.... Check.

Yep, he's a Hud-SON alright.

Five Lil' Punkins

I am still suffering with a severe case of writer's block. It's certainly NOT due to a lack of embarrassing stories, nor a shortage of awkward public encounters, all of which The Storm is fully responsible. As much as I would like to report they have turned into little angels, (who keep their mouths SHUT in public) I'm afraid it's simply my brain that is refusing to function. Writing complete sentences has become quite a struggle, and I'm really tired of it. The writer's block, I mean. Blogging has been such a fun outlet for me these past two years, so I hate to let it fall to the wayside. (Or is it waste side? Waist side is more like it for me here lately. Pretty much everything has fallen or is in the process of falling to my waist side. Sigh.)

My brain is oatmeal though, even when I can think clearly and write freely, so if I don't hurry up and write about our annual pilgrimage to the local pumpkin patch, I'll forget about it completely. This should be a super easy one though, since it's mostly just pictures for my family that couldn't be here to go with us. Man how I wish we all lived closer together. But then, we would probably just take the convenience of getting together for granted, and life would get in the way, and before we knew it, we would only be getting together for holidays and a few other random times each year, which is what we already do anyway, so I guess I'll take what I can get.

So, fam who couldn't be here to go with us... Here are our pictures...

Blogger is being difficult and acting much like my stubborn three year old. For some reason, it's not allowing me to center my pictures the way I would like, or put them two to a line. Grrrr. Sometimes I hate com-pooters. And it's not allowing me to write captions at the moment either. Uggh. So, I'll just write them all here, and you can guess which pic I'm referring to. Oh, this will be fun! Like a name that picture game! See, I can be a glass half full kinda girl.

Let me start off by saying, yes we are aware of Hail's desperate need for a haircut. We've been calling him Willy Wonka. At times he allows me to brush it, and then it curls up super cute, like my Daddy's, so I really hate the thought of cutting it. But, he's past due for a trim at the very least.

Flash Flood loved all the animals we saw in the barn. He kept making this funny grunting sound as he panted heavily. I'm guessing he thought he was making an animal noise of some kind.

Lightning loved holding and petting every animal he could get his hands on. And would sit still petting them until I would suggest we move along to the next stall. He's such a patient and sweet kid. I tell him all the time that I bet he grows up to be a Veterinarian. He usually replies, "Yep! And I'm gonna be a docta and a cowboy and a powice man and a basebaw pwaya and a fishaman and a mail man and a twuck dwiva and a teacha and a farma and a....."

Hail (aka: Willy Wonka) wasn't quite sure if he wanted to hold a bunny wabbit or not. Finally, the farmer in the barn assured him he could "git 'em a sweet 'un" so Hail held out his arms. The sweet 'un the farmer found was a large adult rabbit though, which was not quite what Hail had in mind. As the giant white bunny with red eyes was lowered into Hail's lap, he began to squeal, "I wanna baby one! I wanna baby! I wanna baby ONE! DAT'S A BIG ONE! DAT'S A BIG ONE! IT'S GOT WED EYES! IT'S GOT WED EYES!!!" The farmer laughed, and plopped ole' red eyes down anyway. Hail "accidentally" dropped it four seconds later.

Thunder thought his rabbit died because it put it's head back and closed it's eyes. "Umm, Momma. MOMMA! Why is he dead??" Those poor bunnies. They get held and loved and dropped so many times that he was probably doing some wishful thinking.

All the kids piled on the tractor for what I thought would be a cute photo opp. WRONG. The Storm has decided taking pictures is D-U-M-dumb. Thunder thinks he's cool because he can kinda spell now. Sigh.

There was a corn grinder machine thingy that all the kids got to try. I asked Her Highness if she felt like Laura Ingalls and how fun would it be if she had to get up at sunrise every morning and do that chore for three solid hours. You can see her thoughts on the matter written all over her face. She was pretty proud of her clean corncob though.

After everyone found the perfect pumpkins, we decided to call it a day. Just like last year, we had a super fun time. A tradition we look forward to keeping.

Happy Punkin Patching to you!

My writer's block is so bad, I can't even think of a title for this one.....

Wow, ten whole days since my last post??  That's not like me.  I've had a severe case of writer's block, and wish there was a way to snap out of it.  There are seven half-written posts in my "edit posts" box. 

I need a muse.  Could somebody please see if Kirk Herbstreit is available??  (Sorry, Babe. But it's a known fact that the muse can't be someone you are living with.)

It's frustrating to have a lot to say, but no words to express.  And honestly, here lately, I don't really have all that much to say.  Except, I do love keeping up with the crazy things the kids say and do.  This is our scrapbook, after all.  I'm just... not myself here lately.  Some days, the whole Motherhood gig gets to me.  And it's those days that I will throw in the towel, (before 8am) and resign myself to lay on the couch and fuss at the children for being so messy.  Then, check facebook 12 times (in an hour). 

Those days, immediately after dinner, I flop back down on the couch,  feeling exhausted, yet I have no idea why.  I mean, as taxing as facebook can be, there's no reason to be THAT tired, after ignoring the children and laundry ALL day.  So, I fall asleep early, feeling defeated and berating myself for being in this lazy haze, when there are so many women out there who would give their left arm to be in my shoes.  Then, when that tactic still doesn't work, I feel even worse because I'm now crying watching the episode of "I'm Pregnant and... Have Cancer," only I'm sad for her, and I'm still bummed over my own life.  A double whammy.  "Tomorrow morning, I'm going to wake up and tackle this mess!  I'm going to get ALL the laundry done, play with the kids non-stop, cook lunch for Bert, so when he calls and asks, 'Hey, Babe, what's for lunch?' I can say, 'Homemade turkey and dressing!'.. Then, I'm going to feed the starving children in Africa and adopt a baby from China... all before Her Highness and Thunder get home from school!" 

You know where this is going...

Maybe it's not just writer's block.  More of a Mother's block. 

Since Kirk Herbstreit is just a little busy with college football, maybe you guys could be my muse?...
The last time you were down in the dumps, what helped you snap out of it??

Just FYI, singing the kid song, "Down in the dumps I will never go... That's where the devil keeps me low..."  may be true, but it hasn't helped much. 

Seriously, I would love your input.

I need YOU, my Muse!

Proof that Flash Flood loves me the most, even though he refuses to say Momma....

The quality of this video is horrible.  It was shot with my iPhone.  Also, the sound is bad, and the angles are terrible as well.  I was holding Flash Flood on my hip, trying to catch the latest trick he's learned.  It's hard to shoot a video with a tiny phone and hold a wildly squirming 10 month old at the same time. 

PS.  Ignore the piles of laundry in the background.  And the dirty dishes.  And the screaming children. 

Why am I posting this again??  Oh, yeah.  To prove that even though Flash Flood only says Da-Da, he really loves his Momma more.

War VS Her Highness & Gracie

It reads:
Seckot (second) 2 grade
War VS. Her Highness & Gracie
Her Highness Hudson 8
Game one  21 Poots
Game 2  20 Poots
Game 3  24 Poots
totel (total) score
65






Any ideas as to what it all means??  Her Highness was already asleep tonight when I found this in her backpack.  I'm guessing "War" is a game of some sort.  And I'm hoping, for the teacher's sake, that "Poots" is actually supposed to be "points."  As Bert put it, at least she got her Math right.

I'd like to raise a toast, to the man I love the most....

...My babies' Daddy,  who recently hit 33.  This post is dedicated to you, Big B. 

(Bert hates mushy love notes.  Like, squirms while reading them.  He's a great husband though, and watching him raise our children has been a blessing to me.  To go without honoring the day of his birth would be just plain wrong.  So, this note will be written in a way only Bert would appreciate.)

  

Dear Big Poppa,

I'm glad you got born.

Love Always and Forever, 

BIG MOMMA 

Raised by Wolves...

Flash Flood LOVES to be outside.  So much, that he has developed a new technique when crawling, to ensure his sweet chubby knees don't lose any more skin than they already have. 

Side note:  We don't typically blare classical music when playing outdoors.  Or ever, for that matter.  But, my voice was so obnoxious on the video, that I had to cover it up.  I had no idea I used such a sickening "Goo-goo-gaa-gaa" sing-songy tone when talking to babies.  Poor Flash Flood.  My apologies to all the babies of the world that I've goo-goo-gaa-gaahed in the past.