The good earth..

I am not afraid of heights. Really. I am not. I don't have a problem flying, hiking, looking at the Grand Canyon... Well, I guess if I had my kids with me, the Grand Canyon may freak me out a little.

I am more afraid of falling. Falling to my death. Or worse, falling and not dying.

This week, Hubs and I went to Telluride, a truly beautiful and amazing place. It is surrounded by stunning mountains and looks and feels like the the old west. 

On the first day we were there, we decided to take a trip up the mountain because there were some great biking trails and a little village on top.

The only thing is that we had to ride in what I like to call "The Box of Death" but locals call it The Gondola.

You get it this box that is hanging on a wire. Yes a wire. And then the door closes and you are locked in. It wobbles and it is pretty noisy. I was a little shaky but okay. That is until my husband decided he needed to get pictures from every window. This means that the Box of Death is now swinging, back and forth, side to side.

 (This is me, scared.)

I made him sit down. He was laughing, having a good time at my expense until the box stopped moving. It just stopped. Just my luck.

**This is Hub's attempt at looking scared, or mocking me. I think it looks more like he is trying to eat his fingers, which is also terrifying if you think about it.**

Don't get me wrong. The view was amazing. And I was not terrified. Just nervous. I couldn't help but think that my Gondola was going to be the one to come loose and I would then plummet to my death...into those beautiful trees and greenery.

Apparently, this is normal, the stopping, not the paranoia.. The tram stops randomly, though I'm not quite sure why, but it does start running again after a few people have wet themselves minutes.

The worst part for me, though, was when the windowed casket would come to these little gems:

It is at this point that I am sure we are going to fall off the wire and tumble down the side of the mountain. It is at this point that I have to close my eyes and cover my ears. It is at this point that I want to scream:

"Get me out of this thing!!!"

But then I see what my kids call "Base" aka Safety, aka the EXIT.

The ground never felt so good!!

Excuse me....

Hubs and I were gone this week from Wednesday until Friday...alone. All alone. It has been 10 years since we have been alone. All alone.  It was so nice! Now I remember why I married this guy. He is really quite amazing. And the coolest thing? He still likes me too.

And that, my friends, is why I have been MIA from my bloggedy-blogging this week. But I am sure you understand. (Plus you know I will share some of it with you...I'm good like that.)

And so today, you get to read one of my favorite poems. I wish that I could say that I wrote it, but then the guilt would take over my thoughts, you know how I feel about guilt. I am not sure who wrote it, but she could have been writing about my house.

Enjoy and I will be back in full force tomorrow!!

Excuse This House

Some houses try to hide the fact

that children shelter there.

Ours boasts of it quite openly,

The signs are everywhere.

For smears are on the windows,

little smudges on the doors;

I should apologize, I guess

for toys strewn on the floor.

But I sat down with the children,

we played, laughed and read;

And if the doorbell doesn't shine

their eyes will shine instead.

For when at times I'm forced to choose

the one job or the other;

I want to be a house wife-

but first I'll be a mother.

Truth or Dare

We were about 40 miles away from the final CA destination and wouldn't you know, someone had to go and of course they couldn't hold it. So we pull into the gas station and proceed to unload..the kids. My husband was out first with 3 of the boys and I was getting out my daughter (who amazingly can hold it for 12 hours...like mother like daughter, I guess) and the baby.

Hubs and the boys were loitering by the newspaper stands waiting for us. We walk up and I notice Brody putting down the cover for the "Emergency Shut-Off" button. ("Oh no he didn't." Just wait...)

"Brody, you better not push that button. If you do, no-one will be able to put gas in their cars," I told him.

"Too late," he matter-of-factly replied, "I already did,"

I look around. At this point, nothing has exploded, no alarms are sounding and people aren't running around yelling, "What happened to the gas?!?!" I took that as a good sign.

Into the station we go. Of course the line for the ladies' room is super long but the boys get right in... all four of them.  While standing in the ridiculously long line, I notice that people are coming in, complaining that something was wrong with their pump. There is no gas.

After a few more people come in complaining, one of the tellers says, "I think it was one of those kids that pushed the button." Lucky for me, all the boys were in the restroom with Hubs and so I pretended not to know anything about it. Is that horrible? Apparently all they have to do is push a button behind the counter and the gas comes back on, so I didn't feel the need to turn my son in and have him taken to juvie.

And whose idea was it to paint all the important buttons bright red: Emergency Shut Off buttons, fire alarms, etc?

Don't they know that from the ages of 18 months to 10 years red means "Push me. I dare you."

Peaches, Seeds and Laundry

Kerri over at The Pleasures of My Life gave me this award a little over a week ago and I feel bad that I haven't even thanked her for it. I love her blog. She is so creative and always impresses me. Plus she is an ASL interpreter too. Small world, yeah? You need to visit her blog. Always a good place to go.

So now you get to learn 7 more random things about me.

1. For some reason, everytime I go to get a pedicure I forget to shave me legs. It is quite embarrassing and a little awkward. Do I apologize to the sweet lady rubbing my legs? Do I just sit there and act like my legs are always like this? I always swear that "next time" I will surely shave. Then I get there next time and...gulp. TMI? So sorry.

2. I love peaches.  I like them fresh off the tree. But the best is when they are peeled, with a little sugar and some cream. Delicious. I gotta find me some peaches.

3. Hubs wants to go on a mountain bike ride on our anniversary trip to Colorado. I don't know if he forgot that I have 30+ pounds of baby weight still hanging on. I will try. I may die. But I will die trying.

4. I can't do a road trip without sunflower seeds. And a soda for that matter. They just are a great combination. Attractive, I know, but it is a roadtrip...who looks hot on a road trip? Not me.

5. I keep waiting for the day when my kids will sleep in past 7am. When does that happen. Seriously? Can someone tell me? Anyone? My kids are usually up somewhere around 5:30-6:30am depending on the time of year. Once in a blue moon they will sleep to 8am, but only because I drugged them the night before they were up really late the night before.

6. Does anyone else love the feeling you get when cleaning out your ears? Is it just me? *Awkward silence.* Me either.

7. I love the smell of laundry. The clean kind...thought I should clarify on that. Nothing like going on a walk and passing a house that is obviously drying laundry. Ahhhhh!!

And now here are some of the blogs I have recently found and love. Check them out!!

House of Sarager

Ahhnna

A Daily Scoop

Be Still a Minute

Nature Girl

Okie Rednecks

Happy reading everyone!

Pull over!

Isn't disciplining your kids fun to do sometimes? You see, before the summer, when my kids would act up we would send them outside to move pavers...you know those little bricks that you use to make walkways in your yards? Yeah, those. We have them move them from one side of the yard to the other side and stack them...then move them back.

It is so much fun.

Since the summer started, however, my husband felt it would be more productive to have them pull weeds when they get in trouble. Great!  I have a garden that needs to be tended to, and enough naughty children to keep it nice. Perfect!

Well, on our 20 hour drive home, my two kids started to fight. And they wouldn't stop. You see, we were having a Shrek Marathon (because what else is there to do in a car for 20 hours). We were on the second movie and my daughter calls that she gets to be Puss in Boots.

"I want to be Puss in Boots, too!" replies my 5 year old son.
"You can't because I called it first and I am him." she responded.
Weeping begins, "Mommy, I want to be Puss in Boots, but Kyla says that I can't because she is."
"You both can be Puss. It's your imagination, hello! You can be him too."
Daughter whispering but not really, "You can't. I am him so that means you can't be Puss."
Weeping and wailing follows... You get the picture.

We are in the last 6 hours of our trip, and I didn't care if anyone was Puss in boots. So I turn around and tell them that if they kept fighting about it, then we would pull over and they could pull the weeds on the side of the road.

We are talking I-40 people. That is some road. And those are some weeds. Yes-indeedy.

They didn't believe me, of course. And so to the side of the road we went. They stomped out of the van, appauled that I would make them pull the weeds in a field of weeds. I had them walk far away from the road (because safety is almost always first) and made sure that there were plenty of weeds to be pulled.

They hopped back in and started the fighting again, so I had them get out again and pull more.

It. Was. Awesome. Pure genius, if I do say so myself.

I have never been so grateful for weeds in my life.

Where in the world...

Can you guess where we went on Wednesday...aka the last day of California?

Yup. We went to the chilly beaches of northern California. It was only an hour drive there (3 hours coming back through traffic...ugh.) But we all thought we were going to barf because of all the switchback roads we had to go on. But luckily we survived, stomachs intact.

We were afraid that it was just going to be so cold that we wouldn't enjoy ourselves. But once we got there, the water was nice. We didn't swim, mind you, only we waded in the waves, attempted to make sand castles and caused seagulls to fight over the crackers they stole from our basket. 

It was a lot of fun.

We are home now and it is so nice to be home. But we did have a blast visiting family and hanging out poolside.

The next few days will be tales from our trip...and there are some doozies, let me tell you! So stay tuned. Until then, I must wade through the laundry and clean out that box we have lived in for the last 20 hours, aka the van.

Enjoy your weekend!

"It's what we do"

"We go to church on Sunday. It's just what we do."

This is what I always tell my kids when they complain about having to go to church. Whether it is "I don't want to go to church." or "Church is boring." or "I hate church," the reply is always the same. "We go to church on Sunday. It's just what we do."

We knew that we were going to be in California on a Sunday and so I made sure that I had packed all the church clothes that we needed. Or so I thought. When we were getting ready on Sunday, we found that we had forgotten my husband's white shirt.

At our church, it is usually white shirts and ties that you see the men wearing. Not because it is a requirement, but I guess people want to wear their very best, which most times means the men are in white shirts and ties. Sometimes they wear light blue or lightly striped shirts. But overall it is mostly conservative.

So when we found out my husband's shirt hadn't made it into the suitcase, I suggested he borrow one of his dad's shirts. The other option was to wear his "Look at what P90X has done for my muscles"t-shirt. He opted to borrow a shirt. 

Until he came in with this:

I think we will be missing church this week.

Lifeguard!!

Kids will do anything for a buck.  I have learned this on our vacation. I know, I know. I am horrible. But sometimes "Whatever works" is my motto.

So far I've gotten my kids to stop yelling for a day, sleep in the undesirable bed, and even clean out the van.

But the best one so far was done by my little 4 year old, Camden.

My in-laws have a pool in their backyard and so that has been where we are spending most of our time. My daughter is like a little fish. She would swim all day every day if we would let her. However, ask her to jump off the diving board and she will flat out turn you down.

I told her we would give her $1 if she went off the board.

"No! I don't want to."

Okay. "We will give you $5 if you go off the board." We knew that if she would go off once, she would have that much more fun for the rest of the week.

"No!!"

So we decided she wasn't changing her mind and left her alone.

About 5 minutes later Camden, who can't swim...at all...suddenly jumps into the water. With no-one to catch him. Luckily my daughter Kyla was right there and grabbed him and brought him into safety.

I took him, calmed him down a little and was drying him off when I hear him say, "Where's my dollar?"

"Is that why you jumped into the water?" I asked.

"You said you would give me a dollar if I jumped into the pool. And so I did."

Yup. Some kids would kill themselves for a dollar.

Breakfast is served

Why is it that we get excited about a continental breakfast at a hotel?

I mean, it's not like the food is amazing. It normally consists of muffins in a bag, some semi-fresh fruit, cereal with mini cartons of milk, small yogurts, hard boiled eggs and Minute Maid Juices. If you are lucky you can toast some waffles or make a pancake.

But for some reason, when my kids found out there was going to be breakfast at the hotel the other morning, they almost wet their pants. (I think one of them actually did.)

Maybe the fact that they have that many options placed before them at one time that gets their hungry little hearts pumping. I have to reign them in, however, when they decide that they need to try a little of everything.

I always feel a little uneasy at these places they call the dining room. Remember, we have 5 kids with us...5 kids aged 10 and under. So we are noisy by nature and a little messy. No matter how hard I try, at least one will spill something. Some one will get upset because they can't have yougurt, cereal AND a waffle all at once. It is a given that someone will touch the other with their foot, causing the first to hit, scratch or pull hair.

Most the people who are there with us probably have zero kids and look at us like we are crazy... which we are...and "Can't we control our children a little more?" I always feel a bit  self-conscious. But we have to eat. And I'm not going to apologize for having a large family.

This last time, my baby decided that he was going substitute apple juice for milk in his cereal and then proceeded to spill it all over the floor, my foot included in the flood. He also decided that he likes the whites of the egg, but not so much the yolk. We found this out when he put the whole yolk in his mouth then proceeded to spray it all over the table, the floor and himself. (I keep telling myself this is normal behavior...right?)

When we were finally done, I went to the front and asked if we could have a broom to clean up our mess. The lady there was so nice. She told me that she had 4 kids and she enjoyed watching our "normal" kids. She said not to worry about the mess.

How nice is that! Maybe we will come back again.

We will see you next time...

...between the hours of 6-9am.

Heaven on Earth....

Yesterday we drove 14 hours straight. So I am happy to say that I am alive to tell you about it.

Only not today.

We have 4 hours left until we get to Grandma's house.

But I will tell you this. While we were scrounging around last night for some grub, we found a little piece of heaven.

Hubs and I used to go here all the time when we lived in Arizona. There are zero Jamba Juice's where we live now.  (sobbing uncontrollably)

Needless to say we had one for a late night snack and will be getting it for breakfast this morning!

I love Jamba Juice.

And we are off.....

Up in arms

After much contemplation, I have decided that arms are overrated.

Don't get me wrong. I totally appreciate my arms. What would I do without them?

I mean, how else am I to put on my clothes? Or eat? Shampooing my hair without arms would be annoying. Then there is driving. I kind of need my arms to steer and turn on the blinker, not to mention putting on my seatbelt.

And can you imagine the world without hugs? How sad if you couldn't wrap your arms around your loved ones. Or hold a newborn baby.

So I do understand the vital role they play in our everyday lives.

However when things like this happen, twice in one month...

(kid #1)

(Kid #2)

...I have to wonder.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Burn Baby Burn

I can feel good about blaming my husband for the many burns that I have on my neck. No, they are not "love" marks, they are burn marks from my curling iron.

He doesn't do it in my sleep. Oh, no. I am wide awake when it happens. In fact I am looking right at him. "How does this happen," you may ask?

You see, I am always late. I usually only give myself 10 minutes to get ready for work. Well, it is usually at this time, 10 minutes before I have to leave, that my husband wants to chat with me.

No big deal, right? Wrong.

Remember, he uses sign language which requires constant eye contact to "hear" what he is saying. Looking away means large chunks of information will be missed. But giving him my full attention means being really late.

I try to watch him as much as I can. I ask him to move next to me so that I can see him in the mirror while I am blow drying and curling my hair. Most the time I am good at watching him through my peripheral...that or looking away really fast and then looking back so as to not miss any detail of what he is saying.

But sometimes what he is saying is so interesting that I can't help but pay more attention to him than that 150 degree sword of fire. Most the time it gets my neck. Sometimes a finger. Luckily never an eye. Once that sucker hits flesh, it burns. Bad!!

We have a similar problem in the kitchen. You know, when I am cutting vegetables, or doubling a recipe, or taking cookies out of the oven. When I am changing poopie diapers seems to another time when Hubs wants to talk about things.

At those times, I have to make a choice. Not looking at my husband means I may miss what he is saying. But looking away from what I am doing may be disastrous: bloody hands, blistered neck, unleavened bread, pooey mess.

Somethings can hold. Other things can't.

So heed this warning: Don't sign and multi-task.

It hurts.

And burns.

And so I blame him.

Can you blame me??

I smell you!

My husband smells good. Not because he wears cologne because he doesn't. It's not because he showers..though he does do that daily. He just smells good. I think he was born smelling amazing.

**At this point I could make a comment about how I feel like Edward Cullen from Twilight, but I won't.**

You need to know (maybe you don't need to know, but I am going to tell you) I have a very sensitive nose. It is a blessing and a curse. It is a curse because when I am pregnant, smells are magnified three fold. If there has been any kind of stinky diaper changed, or broccoli cooked or smelly shoes removed in the last week, I will smell it. I swear, I can smell sickness in my kids breath a few days before they get sick.

When I was in high school I was a hair sniffer. Meaning, I would sit through class and I would smell my hair. I think it drove my family and friends crazy. Even now, I find myself doing it. Lame, I know.

Back to my husband. I love the way he smells. I love waking up in the morning when he is up early and I can roll over and smell "him" on his pillow. Or when I borrow his sweatshirt and "he" is on it.  Best, though, is in the crook of his neck. One whiff and I am in heaven. This is the blessing part of my nose. I can smell my husband anywhere.

Because... Hubs. Smells. Good!

Can you smell your spouse too?

Backyards

What's in your back yard??

Old Yeller

A friend of mine is moving at the end of the month. What an adventure. I recently found out that she will be moving into an 8,000 square foot home. 8 thousand square feet! Wow! That is like four of my houses...

Don't get me wrong. I am happy for her. They are good people and deserve all the success that they get!

The more I obsessed thought about that, the more I realized that house just wouldn't be for me. Not because I wouldn't love to have a house with 8,000 sq/ft...because who doesn't want to be able to go to a part of the house and hear absolutely nothing? (I guess my husband lives that dream everyday.)

And it isn't because cleaning that size of a house would force me into a mental hospital. As sad and as true as that is, that isn't the reason I couldn't have that house.

You see, I am a yeller. When it is time to eat, I yell up the stairs to my kids. When it is time to pray, I yell out the door for my kids. When it is bedtime, I yell out randomly for "PJ's and teethbrushed time!"

Right now, the size of my home matches the volume of my voice. I know that if I am downstairs and my kids are upstairs I can hollor up and they will hear me. The only exception being if their door is closed. But in general, a little yelling goes a long way.

Sadly, though, I have let this yelling carry into my disciplining more than I would like. I am not longer yelling TO my children, I am yelling AT them. Not all the time, but there are times when I have given my kids one chance after another, one warning too many, and counted up to 3 more times than I should.  It is then that the yelling starts.

I don't know why I let myself reach that point. Yelling doesn't do anything except get their attention for a few minutes and mostly hurts their feelings. Oh, yeah, and it does induce mommy guilt. I hate guilt.

If there was one thing I would change about my life, yelling AT my children would be it. I have a friend who never seems to yell at her kids. (I am sure she does...surely everyone has the same faults that I do behind closed doors.) She always talks in a calm voice, and her kids, amazingly,

Maybe I should try this.

Or maybe I should buy an 8000sqare foot home.

(Inspired by Mama Kat)

Soggy

Wet.

There are some things that you can expect will be wet: a Popsicle, a swimming pool, rain. And then there are those things that we don't necessarily want to be wet: toast, laundry, a picnic.

This is a story about one of those times.

I was 16 years old when I met this guy at a Youth Conference for my church. He was from a town about 2 hours away. There was a dance and he asked me if he could buy me a drink. (A little cheesy considering we were both Mormons and the only thing to drink was free red punch or drinking fountain water.) But I was only 16 and so I was twitterpaded.

To make a short story shorter, we were holding hands by the next day and had exchanged numbers and addresses. For the next few weeks he would call and write...(this was before email...yes, I am that old.) It was fun, it was exciting. I really thought he as something else.

Well, he came into town with his parents to shop and he called me. I drove in and met him at Wal-Mart. The only place we could go was in my car...in the parking lot...at Wal-Mart. Romantic, isn't it. So we were sitting in the back seat...I am not sure why...but there we were... talking. It was time for me to go pick up my sister and his family was getting ready to leave so he leaned over and licked my face kissed me.

In my mind, my first kiss would be soft, and sweet and not too long but not too short. This was not that at all. I am not sure what he was thinking, but I went in with a closed mouth and high hopes. He went in with an open mouth full of wetness and in full suction mode. It was not pretty. Not. At. All.

I was mortified. Was this what kissing was supposed to be? This guy's slobber was dripping off my chin. Ugh!! I really didn't know what to do after it was all over. Luckily he had to take off right away.

I was so disappointed and quite frankly disgusted.


And Wet!

So I Married A Deaf Man: Car Shopping...ugh!

I've bought my share of cars in my married life. In tthe almost 11 years of marriage, we have bought 6 cars. And let me just say right off I hate buying cars.

Hate it! HATE IT!!!

Let me tell you a little something about myself. I am a pleaser. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Many times I will do things that I don't want to do just so I won't have to hurt someone's feelings. It is good quality to have at times but can also be a problem in certain situations. Like buying a car. In case you forgot, I hate buying cars!

Let me tell you a little bit about my husband. Hubs is competitive by nature.  He is a natural athlete. So it is in him to want to win...or at least give someone a run for their money. And so haggling is right up his alley. He likes it. Correction. He loves it. My husabnd loves buying cars!

So, in the past when we have bought a car, Hubs and I would go into the place and start talking to the sales guy. (Ugh! My palms are starting to sweat!) I begin interpreting the conversation. The sales man says the price. Hubs asks for a lower price. Sales guy acts like what he is offering is a great deal, but needs to go talk to the manager. I am wiggling in my seat. Man comes back with "THE BEST DEAL EVER". Hubs wants lower. And so it goes. Through me.

You can just see me squirming in my seat. I want a good deal, I do. But I don't like the pressure...and it is pressure. I hate interpreting haggling...because it is my voice they are hearing. It is me who has to say the words. It is me they are looking at and talking to. It is me that they are haggling with. It. Is. ME!!! But it so isn't me!!

Several years ago we were shopping for a car. I was 2 days away from giving birth to our second child and for some reason we thought it was a good idea to bring our 2 year old with us. We went into this place at about 2pm and didn't come out until 10pm. I was interpreting the whole time. The WHOLE time. We started with one car, haggled it down til we drove it and it made weird noises (that apparently only I could hear.) Then moved on to another car. And the haggling resumed.

Finally, a price was agreed upon, but the haggling didn't stop there. Oh, no. There was Gap insurance, extended warranties, blah blah blah. I'm interpreting, sweating, haggling for Hubs, comforting my exhausted little boy, comforting my exhausted self. We drove away from that place and I cried the whole way home.

It was horrible. I will not do that again. NEVER AGAIN. We either don't haggle and take the price they give us, OR we go, look at the cars, find the one we like, and then leave. Hubs will either come back on his own to haggle all he wants on paper or bring a friend who shares his joy of confrontation to finish the deal. 

Because...

I. Don't. Haggle.

To fetch a pale of water...

The other day my kids were out playing in the yard while I was cleaning up and catching up with the unfolded, mound of clean clothes. I kept hollering to my kids to come get a drink of water.

About an hour later they all file in, along with Rufus, our lab. Only Rufus kept nudging me like he wanted out. So I let him out only to turn around and have him coming back in to nudge me. What's going on?

I knew that he wasn't hungry. (My husband does NOT give our dog table food. And I, being the good wife that I am, only give in once in a while.) He had been playing with the kids so his attention meter was at least above half. So I tried to pet him a bit but the nudging was non-stop.

Maybe he is thirsty. He has this huge trough-like thing that we fill with water. I knew there it had been filled with water that morning, ...but maybe my kids had been playing in it.

Maybe....

Poor Rufus.

Freedom!

Happy 4th of July all!

This is my favorite verse of The Star Spangeld Banner.

God Bless America!

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved home and the war's desolation!

Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land

Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Word up

Again, still reading the book "Eat, Pray, Love" (yes, I am a slow reader). There is one part when she, the author, is talking to a friend who tells her "...that every city has a single word that defines it, that identifies most people who live there."

I thought about that for my own life. If I had to choose one word to define or describe me what would it be?

I wish it was charismatic. Sadly, people aren't drawn to me...unless you are shorter than 4 feet and came from my womb.

Organized...sure. Until I actually have to find those birth certificates, and immunization records and....Nope, not my word.


It could be driven. But more likely driving would be a better fit. It seems like I am always doing that.

Wouldn't it be fun if it was energetic! Boy, that would be nice.

In all honesty, at this point in my life, the word that best describes me is the word that I am called, day in and day out.

Mom

This word is all encompassing. It is the word the drives me everyday. It is the reason I get up in the morning, it is the reason I run myself ragged all day and the reason I can't sleep at night. Besides wife, it is the word that best describes my life work. It is what I was born to be.

And though I am lighthearted in this forum about it sometimes, there is no other word I would strive for to be my word.

Welcome to my home.

I am Mom!

Do or do not. There is no try

Try and try again.

Why? Why do we have to try. And then try again. If it doesn't work the first time, why must we keep trying?

We rent. We rent a house with white carpet. In case you have forgotten, I have five children. And a husband. And a dog. That means 8 living things residing in our home. With white carpet. Can you imagine what my carpets look like?

So today, I decided I was going to clean the carpets. My oldest sister kidnapped my two older children who were dying of boredom...I know this because my daughter reminded me every five minutes... and took them to her house where there is a party every night. Apparently the fun never ends there..or so my daughter says. Hubs took the two younger boys to watch a movie and my baby went down for a nap. I rolled up my sleeves, got out the Bissell and started my days work.

Hot water: check. Soap: check. Loud music check. Power button and go!

It was looking nice. I got where the couches has been and all around the perimeter. Then it was time to take it on. You know what I am talking about:  High traffic zone.

I am not a professional carpet cleaner. I only know how to squirt and then suck. and squirt and suck and then do it again. I am not sure that our steam cleaner was up for the challenge. I tried...and tried again...and again...and again. I spent three hours in one room.

It looks better than it did before...a lot better. But it is not quite white. It is white-ish.

My brother.. whose house is apparently more fun than our house, or so my daughter says...has a better shampooer. One that may be up for the high-traffic-zone challenge. But the question is...am I? I am perfectly content to wait until August when there are less people trafficing my carpet. And then I will try.

But for now I have tried.

And I will try again....later.

What have you tried...and then tried again?