Get a mop!!

On Fridays, I sit down with my older three kids and help them run through their piano lessons.

I try not to let things interrupt me. Well, as much as I can. You can't really block out a two year old who is screaming at the top of his lungs, "Gum!!!!!" and hitting you with his Woody doll. At least I can't. But I try. Really hard.

Friday was a little different. 

Child number one is playing and I hear, in the background, the toilet running. It happens. Nothing that a jiggle of the handle won't fix.

"Kyla. Please go jiggle the toilet handle." I holler. And we move on. Playing, laughing, duet-ing. Done. Next child enters.

"Brody, on your way out, will you please rattle the running toilet?" I pleaded.

My daughter was having a tough time with her whole rests so we took a little longer. All the while that water was running. The noise was really driving me bonkers!!! But I know if I step away from the piano, I will get distracted and never return.

This time I called my oldest in and asked him to please go and jiggle the handle.

He, the obedient son, agrees. Then I hear, "Oh my gosh!! What the heck!! I just stepped in toilet water!!!!! It's everywhere!!!!! I think I might throw up!!!!. (gag. gag.)"

What?!!?

I walk over to the kitchen and there is water all the way to the table. I wade my way to the bathroom and the water is nearly covering my shoes. "What the..." I turn off the water to the toilet. I plunge it and the clog vanishes. 

Ugh! Luckily it hadn't made its way to carpet. That would just be....well...you know what it would be. Towels, mops, more towels.

Certainly brings a new meaning to the phrase, "Do-do run run run, do-do run run."

Helpless

Addiction.

Such a bad thing, addiction. And yet we all have our little addictions. Things we can't live without. 

For some, it is alcohol or drugs. For others us it is that Diet Coke with extra ice. Still, for reasons I don't understand, some are addicted to cleanliness. Spotless cleanliness. So not my addiction.

I have re-found my addiction. Oh, deep down, hidden under the many years of suppressing it, I knew it was there. For you know, addictions never really leave us alone.

And rear it's ugly head it did.

"What is this addiction?" you may ask. "What is it that rips your agency from you? What is this thing that you can't resist."

My bloggidy-blogging friends, I am ashamed to tell you. Well, not really. I am blogging it to the world. But isn't it supposed to help you overcome addiction by telling others?

So, here goes.

Tetris. 

There. I said it.

It all started in my Nintendo days...you know, the 80's. That is when it all started. Lucky for me, our Nintendo broke and we were too poor to replace it.

But then, when I got married, we got the computer game. My, oh my. Hours, people. I would play it in my spare time, back when I only had one child...you know, a plethora of time. I would think about it in my sleep. "Surely that piece can fit...if I just wait long enough...."

But then we got a new computer and that darn game wasn't compatible our new operating system. Darn Microsoft.

Slowly, the desire to flip L shapes began to fade. My dreams went back to normal...if you can call dreams normal. I started to pay attention to this young child I called Son. Days turned into weeks which turned into months and then years. 

Oh, sure. There was the occasional run in, but with the help of my children and Hubs, I was able to set it down. Walk away. Until...

Amazon was having a sale. All the other games were...well...not Tetris. My kids begged me not to. Actually, they really were begging for Batman Lego's, but, still,  they were begging. But the pull was too strong.

I bought it.

Sweet addiction.

Welcome home!

What's your addiction?

Did someone say Party?!?

Happy Chocolate Cake Day!! Let's Party!!

I know you all have been looking forward to it all year long...all 27 days of it.  I have had fun looking at chocolate cake recipes...if you call torture fun. Just look....

Better Than Sex ...doesn't that sound....wrong? Tempting, and yet disturbing all at once.  But I decided against it because I was too tired and not in the mood. And I think maybe I had a headache???


Black Out Cake...if I am going to blow my diet, I so want to be present and conscious.


Chocolate Date Cake...Ewe!! (Those dates look like roaches. Crunch crunch...I threw up a little in my mouth just now.)


Fat Free Chocolate Cake....What the heck! If you are going to remove the fat then you can throw the fun out with it.


Mayonaise Chocolate Cake...I am just wondering who came up with this one. "Honey, could you add a little more mayo on my sandwich. And bring me a piece of that chocolate cake. Hold on a second. I think I'm on to something."


 I couldn't decide. The choices were many. The overwhelming urge to simply kill myself with chocoloate, too great. See for yourself. Google chocolate cake images and you will understand. Lucky for me, my friend Susan sent me a recipe that looked yummy enough.

So that is what I made.

And here is what it looks like. You can find the recipe here. I made it on Wednesday and my children knew that if they ate it before today,  someone was going to die Mommy would not be happy.

So, today we will enjoy this little piece of heaven. Then my daughter and I are going to see Wicked while the boys all go to the Pinewood Dirby to cheer on Hubs'  Kobe's car. I hope he does well!

Enjoy your National Chocolate Cake Day party! I know we will!!

Now link up and show the love. (I will leave linky open until Sat so if you missed out on today, you can join us until Sat.)

So I Married A Deaf Man: ...but I'm so hungry!

I am not a slow eater.

You put a plate of food in front of me and I can eat it up just as fast as anyone. That being said, when we eat out with others, I am, without fail, the last person to finish. Always.

Is it because I am afraid that food will get stuck in my teeth? Nope, I'm perfectly okay with carrying on a conversation with lettuce hanging out between my fronters. Is it because I pig out like nobody's business. Who? Skinny little 'ol me? Nope, not that either.

The real reason I am the last to finish is because Hubs likes to talk. And people like to talk back to him. Imagine that.

No, really. Imagine that.

How do you think he communicates? Via little 'ol me.

That's right. We sit down if front of a delicious meal. He takes a bite. I take a bite. And then he proceeds to sign. I am trying as fast as I can to chew up my food enough to not spew it across the table on our wonderful friends.

And of course they respond. I put down the silverware and the conversation continues.

Once the conversation dies down, I start shoveling my food into my mouth, hoping to quiet the grumbling that is slowly increasing its volume.

Then it starts up again.

Everyone is enjoying their meal and conversation...Hubs included. Except me. Don't get me wrong. Our friends are great! I too am enjoying the conversation. I'm just hungry.

You would think once everyone has finished their plates there would be time for me to finish up. Nope. The talking resumes. With fewer breaks. At this point I am just hoping that I can finish my dinner before it is time for us to leave.

I want to make this clear, here and now. This is the life I have chosen. It is a wonderful life. Full of great friends and wonderful people. Being the social addict that I am, I wouldn't give any of it up for a second. Just so we are clear.

I think I have come up with a solution. A potty break. For Hubs. If he can excuse himself for 5 minutes...there is no telling how much I can clean up in that amount of time.

So, if you invite us over for dinner, and we would love to come, and if in the middle of the meal Hubs heads to the men's room, don't be alarmed. Not that you would be...alarmed. I'm just saying, don't be.

His wife just needs to eat.

.......................................................................................

Oh, speaking of dessert, remember that tomorrow is National Chocolate Cake Day and my linky party. (If I can figure it out.) If you want to join in  just make a chocolate cake, take a picture (or not), post it with a recipe on your blog and then link up here. See y'all tomorrow!

It was Nothing....

I was Nothing.

Nothing is what my high school boyfriend used to call me. Doesn't that sound horrible? It wasn't, really. I didn't know he did that until later. Much later. I think the only person who knew I was Nothing was his best friend.

I guess it came in handy when he was talking in code.

Friend: "What's wrong?"
BF: "Nothing."

Dad: "What are you thinking about?"
BF "Nothing."

Me: "What's wrong with you, anyway? Why are acting weird?"
BF: "Oh, it's Nothing."

That's not the only term of endearment associated with me. Nope, I've had a few names throughout my life.

My sisters and childhood friends call me Weffer. I am not really sure where that one came from or why it stuck, but stuck it did. I have heard a few of my niece's and nephews call me Aunt Weffer. Once, my brother-in-law was trying to say, "What's happening Wefffer?" but what came out was, "What's happening. Heifer?"

I don't talk to him anymore.

My dad calls me Fanny. Not to offend any of you Fannys out there, but when I was younger I didn't really like being called a rear end. I didn't care how many Fannies there were out there who loved their names. I was not one of them. Besides, it wasn't my name. Now it is endearing... my dad calling me Fanny.

The interesting thing is, if you take all the nicknames that I have had in my lifetime and put them together you get this:

Nothing but a Cow's Rear end.

Aren't nicknames great!??!!

What is yours?

Blow out

This time of year brings many things with it.

Bills. Resolutions. Cold weather. Bills. New beginnings. Runny noses.

I got hit with the stuffed-head- can't-pop-my-ears-drippy-nose thing on Monday. I was blowing through tissue like nobody's business. My nose was red, chapped and there was no end to the dripping.

Tuesday afternoon, my two younger boys and I pulled into the school to pick up my older kids. And wouldn't you know, there were zero tissues left in the van. Ugh! 

"Oh no, Camden! My nose is runny and I we are all out of tissue."

His response: "That's okay, Mom. You can just blow your nose on your shirt. I do that. All the time."

I will have to keep that in mind.

Always good to have a Plan B.

Opening a can of worms....

You know the saying, "Opinions are like armpits...everyone has them."

Up til now I have kept my armpits to myself. No longer, my friends. This one deserves an arm raising. If it stinks to you, so sorry. Just hear me out.

Most nights at my house I cook a nice, hardy, healthy meal for my family. I have the magic three rule: at least three things on the plate = happy tummies. Most of the time there is a protein, a veggie and a fruit. Most the time there is little or no complaining. Most the time.

However, there are those days...days when I haven't been able to get to the grocery store, or I am just too tired to try and come up with something to cook. It is on these nights, that I make a conscious decision to buy crap.

You know. The usual crap: a greasy, clog-you-artery piece of meat topped with cheese and mayo and whatever else you want to put on it. I usually order it with potatoes soaked in hot oil...aka french fries and a large caffeine-and-cancer in a cup.

My kids may opt for chicken flavored rubber aka nuggets and more frenchies. Yes, I know that apples are an option. But we are throwing caution to the wind, remember. It's not every night I let me kids eat crap. And sometimes they even get a toy.

I know full well when I pull into the drive thru that I am not going to get a well balanced, well cooked, keep-you-fit meal. Who doesn't know this? There are no surprises.

Apparently, there are people in the government who think we don't know what we are doing. They think that they know better than we do and they feel the need to replace our choices with healthier ones. Instead of potato wedges, they would like us to eat carrots. Instead of soda, we will have the choice of juice or milk.

The latest tactic is to remove all toys from Happy Meals. Because we all know it is the awesome toys that keep on bringing us back to Crap King and McDoodles.

Okay, first off, have they seen the toys? They are flimsy at best, broken by the time we reach home. Those toys that actually survive the week, end up in the trash by the end of the month. If they were super awesome, then my kids would take better care of them. The toys are not what brings me back to that pull up window.

It's convenient. It's easy. It's a once in a while treat for the kids. I don't have to cook, they don't get to complain about my cooking. Win/win.

I say to those who want to force us into healthy living...Stop!! If you want to make a change, education is the key. Manipulation is not. Teach people what a healthy meal looks like. Teach them what fatty foods do to our bodies. Teach them what healthy living can do for you.

Should we never eat crap? I believe we should limit it for sure. That being said, it really isn't the government's job to dictate and control what I can and can not eat. Period. That's it.

Don't shove your agenda down my throat...literally. I am not an idiot. I am not stupid. Stop treating me like I am. Step away from my food.

Thankyouverymuch!

And I think that is enough pits for the night.


This is my "O" post for Ms Matlock. I hope I get an A+.  I promise to wear deoderant next week.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Yes Man!

You know the saying, "The grass is always greener on the other side." Yeah, well, the grass really is greener on the other side. The Deaf side.

We are talking thick, soft, plush, green grass just begging to be rolled in. Because that's what I do in grass that looks like that. Roll in it. Don't you? No? Ahem...moving on.

People are so much nicer when you are Deaf. Their smiles are bigger. Their patience is multiplied. Their willingness to help is almost unbelievable! The Deaf customer really is always right.

I can't tell you how many times I have tried to deal with a situation and gotten nowhere. And I am a nice person. A genuine win/win type. But many times to no avail. Then Hubs enters the picture. I stand back and watch them turn to butter in his hands.

It can be over the phone customer care, stand-in-line customer service, checkout lady or potential babysitter. It doesn't matter who they are, Hubs almost always gets what he wants. Remember the story about the policeman and the ticket. Yes! See!! That's what I am talking about.

They give warnings, waive fees, grant "one time" exchanges, allow full money refunds.
"Watch your kids? Sure!!" Don't get me wrong, all my babysitting friends out there. It just seems people are more obliging when it comes to my Deaf man.

To his credit, he is quite handsome. And I also turn to butter from time to time. But it's not that. Maybe they feel "sorry for him." Why? He just can't hear you! He can read. He can drive. He's getting his masters!!

Why are you being so nice to him?!?!! Stop that!! Be rude! Mean! Unyielding! Sock it to him!!!

What am I saying? I should be grateful that I have a hidden weapon. Backup. A shortcut. Plan B. Most people aren't so lucky.

Greener, I tell ya.

Celebrate good times! Come on!!

I am working with half a me today.

Half of my nose is not working properly...unless a nose is made to plug and drip. In that case, mine is working like a charm.

My lips are chapped...on account that my nose isn't working properly. Oxygen is an important thing and the body knows if you can't get it through one opening, there is always Plan B...the mouth. All day I sit with my mouth open. Wide open.  I kinda feel like a dog. Without the tongue hanging out...

One of my ears is working on half the volume. Not that I am complaining about that one. With all the kids home today, I will take all the quiet I can get. That being said, my jaw is hurting from me trying to pop it...grrrrr.

The top half of my head feels like it is going to explode. Unfortunately, that is the brain part of my head and so you can only imagine how my one might function without the their brain.

This would appear to be the reason that I didn't do any of my goals today. No exercising...no reading....no cleaning. Just laying around with half myself.

But no! That wasn't the reason at all.  I was merely observing the holiday.

Not MLK day. Nope. Ditch New Year's Resolution Day.

Did you know that was today? Really. It is. And so, as to not miss out on ANY holiday, I joined in the celebrations and threw all resolutions to the wind. Well, at least half of me did. The other half was plugged.

There are so many holidays that I didn't even know existed. Google is awesome.That's where I found this, a list of all January holidays. Very cool. There is reason to celebrate EVERY day this month. Whoot!!

There are a few days I plan on observing:

Jan 25th is actually Opposite Day. (Should have held out on that last post...)
Jan 21 is National Hugging Day.
Jan 22 is Blonde Brownie Day.
Jan 31 is Inspire Your Heart with Art Day.

But the day that I want to focus on is Jan 27: Chocolate Cake Day. Who doesn't like chocolate cake?? Here's an idea. Let's all have chocolate cake on that day...and share pictures and recipes?! Linky party? Anyone?

Remember, there will be zero guilt at this party because, thanks to today, we have already quit our New Years resolutions. Well, if you haven't already, we all hate you, just come and torture yourself into making one. It'll be fun.

I'm leaking again. Better go stick some tissue in my nostril.(you know you do it too) take care of it.

Before my other half stops working.

Reverse

Today is opposite day. And you know what that means, right?

When I said I was going to clean the house, what I really meant was I was going to hang out in the house and make sure all my Taylor Swift cd's were uploaded on my iTunes and listened to.

When I said I wasn't going to eat anything sweet today, what I really meant was I was going to make some super yummy cookies. Chocolate chip. With nuts. Yummy!

When I said I was going to put away all the laundry that has been sitting in the baskets for weeks a few days, what I really meant was I was going to step over the baskets a few hundred times and also add to the pile. I totally accomplished that today.

When I said my oldest was going to wake me up singing, I really meant he was going to barge into my room and demand me to tell him where I had put his shoes...because you know how much I love wearing stinky black boyish Vans.

When I said I was going to pay those bills, what I really meant was I wanted to simply ignore them and pretend that I am not a grown up. Someone else will take care of that.

When I said I was going spend quality time with Hubs, what I really meant was that I intended to have a few arguments with him, making sure the last one happened right before I walked out the door for work. Because I love it when that happens.

I absolutely love opposite day. It always makes me feel so good about myself and my life.

Oh, do come back again...soon, opposite day.

Very very soon!

Never again...

A scar.

A reminder that something really bad happened once. And we survived. A reminder that somethings just shouldn't be done because there is potential for pain.

I have a scar on my face from an out of control chicken pock.

I have a scar on my hand from where my older sister took off two layers of skin with her toenail. Whoever said that girls don't wrestle, never had girls.

On my other hand I have a scar from when my sister was curling my hair and dropped the curling iron on my hand. I think that is when I started to do my own hair.

Oh and a scar from when I sat on that curling iron. (Curious?)

I have a scar on my leg from the time that I decided I wanted my mom so bad I would walk through fire to get to her. Okay, so it was a burning bush (not the burning bush) but fire nonetheless.

Many a scar from having many children. All over. Literally....all over.

Some scars we forget. Others, we think about occassionally. And then there are those scars, the ones that we see and are reminded of on a constant basis.

Like the grocery shopping scar. I got this scar when I took all five of my children to the grocery store one afternoon.

I have tried to block most of it out of my brain. It involved aisle coupons everywhere, crying, growling, and saying the word "NO" about a zillion times. You can bet there was running, wrestling in the aisles, fighting. There was the "1, 2, 3" countdown...repeated numerous times. Threats. Tantrums. Stares. And this was only the first 10 minutes. (Slight exaggeration. It was really the first 5 minutes.)

And wouldn't you know it, by the time I made it to the checkout stand, I had forgotten the one thing that had initiated the painful trip to the grocery store in the first place! Darn you milk!!!

By the time we fought our to the car, struggled to get everyone buckled, unloaded and safely in the car, I made a decree. "There will be no talking in the car until we get home. Mommy is in Time Out. Mommy doesn't want to yell at anyone and so there will be no talking. NO TALKING!!!!!"

It was ugly. It was painful. It should not be repeated. Ever.

Never again.

Scars.

Participating in Writers Workshop and ABC Thurs.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Normal is as normal does....

"Wow! Your husband is deaf? What is it like being married to a Deaf man?"

This is usually what happens when I tell people Hubs is Deaf. And I never really know what people are looking for when they ask me that. The second question that is. The first one is easy.

What is it like being married to a Deaf man?

Honestly, I don't know what it is like to NOT be married to a deaf man. I have only ever been married to him. He is the only man I ever plan on being married to. Unless reverse polygamy comes into style and then.... nah. Not even then. He is my man.

I started this "So I Married a Deaf Man" series because I knew that our marriage and the experiences that we have are unique. Or so I thought. Honestly, my eyes have been opened quite a bit. Many of the things I thought were a deaf thing are really more of a man thing.

We are just on the extreme side of the spectrum. The "No, my Hubs isn't ignoring me. He really is Deaf" side.

The extreme side of normal. Though, being married to him is normal. To me. These posts really are my normal life. Our normal life. Some of the things I write about are so normal, that I forget they might not be to most people.

You know what would be really interesting?

If Hubs would write a few, "So I Married a Hearing Woman..." posts. What do you think? Anyone wanna coax Hubs into a guest post every now and then? All in favor...say I...Eye...Aye.

Forget the Aye.

Just beg!

Step away from the Windex....

Smudges.

Evidence that children fill my house. Evidence that most of my time is spent with my children. Making their hands dirty. Evidence that I am a little more casual about cleaning their hands after I spend time with them.

Smudges. All over my sliding glass window.

Evidence that my children love to play in my back yard. On the trampoline. On the swings. In the sandbox. On the grass. In the trees. Occasionally stepping in some of Rufus' love notes. Slipping and sliding. Shooting hoops and riding bikes. Picking greenish tomatoes and blooming flowers.

Smudges on the inside. Smudges on the outside.

I should wipe them off. Most people do. My wonderful mother-in-law almost did once but quickly decided not to because she was afraid my kids might think the door was open and may result in a trip to the Urgent Care. Good call.

Smudges. The marks my children have made on my life.

Smudges on the inside. Smudges on the outside.

Evidence of the impact they have made on my life. Anticipation. Pain. Love. Happiness. Frustration. Excitement. Pride. Embarrassment. Laughter. Complete joy.

Yeah, I know my window is dirty.

So if you will excuse me, I have some smudges to play with!

Would you like a belt???

"I got a naughty note today," my kindergartner proclaims as he jumps into the van.

"Uh oh. What happened? Why did you get a naughty note?" I asked.

"I saw a girl's butt," he confessed.

HUH! Totally did not see that one coming.

"You did what? How did this happen? Where did this happen?" I was going to get to the bottom of this.

But before he could explain, his older siblings jumped in.

"How did you see her butt?" "Did she show it to you?" "Did you show her yours?" "Did you touch it?"

All valid and somewhat disturbing questions. A few I wanted to know myself. Worst case scenarios are running rampid through my head. You can imagine, right?

We pull in the drive, I kick out the others and he and I start to talk. I could tell he was embarrassed and so I asked him for the naughty note.

"FYI, Brody verbally announced that he could see a classmate's bottom. He had to sit out for a while."

Apparently, she was sitting on the ground reading a book and Brody looked over and there it was...this young girl's bottom, exposing itself to his young, innocent eyes.

 So naturally he announces, "Hey Mandy. I can see your butt."

I thought I had taught manners in my house. And tact. And kindness. And respect.

"Next time you see someone's butt, just look away. Don't say anything. Just look. A. Way!

I get the feeling, with four boys, this may be a lesson I will be teaching over and over and over again.

Girls, please pull up your pants.

It will make my life, and yours, easier!!!

That's disturbing....

Disturbing...

"Rock a bye baby, in the tree top" **Why would you do that?**
"When the wind blows, the cradle will rock." **No, seriously? Why?**
"When the bow breaks, the cradle will fall..." **and you didn't see that coming???**
"And down will come baby, cradle and all."

We sing this to our children, hoping it will help them sleep. And then we wonder why they are terrified of the dark.

Disturbing...

Doesn't Jack, from Jack and the Beanstalk, steal the giant's gold egg laying goose. The Giant of course chases the guy. I don't blame him. If I had a goose that laid golden eggs I would be ticked if some twerp kid came and took it.  Jack then chops down the beanstalk, killing the poor Giant. Jack was a jerk...and yet it is the Giant who gets a bad rap.

Why does the ax guy in Little Red Riding Hood have to chop up the big bad wolf? It is a children's book, for Pete's sake. Vomit would be better than mutilation, or the Heimlich maneuver. Don't get me wrong, I am not a member of PETA or anything. But chopping the animal in half? How in the heck does the illustrator draw a child appropriate picture of that??

Disturbing....

The amount of time, energy and lives I can waste trying to conquer the second level on Super Mario. Darn you spiky turtles!!

Now that...

...is disturbing.

Word of the day....

Judgment.

Men.

Hmmmmmm....

Now, don't misunderstand. I am in no way shape or form a man-basher. I love Hubs. He completes me. My better half. He is all things that I am not...and even some of the things that I am.  He is so good. I love him dearly.

But sometimes....once in a while....every now and then, I am left scratching my head.

Everyday is show and tell at my Camden's preschool. Sometimes we forget, but most times we try and remember. Well, I had to work one morning and so I reminded Hubs that he needed to help Camden choose a toy.

He did. Great! Not great.

I picked Camden up after school a little later and I hear his teacher reminding him, "Camden, don't forget your gun."

What?!?!! Did she just say GUN?

That was what they chose? Really? A gun. To school? 

It wasn't real. Totally fake.

I don't have a problem with my boys playing with them at home. Heck, there is no use trying to stop them. If your man child is born with two fingers, preferably but not limited to a thumb and a pointer, I will guarantee you they will, at some point, be used to shoot bad guys. Good guys. Any guys.

I have no problem with my children bringing their fingers to school. In fact I highly encourage it. Actually recommend it. It helps them count better.

But a gun?

Judgment.

Men...

Mudgment.

Joining Jenny's ABC Thursday. Whoot!
 

So I Married A Deaf Man: This is who??

When I talk to Hubs on the phone it is like talking to a whole other person.

Wait. Oh, yeah. That's because I do.

Sometimes his voice is low and deep. Sometimes it is high and annoying. Other times it is sexy and also rather scary. It all depends on what interpreter we get that day.

After being married for 12 years I am oh so used to it. But it wasn't always that easy.

Right before we were engaged, I went out of town for about a week to AZ. I missed him so much and so I called him. Through a relay operator. A female operator.

It was so unnatural for me to hear a female telling me how much she missed me and couldn't wait to hold me again. Yes, it was Hubs' words, not hers. I knew this. But I still got the creeps when she told me she loved me and couldn't wait to kiss me when I got home.

Since then, I've gotten used to women calling me "Babe", "Toots," and "Hot stuff."  Relay is no big deal... for me.

My kids, however, that is a whole different story.

One time, my kids were at my sister's house and Hubs called, wanting to talk to my oldest.

"Kobe, the phone is for you. It's your dad," my sister called.

He looked at her like she was some kind of idiot. "My dad? I don't think so. He's deaf."

Or the time when Hubs called home and my 6 year old answered.

"Mom, there is some lady on the phone saying she is Daddy. She's so weird...giggle,giggle...."

Yeah, we're working on it.

Get your ski on!!

Skiing is a winter sport. One that I do not engage in.

Skiing is Hubs' favorite winter sport. It is his only winter sport, actually. He doesn't figure skate...something about the costumes. (I'm actually grateful for that, though he was a wrestler and I don't think those are any better.) And he doesn't like to fight, so hockey is totally out of the picture.

Skiing is it.

I had never been skiing until I married Hubs.

Our first year of marriage, Hubs decided it was high time for me to learn. We decided to invite a friend of mine to come with us. Good thing, too. I'll explain.

We get there and Hubs immediately teaches me how to stop. I believe it is called plowing. Anywhoo, he teaches us that and then takes us to the chair lift and up the hill we go. (Am I alone on this one? Those things are scary, and down right dangerous. You could plunge to your death on those things. I'm just saying.)

As we are riding up the lift, Hubs says, "Oh dang! That is where I should have taken you." He is pointing to the bunny slopes.

Terrified, I ask, "What?!? Well, can we ride this nightmare back down to those bunny slopes?"

He laughed. I did not.

He assured me that the green hills were easy and that I could handle them. However, when we exited the lift and fell for the first time we saw that we had to go down a blue to get to the green. GULP!

He did his best to show us how to turn. For the life of me, I couldn't figure it out. I would try to lean and dig, but it just wasn't happening. I think my friend was ready to take off her skis and walk down. I was slightly embarrassed when I saw 2 year olds going down the hill without poles. Hubs was bored.

How do I know this?

Because he left us.

Not sure you caught that. HE LEFT US!!!!! Whoosh! Gone! Hubs no more! Seriously?!

We were at the top of the hill. Do you know how long it takes wimps to go down a hill? A very long time. Especially when you are making parallel lines across the whole mountain side, combined with 5degree turning angles . I am sure we were a sight to see. I know we were a hazard to all the other skiers.

Hubs passed us. Several times. Actually plowed a buttload whole lot of snow on us each time he passed. Just so we would know he was there. (grumble, grumble).

We eventually made it down the hill; three hours later. We did end up having fun making fun of ourselves. My friend and I. Hubs had fun making fun of us too. Stinker!

So when Hubs asks me to go skiing with him, and I say "You're kidding right?" "Have you lost your mind?" "Are you possessed?"  "Oh, probably not this time, sweetie...", why, in the name of Pete, does he looked surprised?

Really?

Really???

Ho Ho Holy cow!!

Most people have their lights put away by now.

Some people do it the day after Christmas. Others get it done before New Years. We usually do it the first week in January, when we get home from visiting family.

Apparently Officer Meanie Pants never puts his lights away. He likes them bright, and flashing, with a loud annoying siren blaring at the same time.

How do I know this?

Because I saw them. In my rear view mirror. A personal serenade and display, just for me. How kind.

I guess it was really important for him to spread holiday cheer. And boy, did he have cheer. Lots of it.

He generously gave me three...yes, I did say three... little surprises. And they were surprises, because I didn't ask for them. Okay, maybe I did ask for one of them...but the others?

Enough with the giving spirit! Maybe he didn't get the memo.

Christmas is over already!

Pick of the day!

Since everyone else is doing it and I would totally follow them off a cliff plus I have nothing better to do on New Years Day....here are a list of favorites from each month that I have been blogging. If you have nothing better to do, you can take a look.

If you do have something better to do. That's okay. I will never know. Just lie and tell me you enjoyed them. Did I just condone lying? Ab-SO-lutely.

What's in your vent? What my son does for fun.

You will feel a pinch... Urine samples are always fun.

How Do I Know? It's how a Mom knows she is loved.

TMI What kids really hear.

Lifeguard!! The things we do for money.

I see London. I see France  A really bad dream.

Remember to Flush When my son introduced a toy to the toilet.

Every Night This one freaked everyone out.

Mormon Myth Buster Just some clarifications.

Justice and Mercy This is why I love Hubs.


And of course, I can't forget the So I Married a Deaf Man series...

Bedtime If a tree falls in the forest... (my pick)

Louder Please Nothing a little screaming can't fix. (Hubs' pick.)

Alrighty-tighty. I'll be back.

Here's to happy blogging for the year 2011!