Not the fabreze!!!

I just remembered a pet peeve that I have and I thought I would share it with you all. Because that's the kind of friend I am....a sharer...and a giver.

I had totally forgot that I hate these things until Hubs went and bought 130 of these suckers at Sam's Club. Okay, so technically I bought them but only because he doesn't have a membership at Sam's Club. Only I do...which is weird because it is his parents who pay for our membership and for reasons unknown to us did not include his name on the account. I guess he can't be trusted to be alone in that warehouse. 

Anyway, he went with me to Sam's and he offered to run and get the bags while I stood in line. I am also lazy like that. In my defense they were clear on the other side of the store and we had a cartload of food and a great place in line. Plus he volunteered. Not because he is nice. Oh no. It was the samples that brought on this sudden act of kindness. Whatever...I'll take it.

By the time he got back with the bags, it was our turn and it was too late to exchange them. So that is how I was tricked into buying these bags. I was tricked.

There is just something wrong with having garbage bags that smell like my grandma. Garbage shouldn't smell fresh, and flowery, and Fabreze-y. I like my garbage to stink like garbage should, thank you very much.

Having good smelling garbage bags is like putting Axe on a baby. No! Stop that!! It's just WRONG!!!

So I must suffer daily for the next 3 months.....ugh!!

Pray for me, would ya?

A boy:s mind....

"Mom, do you think that Jesus farted?" he asked.

I spun around to see if he had been struck dead on my kitchen floor.

"Well, when  Jesus lived on the earth, his body was imperfect. He had to eat. He had to sleep. And yes he even had to go to the bathroon. He he didn't he would explode," I explained.

"Hmmmm. That's so weird to think about," he said, with a smile on his face.

I agree. Such a weird thing to think about.

Only in a boy's mind.

Happy Halloween!!

Show some restraint!!!

We have "No Touch" zones in our house.

I don't mean places in our house that you can't touch....although that is a good idea. Not that they would be respected in my house, but still. But that's not what I am talking about. You see, we have taught all our kids that there are places on their bodies that people should not touch. We are very clear on this subject.

Thank goodness for that!
Last Saturday, my 13 year old son informed me that his teacher had slapped his rear end. What!! Say that again!! Slowly. Start over, please.

"I was leaning over to pick up my backpack and someone slapped my butt. I stood up and turned to see that is was my teacher. I said, 'What the heck!' Then she smiled and said, 'I'm sorry. It was right in front of me. I couldn't resist.'"

Ummmm, excuse me! Why couldn't you! Are you 13 years old or an adult? Are you not a trained educator of children? Do you not watch the news??? What is wrong with this lady? There are some lines that you don't cross. Actually, there are some lines that you should never approach. Apparently she doesn't think there are any lines.

This teacher....has been bothering me this whole year. She is the art teacher. She sometimes will have pictures of naked people up, which I understand is "art" but I am not sure that's the kind of art you want to be displaying in your 8th grade art class.

She has also allowed crude, inappropriate behaviour to happen in her class several times.Like the time she had the whole class draw a picture of a male student with a broomstick between his legs. Not bad in and of itself except that the boy proceeded to masturbate the stick. Now the class was no longer drawing a broomstick, rather his erected male part. She simply laughed and told the kids to draw.

You can bet I was in the office on Monday morning. At best it was sexual harassment. Grossly irresponsible. Incredibly unacceptable. Needless to say, he is no longer in her class and the school is dealing with her.

"No touch" zones are not to be messed with.

Ever!

He's a killer!!!!

He is trying to kill my children.

I am not sure why, because my kids are AWESOME!

But for whatever reason, my husband is trying to kill them. Poison them to be exact. How do I know this? Because he told me so.

Not in those exact words, of course.

I was sitting at work and I get this message, "Hey. Is it okay to eat pink chicken?"

So I asked him, "Pink? Umm, generally speaking you should avoid pink chicken. How long did you cook it?" A little pink in chicken is okay, right, as long as it is the cooked kind of pink.

"Well," he says, "I didn't thaw it. I just put in on a cooked it for about 7 minutes."

I half expected to come home to tummy aching, toilet hugging, yellowish-green faced children. It's a good thing that most of my children were in rebellious moods and had refused the raw chicken. My oldest, however, consumed more than he normally does.

"This chicken is soooo good," he had said. Apparently he likes raw chicken. That or he craves a wretched death. By some miracle, he also didn't get sick.

My daughter, who had only had a sliver, woke up with an achy stomach, and a pretty bad headache. Poor thing. But even she was lucky. It could have been worse.

Much worse....

...a slow and painful death.

He's the raw chicken child killer.

A fieldtrip...yay.....

I lied. Kind of.

The letter said, "If you would like to attend, sign your name here."

I signed my name. But that didn't mean that I necesarily wanted to attend. Not entirely true.

You see, my second grader is going on a fieldtrip in November. And I, personally, don't like going on fieldtrips. Oh, I used to...like them...when I was a second grader. It meant getting out of school... getting out of homework... going someplace new. That's fun.

But ever since I turned 18, fieldtrips are....well.....more like work. 

For a working mother of 5 children, an elementary school fieldtrip means:

...finding a babysitter for my 4 year old
...getting a background check so that I can get the state's permission to hang out with my child...
... being responsible for 5 other children.
...forgetting my "To-Do" list for the day.

Slightly less than fun?

That being said, I do love my second grader. And he begged me to go on the fieldtrip. So I signed the paper, half-heartedly. I did it partially because I knew I was not going to be the "chosen" one.

You see, all parents who want to go (or lie about the wanting), have to sign the paper. Then the names are put in a jar and the lottery begins. Only 4 parent's were allowed to go this time. Four. For the whole second grade. My name was not being picked.

PLUS we were late getting out paper in. "Surely they have already picked the chaperones and I am just signing this so that my son sees me trying my best to go on that trip."

Surely nothing.

My name got picked.

Oh, lucky day!!

(ps. my work computer doesn't like blogger. I can't change the color and size of the word from here....sigh.)
(ppss. Sorry I have been MIA. I only blog when at work and my work schedule changed to a time almost impossible to blog. But I hope that I am back for good.)

Home Sweet Home

There's no place like home, wouldn't you agree?

I haven't been home in almost two years. Well, kinda.

You see, my parents are on a mission for my church and have been gone since October 2011. So though I have been to the house that I lived in for 18+ years of my life, it hasn't felt like home.

Don't get me wrong. I love my sister, who is currently living in my parents' house. She is a great hostess, makes good food, and has adorable children. But she isn't Mom and Dad.

I am homesick....for them.

So, you can imagince how excited I am to see them. September can't get here soon enough.

Because without Mom, home is nothing like home.

PS Do you think my kids will feel the same way about my home when they grow up???

The WC

The term "water-closet" was an early term for an interior or exterior room with a toilet.

We call ours a bathroom.

I use the term "we" loosely because apparently my boys think that they have a water closet in their very own bedroom. An on-suite, if you will.

They, along with several of their cousins, have been "using" their closet.

I couldn't figure out where the urine smell was coming from. I cleaned the mattresses. I cleaned the sheets. I washed the clothes. And yet the smell remained.

Finally, last week as I was complaining about not being able to figure out where the smell was coming from, Briggy says, matter-of-factly, "It's probably because we went pee in the closet."

You think?

I won't tell you that Camden came in this morning saying, "Mommy. Did you know that Briggy just went pee in our vent."

Slapping forehead! Sigh.....

Boys and their pee.

Bet you can't....

...do this...

This is an online puzzle.

There is a missing piece to this online puzzle. 

Apparently I can lose them here too.

Can you?

I am what I am...

"Wow, Briggy! You are eating another plum? You are a plum guy!"

"Yeah. I know. That's because I am a fruit!"

Boy, does he sweat!!

Did you know that your eyes can sweat?

I had no idea that this was even possible. I mean, I have had sweat drip into my eyes, and that burns. But I have never sweat from my eyes.

I just learned this new bit of information from my son.

You see, today we were cleaning. Correction, I was cleaning. Everyone was simply moving things from one corner of the room to the other, as slowly as possible. Including this son. So I did my motherly responsibility and called him out on it.

That's when his eye-sweating began. "Hey, son. You don't need to cry about this. It isn't that big of a deal. Just finish the task. Simple," I told him.

"I'm not crying. My eyes are sweating," he informed me.

Wow. And all these years I thought I was just being sensitive. Now I know that my eyes simply have a perspiration problem.

Last week in pictures.

We had two weeks of cousins. Love having cousins. We played in the backyard. We played in the house. We went swimming a few times. We went bowling. We went to the park. Basically we partied hard.

Here my kids are at the pool, sitting with their swim coach who is trying to convince my daughter that she should try swimming at the meet. She did not convince her.

For as bad as they didn't want to swim, they both did very good! Plus they changed their minds to boot.

I love watching this guy swim. But the butterfly is my favorite. The picture is grainy, but he did fantastic!

A jerk is a jerk is a jerk

He's just not a nice person.

I mean, not that I really know the guy. I have actually never seen his face. Not once. But still, he's not nice.

He's our neighbor. Not our live-next-to-or-across-the-street" neighbor. Nope. He lives catty-corner to our backyard. So it's not that I am an unfriendly neighbor, I just don't usually peek into other's yards from my backyard. At least not when they are outside.

Well, on Memorial Day, we were having a party and a ball that my kids were playing with bounced into his backyard. My kids kindly asked if he would throw it back over. So he did. Unfortunately it happened again, and he threw it back over, but yelled, "If this comes over into my yard again, I am keeping it." And he did. 

Then two weeks ago, in the middle of the day, my kids were out jumping on the trampoline. I guess his dog didn't like that and started barking at them. He came outside and yelled, "Shut-up! You are making my dog bark!!"

Ummm, okay.

Well, the other day, when we had some cousins over, they decided to sleep on the tramp. They woke up at 6:30am and started jumping.

Yes, I said 6:30am. Yes, it was way too early to be making that much noise. But before I could roll out of bed to tell them to "Shhhh!" our favorite person yells, "YOU STUPID, IDIOT KIDS! SHUT-UP!!"

In this situation, I really can't defend my kids' behavior. It was early. And they were being loud-ish. You know, being kids.

But that guy needs to chill out. My guess is that he would never talk to an adult that way. But why does he feel the need or the right to scare and intimidate, berate and belittle my children?

Because that's what jerks do.

Maybe, though, he is out there somewhere, blogging about his jerky neighbors who have some really cute but annoying children.

The difference?

I am not a jerk.

Conflict-avoiders

I wasn't usually a trouble maker. You see, I don't like conflict; prefer to avoid it. To cause trouble meant to be in conflict, which is against my nature 

But one summer's night, I blew all caution to the wind, nature be darned.

We were visiting my grandparents and cousins who lived in a small town in northern Arizona. No, like really small. Everyone really does know everyone because everyone is related to everyone. It's a little scary, but I don't ask questions.

Well, as the evening drew nigh, we drew bored. Our parents were out to dinner with the grandparents and had left us in charge of the youngers....because we were trustworthy and conflict-avoiders.

But I had heard somewhere that if you tied cans to both ends of fishing wire and laid it across the road, when a car drove over it, it would catch on the tires and make a whole lot of noise as it was drug down the street, freaking the driver out. 

Why not test this out here?

And so we did. Several times. It was fun. Fun until the police officer's wife drove over it, went home, called her on duty husband.

Not knowing that was happening, we became bored again and threw the evidence in the trash and decided to do something else. About 10 minutes later, a cop car pulls up and shines a spotlight into the house. We start freaking out, scrambling to turn off all lights on the first floor, because he's not going to notice that. AT ALL.

I'm pretty sure he didn't come to the door, but if he had, we most definitely did not answer it, because, Hello!, we weren't there. No-one was. Didn't he notice the lights were all turned off??

After about 30 minutes we decided it was safe to come out of hiding and carry on with our lives.

Apparently after we had gone to bed, that officer stopped by and had a talk with our parents...who in turn had a talk with us, which completely turned me off to troublemaking.

Well, almost completely...

Does anyone else feel weird?

We had a water fight in the park last week with some friends.  Nothing better than cool water and friends on a hot day.

Okay, so sitting in an air conditioned room with a Diet Coke with lots of ice and a husband, preferably ably mine, rubbing my feet while I watch mindless T.V. programs might be better, but that will NEVER happen, so it was the next best thing.

So I called all the kids to the field and loaded them up with water balloons and water guns and told them to get ready. My 13 year old proceeded to take off his shirt.

"Ehhh," was my response.

"Oh my heck! This is awkward. I just took off my shirt!! I don't know why I did that. This is the most awkward moment of my life. I am so embarrassed," was his response.

Now that you mention it....

Week in pictures

Who says I don't have a pool?

She chopped off 9 inches. Now that I don't have to brush, she and I will be much better friends. 

This is what Briggy does while he waits for his swimming siblings. Not a bad life, right?

Kobe provides us with Endless music in our house. And I do mean endless. Time to get him some new music. 

Let the swim meets begin. There goes my Saturdays. He did awesome, by the way. 

Cub Scout Day Camp was awesome this year! 

This is what a broken dryer looks like. New one coming July 1st. Ugh!

Pretty much the hottest dad there is. I'm that lucky!

Re-post: Yesireeee!

This is my second most visited post of all time. I thought I would share it again.

Guess what.

Sometimes, I say....no. To my kids.

Yeah, I know. I know. I'm Horrible Mean Mother.

"Say yes to your children as often as you can." That's the new good parenting motto.

Really? Really? How is that good? I understand that children should be allowed to be children. And that we should choose our battles. But sometimes, the answer is no. Plain and simple.

And guess what. I say no.

"No, you have to pull your pants up. Everyone does not want to see your rearend cleavage."
"No, you can't skip your bath today because despite what you think, that isn't a tan on your leg. It's called dirty."
"No, we can't have ice cream for dinner because then it will be gone when I need to go to my special place in the middle of the night."

But in order to conform...in order to appease...in order to be Best Mom Evah.....I have come up with a plan to say yes more often.

Wanna hear it?

Child: "Mom, can I play the Wii?"
Me: "Yes. Three days from now, you can play the Wii." See, good mom.

Child "Can I buy a toy?"
Me: "Yes, of course my sweet child. You can work your little tail off for 4 weeks and earn just enough to get that toy you want. Have fun!" Great mom!

Child: "Mom. Can I stay home from school even though I'm not sick?"
Me: "Yes. That would be very helpful because someone will need to take over my daily duties of cleaning and washing and slaving while I take an extended vacation at the local jail. That would be fantastic! Thanks for volunteering!"

What do you think?

So I Married a Deaf Man: Of course he does

Of course he wants hardwood/laminate floors.

Why wouldn't he? I mean they look nice. They clean easily. They keep the place cool. Who wouldn't want floors like that?
Ummm, me!

I'm all for aesthetics. I am. But I haven't forgotten that I have 5 active and actively loud children.

Wooden floors would be great when you didn't have to hear the piano that for some reason only plays fortissimo (ff). No problem.

They would be nice if you didn't have a son that decides to take up the trumpet and the bugle. No biggie.

Nice if you didn't have CODA kids (child of deaf adult) who's volume level only comes in loud and louder. Do-able.

Perfect if you didn't have 5 children and two dogs. Can you imagine that?.

But that's not us. We have all those things.

We have kids who like to play. Kids who more often than I would like bounce their balls in the house. Kids who argue in loud voices from time to time. Kids who love music.

We have kids. Lots of them. Plain and simple. Enough said.

And though he doesn't have to deal with the volume of the sound that comes from having the wonderful children that we have, but I do.

Someday we can have those nice floors. You know, when all our kids are grown and gone. When the only thing I will hear is.....who am I kidding. I am hoping to have a house filled with little grandies running all over my house, playing the piano, bouncing balls, and doing what kids do best....making me love them.

So the fancy floors will have to wait....

...until my mansion in Heaven.

Week in pics

Kyla's second dance recital. You would never know she was a little shy by the way she performs on stage.

This seems to be the story of my life these days. 2-3 hours every morning pool side. Four of my children have now joined swim team.

Kids bowl free! I love watching my littles hurl the ball down the lane. Cracks me up every time.

Heaven can't be much better than this. I'm just saying.

Holy huge nostrils!!

Doesn't this just scream HOT!!

Of course you can....

As many of you know, my 7 year old is pretty short for his age. Despite his heigth, he is a very determined and capable little guy.

Sometimes I forget.

My older kids are all signed up for swim team. Kobe has been in it for 3 years now but I had to convince Kyla and Brody to do it this time. They don't love it, but they don't hate it, either.

Camden wanted to do it so bad. I wasn't sure he could do it. I didn't want him in over his head....quite literally.  I told him that if he wanted to be on the swim team he would need to swim across the pool, which he had never done and quite honestly I didn't think he could do. World's Best Mom, right here.

I couldn't have been wronger...er...more wrong..ummm....Boy was I wrong!

Today was swim lessons for Camden. He jumped into the pool, turned on his back and swam the length of the pool. He then flipped over and freestyled it all the way back.

"Now can I be on the team?" he asked.

"Yes! Yes you can, son." I was never more pleased to be proven wrong in my life. This child of mine never ceases to amaze me. And who am I to tell him what can't do.

Chances are...he can!

Now I just have to find jammers that come in his size.

Yes...yes I can.

It's a good thing we are done having babies....

"Mom, if you had another baby and it was a boy, what would you name him?" my 7 year old asked.

"Ummm, I am not sure. We have kind of used all the good boy names. If it was a girl we would name her Aubrey," I answered.

"I know what we should name him," he said.

"What's that," I asked.

"Fireball."

Does he like it or not???

I don't really understand what he means.

You see, Hubs has always claimed to hate fish. Seafood. Anything that has lived or breathed in the ocean, he refuses to eat. Ever.

I grew up in New Mexico, nowhere near the ocean and so we only ever had canned tuna. On occasion my mom would eat some sort of canned shrimp with ketchup on it, which is slightly disturbing.

Then I met salmon. Technically he didn't meet me, being dead and all. But after one bite, I knew that I liked him.

Last month, I was cooking up salmon for myself. Hubs came in and observed, "Wow! What smells so good?"

"Oh. You must be talking about my salmon." I was pretty sure it wasn't the hot dogs that were cooking for everyone else. Those don't smell delicious at all.

"Oh. Hmmmm," he responded.

"Why don't you try a bite. Seriously, this stuff is good. You might like it. It tastes better than it smells," I coaxed. He agreed.

He took a small...very small...bite. He nodded with a smile. "That tastes good. Very tasty," he signed.

"Cool. Do you want some of mine?" I asked, willing to give up half my dinner. See, always a giver.

"No way. I don't like fish," he answered, surprised by my question.

"But you just said that the salmon tasted good." Huh???.

"I did. And I do. But I don't like fish."

Is anyone else confused?

A week in pictures.

Instagram this week. Just cuz.

"But I don't want to put my face in the water..."

It's official. Summer has begun!

Where I have been 3 mornings a week.

Great fun with family and friends on Memorial Day!

May my kids remain strong in their faith, like this tree. No matter the spiritual disasters happening around them, may they stand firm in Christ.

Can someone please tell him to stop growing. Please!!!

There's a sliver in my foot.

You know what really hurts?

 A blond sliver in your foot.

I would know. I have one.

They are pretty hard to get, unless you have 3 blond male children in your family and you happen to cut their hair while wearing sandals.

And forget getting those suckers out. The hair is practically invisible.

But the pain is not.

Yeah, blond slivers hurt.

Epic.

Today was Epic.

The movie.

It came out today.. This is the new movie put out by the same people who made Ice Age. I tell you this in case you don't have 5 kids who have been begging to see this show for the past 8 months. I do.

But the movie wasn't the only epic going on.

First there was the crew. .  Seven children and one adult to be exact..To say I was slightly outnumbered would be an understatement. I had my five along with two of my brother's kids. Pretty epic.

Then there was the concession stand. I ordered a large popcorn with the free refill already refilled...not in another bag. That would make too much sense and be far too easy. Nope, the second bag was actually put in two large trays.  I also got two large sodas with 5 extra cups.

I had to make two trips.

And as epic as that was, the distributing of said goods was epic times two. Pouring, dividing, spilling, refilling, passing, counting, positioning, spilling.

But my epic didn't start until Epic started.

As I looked down that long row of children, I saw eyes glued to the screen, smiles and giggles, whispers and laughter, enjoyment that you can only see on the face of a child. Isn't that why we do these things? To create memories; both for them and for us? 

Mission accomplished.

Epic, indeed.

There will be no more thinking...

I should just stop thinking. Nothing good come from it.

Like today, for example, when I thought taking all my kids to Sam's Club with me was a good idea.

"They are getting older," I tell myself. "Heck, only one of them really fits in the cart anymore but he's 13 and prefers to walk. We can handle this."

See, there I go thinking again.

I won't give you the details, because that might stress you out and drive you to not-thinking yourself.

Just know that my kids don't understand what the words "No" and "We don't need that" and "Keep your hands to yourself" and "Please leave your sister alone" and  "Just stop talking" means. .

Guess that's what happens when one starts thinking...

school-is-out-Summer!!

Ahhhh....it's school-is-out-summer!!

You know what that means, right?

1- Because my kids can now sleep in, they are guaranteed to wake up before 6:00 every morning. Why? Why does this happen!!?? No, really....why?

2- Cereal for breakfast just ain't gonna cut it. You know the saying "Where much time is given, much breakfast is required." You've never heard of that one? What can I say....I'm cultured.

3- I am bound to forget to sunblock all of my children, 50% of the time we go to the pool. You would think that after having 5 kids, it would be like breathing. But I've always been asthmatic, so..... 

4- My food bill is gonna go through the roof. And I live in a two story house. Who chooses PBJ when there is pizza in the freezer.

5- Hours and hours of fun!!!.....minus the 20 hours that are filled with complete and utter boredom.

But the best part of school-is-out-summer is that I get to take all the time I want with my little ones. I get to watch them play and just be. They grow up too fast and somehow school steals that time away from me. Everyday they get older. I bet you didn't know that, but it's true.

So I try and cherish the time I get to have with them...until about Aug 1. By then I am totally cherished out.

Watch out, school-is-out-summer! Here we come!!

...because that's what I really want.

I love the smell of cinnamon.

Cinnamon gum. Cinnamon rolls. Cinnamon candles. Cinnamon husbands...you name it, I love it. Heck if I could marry it, I would! The smell that is....I already have a husband. He doesn't smell like cinnamon, but he has other qualities that make up for what he lacks.

Poor Hubs.

So as you can imagine, I like my house to smell like cinnamon. There are many ways to go about accomplishing that goal.

Making the c-rolls. Boiling a cinnamon concoction all day on the stove. Air-sprays. Plug-ins. Oils. Candles.

But today, my friends, I have discovered, quite by accident, another way of filling your home with that amazing aroma. Okay, so I can't take full credit for this discovery. Nope, my 4 year old and his Spidey-Build-a-Bear should get most of the credit.

All I did was light my bright, red cinnamon candle and put it in my archway and let it burn for about 2 hours.

Briggy then decided that it was time for Spidey to learn how to fly...minutes before we had to walk out the door.

Let me tell you....Spidey is a natural. He was doing an amazing job of flying until that dang candle got in the way. So Spidey decided to knock it over. All over....my light colored living room carpet.

Now the cinnamon smell and red stains remain on my carpet...and on my hands, my knees, half a roll of paper towels, 25+ lunch bags, my iron, and my rocking chair.

Needless to say, I am in HEAVEN!!!!

When there isn't enough time....

......

What's that smell....

Smells are like songs. Okay, so they aren't exactly like songs, but like songs, they can take you back to your childhood.

There are a few smells that do that for me....

Lilac bushes- I hate the smell of them, but my mom had one in our front yard and insisted that we take pictures by it before we went to prom.

Old Spice- My dad.

Cinnamon Rolls- Mom

All these smells, take me back to the happy days of my youth.

The other day as Hubs and I were working in the yard he said to me, "I love this smell. It makes me happy."

"Really? Seriously? THIS?!?" I asked.

 I was baffled, for right in front of me were 10 bags of cow manure.

Because that has "Home Sweet Home" written all over it.

Funny what kids hear....

You are all familiar with the Garden of Get Some Money, right?

No?

Even my four year old knows what that is. Okay, so ONLY my four year old knows what that is. At least until a few days ago.

You see, for Easter, our kids learned a beautiful song in Primary (children's Sunday school class). It's called "Gethsemane."

Jesus climbed the hill
To the garden still
His steps were heavy and slow
Love and a prayer
Took Him there
To the place only He could go

Gethsemane
Jesus loves me
So He went willingly
To Gethsemane
The song has a few more verses and if you want to read the whole song you can go here. It really is wonderful.

The point of the story: my four year old sat down by me the other day and said, "Mommy, sing the Get Some Money song."

"Huh? I don't think I know that song. How does it go?" I asked.

He proceeded to sing the song except where it said "Gethsemane," he sang "Get Some Money."

All this time he has been thinking that Christ went to the Garden to get some money.

Hilarious.

Are you crying???

I think I cry too much.

Do you?

Not do you think I cry too much.

But do YOU cry too much?

Is that even possible?

Not to THINK that you or I cry too much.

But to cry TOO much?

For no apparent reason.

Am I alone here?

You do that too, right?

Keep the Commandments....all of them.

I am a strong believer in the 10 commandments.

I love God. I do not kill. I do not commit adultery. There are no idols I worship and I try really hard not to covet.

And I do not steal. Ever. Not ever. At least not since I was 5 years old.

When I was five years old I really loved candy. I know that most children aren't like that. But I was. And it seemed that the owner of the local store had put the candy right at my eye level at the check-out stand so that I could repeatedly remind my mother of my love for candy.

My mom didn't love my love for candy. She didn't seem to appreciate my constant reminding that I loved it. Evey time I asked, she would tell me no.

"Mom....can I..."
"Nope. "
"But look it's a new kind..."
"No."
Pleeeeeeease..."
"No. No. No."

Well, on this particular day, I decided I was going to take matters into my own hands. I secretly grabbed the Lifesavers and snuck them into my pocket. I was so sneaky. The teller didn't see me. The manager didn't see. But more importantly, my mom didn't see me.

The key to being a good thief is that you don't steal and tell. I was not a good thief. Terrible in fact. The minute I got into the car I tore the thing open. And started to share with everyone.

Then she knew. She knew I had asked for the candy in the store which she had refused to buy. And yet, there I was, in the back of the van, kindly sharing stolen goods with my siblings.

Back into the store we marched. Not only did I have to give the candy back, I had to tell the store manager that I had taken it and that I was so sorry. I was crying. Partly because I was embarrassed and partly because of the freshness of the spank my mom had so kindly given me.

So, although I may struggle not to gossip, and try to keep the Sabbath Day holy, I DO NOT have a problem with stealing things. Ever!

Don't you?

Isn't this how EVERYONE eats birthday cake?

Key Hoarder

Remember the time that I took every key to the van that we own on accident with me to work....

...in the car...

...and you needed the van to drive Kobe to his band concert.

That was so funny, huh?

(....painful silence....)

Too soon isn't it.

How fast is fast?

I hate people who drive the speed limit.

Okay, that's not true. If it were, I would hate my own father, and who hates their own father? Not me. So I guess I hate it when people drive the actual speed limit. It's just plain annoying.

I also hate people who speed.

Also not entirely true. If that were true than I would my own mother, and who hates their own mother? Again, not me. So I guess I hate it when people speed. It's just plain dangerous.

I guess what I am saying is that I love people who only break the law a little. People like me.

Hubs is this kind of person. That's why I married him. Really. It's the only reason I married him.

Okay, that's not entirely true. He also smells really nice most the time.

To me, when I see a posted speed limit of 60mph, it tells me that I can go 65mph without getting pulled over. It's a safe speed. But anyone who passes me is going way to fast and deserves to be pulled over. But if you're going my speed, we're friends.

Hubs married me for my double standard.

Let's hear it for the uni-brow!!

Underneath my forehead
and right above my eyes,
Lies these blondish hairballs,
one on either side. (of my face.)

Some people wear them skinny
some barely even there,
While others are oblivious
To the continuous line of hair (on their face)

We're talking about eyebrows,
In case you hadn't guessed.
And every time I look at mine,
I feel a little stressed.

You see, nobody taught me,
The proper way to tweeze,
The best way to hold your hand'
The most effective way to squeeze.

Am I supposed to wash them?
or pull a certain way?
Is it okay to tweeze on top?
Did you read Micheal Vey?
(Sorry, random thought, but it rhymed...plus a fun read.)

Every time I pull a hair,
I cannot help but sneeze.
Can somebody remind me
why we do this, please?

Who here hates to do it?
Who else here is done?
Lets cease to do the plucking
and make our brows be one.

Let's hear it for the uni-brow!!!

Replaced

I've been replaced.

I left for two nights...TWO nights! and already he has found a new love.

He told me that he spent all day with her; carried her around all day. They were connected at the hip. Specifically, his hip. He even slept with her...as in lying next to him....in the middle of the day...in my bed! Our bed. Mine and his. Not mine and hers.)

Scandal!!!

For 2 whole day I was out of the picture...quite literally.

Lucky for me she isn't as cute as I am. Right? Just look at her.

Skank!


Hooking up with Jen Matlock ABC Thursday.

This is how I review a book

Read this book...

It's amazing.

You will not be able to put it down!

The End.

Do you RUN run?

I run.

Not like run run. Just run.

Not like I'm-gonna-spend-the-next-6-months-nearly-killing-myself-training-for-the-day-I-will-push-myself-to-the-brink-of-death run. If I wanted that, I would just get pregnant again.

Most people run because they love it. Some run to meet a goal, to beat a time. And still others join to win a free t-shirt.

Me? I run to sweat. Plain and simple. Stinky and gross. I like it. There is great satisfaction that comes from a soaked shirt and wet hair. It's less satisfying if I don't shower right away. Way less satisfying. Not recommended. But still, the sweat....awesome!

My platform of choice? My treadmill.

I know. I know. I can hear you all groaning, "That's so boring!" Hey! Boring is a state of mind. 
Yes, I know that nature is much more pleasant to look at than the holes in my wall and the dust on my shelves. And the air is fresher...more fresh?...(dang ASL, messing with my English)... outdoors than it is indoors.

Yeah, I know. But there's just something about having a machine propel you forward. Plus, it tells me how fast I am going, how far I am running, and how many calories I am burning. Nice.  If I wanted, I could make hills and valleys, mountains and plateaus, inclines and declines. Lucky for me, I don't ever want to do that.

But this week, being Spring Break and all, I have been taking my kids to the track and running while they play on the grass or in the sandpit or with the javelins. I didn't run as far. I didn't run as fast. I didn't sweat as much.

Why, then, am I so sore!?!! Can someone please tell me why my shoulder blades are killing me? And my legs feel like mush? And my back aches? And why my abs have suddenly decided to come out of hibernation? Why?

This is what happens when I run....

...like run run.

The perfect seat...

I died laughing.

From where I sleep, I can see the doorway to the upstairs bathroom, aka the kids bathroom. I tell you this not so that you think I am a weird mommy bathroom stalker who keeping track of who goes in and how long they stay, because I am not that person. That would just be weird.

I tell you this so that you understand that sometimes I don't even have to get out of bed to be entertained. I simply have to roll over and pay attention.

This Saturday, I rolled over to see my oldest son, Kobe, enter the bathroom. Seconds later I see my second son, Brody, sneak up next to the doorway, making sure he was out of sight.

As Kobe exited to restroom, Brody said, in a low, rough, slightly louder than normal voice, "Flush-the-toilet!"

I thought Kobe was going to fall over.

It was hilarious!

I can still smell him....

Not until I was 16.

That was the magic number. That was that age at which I could date!! You know like go on a real date. That was big news.

But I had secretly gone on a date with someone before I was 16.  Well, kinda.

There was an 8th grader I thought was slightly interesting. It wasn't because I thought he was hot or cool or anything like that. I liked him because he liked me first. And I was only a 7th grader. Now that was fantastic.

He talked to my friend about me, because that's how we did things back then, and we planned for the three of us to meet up at the county fair.

In the middle of the day.

No-one goes to the county fair in the middle of the day. Not unless you are showing goats or something.

After his goats were all set...we met up by the rides. Just he and I and my friend.

I remember thinking I didn't like the way he smelled and it annoyed me. Surprisingly it wasn't the goats. It was some kind of musky cologne. I have a super sensitive nose, and don't forget that jr. high boys don't understand that less is more. His theory: more is more.

Well, we got into this ride that went around and around. Yeah, sounds like all the rides, right. Only this one used gravity to push the guy onto me. And the smell...oh the smell.  

About half way through the ride I started to feel sick. I told him that we needed to get off. He disagreed, signaling the controller to keep it going.

And I smelled him more.

At this point, my mouth started to water. Not the, "I-wish-he-would-kiss-me" kind. More of the the salt-before-you-vomit kind. I flagged his controlling buddy and he stopped the ride.

Immediately after exiting the ride, it all came up and out. All over the ground. It wasn't pretty. Nasty, actually. I should have been embarrassed but I was more annoyed than anything. Why did he have to stink so bad?

And with that taste of dating in my mouth, I decided it would be better to wait to date until I was 16.