Umm..err...ahem...

Recently, a child of mine flicked a booger in the store parking lot and it landed on the fancy clean car next to us.

It was big. And it was ugly. Big, ugly booger.

Now what?

Do I make my child wipe it off , risking that the car alarm will go off, drawing attention to the said flickage?

Do I write a note apologizing for the sticky goo?

Do I walk away, hoping that the wind will blow it off?

Where can you get training on such a thing? Yes, I can prevent it from happening again...in theory...by teaching my child how to use a tissue. Again.

But still...

Sigh....

He learned it from his father.

Blackmailed

I am innocent.

I didn't do what they are saying I did.

Even though they have a video. A very misleading video, I might add. A video that they like to play over and over and over again.

And they laugh. Out loud. As in rolling on the floor laughing.

At me.

I am innocent!

"So...what is on that video?" you may be asking.

Well, before we get into that, let me give you the whole story.

Brody, my middle child, had misplaced his phone. And then it died so there was no way to call it. He was really upset...almost to tears.

I had kindly asked all my kids to help find his phone.

Then I sternly asked them.

Then I angrily ordered them.

Then I yelled.

They kind of  looked. For five seconds.

I looked everywhere in the room he had last had it. I looked on the floor. I looked under the couch. I looked on top the couch. I looked on the tv table. I looked everywhere.

Finally I decided that maybe it was stuck in the couch. Things have been known to fall between the cushions and stay there unless the couch is jiggled enough.

So, in order to see if this was the case, I went to one side of the couch and began bumping the couch with the top of my thighs. And because I wanted the phone, if it was indeed there, to fall out, I used quite a bit of energy in the bumping of the arm of the couch.

My daughter, who was sitting on the floor across the room, not helping to look for the lost phone was busy recording me. Bumping the couch.

"Mom! Why are you humping the couch?" she laughed.

Where did she learn that word....and why would she think I was doing that to my couch?!?!

And that is what is on the video.

I am innocent!

I am innocent and I am being blackmailed.

The Power of Prayer

We have always taught our kids that they can pray about anything and God will answer them.

Help. Comfort. Guidance.

On our travels home from visiting family, my daughter was feeling frustrated because she was feeling like she wasn't getting an answer to her prayers.

As we were discussing this, my 9 year-old pipes into the conversation.

"Well, Kyla. I think I wasted all my praying power on my Lego. I lost it and then I prayed and found it. And then I lost it again and prayed and found it. Like 10 times. But then the last time I lost it, I prayed and I couldn't find it. I think my praying power is all wasted."

I guess we need to teach him that the power of prayer is more like the energizer bunny....

...it just keeps going.

Silly

Like most moms, before we go on long trips we have "One last curtain call...."

...meaning "Scaddittle and pittle."

...meaning "Hit the can while you can."

...meaning "Go to the bathroom, already!"

And they go. They do.

But without fail, about 2 hours in, my baby will say, "I need to go so bad I am going to die!!!" Wow! He really has to go.

So like any good mom would do, I tell him to hold it. (**I can see it now, "Young boy dies from an exploded bladder. Mother told him to "Hold it!"**)

After doing that for about 20 minutes, I pull over, open the van door and tell him to shoot far and don't drip.

But as I push the button to open the door (gotta love that), all the boys in my car decide they too need to do some bush watering. So they line up, pull out and shoot.

It always ends up as a contest to see who can shoot the farthest and pee the longest. A different kind of shooting range, if you will.

Boys are weird.

I often wonder if Hubs wishes that he join the competition. He is competitive like that.

But that would be just plain SILLY!

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!!

Puzzled

I love puzzles.

It's kinda a Christmas tradition with me. Only I haven't been able to do this tradition since I had kids. You know, with the little ones eating the pieces it would have been impossible to finish...oh...wait. Ahem... I mean too much of a choking hazard for the little ones.

(Just to clarify they would be choking on the puzzle pieces...not me choking them. Just so we're clear.)

Until this year, that is.

Puzzles in the house, baby! Whoop! Whoop!

I busted out the puzzles and my house has gone to pot. (Not the legal kind, sillies. The messy kind.) Once I get started I can't stop. I become completely oblivious to what is going on around me.

Want proof?

This is what happened this morning while I was doing a puzzle. And I am being completely honest when I say I had no clue until I turned around and there it was. 

Woah!

How did I not hear this happening.

I nust reeeeally like puzzles. 

'tis the Season

Five kids. Three stores.

That was to be the extent of our outing.

Three quick stops to pick up a few needed items and then we would be done.

Five kids. Three stores.

Store #1 Kohl's.

So much on sale. So little time. Focus. Focus. Five minutes in. Five minutes out. Quick and painless.

Again, five children.

If you have boys you may know what "corn-dogs" and "hot dogs" are...If not, just know we are not talking about food. Nope. Both require one person's knee and another person's lower half.

Apparently Kohl's brings out "dog-ers" in my children.

Store #2 Hobby Lobby

I was in need of some crafts and a few gifts for my sister. This shouldn't be as bad, thought I. I mean, it is a craft store. Kids love crafts.

And they did.

I learned to stop telling your 12 year old to act his age, because when he is bugging everyone around him, he IS acting his age.

Store #3 Deseret Book

This one should have been the easiest, right? Smallest store. A bunch of pictures of Christ, hanging on the wall. Music about Christ playing in the background. Books about Christ displayed on every shelf. Yeah, this ought to be a breeze.

Except that they have this table of building blocks to distract children so mothers can spend and spend and spend.

My kids enjoy fighting over building blocks, especially when Jesus watching them.


Three stores. Five kids.

Frazzled mom!

'Tis the Season....

Pictures without words

It could be worse.

Almost all my children are celebrating it this week, and I didn't even know it was a thing.

Did you?

Did you know it was "Pee in Your Bed" week? Yeah. I know. Or rather, I didn't know. What are they teaching in school these days.

Three of my five children observed it this week. One of my children has lost all control (quite literally) and has wet the bed three...yes I said three...times this week. Party animal, that one.

That is five bed changes this week. Plus wet, stinky clothes. All happening around 2-4am. I am sure you can imagine how thrilled I was to be dragged into the "Pee in Your Bed" week celebrations.

Not Hubs. He apparently wasn't invited. In fact, he has managed to sleep through all the festivities. Grumble grumble. However, I have threatened to bring the party to him if he doesn't put at least one of my pee-ers in pull-ups this evening.

Don't get me wrong. I am a girl who loves a good party; key word being good.

But this is one holiday that I don't wish to observe. That and "Poo in Your Undies" week.

It could be worse.

My week in picture

Yes...this is an aerial vie of half the Pyramid of Giza. (The other side is at the bottom....I uploaded these pictures from my phone and it isn't letting me rearrange them. Grrr...)

This is Camden and I at the Nutcracker. He kept asking for the fighting mice to come back. Total boy!

Snow day! No, wait. We are already out of school. Bummer!

Yum, right?

No such thing as too much yum! (Not until January, right?)

Our first band concert. (He's the 2nd sax player with the Santa hat.) That was truly one of the highlights for me. He played so well (I could totally pick out his hoots...okay, not really) and had a ton of fun.

Picture of kids (just some random kids) at River of Lights. (Just kidding. Four of them are mine, two of them are cousins.) I am totally digging the glowing eyes

And I leave you with the innards of the pyramid. Hope your week was as grandy-dandy as mine was!!

?????

 Kobe and I were looking through the ads for Black Friday. He opens up the Wal-mart ad and says, "This is what I want for Christmas.". I look over and he is pointing at the Xbox that was on sale.

"You want an Xbox? But we have a Wii," I reminded him.

"I know. But I don't care. I either want this Xbox or Uncle Scott's Xbox."

Looking a little puzzled, I asked, "Is Uncle Scott selling his Xbox?"

"No. I don't think so," he responded.

"?????"

When pride isn't a sin

I love the moments when my kids make me proud.

Not proud as in "You finished your homework in less than an hour" proud...although that is always exciting. Not the "You actually brushed your teeth without being asked" proud. I am talking about the kind of proud that hits you right in the heart and warms you every time you think about it.

Like today. My oldest tried out for the 6th grade basketball team. He really wanted to make it. He is not naturally very athletic, but he loves sports and is willing to work hard to improve. He has been shooting the ball around and was really hoping to make the team.

I called the school today because they were posting who made the second cut for try-outs and wanted to see if Kobe had made it. Sadly, he hadn't. I wasn't sure exactly how he was going to take it...you know...tween hormones and all.

So I sat all the other kids down and told them that Kobe hadn't made the team and that he might be a little sad when he got home. That was all I needed to say.

My daughter drew a picture of a big heart and wrote a note in the middle of it that said, "Kobe, you are a great brother. I love it when you sing in the shower in the morning because I can hear it from my room. You are the best brother ever."

My middle child wrote several notes saying, "Kobe. You are really good at football! Sorry you didn't make the team. I love you." He kept saying that he felt like he was going to cry, he felt so bad. (ahhh.)

Camden wrote "Bf5 CMD 11 AE". When translated it meant "You are good at basketball. I love you!"

Briggy just scribbled and said, "This is Kobe."

Kobe got home and was just showered with love and kindness...something that I hadn't asked them to do but they had decided to do it on their own.

Proud!

Whose child is this??

I love to play the piano.

Thing is, I rarely take/make the time to practice it. The piano. It sits in my livingroom. My children have had lessons and I enjoy hearing them practice the same song over and over and over and over again. Love it.  (I really do.)

Well, a good friend of mine has started a piano workshop for busy moms. We go to her house, she teaches us and gives us encouragement, and let's us perform the song that we have been practicing for the month. I love it, because if I know I am going to be playing for people, then I am motivated to practice.

I chose the song "For Good" from Wicked.

It has been really challenging. Partly because I want to sing along, which messes me up. And partly because the song is hard. I have taken it apart and worked on it in pieces. I am now putting it back together.

This morning, while I was waiting for my middle schooler to stop blaming me for everything to finish getting ready, I played through my song a couple times. When I was done, I declared to my son, "That is sounding good. I am doing a lot better."

Suddenly, from the other room, I hear my two year old yell, "No you not!"

That guy really knows how to make a girl feel good.

Linking up with Jenny Matlock's ABC Thursday. Wanna play?

Let's Roll

My oldest child was God's attempt at making me arrive places on time. He hates being late, and that is an understatement. He starts freaking out about 30 minutes before the thing starts. Church seems to be the exception to his rule.

So on Friday, he was doing his normal freaking out and made his way into the car. Instead of climbing into his seat through his door, he decided to climb in via the driver's seat...because we all know that is the fastest way to get to the passenger's seat....cough cough...ahem.

While climbing from the driver seat to the passenger seat, he accidentally released the emergency brake. As our driveway is slightly slanted, the car began to roll. I look up and there rolled my car. Kobe's eyes looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

Doing what anyone else in that situation would do, I grabbed onto the side mirror and started to pull on it, as if pulling the mirrior was going to stop the car. I'm strong, but not that strong.

The next smart thing I did was yell, "Stop the car Kobe! Stop it!!"
He looked at me like he was about to poop his pants. "I don't know how to stop the car!"
"Oh. Right. Okay."

Instead, he reached over and unlocked the door. I'm not sure how that got locked, seeing that he climbed in through it, but no matter. It was locked. That was good thinking on his part. He is part Hubs.

I opened the door, jumped in and slammed on the brakes right before the car jumped the curb and hit our neighbor's truck. I am not sure why I didn't just tell him to pull the emergency brake. Probably because that would have been too simple a solution. I don't do simple.

I couldn't help giving him a hard time.

"When you say, 'Let's go!' you really mean it."

You can say that again.

My daughter hates school. No, you don't understand. She really hates school.

How do I know this?

Because she was screaming all morning through her tears, "I hate school. I hate it. I am not going. I hate school!!!!" from about 6:30am until about 7:36am. That's a lot of hating, wouldn't you say?

I sat her down to try and figure out exactly where all the hating was coming from.

"Do you like your teacher? Is she nice to you? Did she yell at you?" I asked.
"Yes I like her. Yes, she is nice. And no, she doesn't yell at me. I just hate school," she whined.

"Do you know anyone in your class? I know that would be very scary for you if you didn't have friends in your class."
"Yes, I have friends in my class. I just hate school."

"Umm...did someone touch you or hurt you at school. You are really upset, I am just wondering if something happened." (It had to be asked.)
"No! No-one hurt me. I would tell you if they did. Don't you understand? I just HATE SCHOOL!"

Big sigh.... I get it. I understand there are just some things in life that we hate doing. I personally hate grocery shopping. I avoid it when I can. Unfortunately we all have to eat. If we didn't I would be $600 richer a month. The things I could do with that money.

"I understand you don't like to go to school. But we go to school so that we can learn. The more we learn, the smarter we are, and the smarter we are the more successful we will be. Maybe you don't like 4th grade, but you might love 5th grade. The only way you can find out is if you finish 4th grade," I reasoned.

"I won't like 5th grade either!" she screeched. "I hate all school!"

"Oh, Love. You really only have two choices at this point. You can go to school with puffy, crying eyes. Or you can calm down, eat your breakfast and pray that Heavenly Father will help you make it through this day," I explained.

"I don't want to go to school. I hate school. I don't want to pray!"

Great. There was only one thing left to do. Pour on the guilt.
"Do you want Mommy to go to jail?" I asked.
"Ummm....no. I don't want you to go to jail."
"If Mommy lets you stay home from school everyday because you hate school, not because you are sick, then the cops can take Mommy to jail." A slight exaggeration, but in extreme situations it could totally happen.

This was an extreme situation.

She thought it over. "Fine. I will go to school. But I still hate it. A lot!" She wiped off her tears and got dressed. She let me fix her hair and she ate breakfast. She even walked out the door with a smile on her face.

My oldest son looked at me after she left and said, "Wow! She is emotional."

That was an understatement.

"Welcome to the world of women, my boy."

What is that smell?

I smell.

No, I don't mean that I stink...although you would have disagreed with me if you stood next to me in the grocery line this morning after my rigorous Zumba workout. Yeah, I did smell.

What I mean is that I have a sensitive nose. If there is a good smell or a bad smell...it will be smelled. I love to smell my hair when I am bored; my hands when they are lotioned, my clothes when they are clean. I dread walking into my house and smelling my unpotty trained child's diaper that wasn't taken all the way outside, the burnt toast from this morning and the overall Rufus smell that constantly fills the air.  

But if you think my nose is bad, my son's is worse. He really smells.

He has always had a sensitive nose. This kid would never wash his pillowcase if he has his way because then it doesn't smell like...well...his night head sweat.

I knew he was going to be a sniffer at a very young age. Two to be exact.

He wouldn't shake hands with people when he was little because he didn't want to smell like them. If friends put one of his toys in their mouth he wouldn't play with it again. Ever. I remember cuddling him close to me and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He wiped it off with his hand, then lifted that hand to his nose and took a long whiff.

Yup. Natural born sniffer.

I am not quite sure how the two of us are going to survive these stinky, p-u-berty years....

Any suggestions??



Linking up with Jen Matlock's ABC Thursdays.

By the way, tomorrow is my recipe group here. We are making foods made with Citrus...lemons, limes, oranges. If you have any you want to share, LMK and I can linky it up on Friday.

May I have your attention, please!

No-one can say that I don't pay attention to my children.

No-one.

Nevermind that my little rascal writes on my wall. Okay, so it's walls. But who is counting? 

Surely you have made it to the grocery store before realizing that only two of the five children you took with you have on shoes. The others...not so much. C'mon! You've been there.

Yeah, I know there are brand-spanking-new markers floating around outside in Rufus' water bucket. Who do you think put them there? Wait a minute....that wasn't me. But I knew it was going to happen the minute I pulled out the paper for him to draw on with said markers. That's just the natural order of things...right? No?

Dirty faces. Empty gum wrappers in my purse. The rock collection on the floor.  All proof that I pay attention to my little ones.

But the best one happened this weekend.

Apparently Briggy made his way into the bathroom where all his diapers are kept. The Sam's Club sized diapers. He thought it a good idea to test those puppies out. In the sink. Yes, he did. He filled it up with both diapers and water. And then more water. And then more water. 

Yes, those diapers can hold a ton more than I could have dreamed possible.

Literally.

All I can say is I'm grateful it wasn't filled with something else.

That would have got my attention.

Wee! Wee! A shopping spree!!!!

I can think of a lot of things that I could do with $250.

I could buy a whole bunch of new socks and hide them from my sock stealing, elastic destroying, hole making, stinky footed 11 year old.

I could buy my 11 year old a bunch of socks.

I could pay someone to come clean my house every 2 weeks for 2 months. (That is tempting...)

I could buy myself some new clothes... in a smaller size because I am going to lose this baby weight. Shhhh...I know my baby has been out for two and a half years. Don't go there...I'm warning you.

I could start my Christmas shopping. (Bwahahaha...good one.)

I could take Hubs for an overnight extravaganza...without the kids. (If it was with the kids it would be far from extravaganza...)

So many things that I could do with $250.

I decided, however, to take my money and buy something really exciting.

You know, like buying  84, #2 pencils, 36 glue sticks, 16 dry erase markers (fat, skinny, and fine tipped), 3 pairs of Fiskar scissors, 12 multi-colored folders with prongs, 6 folders un-pronged, 3 rulers, too many spiral notebooks, a few packs of wide ruled paper, 2 calculators, a couple ringed binders, 5 packages of stickers, 7 boxes of Kleenex, 8 paper towels, 4 reams of paper, 6 boxes of Crayola crayons, paint, play dough, Ziploc bags, hand sanitizer, Lysol wipes. The list goes on.

Do you remember when you would bring your own box of supplies to school with you? And you could put your name on your crayons and folders, and glue, etc. Oh, and your folders could be fun and decorative. Sigh....

So that is what I did with my $250. And though it is hard to part with, it's money well spent.

Though, an extravaganza would be fun too....

All you are is...mean.

If you are a professional, I would expect you to behave like a professional. Am I wrong here?

I don't care how old you are. I don't care your field. I don't care how much I am paying you. You have the obligation to treat me, your customer with respect. This requirement is magnified the moment I place one of my children in your care.

This summer, my oldest joined the swim team in our community. It has been such a great experience for him. We encouraged  him to join because we knew it would be a confidence booster for him. We figured because it is such an individual sport and yet still a team sport it would be perfect for him.

You see, my oldest is very tender hearted. A better friend you will not find because he is genuine. He asks you a question because he really wants to know more about you. He is keenly aware of others feelings and doesn't want to hurt anyone. Great guy.

The flip side is that he isn't aggressive...at all. He struggles with this because so many boys his age are. They are much more competitive and rough and less considerate of others. He is willing to let others win just so they will feel good about themselves.

This is why when we heard about the swim team, we signed him up. And like I said, it has been great.

Today, however, when I pulled up to the pool to pick Kobe up, he was really quiet. Unusually quiet. I looked at him and asked, "Hey. What's up? Is everything okay?"

"I guess I am a baby," he replied, tearing up.
"What? Who told you that?" I asked, feeling the temperature in my blood start to rise.
"The assistant coach," he sniffled out.

I asked him to explain what happened.

**It is important to note that for the past week, they have been swimming with jeans so that when they compete, they will be much stronger.**

Well, today, for whatever reason, Kobe was having a hard time. Maybe it was because he swam in six different events Saturday. Maybe it's because he had his trunks on under his pants. Maybe it's because he is still getting over being sick. Maybe I am giving him too many excuses. But for whatever reason, it was really hard for him today.

Doesn't everyone have an off day? We are allowed that, right?

Apparently the assistant coach didn't think so. She started yelling at him, "Come on, you baby! Stop being a baby!!" She said this more than once.

These are children.

They aren't college students who have developed thick skin. They aren't high school kids who couldn't care less what you say because they know more than you anyway. No. You are working with impressionable kids who take what you say to heart. Some of them literally.

It's one thing to come from a peer. It's totally different to come from an adult. But it is absolutely unacceptable to come from a professional. Do you not know the difference between encouraging and degrading? Surely you know it does nothing in building their confidence.

I assured him that he wasn't a baby. The problem was not his...it sounded more like it was hers. Perhaps she hadn't learned that degrading others was not considered motivating.

You can bet that I will be at the pool tomorrow. Keeping an eye on that gal. Most likely speaking with the head coach.

Am I overreacting? Would you be upset? What would you do? 

Really, what should I do?

He IS clever!

My two year old can't say his 'G's. To be expected, right.

Today he came up to me and said, "Mommy. I want some dum."

"You want some gum?" I corrected.
"Yes. Dum."

"G.G.G. Gum," I coaxed.
"D.D.D. Dum."

My 11 year old, thinking he was pretty smart, said, "Briggy. Say, 'I'm a gummy." Are following his train of thought?

To which Brig replied, "You's a dummy."


By the way, tomorrow is going to be the appetizer recipe link up. Make some yummy appetizer. If you are on the ball, add a picture...or not. Blog about it. Then link up. Share your yummy appetizers so the rest of us can gain that last 5 pounds we have been hoping for enjoy them as well. See ya tomorrow!