Team Superman!!

How is this match up even fair??

Superman is hot!
  

 

Ben Affleck is…

well…

not.

Superman was born with super powers.

 

Batman has a car, 

a suit 

and some really strong cords.

That's it!!

In a head to head battle, 

Superman wins. 

Every time. 

Why?

Just look at that head!!

Moving on….

I used to spend all year dreaming about these..

Not any more.

I guess I just got sick of them.

After eating 100 eggs,
the taste just gets annoying!

Plus your lips turn bright blue…
And I do mean bright blue.

I've moved on.

Now I spend all year dreaming about these....

Who's with me?

Hot stuff

I love candy.

I love cinnamon.

And when the two come together... angels sing.









The beauty of cinnamon candy, besides that it is SO good, is that most children can't handle the heat.

Translation....I get the whole bag to myself.

And that is the real reason cinnamon candy has quickly become my go-to candy.

Now...if I can just convince my kids that chocolate is disgusting.....

Rich

I keep wondering when I am going to be rich.

I'm not talking about rich with love and family and friends and blessings.

I'm talking rich with money. You know...the stuff that can buy stuff.

I keep thinking that it will be tomorrow.

"Dream big!" they say. So I do. I dream...the impossible dream. Sometimes I go to bed early just so I can put dream longer.

But then I wake up...

...not rich!

Sigh....

Maybe tomorrow.

Now if you will excuse me...

...I've got some dreams to catch.


**If only it were that easy.

We know our own

What is it about other people's kids' poop?

Look, I have changed my share of poopy diapers. Heck I have 5 kids... all of them poop. Lucky for me, they are all out of diapers and I don't have to have an intimate relationship with their "goings" anymore.

But I remember those years...
...12 years of wiping wreckage...
....and let's face it: Poop stinks!
It just does.

But why do other people's kids' poop reek WAY worse than my own kids'???

I admit there were times when changing my kids' diapers that there was a gag or two. But they were few and far between. (Now, if you are Hubs, then you gag at the very thought of changing a poopy diaper...but that' Hubs...and another post for another time.)

But without question, every time I changed another's diaper pile, I had to hold my breath or I was going to lose my lunch. EVERY TIME!

Does anyone have any insight on this most important matter?  

He could use a lesson or two....

Were you an egg-er? 
I was never an egger. More of a T.P-er myself.

But the number one rule for pranking another person is to NOT GET CAUGHT. I mean what is the point of doing something like that if you are going to be seen doing it? Duh.

I don't think that Justin Beiber ever learned that rule. I mean who eggs their own neighbor with 20 eggs in broad daylight while everyone is awake?

He needs to take a lesson from the person who egged our house a few months ago.

I suspect they did it at night while everyone was asleep. They were aiming for my kids open windows. Lucky for my boys, the vandals needed a little target practice.

Unlucky for us, we didn't realized we had been egged until about 1pm...you know, after the eggs had time to fry in the hot sun on the front of my house.

Don't know if you knew this, but cooked egg does not easily come off stucco.

On the bright side, there has been an influx birds in our neighborhood so it's all good.  

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?

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?

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.

Large appliances can be so rude!

My dryer hates me. It is now refusing to dry my clothes. Rude, right?

I mean, they are made for that purpose alone. Hence the name...DRYER. Sadly, mine did not get the memo. Or he was playing hooky the day they taught "The Purpose of Your Life: To Dry" in dryer school.

Yeah, I know it's been used. Heck, I bought it on Craig's List. But that's all the more reason for it to perform well for me. Heck, if I hadn't come along where would he be now? In some landfill? Maybe the side of someone's yard? I mean, he should be thanking me for taking what no-one else wanted. Sheesh.

Nope. Mine is not showing any gratitude whatsoever. In fact it is punishing me for helping to fulfill his life's work.

Oh, he hasn't gone on a full-on occupy strike yet. He's just dragging out his work.

Doesn't he know that I don't have time to dry each load one and a half times. No matter the size? Well, okay. I can't honestly say I have tried the x-small or small settings.

They do not exist in my household.

I do not want to buy a new dryer until I have money to buy a washer to go with it. Not because I want them to match, although that is one of the benefits. But I am desirous for once in my lifetime to own a washer and dryer that has the same load capacity. That has yet to happen.

So until then, I'm stuck with a dryer that does half the work and clothes that are slightly soggy.

He hates me. So rude! 

I'm sorry. That's just weird

I was listening to the radio this evening and heard an advertisement for a huge valentine bear. "Make her Valentine's big with this huge stuffed Valentines Day bear."

Really? An over-sized, stuffed, Valentines Day bear?

 I am just curious...do you know any grown woman who is just hoping that her significant other is going to buy her an enormous stuffed bear?

Are you that woman? If you are, you should probably stop following me. Kidding. Really. Don't do that.

But seriously. What do you do with it? Surely he wouldn't have given it to you so that you could cuddle up to it instead of him. I am pretty sure that would defeat his purpose completely. Do you place it on your freshly made bed every morning? Do you get professional pictures with it and then frame it and give it to him next year?

Seriously. What would a grown woman do with a huge stuffed bear? I mean don't most women want some nice flowers, a nice dinner, maybe some chocolate (Maybe? Okay, "You're dead to me if I don't get chocolate" is slightly more accurate) and time with their special person? Isn't that the norm?

But a bear? The only thing that I can think I would do with something like that is terrorize my children. Now that would be fun.

"Time for bed kids!"
"Ahhh, Mom. Can't we please watch a movie."
"Nope. Bed time. Skidattle."
"Please......."
Deep growly, slightly disturbing voice, "I said...'GET IN BED!!'"
"...oh no. Not that. RUN! It's Scary Bear!!!!"

He would come in handy when there were disobedient children. Great for kids who refuse to eat the veggies. Definitely handy for those times when the whining just won't stop. Oh, yes. Scary bear would be perfect for any mother with more than one child.

But as a turn on....not so much.

This may be why Hubs has never gotten me an over-sized stuffed bear for Valentine's Day.

He knows I have a dark side.

Don't give up on me....

I used to be a blogger
Who posted everyday
And I was always tickled
With how much I had to say

I'd talk about my children
My husband  and my life
My childhood and my children
Wait, I just said that twice

I'd wake up every morning
My comments sure to read
"How many people do I have
Who want to follow me? "

They'd read my blog and I theirs
Because that's what we do
I'd leave my sentence on their post
And watch as my numbers grew

Then something happened, call it life,
Or tuggers on my time
But the posts that flowed so easily
I couldn't beat out of my mind.

People say "I've lost my mojo,"
others say "Writers block"
With five kids and a husband
I've not time upon my clock

By the time I have a moment
To sit and catch my breath
My brain has gone all mushy
No creativity left.

I'm still married to a Deaf Man
And children I still have five.
I'm still a little quirky
And have family stories to contrive.

So if you're wondering where I've gone
Don't worry, do not fret.
Although I write less frequently
I've got some stories yet.

5 passions

If you are passionate about something, you would spend every waking hour with it. You would surround yourself with that thing.  One look around your house and people would know...that's your passion.

One look around my house and you would assume that my passions were:

Laundry... because you know I have a ton of it. And I practically spend every waking hour with it. I have piles and piles and piles. Practically in every room of my house. Dirty. Clean. Folded. Unfolded. We have laundry.

or

Soccer balls. For whatever reason I seem to have an abnormal amount of soccer balls. If I had to count I would guess I have 13+ soccer balls. Between me coaching two soccer teams last year and one this year...then add to it that to get the great deal on soccer shoes and shin guards, you have to get a ball...times 2 boys times 2 years. Then I bought them the wrong sized balls but couldn't return them because we had already used them. Don't ask where the other ones came from....yes there are others....because I don't know where they came from.

or

Smiths plastic bags. Remember, I have 7 people in my family. We eat a lot of food. So it is no shock that I often visit the grocery store. And since I want to destroy the Earth I make sure to get as many plastic bags as I can get each time I visit. Which is a lot. Too many. They're taking over my pantry. I do throw them away because, again, Earth hater.
or

Toys. This week it's Lego's. Other days it's Galactic Heroes. Blocks. Cars. I've tried to get rid of them....but they are like rabbits...they multiply in the box. I am not even kidding. Okay, yes I am. But wouldn't that be insane. Can you imagine? If toys could multiply and replenish the Earth? Yeah, now take that image and write Stef's House on it. Too many toys!!

or

Hair. I know. That's gross, right? Not gross because it sounds like I am confessing to being a hairy...not that there's anything wrong with that...err...ummm. But let's be clear: I am not hairy. But I shed. More than I knew. Plus a have a daughter with long hair. She inherited my sheddy-ness. I also have a lab....not a place where I do experiments on my children kind of lab, although...hmmm... I am talking about the barking, fetching, wet nose, mark my bedroom kind of lab. The dog kind. And he sheds more than all of us. Boy, do we have hair.

Are these my passions? Not in the least. But if you walked into my house...

....you might disagree. 

What's your passion??

If I had twins...

Sometimes I run out of blogging ideas. I know. Hard to believe that my little brain would run out of things to say, but it happens from time to time. And when it does, I look for random questions to help me pretend I am clever.

Cat's out of the bag now....

So the question I came upon this time was this....

If you had twins what would you name them?

Okay, first off, if I had twins I think I just might kill myself. Women who have multiple babies are amazing...but on the same day and live to tell it, they are going straight to Heaven. And if I went to Heaven right now I think I would get a swift kick in the butt and sent back down the yellow brick road that leads to a much hotter place that includes hockey sticks.

I'm not Heaven ready.

I mean, besides the pain, and you know there would be a lot of it, you have to come up with two names that both people can agree on. I mean, it's hard enough coming up with one name. Did I tell you that Hubs was totally serious about naming our first child Cosmo....you know, after the BYU mascot. Not because he knew the guy who played Cosmo, he just loves big, furry, stuffed cougars...that or he loves BYU. I like BYU, but not enough to name my firstborn after the cougar named Cosmo.  Oh, and if my first was a girl, he wanted to name her Peekaboo.

Yeah, I know. Thank goodness my children have me.

I did promise, however, that if I ever had twins I wouldn't dress them the same. Not because it isn't cute....okay, dressing twins like twins actually bothers me. As if looking alike isn't enough, why would you need to dress them the same? Do you not want people to be able to tell them apart? 

But, whatever. If you dress your twins the same, don't be offended. I'm not offended when people say, "Your son doesn't have shoes on and needs his face washed." Nope. The truth never bothers me.

So, if I had twins...what would I name them?

I definitely wouldn't have similar names...

Kayla and Kyla....nope. Mike and Mark...uhhh uhhh. Joan and Joanne...nope.  Meagan and Reagan....individually they are great, but for twins. No. Colby and Kobe....don't do it. Give the poor kids some independent identity. Cut down on the chaos. I also wouldn't name them all George. That's just weird. 

So, if I had twins....wait a second. That is never going to happen. And I do mean never. He took care of that...Hubs. Okay, well, technically it was the doctor....and more technically that doctor was my brother-in-law, a little awkward, ....but having twins is no longer a possibility

So if I had twins I would name them:

Howtheheck and Didthishappen. 

Curse you, Decvon!!!

We decided to get an alarm system.

Not because we live in an area that has a high burglary problem. And it's not because we have seen weird people lurking around our neighborhood. I think mostly we got it because we had $50/month that we didn't want so why not throw it at an alarm company....cough cough..ahem. Yeah. That it.

Truth be told, we got the system because Hubs really wanted it. Why? "Because you can control it from your phone! You can control the temperature of you house when you aren't there and you can look at pictures when you aren't there and you can arm and disarm it from your phone." That's really why we got it. Not because we wanted to protect our children and our property.

Do we use it? Hello! nope  I can't answer that on this blog. never I mean that would just be inviting someone to come and take our stuff. not even once. So do we use it? I'm gonna say yes. liar

There are aspects of the system that I do like. I like the verbal alerts we get when a door or window is opened. I know if someone is coming in or going out. I do like that. I like that I can control my thermostat, because for the first month of ownership we didn't. Have control. Of a lot of things but specifically the temperature of my house.
Want to know what I don't like? In the corner of my family room, way up high is a camera. This camera takes pictures. Around the same time every morning. A 180 degree picture of the three downstairs rooms. You would think that it would be used to take pictures in case an intruder entered the house.

Nope.

I think it's collecting evidence. Evidence that I am a slob. Evidence that my house is rarely clean before 11am.

I know this because every afternoon the picture gets sent to my email. Sometimes there is still breakfast dishes on the table. Other times laundry is half folded half not on the couch. Often there are toys and books left out on the floor. And there have been times when all three of them happen at the same time.

See what I mean, evidence.

No more pretending that my house is clean. No more pretending that my children put away their dishes every morning. No more acting as if my laundry never sits in baskets unfolded.

I've been found out. 

How often...

...do you clean out your car?

You mean people do that?

What? Not everyone can pull out a meal from their car at any given time?

I rather like my large collection of random rocks and sticks laying on its floor.

Crayons anyone?

My glove compartment puts Netflix to shame.

I can't tell you how many half empty....I mean half full water bottles I have rolling around in there.

There may or may not be an extra pair of shoes for at least two of my children at any given time.

Oddly enough, I even saw a roll of toilet paper in there. Don't ask.

So if you ask me how often I clean out my car, I would respond,

...not nearly enough.

Yes sirrreee!

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?

Wanted

I'm the best dog sitter in the world.

Yup. Even my co-worker trusted me so much that she gave me two of her dogs. Nevermind that I never wanted to be a two dog family. Five children, yes. One husband...absolutely. (not in that order...) But two dogs? No. And yet, here I am: Hubs and Stef plus 5...oh and 2.

My point, she trusted me enough with her precious dogs, (nevermind that she was giving away her precious dogs) that she gave them to me. I'm that good.

So you can trust me with your dogs. Unless, of course, you want your dog back alive. In that case you should ask someone else.

My friend, who has been letting my Rufus stay at her house for 3 1/2 weeks, asked me to watch her dog for a week while she goes out of town. Sure! No problem. It's the least I could do, right?

Well, the last two days we have been loading boxes from our storage until to our new home. My friends have been awesome. They just show up and say, "Well, come on! I have my truck/van. Let's go get your stuff." So my living room and garage are quickly filling up with boxes full of who knows what because I didn't label everything.

I know. I've only moved 11 times in 14 years. You would think I would remember that in order to get things to the right place, you have to label them. But I didn't. And now it's too late. I am in complete and utter chaos. So basically no different than every other day of my life, right?

So this afternoon, I went grocery shopping and when I came back, Hubs greets me at the door and casually mentions, "Oh, hey. Kayde ate mouse poison." 

"Ummm. What!! Are you kidding me? When? How? Where did she get it from? How much did she eat?" I started to fuh-reak out.

Apparently she got back behind the boxes, knocked down the one that had the poison in it, ripped open the bag and ate a TON of it. I know. (The mice thank her.) She is a pretty smart dog...in a dumb sort of way. I mean, she did eat poison.

To the dog emergency room I went. They had to induce vomiting 3 times and even then they still saw significant amounts of DeCon in her vomit. Poor doggy. Now she has prescription Vitamine K to prevent internal damage.

So my friend still has her dog. I still have my friend. All's well that ends well, right?

Let me know if you need a babysitter some time. I am sure I can find some shards of glass to feed them.

You might want to sit somewhere else.

I don't love flying.

I don't hate it. I just really don't enjoy it. I always think to myself, "Mine is going to be the plane that crashes." I also think this on roller coasters and ferris wheels, but nevermind that.

(Did I ever mention that I am related to the person who invented the ferris wheel? No? Well, I am.)

Where was I? Oh, right. Don't love flying. I will do it. And once I am up in the air I can usually distract myself. But take offs and landings...ugh!

Well, last week, as you might know, I flew to California to be reunited with my family. I was so excited and wanted to get out of the plane quickly, so I took the closest seat I could find.

I sat down, got settled, small talked with the guy next to me. Ready for flight. Then the flight attendant walked up and stood in front of me and started talking. To me.

"You have chosen to sit by the exits...blah blah blah." That's really all I heard. Kinda like when I was in labor with Brig and the triage nurse said, "Nope, you won't be getting an epidural tonight. You are too far along..." I just stopped listening.

He said something about helping others off the plane and then something about if I couldn't get off safely to just slide off the wing...or something. "Just make sure when we take off and land to watch the wings to make sure there are no flames coming out of the engines."

"This airplane is not going to crash," I told myself. "When has my plane ever crashed? Never. This is going to be the same. I am not going to have to help people off this plane. I am not going to have to slide down the wing. Sitting here is just fine."

After about 10 minutes of boarding, we hear a loud noise coming from outside the plane....like the engines are running. Cool. Time to go, right? Then the pilot comes on the speaker, "Sorry folks. We are having some minor engine problems on the right side of the plane. We are just gonna take a few minutes to test it out and then we will be on our way."

Wait a second...does he mean his right, or my right? That question was quickly answered when I peaked out the window and saw the mechanics checking out the engine...on my side of the plane.

Minor engine problems. Who wants to hear that? Minor engine problems are only minor until they become major. And once they become major, you have people sliding off the wings of the planes. Minor indeed.

After about 20 minutes, the "minor" problem was no longer minor. Nor was it a problem. Really? And the check engine light came on because...? You might want to check the check engine light.

It seems to be having minor problems.

P.S. I lived, in case you were wondering.

Dropping a line...or two.

Boy, I haven't been on here for a while. Moving is a pain...buying a house is a pain. Doing both at the same time...yeah, well... you get the picture.

My blogging mojo....must be packed in some box...in my storage unit. Don't worry....I think I know where it is...I just need to find the time to pull it out.

This week I have been spending a lot of time with my oldest. He is so wonderful! I love him. We have been to swim team every morning, Red Lobster, the dump, the movies to watch Avengers, Wal-Mart. This guy even went with me to a Girl's Night Out. He must love me.
 

Hubs is such a trooper. He took the kids up north....even with half of them sick and complaining of tummy aches and fire poop. Yeah, he's great. He also got the winshield and the lights replaced on our van. Don't you love having to fix up your car so that you won't get a ticket in another state.

Yeah, that's how we roll.

Yeah, I miss them.

Besides feeling a little out of sorts, and missing my family, I think I may just enjoy a few mornings to sleep in next week. 


That's all I've got.