It's the space issue. Oh , I've got plenty of bedrooms, more than enough bathrooms. Heck, there is even a playroom.
I don't have enough food storage space.
I just bought 100 pound of wheat. And by the calculations, that is not near enough to last me a year for my family of 4. We also invested in some water containers, you know, the big blue ones. We have two, and for our family, we need like 10. I've got cans of green beans, and cans of chili. I've got pears that I canned myself. I've got boxes of cereal, oatmeal, powdered milk. Sugar, flour, rice, and now a bunch of wheat.
My little cold storage room is too full to add another kid-
Of course if I cleaned my storage room out, and took all the toys I am hiding from my boys back, then I'd have enough space. Although if I did that, we'd need another play room.
See there just isn't enough space.
You understand, I just need an excuse not to feel too down on myself. This is the best thing I've come up with, so I'm running with it. It was helping, although, now I feel guilty that I don't have enough food storage.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
We have 4 chickens, and a dog.
The previous owners of our current home had chickens. 4 of them. All my life I wanted to live on a farm, apparently, as I have always asked big d if I could have chickens, or a goat, or a cow, or whatever. So imagine my joy when the owners of the house, asked if we wanted to keep the chickens. Oh yeah.
so they lay eggs. Yummy fresh brown eggs. The are just getting back into laying after a couple of months off. I'm no slave driver, I figure if it is winter, I don't' want to do much. But now I've insisted that they begin the production back up. The average was 3 eggs a day. One chicken either doesn't know how, or she thinks she's the rooster. Whatever. 3 is good for us, it keeps our supply up, and I don't have to buy the store ones. Of course, we have done the math and feeding our chickens amounts to the eggs being about twice what you would pay in the store. Oh well, you can imagine how much fun we have checking the coop everyday and bringing in a fresh egg.
It seems that they are starting to get spring fever, and I found two eggs in the coop today. They had almost buried them, so I'm thinking they aren't ready to let go. To bad, I made muffins yesterday and I'm running low on eggs. So I grab em, and stick them on the porch. I had found that my porch mat had blown over in the wind, so I went to pick it up, and since it had been raining, there were about a million worms. Chicken's like worms, so I load them up in the bucket and feed them to the chickens, leaving my eggs unattended.
Can you guess what happened? Yeah, my faithful loving pooch decided the eggs where hers. So I get back to take the eggs in the house, only they aren't there. The dog, it seems likes to play fetch with the eggs, and she brought me one of them. After yelling and giving her a stern look, I look around for the other one. I can't find it anywhere. I don't have a big yard, and there's not much there seeing that it is spring. I am getting frustrated looking for a stupid egg.
I finally give up after taking about 4 laps around my yard. I guess she just ate it. So I take the one in the house (better one than none) wash it, and put it in the fridge. I went upstairs for something, opened my blinds and looked out just in time to see my dog un-burying an egg. The thief! She knew what I was looking for, and she knew to hide it. She picked it up delicately in her mouth and went under the kids slide to break it open and eat it.
That is the smartest behavior that dog has exhibited yet!
so they lay eggs. Yummy fresh brown eggs. The are just getting back into laying after a couple of months off. I'm no slave driver, I figure if it is winter, I don't' want to do much. But now I've insisted that they begin the production back up. The average was 3 eggs a day. One chicken either doesn't know how, or she thinks she's the rooster. Whatever. 3 is good for us, it keeps our supply up, and I don't have to buy the store ones. Of course, we have done the math and feeding our chickens amounts to the eggs being about twice what you would pay in the store. Oh well, you can imagine how much fun we have checking the coop everyday and bringing in a fresh egg.
It seems that they are starting to get spring fever, and I found two eggs in the coop today. They had almost buried them, so I'm thinking they aren't ready to let go. To bad, I made muffins yesterday and I'm running low on eggs. So I grab em, and stick them on the porch. I had found that my porch mat had blown over in the wind, so I went to pick it up, and since it had been raining, there were about a million worms. Chicken's like worms, so I load them up in the bucket and feed them to the chickens, leaving my eggs unattended.
Can you guess what happened? Yeah, my faithful loving pooch decided the eggs where hers. So I get back to take the eggs in the house, only they aren't there. The dog, it seems likes to play fetch with the eggs, and she brought me one of them. After yelling and giving her a stern look, I look around for the other one. I can't find it anywhere. I don't have a big yard, and there's not much there seeing that it is spring. I am getting frustrated looking for a stupid egg.
I finally give up after taking about 4 laps around my yard. I guess she just ate it. So I take the one in the house (better one than none) wash it, and put it in the fridge. I went upstairs for something, opened my blinds and looked out just in time to see my dog un-burying an egg. The thief! She knew what I was looking for, and she knew to hide it. She picked it up delicately in her mouth and went under the kids slide to break it open and eat it.
That is the smartest behavior that dog has exhibited yet!
Mornings
I really dread getting up in the morning. I remember having to get up and go to work (at a library, no less) at 10am, and I thought that was insane. Early in our married life, we used to stay up nightly until 2 am! What did we do?? Well, we didn't have kids, so the possibilities were endless-
But now I've got kids. Neither of them are early morning risers, on occasion they break the 7 am rule, but for the most part, we are good. If the mood hits them both right, they can even make it past 8 on the weekend.
However, now that Harry attends the local public elementary school, morning life has become a bit more ...um...frustrating. You see, besides the fact that I don't want to get up, Harry doesn't want to get out of his bed either. He is becoming a master at dawdling in his covers, waiting for me to physically drag him out of his bed. Don't get me wrong, on the odd occasion, I'll look in there and see him already dressed, bed made and a happy smile. Most mornings, I peek my head in, he's sitting on his floor , bum naked, staring off into some sort of hazy realm. What is even more funny is when I look in on him and he's naked, sitting on the heat vent trying to get warm. I've told him a good idea is to actually get clothes on, but he insists that the best approach is to sit, buck naked, on a cold metal vent cover, under the drafty window trying to capture the heat with his leg hairs. See, he doesn't wake up well either.
Now Chilly on the other hand, he wakes up with a smile. Of course!! He wakes up in my bed. On my pillow. In my blankets. Chilly has become the master at kicking me out of my bed. We have a king size bed, which is good, because without it, I would be sleeping on the floor. He consistently wiggles to push me off. I have a nice big pillow, you know, big enough for two? Nope, he snuggles me right off of it. I end up sleeping on the bump in the middle of the mattress with my head stretching to abnormal limits, trying to keep a grip on the closest corner of my pillow. NO wonder I am a such a morning grump. See, Chilly knows how to get a good night sleep. He usually wakes up refreshed and ready for the day.
The moment I say "good morning" to Chilly dear, he just smiles. His eyes are closed and he looks as if he is enjoying a peaceful slumber. But he will always smile. Harry hears "good morning", and dives back under his covers and groans at me.
Or worse, throws something at me.
But now I've got kids. Neither of them are early morning risers, on occasion they break the 7 am rule, but for the most part, we are good. If the mood hits them both right, they can even make it past 8 on the weekend.
However, now that Harry attends the local public elementary school, morning life has become a bit more ...um...frustrating. You see, besides the fact that I don't want to get up, Harry doesn't want to get out of his bed either. He is becoming a master at dawdling in his covers, waiting for me to physically drag him out of his bed. Don't get me wrong, on the odd occasion, I'll look in there and see him already dressed, bed made and a happy smile. Most mornings, I peek my head in, he's sitting on his floor , bum naked, staring off into some sort of hazy realm. What is even more funny is when I look in on him and he's naked, sitting on the heat vent trying to get warm. I've told him a good idea is to actually get clothes on, but he insists that the best approach is to sit, buck naked, on a cold metal vent cover, under the drafty window trying to capture the heat with his leg hairs. See, he doesn't wake up well either.
Now Chilly on the other hand, he wakes up with a smile. Of course!! He wakes up in my bed. On my pillow. In my blankets. Chilly has become the master at kicking me out of my bed. We have a king size bed, which is good, because without it, I would be sleeping on the floor. He consistently wiggles to push me off. I have a nice big pillow, you know, big enough for two? Nope, he snuggles me right off of it. I end up sleeping on the bump in the middle of the mattress with my head stretching to abnormal limits, trying to keep a grip on the closest corner of my pillow. NO wonder I am a such a morning grump. See, Chilly knows how to get a good night sleep. He usually wakes up refreshed and ready for the day.
The moment I say "good morning" to Chilly dear, he just smiles. His eyes are closed and he looks as if he is enjoying a peaceful slumber. But he will always smile. Harry hears "good morning", and dives back under his covers and groans at me.
Or worse, throws something at me.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
so I did it.
I broke out the capris and the flip flops. I even wore a spring-y skirt to church today. I skipped the pantyhose and wore some cute summer shoes.
I sat in the chapel freezing me arse off.
No matter what the callendar says, it is still winter here in Utah.
I sat in the chapel freezing me arse off.
No matter what the callendar says, it is still winter here in Utah.
Lovie, I shall never forget you.
When I was a little girl, I had a blankie. A lovie. It was lime green, it had a hand quilted cat in the middle, and even more important, it had picos at the edges. Little triangles that looked like the back bone of a Stegosaurus. I loved this blanket. I treasured this blankie. I took it everywhere, especially to the babysitters.
My mom worked for an established candy factory at the time. She would come home from work and smell wonderfully like chocolate. Oh how I loved to visit her at work. We would walk out of the place with a chocolate reject, or a bag of popcorn, or an ice cream cone. As much as I loved my dark cherry chocolates, my billy mints, or the homemade ice cream, I loved my blankie more.
Well, there was this one time that Mom dropped me off at the babysitters, and for some reason, I left my blankie in the car. I didn't' notice the missing lovie until it was nap time at the baby sitters house. (note: baby sitter was a mean old woman with extreme arthritis. Her fingers were deformed and she smelled of some kind of pain reliever cream) I didn't have it for my nap. I remember throwing a fit, and being really upset that I couldn't snuggle. Now, you might think me a little bit of a pill, but this babysitter scared the begeebies out of me. And when you are a kid, the most ordinary things have super powers. Like my blankie. I couldn't protect myself without the green safety wrap from my blankie.
Although I had forgotten to take it to the sitters, my mom for some odd reason, took it into the candy factory with her. She worked in this huge room where she would roll out the centers. There were these two big barrels of melting chocolate in there. The pure stuff. She had stuffed the blanket on a shelf while she worked making divine treats.
Think of my surprise, after mom got home from work that day, and my misplaced blankie smelled just like mom. Just like the candy factory. It truly was love.
Of course, as all these stories go, my blankie disappeared one day. I went to school one morning, it was there, I came home, it was gone. I cried. I thought I had lost it. I looked in my Mickey mouse toy box, under my bunk bed, down in the dreaded basement laundry room. Nothing. It was no where to be found. I grieved for my favorite blankie for a week. Tears of utter abandonment. I kept grieving for a lifetime. Of course in kid years a lifetime equals about 2 months... give or take.. I kept up my search during these summer months, each time the search getting less intense. Soon I didn't look anymore, I just wished.
Eventually, I forgot about my blankie. It was hard to remember the exact color it was, or the feel of the fabric between my fingers. I had other super hero blankets, although none were as wonderful as my prized green lovie.
Then one day, something unexpected happened. My dear sweet chocolate mom was dusting. I noticed that her rag was a torn up something, her dirty dust rag looked too familiar. It, of course, was my blankie. My sweet blankie was now a ragged, torn up, cleaning tool. Filthy with dust and pledge.I never trusted her again. At least in the promised words of a 7 year old.
To this day, the smell of pledge and a dirty rag always break my heart. Is it any wonder that I refuse to dust my own home??
My mom worked for an established candy factory at the time. She would come home from work and smell wonderfully like chocolate. Oh how I loved to visit her at work. We would walk out of the place with a chocolate reject, or a bag of popcorn, or an ice cream cone. As much as I loved my dark cherry chocolates, my billy mints, or the homemade ice cream, I loved my blankie more.
Well, there was this one time that Mom dropped me off at the babysitters, and for some reason, I left my blankie in the car. I didn't' notice the missing lovie until it was nap time at the baby sitters house. (note: baby sitter was a mean old woman with extreme arthritis. Her fingers were deformed and she smelled of some kind of pain reliever cream) I didn't have it for my nap. I remember throwing a fit, and being really upset that I couldn't snuggle. Now, you might think me a little bit of a pill, but this babysitter scared the begeebies out of me. And when you are a kid, the most ordinary things have super powers. Like my blankie. I couldn't protect myself without the green safety wrap from my blankie.
Although I had forgotten to take it to the sitters, my mom for some odd reason, took it into the candy factory with her. She worked in this huge room where she would roll out the centers. There were these two big barrels of melting chocolate in there. The pure stuff. She had stuffed the blanket on a shelf while she worked making divine treats.
Think of my surprise, after mom got home from work that day, and my misplaced blankie smelled just like mom. Just like the candy factory. It truly was love.
Of course, as all these stories go, my blankie disappeared one day. I went to school one morning, it was there, I came home, it was gone. I cried. I thought I had lost it. I looked in my Mickey mouse toy box, under my bunk bed, down in the dreaded basement laundry room. Nothing. It was no where to be found. I grieved for my favorite blankie for a week. Tears of utter abandonment. I kept grieving for a lifetime. Of course in kid years a lifetime equals about 2 months... give or take.. I kept up my search during these summer months, each time the search getting less intense. Soon I didn't look anymore, I just wished.
Eventually, I forgot about my blankie. It was hard to remember the exact color it was, or the feel of the fabric between my fingers. I had other super hero blankets, although none were as wonderful as my prized green lovie.
Then one day, something unexpected happened. My dear sweet chocolate mom was dusting. I noticed that her rag was a torn up something, her dirty dust rag looked too familiar. It, of course, was my blankie. My sweet blankie was now a ragged, torn up, cleaning tool. Filthy with dust and pledge.I never trusted her again. At least in the promised words of a 7 year old.
To this day, the smell of pledge and a dirty rag always break my heart. Is it any wonder that I refuse to dust my own home??
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
I probably shouldn't pretend anymore, because ...
I'm not 19. I still feel that old, even if I've got two boys. I've been married 8 years. I've got a 10 year class reunion this year. But I still feel like a teenager. Sometimes I wish I could act like a teenager, moody, irresponsible...That kind of thing.
I like classic rock. I can't get into all this new bubble gum American idol crap. Sorry. I'm a true die hard Beatles fanatic. I enjoy Pink Floyd, Kansas, Led Zepplin. I prefer my old man's music to my husbands choice of "alternate". Of course I also have a vast library of musicals to my name. Interesting paradox.
I really like to eat candy. Not just candy, but pastries too. I just can't ignore the fact that I am always on the lookout for the next sugar score. No wonder I can't fit into those jeans I once painted to look like hippy pants. I can't fit into the fat jeans I wore after I gave birth. I guess I'm going to be "big boned" for the rest of my days. At least I'll die with brownie points.
I honestly don't know how to sing. I try, you know, in my shower, in the car. But when your 5 year old and 2 year old hold their hands over their ears and yell at mommy to stop...Well, you get the idea.
I'm not destined to be a professional actor, painter, photographer, dancer, or any other artistic genius. I always thought I would be. I know, I can always still dream about it, but I probably shouldn't be telling people I've got all these amazing SKILZ. Of course I DO have super mom powers, but that is top secret. Professional MOM? Never heard of it.
I buy more things online than I do at the store. Hmm, could I just be anti-social? Maybe I'm just lazy. Oh well, I enjoy my online shopping spree's. I enjoy getting packages in the mail. The thrill of hunt, comparing prices, shipping times. Oh, it is glorious to me. And I'm not really spending money, right?
I like classic rock. I can't get into all this new bubble gum American idol crap. Sorry. I'm a true die hard Beatles fanatic. I enjoy Pink Floyd, Kansas, Led Zepplin. I prefer my old man's music to my husbands choice of "alternate". Of course I also have a vast library of musicals to my name. Interesting paradox.
I really like to eat candy. Not just candy, but pastries too. I just can't ignore the fact that I am always on the lookout for the next sugar score. No wonder I can't fit into those jeans I once painted to look like hippy pants. I can't fit into the fat jeans I wore after I gave birth. I guess I'm going to be "big boned" for the rest of my days. At least I'll die with brownie points.
I honestly don't know how to sing. I try, you know, in my shower, in the car. But when your 5 year old and 2 year old hold their hands over their ears and yell at mommy to stop...Well, you get the idea.
I'm not destined to be a professional actor, painter, photographer, dancer, or any other artistic genius. I always thought I would be. I know, I can always still dream about it, but I probably shouldn't be telling people I've got all these amazing SKILZ. Of course I DO have super mom powers, but that is top secret. Professional MOM? Never heard of it.
I buy more things online than I do at the store. Hmm, could I just be anti-social? Maybe I'm just lazy. Oh well, I enjoy my online shopping spree's. I enjoy getting packages in the mail. The thrill of hunt, comparing prices, shipping times. Oh, it is glorious to me. And I'm not really spending money, right?
Well, there ya go.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Memory road-
My parents moved shortly after I got married. They moved to a "nice" house in a different part of town. I love the new house. It is nice and elegant and shows off the decorating skills of my mom. My kids have never known the "old" house.
I went up to my parents new house today. I was delivering some stuff to them, but they weren't home. I just left it on the porch. I asked my boys what they wanted to do. It seemed so silly to drive 45 minutes to my parents, and then just leave. So we went on a tour of my old neighborhood. I drove my boys past my old high school. Harry was so impressed at how big it was, then by the old elementary school. Harry again was impressed that I had actually gone to an elementary school. We turned up the road; the familiar path, headed for my old home. It was almost surreal. I hadn't been back for several years. Tree's really do grow, people who you thought had it all, really don't. We kept on until we were there. A small little house with this huge park-like back yard. You can't see the yard from the street, because of the fence my dad built for my wedding reception, but I can see it in my mind.
I tried to tell Harry about what it looked like inside, my bedroom, the fireplace, but I couldn't explain it. I didn't know if I should explain it how it really was, or how I wanted to remember it? My brain couldn't find the words. This was my refuge from the world during those angst filled teenage years. This house had held a lot of secrets. Some good, and some not-so-good. But it was still home.
I was sad when I looked at it. The yard has fallen into a mess, the fence is looking old and dull, there were cars parked everywhere, and they didn't look like they were go-able.
I looped around so we could look at it again, but Harry and Chilly seemed to find this boring, so I drove on. Heart heavy and wishing I hadn't ever driven by. Things change, it was just house, right?
So I turn the car up the hill, past the houses getting bigger and bigger. Harry is wondering if our amazing mini-van will make it. I assure him it will, and won't he be surprised when we get there. Where?? I kept going, passed the gates that usually were closed to the public. It is now a gated community. I ignore the "no trespassing sign" and keep on going. I tell Harry about 3 wheeling here, where there used to be no houses. Now that is all there is. Million dollar houses. I keep going up, and soon we hit a turn in the road where Harry and chilly look out the window and see the whole valley.
"WOW! Mom look, you can see the whole world."
But I am sad. I am devastated actually, for the reason I know this road is because there used to be a trailhead, informal at that, that used to be my favorite hiking place. Gone. It has been replaced by a house. A gaudy, grotesque, flamboyant, mansion of a house.
I had planned to take my boys hiking at this place. It connected to a river bed that would run dry about the time school got out. We would follow it up the canyon, scale a few mountains, and come to one of the most quiet and peaceful places in the whole world. There was an old mine, and an incredible view. The mine was a natural tourist attraction for us, as we were curious about it's history. We invented crazy theories of why it was unused. We could see an old mining cart that was almost completely rusted away. Waterfalls and porcupines, poison ivy and mountain springs, and the most incredible natural water slide! This is where I fell in love with nature. I imagine myself sitting at this camp with my dear friend, breathing fresh air, and feeling the love that God created this for us. How can this be gone? It is almost as if someone has torn out my heart as I look at this house. Did they know what they were obscuring? Did they care?
I try to explain this to Harry, but all he wants to do it get out of our amazing mini-van, and play in the snow. The road is so high that there is snow everywhere. Fresh snow. So I turn around and head home. Harry tells me that it isn't fair that people build houses like that. I told him it didn't seem fair to me either. He asks me why we don't have lots of money to do that. I tell him that even if I had a lot of money, I would never build a house like that, in that place.
It is funny, I was genuinely sad to see my old home, to see how it looked now, but to see a huge monstrosity on my old trailhead, hurt me much more. On the way home, the weather seemed to match my mood, rainy and cold.
I went up to my parents new house today. I was delivering some stuff to them, but they weren't home. I just left it on the porch. I asked my boys what they wanted to do. It seemed so silly to drive 45 minutes to my parents, and then just leave. So we went on a tour of my old neighborhood. I drove my boys past my old high school. Harry was so impressed at how big it was, then by the old elementary school. Harry again was impressed that I had actually gone to an elementary school. We turned up the road; the familiar path, headed for my old home. It was almost surreal. I hadn't been back for several years. Tree's really do grow, people who you thought had it all, really don't. We kept on until we were there. A small little house with this huge park-like back yard. You can't see the yard from the street, because of the fence my dad built for my wedding reception, but I can see it in my mind.
I tried to tell Harry about what it looked like inside, my bedroom, the fireplace, but I couldn't explain it. I didn't know if I should explain it how it really was, or how I wanted to remember it? My brain couldn't find the words. This was my refuge from the world during those angst filled teenage years. This house had held a lot of secrets. Some good, and some not-so-good. But it was still home.
I was sad when I looked at it. The yard has fallen into a mess, the fence is looking old and dull, there were cars parked everywhere, and they didn't look like they were go-able.
I looped around so we could look at it again, but Harry and Chilly seemed to find this boring, so I drove on. Heart heavy and wishing I hadn't ever driven by. Things change, it was just house, right?
So I turn the car up the hill, past the houses getting bigger and bigger. Harry is wondering if our amazing mini-van will make it. I assure him it will, and won't he be surprised when we get there. Where?? I kept going, passed the gates that usually were closed to the public. It is now a gated community. I ignore the "no trespassing sign" and keep on going. I tell Harry about 3 wheeling here, where there used to be no houses. Now that is all there is. Million dollar houses. I keep going up, and soon we hit a turn in the road where Harry and chilly look out the window and see the whole valley.
"WOW! Mom look, you can see the whole world."
But I am sad. I am devastated actually, for the reason I know this road is because there used to be a trailhead, informal at that, that used to be my favorite hiking place. Gone. It has been replaced by a house. A gaudy, grotesque, flamboyant, mansion of a house.
I had planned to take my boys hiking at this place. It connected to a river bed that would run dry about the time school got out. We would follow it up the canyon, scale a few mountains, and come to one of the most quiet and peaceful places in the whole world. There was an old mine, and an incredible view. The mine was a natural tourist attraction for us, as we were curious about it's history. We invented crazy theories of why it was unused. We could see an old mining cart that was almost completely rusted away. Waterfalls and porcupines, poison ivy and mountain springs, and the most incredible natural water slide! This is where I fell in love with nature. I imagine myself sitting at this camp with my dear friend, breathing fresh air, and feeling the love that God created this for us. How can this be gone? It is almost as if someone has torn out my heart as I look at this house. Did they know what they were obscuring? Did they care?
I try to explain this to Harry, but all he wants to do it get out of our amazing mini-van, and play in the snow. The road is so high that there is snow everywhere. Fresh snow. So I turn around and head home. Harry tells me that it isn't fair that people build houses like that. I told him it didn't seem fair to me either. He asks me why we don't have lots of money to do that. I tell him that even if I had a lot of money, I would never build a house like that, in that place.
It is funny, I was genuinely sad to see my old home, to see how it looked now, but to see a huge monstrosity on my old trailhead, hurt me much more. On the way home, the weather seemed to match my mood, rainy and cold.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Never having to say you're sorry?
Is that being married or being in love? Do you know the quote I am referring to? Well either way...
I'm not going to say it. Even if I had a pointless blow up with Big D. You see, I have my rights as a wife, and one of them is to get emotional and hormonal with no reason at all. Accept it as fact. It is part of who I am. So if I blow up and get a little testy over silly little things, don't take it personal, unless of course I mean it that way, which most times I do.
I'm not going to say it. Even if I had a pointless blow up with Big D. You see, I have my rights as a wife, and one of them is to get emotional and hormonal with no reason at all. Accept it as fact. It is part of who I am. So if I blow up and get a little testy over silly little things, don't take it personal, unless of course I mean it that way, which most times I do.
I know you've been missing my posts, but there really wasn't a lot I could do.
You see Blogger has been down.
I know you've been wanting to hear from me for two days,
I'm really sorry to report,
but Blogger has been down.
You have missed out on pointless funny stories and touching moments.
Ah, too bad you missed it all,
but you know,
Blogger has been down.
I'll try to fill you in as much as I can,
but since Blogger was down,
I didn't blog,
therefore,
I have nothing for you.
Sorry.
I don't mean sorry,
I meant to say that Bogger has been down.
So if you got that silly error message,
don't beat your computer up in frustration,
I got it too.
You know that Blogger has been down.
You see Blogger has been down.
I know you've been wanting to hear from me for two days,
I'm really sorry to report,
but Blogger has been down.
You have missed out on pointless funny stories and touching moments.
Ah, too bad you missed it all,
but you know,
Blogger has been down.
I'll try to fill you in as much as I can,
but since Blogger was down,
I didn't blog,
therefore,
I have nothing for you.
Sorry.
I don't mean sorry,
I meant to say that Bogger has been down.
So if you got that silly error message,
don't beat your computer up in frustration,
I got it too.
You know that Blogger has been down.
There is a funny little game we play...
at the supermarket. Or any big store with shopping carts. Big D takes a cart and loads a kid, and I take a cart and load the other kid. Then we split. The boys LOVE this game. Ever played hide-and-go-seek with your kids? Try it at Walmart with a shopping cart on a Saturday.
Our last battle was this last Thursday. We were bored from our lack of vacation, and were on the quest for some St. Patrick's Day fare. We had hit a lot of other stores, and by this time, the boys were exhausted with being good. So we let our hair down and played. I had Harry. He is a good lookout. He sits in the big basket off the front with his arm outstretched to poke big d's rear. Big D had Chilly, and I was happy about that one because Chilly tends to have a loud laugh. Chilly laughs during the pursuit, and when they are hiding. He's a dead give away. Now don't be alarmed, we take great care to not run over any other customers, or knock into any other carts.
So Harry and I are doing really well. After a quick chase in the grocery side of the store, where I am sure we were moments away from being kicked out ,we lost Big D somewhere near the seasonal items, and were heading down the supplement aisle. I had parked the cart, scheming about my plan with Harry. We were going to catch Big D and ram him! I had parked and Harry was on the lookout when my phone rang. My first thought was that Big D was trying to lure me out of hiding. Ha! Not so easy chum! I am getting better at the game more and more, but he's tricky. He is artful at the cart game. He is a master at changing directions, he is great at hiding behind things. He practically blends into the scenery. He like a chameleon of price tags and clearance items. Even with a giggling Chilly, he is a tough one to spot. I am not so graceful. I guess it comes from that competitive nature I have, but I really want to catch him off guard. I figured this was my moment,I'm going to let him come to me. I was going to surprise ram him right out of the maxi pad isle. He'd never see it coming. I was hiding behind the adult diapers with my ringing bum. I checked the I.D. and I knew he'd won. Somehow he had called my scouts and reminded them to remind me that I was late to the meeting that I had scheduled. I know he did it. He, of course, denies the whole thing. You know, we really were having a great time. Harry and I were going to win! Big D is a horrible looser, he just can't let someone else win the shopping cart game.
Our last battle was this last Thursday. We were bored from our lack of vacation, and were on the quest for some St. Patrick's Day fare. We had hit a lot of other stores, and by this time, the boys were exhausted with being good. So we let our hair down and played. I had Harry. He is a good lookout. He sits in the big basket off the front with his arm outstretched to poke big d's rear. Big D had Chilly, and I was happy about that one because Chilly tends to have a loud laugh. Chilly laughs during the pursuit, and when they are hiding. He's a dead give away. Now don't be alarmed, we take great care to not run over any other customers, or knock into any other carts.
So Harry and I are doing really well. After a quick chase in the grocery side of the store, where I am sure we were moments away from being kicked out ,we lost Big D somewhere near the seasonal items, and were heading down the supplement aisle. I had parked the cart, scheming about my plan with Harry. We were going to catch Big D and ram him! I had parked and Harry was on the lookout when my phone rang. My first thought was that Big D was trying to lure me out of hiding. Ha! Not so easy chum! I am getting better at the game more and more, but he's tricky. He is artful at the cart game. He is a master at changing directions, he is great at hiding behind things. He practically blends into the scenery. He like a chameleon of price tags and clearance items. Even with a giggling Chilly, he is a tough one to spot. I am not so graceful. I guess it comes from that competitive nature I have, but I really want to catch him off guard. I figured this was my moment,I'm going to let him come to me. I was going to surprise ram him right out of the maxi pad isle. He'd never see it coming. I was hiding behind the adult diapers with my ringing bum. I checked the I.D. and I knew he'd won. Somehow he had called my scouts and reminded them to remind me that I was late to the meeting that I had scheduled. I know he did it. He, of course, denies the whole thing. You know, we really were having a great time. Harry and I were going to win! Big D is a horrible looser, he just can't let someone else win the shopping cart game.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
What is with dinosaurs?
So due to the lack of our vacation, we decided that since we all had "time off" (I'm not quite sure what my time off was from?) we should go somewhere. We decided to try the not-so-local dinosaur mecca this side of vernal. So we bundled the boys into the car, and set of for Lehi. Thanksgiving Point to be more accurate. The museum of ancient life. And although it has many other fascinating exhibits, I think the boys were only impressed with the dinosaurs.
And why not? I mean, dinosaurs are cool...Right? I'm not sure I think of them as such. To me, it is just a great big pile of bones that have been assembled to resemble something scary. We have no idea what they really looked like. It is all just based on BONES. I guess I'm not an enthusiast. I mean, I get it, I just don't GET it. And the weird thing is that I used to. I had planned to grow up and become a paleontologist myself.
I probably shouldn't go into the rant about species, and extinction and all that. It isn't exciting, and is probably pretty radical for any kind of dinosaur lover out there. So I'll just leave you with a few pictures. The museum was awesome, and worth the money in my opinion. We had a lot of fun, even if we weren't camping!
Vacation?
Sorry if you have been missing me, I've been on vacation. Fabulous huh? I was camping in Zion's with the warm spring sun!! Oh, it was beautiful, perfect weather, and the kids behaved themselves! It was a magical time of hiking and camping, playing games, and enjoying my family.
Sorry, I just woke up from my dream. Unfortunately we didn't make it camping. We had it all planned out, we even had a substitute to teach our Sunday school class. Instead we stayed inside, out of the snow. I know it is march, and technically it is still winter BUT I must protest all this yucky snow. Harry goes back on track on Monday, Big D goes back to work, and from the forecasts, it looks like spring will hit then.
Sorry, I just woke up from my dream. Unfortunately we didn't make it camping. We had it all planned out, we even had a substitute to teach our Sunday school class. Instead we stayed inside, out of the snow. I know it is march, and technically it is still winter BUT I must protest all this yucky snow. Harry goes back on track on Monday, Big D goes back to work, and from the forecasts, it looks like spring will hit then.
Friday, March 10, 2006
A diaper by any other name would stink as much..
Chilly Chilly, wherefor art thou Chilly?
deny thy diaper, and refuse thy stench
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn non pooper, and I'll no longer be a nag
Tis but thy diaper that is mine enemy
Thou art thyself, although not an undy wearer
What's an undy wearer? It is nor hand, nor foot,
nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a babe. Oh wear some other bum cover!
what's in a diaper? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell much sweeter.
So Chilly would, were he not diaper clad called
retain that dear perfection which he owes (to me)
Without that title. Chilly, doff thy diaper,
and for thy undy's, wish there were no part for me,
take myself a vacation from bum changery
deny thy diaper, and refuse thy stench
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn non pooper, and I'll no longer be a nag
Tis but thy diaper that is mine enemy
Thou art thyself, although not an undy wearer
What's an undy wearer? It is nor hand, nor foot,
nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a babe. Oh wear some other bum cover!
what's in a diaper? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell much sweeter.
So Chilly would, were he not diaper clad called
retain that dear perfection which he owes (to me)
Without that title. Chilly, doff thy diaper,
and for thy undy's, wish there were no part for me,
take myself a vacation from bum changery
So it again is that time of the week. You know the one I'm talking about. Friday. I don't go to a day job, and yet every week it is a joy when Friday comes. You'd think I'd be indifferent, I mean, when do I ever get a real vacation? I am a mom 24/7 and it doesn't matter what day of the week, or time of the day.
Today was a birthday. I took the boys to play with Ms. Birthday girl at the local Mikky D's. They played for over 2 1/2 hours! When we were leaving, I got the movie Zathura for the boys to watch at home. They watched the entire movie (minus a few minutes of hiding under the blanket) and I ended up watching it with them, not because it was particularly good, but because there is something fun about snuggling on the couch at 3:00pm, watching my boys enjoy a movie.
And what is for dinner tonight? I have no idea. I don't really even want to think about it. I hate deciding what to make for dinner. We have to be done and over with by six, so we can go back to birthday girls house for presents, cake, and ice cream.
so it is Friday, and there is something special about that day. Now if only big d would hurry up home so we can start relaxing for the weekend.
Today was a birthday. I took the boys to play with Ms. Birthday girl at the local Mikky D's. They played for over 2 1/2 hours! When we were leaving, I got the movie Zathura for the boys to watch at home. They watched the entire movie (minus a few minutes of hiding under the blanket) and I ended up watching it with them, not because it was particularly good, but because there is something fun about snuggling on the couch at 3:00pm, watching my boys enjoy a movie.
And what is for dinner tonight? I have no idea. I don't really even want to think about it. I hate deciding what to make for dinner. We have to be done and over with by six, so we can go back to birthday girls house for presents, cake, and ice cream.
so it is Friday, and there is something special about that day. Now if only big d would hurry up home so we can start relaxing for the weekend.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Ode to Harry Potter
When Harry was a baby, I had a lot of down time. I was consistently nursing him from sun up to sun down. All this seemed a waste of time until I found out I could balance a book on my suckling babe and read the time away. So I read. I hate reading books in a series, but I found a series that I couldn't resist. I read Harry Potter.
The month Harry (my Harry) was born, JKR release Goblet of Fire. My childbirth instructor insisted that I read the books. I had no desire to read the latest fad in pre-teen age books. I was a librarian at one point in my career, and although I have always loved reading whatever I could get my hands on, I really didn't have a desire to start a series, and have deep discussions with my then 11 year old niece. She had hounded me to read them a couple of months back. I had even started the first book, and it was... Well.... It was boring. So my pride was at fault here.
I don't know what changed my mind, I assume it was the lack of anything else to read, but I picked up Sorcerers stone for the second time, and I didn't put it down until I was done. Forget what everyone says about devil worship, the reason they don't want you reading Harry Potter books is because they are so engrossing. The world is complete and intriguing. So I read them all, multiple times. It is not great writing, I assure you, but it is great imagination. And, it also always ends with a good message. It really is about love, good choices and taking responsibility. What can be evil about that? So when Chilly's birth coincided with the release of the 5th book, you can assume I was a little bit ...um, hooked. And by the time the last book was released last year, during our last week in Nauvoo, you can bet that Big D was at the nearest WalMart at 12:01, to get my copy. (I mean our copy, he is as nutty as me)
So, I'm excited about a series of books- what is wrong with that? Well, I have passed this on, not only to my respectable husband, but also on to my two boys. So when the movies come out, we are excited to see them, if only to share a bit of the magic with my sons, who aren't quite ready to read JKR.
I found out on Saturday, that the local supermarket was having a costume contest. A look-a-like Harry Potter contest. I figured if they saw the cutest boy in the world dressed up like Harry potter, we would probably win. So I convinced my 5 year old Multiple times. Finally the with the two year old sporting the glasses, robe and wand, we were off. We made it to the store and couldn't figure out where there was a contest at. A call to Big D who was on his way home, he changed routes and brought his HP tie that we gave him for Christmas. Well we found the contest, and after a single snapshot, we went home. We watched the movie we had conveniently purchased earlier that day, and all was well with the world. After snuggling in bed with my 2 year old Harry Potter, Big D came into the room and made an announcement. We won! We now have two copies of Goblet of Fire. If one is good, two is better.
What did my kids learn from this? Well, if you are going to be nutty about something, go all the way, you might just get free stuff.
The month Harry (my Harry) was born, JKR release Goblet of Fire. My childbirth instructor insisted that I read the books. I had no desire to read the latest fad in pre-teen age books. I was a librarian at one point in my career, and although I have always loved reading whatever I could get my hands on, I really didn't have a desire to start a series, and have deep discussions with my then 11 year old niece. She had hounded me to read them a couple of months back. I had even started the first book, and it was... Well.... It was boring. So my pride was at fault here.
I don't know what changed my mind, I assume it was the lack of anything else to read, but I picked up Sorcerers stone for the second time, and I didn't put it down until I was done. Forget what everyone says about devil worship, the reason they don't want you reading Harry Potter books is because they are so engrossing. The world is complete and intriguing. So I read them all, multiple times. It is not great writing, I assure you, but it is great imagination. And, it also always ends with a good message. It really is about love, good choices and taking responsibility. What can be evil about that? So when Chilly's birth coincided with the release of the 5th book, you can assume I was a little bit ...um, hooked. And by the time the last book was released last year, during our last week in Nauvoo, you can bet that Big D was at the nearest WalMart at 12:01, to get my copy. (I mean our copy, he is as nutty as me)
So, I'm excited about a series of books- what is wrong with that? Well, I have passed this on, not only to my respectable husband, but also on to my two boys. So when the movies come out, we are excited to see them, if only to share a bit of the magic with my sons, who aren't quite ready to read JKR.
I found out on Saturday, that the local supermarket was having a costume contest. A look-a-like Harry Potter contest. I figured if they saw the cutest boy in the world dressed up like Harry potter, we would probably win. So I convinced my 5 year old Multiple times. Finally the with the two year old sporting the glasses, robe and wand, we were off. We made it to the store and couldn't figure out where there was a contest at. A call to Big D who was on his way home, he changed routes and brought his HP tie that we gave him for Christmas. Well we found the contest, and after a single snapshot, we went home. We watched the movie we had conveniently purchased earlier that day, and all was well with the world. After snuggling in bed with my 2 year old Harry Potter, Big D came into the room and made an announcement. We won! We now have two copies of Goblet of Fire. If one is good, two is better.
What did my kids learn from this? Well, if you are going to be nutty about something, go all the way, you might just get free stuff.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Haircut Day
I am the primary hair stylist in our house. Big D needs a haircut, so I cut it. Not a big deal. The boys need a trim, here I am. Well, several days ago, my sweet 5 year old begged me to cut his hair. Cut his hair short. Like dad. Now don't get me wrong, I love boys that look like boys and so forth, but my little boys had the most beautiful hair. Natural highlights and beautiful color. You know, like the shampoo commercials you see on TV, only on a little boy. So it got a little long at times...So what, you could still tell they were boys...Almost
So Harry approaches me with the idea of cutting his hair. Up until now, my boys have both sported the "bowl' cut. Although I never did use a bowl. Lately I have been letting it grow out even longer. Okay, it was more like an overgrown bowl cut. Very cute. So I get the scissors and the clippers and prepare to shave my gorgeous brunette. Worried that he might change his mind, mid-shearing, I make sure that he is okay with the thought that he might be bald for a few weeks. He is cool with the thought 
Now, a little history here. When I was pregnant with Chilly, Harry was 2 1/2, and his hair was getting long. Acknowledging I needed to cut it, I sat him down and proceeded to clipper up the sides and back. Well, the clippers got away from me, Harry squirmed, and BAM... he had a very short hairstyle for several months. I remember bawling my eyes out because he looked so horrible. So abused-by-clippers horrible. Eventually it grew out, and I fixed it. So imagine my horror today, as I buzzed the back, and slipped. Yup, most of the side of his head the hair was gone.... history always repeats itself right?
Funny thing is, he loves it. He thinks it is so grown up. I don't mind it, other than it makes his head look small.
Then Chilly gets his turn. He doesn't want to get his hair cut, but then he decides a cut like his brother's is cool. So I did it the same. Well, almost the same, more weed-wacked than chemo-cut. They both are still cute, but the blond is now gone. *sigh* I guess it couldn't last forever.
So Harry approaches me with the idea of cutting his hair. Up until now, my boys have both sported the "bowl' cut. Although I never did use a bowl. Lately I have been letting it grow out even longer. Okay, it was more like an overgrown bowl cut. Very cute. So I get the scissors and the clippers and prepare to shave my gorgeous brunette. Worried that he might change his mind, mid-shearing, I make sure that he is okay with the thought that he might be bald for a few weeks. He is cool with the thought 
Now, a little history here. When I was pregnant with Chilly, Harry was 2 1/2, and his hair was getting long. Acknowledging I needed to cut it, I sat him down and proceeded to clipper up the sides and back. Well, the clippers got away from me, Harry squirmed, and BAM... he had a very short hairstyle for several months. I remember bawling my eyes out because he looked so horrible. So abused-by-clippers horrible. Eventually it grew out, and I fixed it. So imagine my horror today, as I buzzed the back, and slipped. Yup, most of the side of his head the hair was gone.... history always repeats itself right?
Funny thing is, he loves it. He thinks it is so grown up. I don't mind it, other than it makes his head look small.
Then Chilly gets his turn. He doesn't want to get his hair cut, but then he decides a cut like his brother's is cool. So I did it the same. Well, almost the same, more weed-wacked than chemo-cut. They both are still cute, but the blond is now gone. *sigh* I guess it couldn't last forever.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
To Nap or Not To Nap?
That is the question. And believe me, I thought I knew the answer. When Harry was young, anytime he slept was good. So if he did nap, we let him. We tried to get him to nap almost every waking moment. If he had just woken up, we were counting down the minutes to nap him again. This continued until he was 2 days old, and then we threw everything out the window, and flew by the seat of our pants.
Really, my kids seem to drop naps about the time I need them the most, around 18 months. When a single morning can reduce me to tears, because of a fighting match over getting out of the filthy batman pjs. Around 18 months they find out that they have certain SUPERPOWERS over mom, and they use them. They avoid the nap, and since I am a pushover, I let them. I let them because if they stay up for 18 hours continuously, then they tend to fall asleep better. And by better, I mean faster. So if they don't want to nap, why force them?
However there is a down side to the no nap policy. Just because they "don't nap" doesn't mean they are NOT tired, they can and will accidentally fall asleep as we are driving somewhere (in this case to a cousin b-day party about 35 minutes away). NO big deal right?? Wrong, if Chilly naps at any point during the time he first opens his eyes in the morning, he will not go to sleep until about 11:45pm. No matter if he got a mere 30 second nap, he will not go to sleep until 11:45. Period. It is like he is on some sort of freaked out Christmas tree timer. And that timer went off due to a power failure, and has reset himself to go off at midnight.
There does seem to be a cure for this non-sleep-nap delay he gets set too. Hours of mommy singing, snuggling, and finally a snuggle from dad. It is cute, and sweet, and after my last post, you'd think I'd welcome it a bit more. And I do love it. There is something precious to snuggling up to your wiggling 2 year old, and him smiling back. To looking across the room to your 5 year old signing "I love you". These moments are to be cherished. And they are. Why can't they be this sweet during normal business hours?
Really, my kids seem to drop naps about the time I need them the most, around 18 months. When a single morning can reduce me to tears, because of a fighting match over getting out of the filthy batman pjs. Around 18 months they find out that they have certain SUPERPOWERS over mom, and they use them. They avoid the nap, and since I am a pushover, I let them. I let them because if they stay up for 18 hours continuously, then they tend to fall asleep better. And by better, I mean faster. So if they don't want to nap, why force them?
However there is a down side to the no nap policy. Just because they "don't nap" doesn't mean they are NOT tired, they can and will accidentally fall asleep as we are driving somewhere (in this case to a cousin b-day party about 35 minutes away). NO big deal right?? Wrong, if Chilly naps at any point during the time he first opens his eyes in the morning, he will not go to sleep until about 11:45pm. No matter if he got a mere 30 second nap, he will not go to sleep until 11:45. Period. It is like he is on some sort of freaked out Christmas tree timer. And that timer went off due to a power failure, and has reset himself to go off at midnight.
There does seem to be a cure for this non-sleep-nap delay he gets set too. Hours of mommy singing, snuggling, and finally a snuggle from dad. It is cute, and sweet, and after my last post, you'd think I'd welcome it a bit more. And I do love it. There is something precious to snuggling up to your wiggling 2 year old, and him smiling back. To looking across the room to your 5 year old signing "I love you". These moments are to be cherished. And they are. Why can't they be this sweet during normal business hours?
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Saturday at the auction
Well, another Saturday has come and gone. Our feet are tired, the boys are getting ready for bed with a much needed bath. The house is a disaster from our hurried departure.
We got up early (for a Saturday) and off we went to an auction. An auction? Yeah, an estate auction. Have you ever been? Then don't judge until you have gone to one. No we didn't buy a valuable antiques, or any paintings of worth. Heck, we didn't even buy furniture. What we originally went for was a ladder, a kiln, a snowblower. Those items went higher than we wanted to pay. Anything over $5 is too rich for our blood.
The auctions is where we buy all of our household needs. And we needed this one. A deep fryer. Yes everything is used, and sometimes they don't work, but we got a nice deep fryer for $5. We also got some 70's melmack for our meetyhome (motorhome), and some sweet glass measuring cups, a canner, a teapot and muffin tins, and some assorted other kitchen stuff. What was the total damage done $12.
$12 and a nice time. The boys played with toys and we watched people bid on assorted tacky 70's felt paintings. We ate cheap jelly beans. WE watched as people payed 20-50 for a single silver dollar, or $8 for a stinking ceramic dog. It was fabulous. It was entertaining. It was a day at the auctions. We came home and made won tons, with our new deep fryer. Life is great.
The only thing better than a day at the auction is a yard sale.
We got up early (for a Saturday) and off we went to an auction. An auction? Yeah, an estate auction. Have you ever been? Then don't judge until you have gone to one. No we didn't buy a valuable antiques, or any paintings of worth. Heck, we didn't even buy furniture. What we originally went for was a ladder, a kiln, a snowblower. Those items went higher than we wanted to pay. Anything over $5 is too rich for our blood.
The auctions is where we buy all of our household needs. And we needed this one. A deep fryer. Yes everything is used, and sometimes they don't work, but we got a nice deep fryer for $5. We also got some 70's melmack for our meetyhome (motorhome), and some sweet glass measuring cups, a canner, a teapot and muffin tins, and some assorted other kitchen stuff. What was the total damage done $12.
$12 and a nice time. The boys played with toys and we watched people bid on assorted tacky 70's felt paintings. We ate cheap jelly beans. WE watched as people payed 20-50 for a single silver dollar, or $8 for a stinking ceramic dog. It was fabulous. It was entertaining. It was a day at the auctions. We came home and made won tons, with our new deep fryer. Life is great.
The only thing better than a day at the auction is a yard sale.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Statistically speaking....
I've been either pregnant or nursing for 75 months out of my 102 months of marriage. And it has been all lumped together. The month I weaned Harry, I became pregnant with Chilly. As of right now, my little Chilly has been weaned for almost 2 months. I was ready to wean him. I felt done.
As I tucked him into bed last night, prepared for the nightly ritual of cuddling him until he falls asleep, he told me it was okay to go. IT felt odd to just kiss him goodnight and leave him. I checked him about 5 minutes later, and he was out. Snoring blissfully in the land of dreams.
I am very happy that he has adjusted so well. I am happy that he doesn't need to nurse all night, or nurse to sleep. But in a very unexpected and weird way, I miss it. I miss my little boy nursing. There I said it. I know, I know, I am a freak. Who in the world would miss nursing after 30+ months of doing it? I miss his cute little smile as he would ask me "nursie mom?". I guess I miss the other part of it too, the fact that I no longer have a baby. He has grown up just a little bit. He has changed.
I'm okay with change, when it is me that does it.
I know what you are going to say, "time for another baby", and although I would be happy with that, I think I need some time to mourn. To mourn the passing of my 2nd born from babyhood into childhood.
As I tucked him into bed last night, prepared for the nightly ritual of cuddling him until he falls asleep, he told me it was okay to go. IT felt odd to just kiss him goodnight and leave him. I checked him about 5 minutes later, and he was out. Snoring blissfully in the land of dreams.
I am very happy that he has adjusted so well. I am happy that he doesn't need to nurse all night, or nurse to sleep. But in a very unexpected and weird way, I miss it. I miss my little boy nursing. There I said it. I know, I know, I am a freak. Who in the world would miss nursing after 30+ months of doing it? I miss his cute little smile as he would ask me "nursie mom?". I guess I miss the other part of it too, the fact that I no longer have a baby. He has grown up just a little bit. He has changed.
I'm okay with change, when it is me that does it.
I know what you are going to say, "time for another baby", and although I would be happy with that, I think I need some time to mourn. To mourn the passing of my 2nd born from babyhood into childhood.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Lunch Anyone?
What is for lunch? That is the question of the day. I hate lunchtime. I hate the standard sandwich route. I usually opt for the cold leftovers over the pb&j. What to do? I am trying to be consistent and give them fresh fruit, vegetables or other food experiences, but it always ends up to be pb&j. Maybe they don't like my cooking, or they are partial to grandma's homemade jam. I'd guess the latter to be true; except in our house, the perfect compliment to peanut butter is honey. While I am thus milling over in my head what to feed my ravenous boys, they seem to be fine. Oh, my boys seem content to eat frozen hostess cupcakes. Me too.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
After the shopping cart trauma, we came home and decided to relax. Watch the Amazing race. So the kids got ready for bed, and hubby and I did our best to vegetate. . Hubby decided a craving of chips and salsa should be satisfied. Remember this dear friends, salsa has vinegar, and he ate a fair amount. So he munched. I found some left over pixy sticks from valentines day. We enjoyed our time. It was nice. In between Harry needing this or that, and me finishing my 10 loads of laundry, it actually was a relaxing time.
Enter that night. 2:00am. Hubby and I are still suffering from our cold. Hubby has a nasty cough, so he took an expectorant before bed. He is up coughing. And it sounds like he might have a small rodent in his chest. Horrible sound. Of course he is miserable. Chilly has already joined me for the night, and he's laying on my arm. I know that if I move him, he'll wake up, and the rest of the night will be trying to get him back to sleep. So miserably I listen to hubby as he coughs up junk. Pretty soon he's rummaging around the house. He's got heartburn. Do we have any antacid? I doubt it. I haven't needed any since I was calving with Chilly. Quick remedy comes to mind. Hubby's dad always takes a teaspoon of baking soda for heartburn. (it's 3 am by this time, I'm tired and I don't know what I am thinking). I tell hubby to try some baking soda.
He goes off to the kitchen. I'm drifting on and off. Chilly is sound asleep, and I feel I should be too. It is quiet. All is well. The eyes close. Suddenly I hear puking. Violent puking. Multiple times. WTH! I'm afraid that hubby is sick, and if I run downstairs into a scene of horrible vomit everywhere, I will be too. So I grit my teeth and wait. I hear the toilet flush, it seems whoever is puking is done. Next thing I know, hubby is walking into the room, getting his toothbrush. I ask him if he feels better. "YES!!" Did you throw up? "YES".
Hmmm, my brain is wondering what happened. Maybe dinner was bad, maybe the salsa was bad??? I don't know. I ask him if he did the baking soda thing. OH yeah he says. He says he started burping up foam, and more foam, so he ran to the bathroom, and started throwing up. I asked him how much baking soda did he ingest?
"I don't know, I just poured some into a glass, mixed in some water and drank it. It was like a slurry".
I started laughing. Does anyone else remember 5th grade science, when the coolest thing in the world was making your own volcano with vinegar and baking soda. Apparently it still works.
It did get rid of his heartburn. Miraculously, it also rid us of 3 hours of sleep.
Enter that night. 2:00am. Hubby and I are still suffering from our cold. Hubby has a nasty cough, so he took an expectorant before bed. He is up coughing. And it sounds like he might have a small rodent in his chest. Horrible sound. Of course he is miserable. Chilly has already joined me for the night, and he's laying on my arm. I know that if I move him, he'll wake up, and the rest of the night will be trying to get him back to sleep. So miserably I listen to hubby as he coughs up junk. Pretty soon he's rummaging around the house. He's got heartburn. Do we have any antacid? I doubt it. I haven't needed any since I was calving with Chilly. Quick remedy comes to mind. Hubby's dad always takes a teaspoon of baking soda for heartburn. (it's 3 am by this time, I'm tired and I don't know what I am thinking). I tell hubby to try some baking soda.
He goes off to the kitchen. I'm drifting on and off. Chilly is sound asleep, and I feel I should be too. It is quiet. All is well. The eyes close. Suddenly I hear puking. Violent puking. Multiple times. WTH! I'm afraid that hubby is sick, and if I run downstairs into a scene of horrible vomit everywhere, I will be too. So I grit my teeth and wait. I hear the toilet flush, it seems whoever is puking is done. Next thing I know, hubby is walking into the room, getting his toothbrush. I ask him if he feels better. "YES!!" Did you throw up? "YES".
Hmmm, my brain is wondering what happened. Maybe dinner was bad, maybe the salsa was bad??? I don't know. I ask him if he did the baking soda thing. OH yeah he says. He says he started burping up foam, and more foam, so he ran to the bathroom, and started throwing up. I asked him how much baking soda did he ingest?
"I don't know, I just poured some into a glass, mixed in some water and drank it. It was like a slurry".
I started laughing. Does anyone else remember 5th grade science, when the coolest thing in the world was making your own volcano with vinegar and baking soda. Apparently it still works.
It did get rid of his heartburn. Miraculously, it also rid us of 3 hours of sleep.
Shopping cart= disaster
Harry is about 45 pounds. Chilly is about 35 pounds. When they climb on a shopping cart, especially if it is on the same side, they tip it over. They should have a warning "do not use near insolent children".
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