Soup and LucyFur

A List.

1.  I am tired.

2.  I couldn't figure out why on earth I was so tired.  And then . . . it hit me.  I have four kids.

3.  There are days when I feel like I got nothing done.  Yet, I ran around and was busy all day long.  Today was one such day.

4.  I think I already ate all my Weight Watchers Points for the week.  This is discouraging.  And foolish seeing as how I have that stupid Fat Tuesday post coming up.

5.  I am never making soup again.

Here is another list.  A list within a list, of all the reasons why I loathe making soup for dinner.

A)  It takes too long.  Sure, it fools you because soup sounds like a simple dinner.  But it is just toying with you.  I believe I used an entire dishwasher load full of dishes to create this easy dinner.

B)  I always feel I must serve something with the soup.  Like salad.  Or cornbread.  Or both.  Therefore, I need plates and bowls. 

C)  Like I have time to set plates and bowls out when setting the table.

D)  Making cornbread also requires vast amounts of dishes.

E)  And then I have to attempt to find the honey in my Pantry of Doom.  This wastes at least five minutes of my life and gives the children ample opportunity to conquer and destroy yet another room of the house.

F)  Cornbread and honey is a winning combination.

G)  My kids are not tidy with the soup.

H)  Nor are they tidy with the cornbread. 

I)  My husband doesn't really like soup.

J)  I can't make decent soup.

K)  I hate making soup.

6)  So.  Tonight I decided to make soup for dinner. 

And during that time, I got a phone call for a vacation rental booking.  This is good news for the checking account, bad news for the soup.

 Then, Lucy was naughty.  This is not surprising.  My husband was repairing brakes and needed my help.  Like I am "helpful" when it comes to car mechanics.  Handsome Dude stole gum.  And Little Dude threw up in the tub.

7)  So the soup failed.  But don't lose heart!  I was able to turn it into a delicious chicken and rice casserole.

8)  The fact that the soup transitioned so well into a casserole is further evidence of my inability to make soup.

9)  We are having issues with Lucy.  She has found a significant other and she messes with the neighbor's horse.

Lucy is a hussy.  Who knew?!

10)  Also:  she does not come when she is called.  Ever.

11)  Today, I had to get her away from the neighbor's horse.  And she would not come to me.  So, I, being the wise mother that I am, sent one of my children out there to tempt her.

12)  Fun Fact:  Lucy enjoys attacking my children.

LucyFur.

13)  So, I sent Sweet Pea out as Lucy-bait.  As soon as Lucy jumped on Sweet Pea, I was able to snag her by her collar and drag her on home.

No children were harmed in the making of this tragic day.

14)  After Handsome Dude had pushed 14 million of my buttons today, I told him he had to wait for his dad to come home.

And then, his dad would punish him.

Oh for the weeping and the gnashing of teeth.

So, David came home. I gave him the lowdown.  Then David told Handsome Dude to sit on the stairs and wait for him.

HD (short for Handsome Dude . . . keep up!):  Where is Dad go-ning?

Me:  To the bathroom. 

HD:  Oh.  Why he not punch me?

ha!  He thought his dad was going to "punch" him, not punish him.

Yes.  I am a stellar parent.

No.  No one was punched today.

Yet.

And now, I must go to bed.

For I am tired and perturbed.

Farewell.

 

Don't Pee On Thomas' Face!

Top Reasons Why Little Dude is Now My Favorite Child:

1)  He sleeps in underwear for naps and wakes up dry.

2)  He poops in the toilet ever since his minor hiccup on day one.

3)  We were out from 9am until 6pm today and he went in the toilet all day.

4)  He sings train songs when he is on the toilet.  I appreciate this.  It spices things up and keeps boredom at bay.

5)  What's his favorite song you ask?  "Down by the station, early in the morning, see the little puffer bellies all in a row . . ."  Yes.  He has good taste.

He has made my life super easy with potty training and I shall remain forever grateful to the little lad.

The worst moment was actually caused by Handsome Dude.

Shocking.

Handsome Dude decided to haul out the plunger and toilet brush and do who-knows-what to the toilet water whilst Little Dude was attempting to have a successful elimination.

I am not sure what events transpired in that tiny bathroom . . . all I know is there were numerous droplets of some sort of liquid sprinkled about the bathroom.

Ooooh.  It just gives me the peepee shivers. (ha!)

Want to know what else gives me the peepee shivers?

Watching Little Dude in the public bathrooms.  You see, Little Dude prefers to straddle the toilet backwards.  And as he is sitting atop the PUBLIC toilet seat, and singing his train songs of course, he likes to rub . . . everything.

He rubs the lid.

He rubs the top of the tank.

He rubs the entire seat.

What on earth am I going to do about this?  Is it safe to bleach him?

See?  Disgusting.

In other fun potty-training news, I used a reader tip from back when Handsome Dude was potty training.

You should all feel free to steal it.  It will make you feel brilliant and ridiculous all at the same time.

1)  Take a pair of underwear that has some sort of known character on it. I chose Thomas the Train.  You may choose as you deem fit.

2)  Pull a fast one on your kid and make him believe that the aforementioned character is talking to him.

3)  In your best Thomas-y voice, say the following sentence:  "Hi, there buddy!  Please don't pee on my face!"

4)  Throughout the day, shout:  "Don't pee on Thomas' face!"  to your child.

5)  Hope no one hears you.

6)  Bask in your brilliance.

You're Welcome.

So.  I think that's gonna conclude my potty training posts.

I hope.

***

Handsome Dude went to the doctor today for his 4 year check up.  The doctor predicted that he will most likely be about 6'4".

Wowza!

When I told Handsome Dude that he might someday be taller than his dad, he said,

"Ok!  And then I will get a DS!"

(His sisters each have one)

Yes.  When you are 6'4", we shall buy you a Nintendo DS.  But only then.

That boy . . .

Happy Wednesday!

Potty Training: Day One.

Oh, yes. The time has come.

The boy must grow up.

Now.  I must admit to you today:  I loathe the potty training.  L-O-A-T-H-E.

On Monday morning, whilst Little Dude was in the bath, I had an epiphany.

Oh, yes.  An epiphany.

Little Dude is not so little anymore.  And as cute as diapers are, I decided it might be best to give the boy a good start in life and teach him how to properly use a toilet.

It's the least I can do.

So, directly after his bath (and he didn't splash and make a huge mess and frustrate his mother . . . not), I stuck him on the toilet and wished him the best of luck.

And he peed about a gallon out right then and there.

He can be taught!

And apparently, he can be taught much quicker than his older brother.  Who can forget that nightmare?

Anyways, I am happy to report that on Potty Training:  Day One, Little Dude had five successful eliminations.

And probably about five failures.  But when it comes to potty training, let us perceive the glass as half full, shall we?

So, later on in the evening, my husband FORCED us to all help him fulfill his dream of being a logger and DRAGGED us outside for some intense, manual labor.

The nerve.

His grand, master plan is to trim each and every tree and clear out all the brush and weeds on the entire 20 acres.  I expect we will finish this fun project when Sir Lumberjack retires.  Or until I fake a horrible injury that gets me out of this nonsense.

Whichever comes first.

So, I was weed wacking and hauling brush and yelling at naughty kids and stepping in dog poop.  Good times, good times.  But in all my manual labor, I kinda, sorta forget that all that seperated Little Dude from his plumbing parts was a pair of Buzz Lightyear underwear.

And that's when I noticed him walking funny . . . almost as if he were a little saddle sore.  So, I rushed him inside, pulled down his pants and saw a horrific amount of poo.

Me:  Dude! 

LD (short for Little Dude . . . keep up!):  What?!

Me:  You poo'd in your pants!

LD (looking shocked):  Oh!  I did?

Me:  Yes!  You are supposed to go poo in the toilet!

LD:  Ohhhhhh!  Poo goes in the tullet (toilet)?  O-TAY!

So.  We can expect that Little Dude shall go poo in the tullet from here on out, seeing as how he was just misinformed as to where the poo should go in the first place.

***

On a side note, my husband makes fun of me. 

Shocking, I know.

He feels that I don't have the proper "work" attire that one needs to be a Lumberjill.

I was wearing my Old Navy jeans and North Face jacket.

(I know.  I am such a "brand-name" dropper.  ha!  Get it?  Ok.  That was dumb.)

Anyways, immediately after he worked us all like dogs, he looked on Ebay for me to have my very own Carhartt's Women's Work Jacket.

Please.

Try to contain your jealousy.

Perhaps I shall get one soon.  And you will all drool over my awesomeness.

Yes.  You will.

Farewell!

Fat Tuesday, Week 9

Welcome to Fat Tuesday:  The "Wow" edition.

If you can recall, and you probably can't, I promised you last week that this week would be my "wow" week.

I shall not disappoint you.

I lost . . . one pound!

Wow.

Ok.  So maybe that isn't as wow-ish as one might hope.  But it is for me!

Let us go over the week's wins and fails, shall we?

I recorded my Weight Watchers Points about 70% of the time!

Win! (for me)

It was a birthday bonanza over here last week.  I was in the presence of three birthday cakes and numerous containers of ice cream.  And I still lost weight!

Win!

I did not do any formal exercise.

Fail!

However, we have gone into crisis mode with Lucy these days.  It is a long story.  But I did attempt to walk her on a leash about 4 times! 

Win!

Trust me.  It was a good workout.  For my arms.

Win!

Did you know that you can eat lots of deli turkey and it is only 1 WW point?

WIN!

Guess who had a plethora of turkey sandwiches for lunch this week?

Taylor!

Did you know that there are some pretty delicious "light" ice creams out there?

Win!

And if you add Oreo crumbs, whipped cream, and chocolate syrup, the "light" ice cream is even more delicious?

Fail!

I have discovered that if I eat an entire bag of my favorite "Homestyle" popcorn, I have consumed 14 points plus.

Fail!

Not that I can eat an entire bag all by myself.

Lie!

Nor would I eat an entire bag all by myself.

Big Lie!

I have been "helping" David clear brush and trim trees around our property.  And seeing as how I was exhausted, had an aching back, and had Jell-O arms . . . well . . . I'm going to say I got in some good exericse. 

Win!

***

Alright!  Only 2 more check-ins left.  I think?  Math is hard.  Especially when you need more coffee.

How was your week?

Here are some questions for you:

1)  What are some of your favorite "light" snacks?  I have a feeling my 14 points bag of popcorn should be eliminated.  But it is delicious, so I am making no promises.

2)  How do you keep from dying from boredom while exercising inside?  I can't stand it.  I would much rather have a power struggle with Lucy and her leash or feign to help David "work" outside than be stuck inside running (ok, walking) in place.

Happy Tuesday!

7!

Daisy Mae is 7 today.

I don't feel like this is fair or right.  She was just born and I can't seem to stop her from growing up.  I don't think I can call her a preschooler anymore.  Thoughts?

Here is a list of 10 of my favorite memories and thoughts towards Daisy Mae:

1)  I call her my little mother.  She is very attentive to Little Dude.  She loves to read to him, help him get dressed, and be his buddy.  Awhile ago when he had gotten hurt, he preferred her over me!

2)  She loves chips.  She refuses to eat chocolate cake and asks for a bowl of chips instead.

3)  According to Daisy Mae, my homemade pizza is the best in the world (I assure you, it is not).  Therefore, I shall be making her some for dinner tonight.

4)  She is never allowed into a dressing room with me again.  Ever.  My self-esteem cannot take all the poking, giggling, and puzzled looks from her.

5)  She is most happy when she is doing something with somebody.  She does not like to play on her own.  She would rather help me do the dishes than play quietly in her room.

6)  She asks many questions my friends.  Many.

7)  She has uber cute dimples.

8)  Watching "America's Funniest Home Videos" with her is torturous.  She does not get anything, nor does she understand why "the people" are laughing.

9)  She had some spending money last month and she made sure to buy only things she could share with her siblings.

10)  She is very adventurous and is always up for trying something new with her dad.  Even if her mother greatly protests it.

***

So, the years are going by too quickly.  I am sure you all can relate.  But I have decided to try and be thankful that I have had so many years with my children.  Instead of being a bit sad that my little girl is 7 today, I am going to try to remind myself that I am blessed to have been able to be her mother for 7 years . . . and, God willing, many more.

I have shared this story before, but when I was pregnant with Daisy Mae, the doctors felt that she would not live early on in the pregnancy.  I prayed and begged God to let me have this baby.  I had never prayed that hard for anything else in my life.

And I have her, thank God.

So, instead of feeling sad, I am going to  remind myself of how blessed I truly am. 

Happy Birthday to Daisy Mae!

Daisy Mae's Verse:

“But blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him.  He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream.  It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green.  It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.”

Jeremiah 17: 7-8

4!

Handsome Dude is 4 today.  I am having a hard time believing this fact, seeing as how he was just born yesterday.

Oh, how I love this boy. 

This child has the ability to drive me nuts and make my heart melt . . . all in the same day.

And now, a list of my favorite memories for Handsome Dude.

1)  His old man baby face.

2)  His misuse of the word "wee."  It is his favorite pretend word.

"I wee scared!"

"You wee nice!"

"Jesus wee naughty."

Yes.  He wee did say that.  And, yes.  I corrected him.  To which he replied:

"You wee mean!"

3)  He brought snow into his room so he could play "dark forest."

4)  He loves to get the mail for me.  True, he drops each letter in the mud multiple times on his way back.  But the thought is sweet.

5)  He is quite responsible with his glasses.  And I use the term "responsible" quite loosely.

6)  He prefers to wear his underwear backwards.  You should try it sometime.  He assures us that his way is most comfortable.

7)  He loves his dad and aspires to be just like him.

8)  If I let him play outside, he yells and shouts:

"Thanks, Mom!  You the best!  The best!"

9)  He loves to do outside chores.  If I send him out to pick up garbage that is strewn about (LucyFur) he acts like I just offered him a trip to Disneyland.

10)  He loves naptime.  And for this, I shall be forever thankful.

***

Daisy Mae wrote Handsome Dude a birthday card:

Allow me to interpret, if I may:

To you. (She means, Happy Birthday to you.  She must have been short on time.)  Hi.  Your birthday is today.  I love it when you kiss me (She really does.  She is a kisser, that girl.)  Your heart.  (This phrase is open to interpretation.  Perhaps she is saying she loves his heart?  Maybe she is saying his heart is kind?  We cannot be certain.)  Love me love Daisy Mae.

***

Happy Birthday to my little man!

” . . . So be strong, show yourself a man, and observe what the Lord your God requires:  Walk in his ways and keep his decrees and commands.”

1 Kings 2: 2b-3a

Fat Tuesday, Week 8

Bleh.

Ok.  So, guess what!?  Only two more weeks left for Fat Tuesday!!!

Darn.

I am feeling a little contrary in regards to the Fat Tuesday.  Mostly because I maintained yet again this week and cannot wow you all with the awesome weight loss reports you have come to know and love on this here blog.

Herein lies the problem:  I just keep forgetting that I am supposed to be losing weight!  It just seems to slip my mind when it is snack time.  So tricky.

Well, this week, it got to be Friday and I realized that I was supposed to be working towards meeting my new and improved weight loss goals of 3 pounds a week.  You know.  So I can catch up.

So, I got the kids all entertained outside and decided I was going to run/walk (mostly walk.  I am attempting to impress no one) and listen to the fantastic invention known as Pandora on my fantastic, albeit pricey, smart phone.

I believe I got about 2 minutes into my life-changing workout when my Handsome Dude came up to me and said,

"Mom! Can we walk with you?"

You see, my two precious boys absolutely love living where we live.  And they love to be outside to wander and explore.

So.  After burning about 8 calories on my intense walk, I took the boys on a walk down the road to see the turkeys and the horses and the trees.

And I am guessing I burned about 8 more calories for the rest of the hour.

 

Handsome Dude finally got brave enough to pet the neighbor's horse.

Did you know that once you move to the country, there is a rule that you must wave and/or nod to everyone who drives by you?

It's true. 

This rule does not apply to city folk.  Just country folk, such as ourselves.

So, as we were on the walk, a truck drove past us.  Handsome Dude waved and waved, and the people did not awknowledge him.

This displeased him.

So, he yelled and yelled at them:

"Hey!  Why you not say 'howdy?'  Why you not say 'howdy'?"

They were probably just city folk who got lost.

Anyways.  I realized on my walk that Handsome Dude is not a toddler anymore!  Did you guys know this?  I mean, he was a toddler just a second ago.

He is turning four tomorrow and I have no idea how that happened.

In other heartbreaking news, Daisy Mae will be turning 7 on Thursday.

Shoot.  This is a Fat Tuesday post and I plum forgot to stay on topic.

Oh, well.

That was my week.  And I shall plug along and continue to feign to be losing weight and exercising.  It pleases me to think I am making progress.

In the meantime, I have two questions for you.

1)  How do you work in exercise with young children? 

2)  What is the tastiest, low-fat popcorn out there?

Happy Tuesday!

PS-All you people who said you were "in" had better check in.  Or else.

PPS-You can do it!  Only two more weeks!

PPPS-Just you wait!  Next week will be my "wow" week.  Just you wait.

Pot Coffee and Photo Shoots

Before we go any further, we must discuss the pot coffee.

Reader Shannon commented:

Please explain pot coffee as I’m from a different part of the country and my mom was a hippie.

Ha!

For shame, Shannon.  For shame.

Pot coffee?

This is pot coffee.

(source)

No.  I do not feel as if I must say pot of coffee.  I have always called it pot coffee.  And I stand by my convictions to do so.

I am cool like that.

Let's move on.

Bimlissa finally came to see me on Friday.  We had a lovely visit.  Before she left, she wanted to get a picture of the two of us.

I can't say that I blame her.

So, we had to ask the four giggling girls to be in charge of capturing our special moment in time.

First, we gave the girls specific instructions to only take pictures from the neck up.  Under no circumstances were there to be any tummies showing.

But we all know how well four giggling girls listen.

I looked over at Bimlissa.  She was cheating.  She had a baby on her lap.

So.  I summoned one of mine.

True.  My baby is just a little bit older.  But fair is fair.

Now, girls.  Make sure you tell us which camera to look at.

And don't forget!  Faces only!

I didn't want to say anything, but my baby was cooperating much better than Bimlissa's baby.

Yes.  I was wearing slippers.  What of it?

I don't want to seem boastful, but methinks our girls have a future in photography.

This was the absolute best one:

I kid!  I jest!

This was the best one:

I will have you know that Bimlissa put up numerous pictures on Facebook of all of her friends that she saw on her trip.

Yet, she did not put one of these gems up. 

I fear she is ashamed of me.

I sure showed her.

Happy Monday!

I'm not your friend anymore.

I am reporting to you live (barely) from the trenches of slumber party heaven.

And I use the term "heaven" quite loosely.

Quite.

What is it with little girls?  And their drama?  And their emotions?  And their hairstyles?

Weird.

Yes.  Four little girls all together . . . pray for me.

In other news, I am alive and well and looking forward to my visit with Bimlissa this afternoon.  It would appear that I am the last person she will talk to on her March tour of friends and family.

Whatever. 

She's not invited to my birthday anymore.

Do you know who Bimlissa is?  Are you confused?  Are you wondering why you are reading this blog?

You are not alone.

So, yesterday, my friend, Alisa ,came to bring her daughter over.  My kids like to take the bunnies out and put them in this large black utility trailer so they can play with them.

The girls stole my camera and took some shots of their rabbit "daycare."

Bunnies sliding? Perhaps this is a bad plan?

Don't worry.  The bunnies enjoy it.

See?  Nothing but smiles.

Don't worry.  I nipped that sliding nonsense in the bud.  In case you didn't notice, I run a tight ship over here.

Anyways, as the children were playing in the trailer, Alisa and I noticed the trailer slowly rolling down the hill.

Attention all friends:  Yes!  Let your children come to my house and play!  I will stick them in a trailer with numerous rabbits and send them careening down our rolling hills!

Safety first!

So Alisa and I broke out all of our muscles and attempted to push the trailer back up the hill.

It did not budge.

But we decided we burned lots of calories trying.

But this is my life now.  I used to meet friends at Starbucks and wear cute earrings and talk about normal things.  Now, I enforce my companions to help me rescue rabbits stranded in trailers rolling down hills.

And I have to make pot coffee.

But I still wear uber cute earrings.

I am bringing fashion to Ruralville.

Happy Friday!

Guess who!

Well, hello!

Yesterday was our "going-to-town" day.  One of our stops was the library.  At one point, Handsome Dude decided he needed to use the restroom.

Unfortunately, I was busy with the other three, so I had to send him on his own.  All by himself.  Without supervision.

Raise your hand if you feel this was a bad idea.

Mmmmm-hmmmm. 

(please imagine that mmmmm-hmmm said all sassy-like.  thank you)

Me:  Dude.  Please don't pee on the floor.

HD (short for Handsome Dude . . . keep up, people!):  O-TAY!

Me:  And don't pee on the seat.

HD:  I not!

Me:  And flush the toilet and wash your hands.

HD:  O-TAY!

Me:  And please, please, don't yell while you are in there.

HD:  I NOT!

So, I foolishly thought I had my bases covered.  You see, dear readers, if I tell him not to pee on the seat, he won't.  But if I forget, he will.

I went back to helping the other children with their bookish activities.

And then, I notice the librarians laughing and shaking their heads.

It would seem that Handsome Dude now must be reminded that he also must close the door before dropping his pants.

So, the entire library saw his little tushie yesterday.

And what a cute tushie it is!

That boy exhausts me.

***

In other news, we were surprised by a visit from good friends this week!

And I shall have you guess who is here, because I know it pleases you to play these sorts of games with me.

Clue #1:  She let me "steal" her perfect black sweater.  It even had ruffles.

Clue #2:  I went to high school with her.  But she refused to speak to me there, on account of how much cooler she thought she was than I.  But now, she sees the light.

Clue #3:  Her daughter and my daughters are good friends.  And we surprised them with a little reuinion yesterday:

Here is Daisy Mae opening the door to our surprise visitors!

The girls! 

Notice how red Daisy Mae's cheeks are . . . she didn't quite know what to think!

(Lest any of you are confused, we were at the hair dressers.)

And as soon as we got home, my girls got right to work on showing their friend the ways of Ruralville.

And, not to be outdone, their friend has informed them of the following:

1.  She milks cows.  It feels cool.

2.  She sews all the time.

3.  She has made 4, no five, table runners.

4.  And she has made numerous pillow cases.

Dang!  This gal is more of a country gal than I am!

So . . . can you guess which dear friend of mine has come to visit?

Happy Thursday!

Fat Tuesday, week 7

Oh, goodness.

Here are some alternate titles I came up with for today's post:

Fat Tuesday:  Let's Quit Edition.

Fat Tuesday:  Why are we doing this?

Fat Tuesday:  Brownies Galore!  Share your fattiest brownie recipes immediately!

As you can see, I went with the boring, yet safe, title.

I didn't gain anything.  I didn't lose anything.  I didn't exercise. 

But there is good reason!  I felt sick most of the week.  And only crazies actually exercise when they have a sore throat or a runny nose.

Am I right or am I right?

Herein lies the problem:  I don't have any motivation.

I have a husband who thinks I am "hot." 

Dear Lord,

Please help this to not be the one post out of twenty that my parents read.

Thank you.

Come pregnancy, post partum weight loss, belly chubs, homeschooling weight gain, and my intense love for all things chocolate, he always thinks I look "hot."

He thought I looked hot in this picture:

And in this picture:

Fun Fact:  When I was in junior high, a CUTE boy had this conversation with me . . .

Cute Boy:  Hey, Taylor!  You know what happens when you wear a red shirt?

Me:  What?

Cute Boy:  Everyone runs away and screams "Kool-Aid!"

Get it?  Like I looked like the Kool-Aid man.

So mean. 

But he had a point.

And my husband would probably say I looked cute in this picture:

But he would most likely be lying.

And yes.  That would be after I had the baby.

And I am still battling that tummy.

Oh, the humanity!

***

So, I am not going to be all that helpful today.  But I checked in and, therefore, you will too!

It's only fair.

Happy Tuesday!

Irksome.

So, today was kind of blah.

I don't feel so great, and I ain't gonna lie, I'm not good at hiding that. 

When I am sick, I find things irksome.

And poor Daisy Mae.  She irked me.

You see, dear readers, we were reviewing her math lesson.  Can you guess what "letter" Daisy Mae had in place for each and every one of her "9's?"

Yes.  That's right.  Her page was littered with "P's."

Irksome.

So, as I was pointing this mistake out, I noticed she had massive amounts of blue ink all over her hands.

Me:  Did you write on yourself?

DM (short for Daisy Mae . . . keep up, people!):  Yes.

Me:  When did you do this?

DM:  Last night in the car.

Me:  Why?

DM:  Because I was bored.

Me:  You cannot write on yourself life that!

DM:  Why?

Me:  Because . . . because . . . you can't!  You'll get ink poisoning!  Now go change all your "P's" to "9's."

Yes.  I was cranky.  No.  I have no idea if a person would actually get this "ink poisioning" or not.  But the threat sounded like a good idea at the time.

So then she wouldn't stop crying all morning long.

And foolishly, I thought it was because she felt remorseful about WRITING HER "9'S" AS "P'S" EVERY SINGLE DAY OF HER LIFE.

But, no. 

It would seem that six year old girls fixate on certain words their loving, brilliant mothers throw at them.

Words, such as, "POISON."

So, I had to assure her for the P0th (get it?  do you get it?) time that she would not surely die from the ink on her hands.

It was an epic moment in my homeschooling career.

Here is photographic evidence of her ink hand, about 24 hours after she inked herself.

Now, here is another example of irksome things in life:

A)  I took this picture with my handy-dandy camera phone.

B)  I had to email this picture to my email account.

C)  Then I had to download the photo to the hard drive on my computer.

It is at this point in the post that my father is surely befuddled.

D)  Next, I had to upload the photo to my blog.

E)  But first, I had to try to remember where on earth I had saved this photo.

F)  Oddly enough, I had saved it in a file called "Nose."  Are not my organization skills to be envied?

G)  I wait 2.7 years for this photo to upload to my blog.

H)  I am sure you can see how it was worth the wait, seeing as how you can hardly see the ink on her hand.

I)  And you are probably wondering why they are holding a ziplock bag full of fake money with the number "300" on it?

J)  And you are surely curious as to why the photo is sideways.

K)  I tried NUMEROUS times to get it right.  NUMEROUS.

L)  I am irked again and I give up and I don't care.  I have wasted enough of my life on this mediocre photo.

M)  You might also notice that Daisy Mae's face is shiny.  This is because she loves to lather her face in vasoline.  It is part of her beauty regimine.  Feel free to steal it.  She is kind of cute.

N)  My tummy hurts.  And my throat.  And my head.

O)  I put my kids to bed an hour ago and I just saw a flash of what suspiciously resembles Handsome Dude running around the living room.

P)  Irksome.

***

Speaking of Handsome Dude . . .

Right after his bath today, he was all giggly and whiny all at the same time.  He looked at me all cross-eyed and said:

"Look!  Two mommies!  I see two mommies!"

Yikes!

So, I patched his eye for an hour and googled what this double vision phenomenon could mean and now I am terrified.

So I ate three chocolate chip cookies and decided he isn't naughty at all.

He is, in fact, precious.

***

I wish my husband could bring me home ice cream for my sore throat.  But ice cream cannot survive the trip from the big city to Ruralville.

Such sadness.

***

I just thought of another irksome tragedy!

I have to do that bothersome Fat Tuesday tomorrow and I didn't lose any weight.

Again.

Can we skip it?

***

Alright.  I am going to log off and go see if I can find some hot cocoa to cheer me up.

Happy Monday Night!

Old Pictures

I wasn't feel so grand today, so I decided to try and organize my pictures.

My pictures are still not organized.

I did, however, find some pictures I wanted to share with you all.

Lucky you.

September 2007

Sweet Pea (left) and Daisy Mae (right) on Sweet Pea's first day of preschool.

This is when we did not live in middle-of-nowhere-ville and we were able to walk to her school.

Amazing.

September 2008

Handsome Dude (6 months) with my mom.

Just look at him.  Can we not all agree that he is uber handsome?

Hence, his code name, Handsome Dude.

The next several pictures are to show you how far my husband has come with the camera.

Please notice how he is not just not smiling, which is what you have all come to expect from my Lumberjack.

But he is actually hiding from the camera.

See?

Things used to be much worse.

Poor Little Dude.  He shall always have a well-meaning big sister squeezing him to death.

Wait?  Where is David?  Has anyone seen David?

He's so tricky!

Ha!

Poor Little Dude.  He has never been a fan of my cooking.

Wait a minute . . . is that my husband hiding from the camera again?

Yes.  And there he is again.

So  . . . sneaky, that man in black.

So . . . mysterious.

So . . .

 weird.

But I digress.

Little Dude.  Cute, cute!

Me and Little Dude.

The weirdest part about looking through all these photos was that my girls have not seemed to really age to me over the past few years.  But when I look back, I see how much they have changed.  And grown!

*sigh*

I need a pause button.

Happy Weekend!

Good Times, Fun, And Happiness

A Friday List.

1)  My dearheart friend, Amanda, threw caution to the wind and drove all the way out here to visit me.  Is she not splendid?

2)  We both agreed that cooking dinner this evening did not sound like a fun task.

3)  As a result of this, Amanda gets to go to Red Robin in the big city with the lights and cars and humans.

4)  I shall be cooking dinner.

5)  It was a beautiful day today.  But there does come a time in every gal's life when she has to wonder: 

When is spring coming?

6)  Combined, Amanda and I have eight children.  We allowed said children to play outside.  And we foolishly believed that all eight children would listen to us and not stand in any mud puddles.

7)  We should know better.

8)  At least Amanda should know better.  She is in her 30's.  I am only in my 20's.

For shame, Amanda.  For shame.

9)  All children ended the playdate with soaked socks and soggy bottoms.

10)  What should I make for dinner?

11)  I am contemplating running a 5K.  Dumb or brilliant?

12)  I have zero running/exercise/fitness experience and this event will occur in 4 weeks.

13)  Or, I could just make brownies tonight and give up.

14)  I am also giving up on couponing.  Thank you to everyone who gave me permission to do so.

15)  What did the boy volcano say to the girl volcano?

16)  Do you lava me as much as I lava you?

17)  Ha!  That is clever, you cannot deny it.

18)  The new water heater incident did not cause any sort of tiff whatsoever.  And we all got hot showers this morning.

19)  Therefore, my husband probably doesn't need to bring me flowers for another year or so.

20)  But, watch out, Lumberjack.  The year 2012 will sneak up on you.  And you shall be romantic, yes you shall.

21)  Let us discuss the COW.  The COW is the Comment of the Week.

It is Erin.  Erin is always hilarious.  I love Erin with an undying, non-creepy, blogging friend sort of love.

But Erin gets it this week because she remembered something on my blog from January of last year.

Her brain is like a sponge!

Erin said:

Is this the same dentist you freaked out with your wet hands while visiting after your 6-year hiatus?

Why, yes!  And you can read all about it here.

Go visit Erin.  She is good times, fun, and happiness.

Happy Friday!

 

The Dentist

Yesterday, I took the children to the dentist.

Foolishness, I know.

However, I cannot have them known as those homeschooled kids from Ruralville with the grimy teeth.

So.  To the dentist we shall go.

Last September, Handsome Dude went for the first time.  For some strange reason, the staff at the dentist office was quite certain that he was a girl.

There are a lot of words I could use to describe this boy.

Girly is not one of them.

When the gal called him back, she said,

"We are ready for her!"

And I let it slide.  That's the kind of gal I am.

But when they sent him home with the princess toothbrush, they were crossing the line, folks.

Crossing the line.

So, last week when I called to make the appointment, I casually mentioned to the guy making my appointment that my son was, in fact, of the male species.  And appointment dude thought this was uber hilarious and could not believe the mistake they had made.

So we had a good chuckle over it and he promised the situation would be recitified.  And that was that.

Let's move on.

We walk into the appointment yesterday.  I hear appointment-maker-dude mention to two other gals the mistake and they all got a good look at Handsome Dude and would giggle and laugh.

I would be lying if I said I was not a bit paranoid.

Is it that hard to tell?

So, they call the three oldest kids back and I sat in the waiting room with Little Dude.

And Little Dude was quite the precious angel, I kid you not.  It was baffling.

About an hour into it, a lady comes back to the waiting room.

She is nothing but smiles and pleasantries.

Smiley Lady: Hi, hon!  Are you Handsome Dude's mom?

Me:  Yes

Smiley Lady:  Well.  We are having a slight problem.

A million scenarios are racing through my mind.  I am convinced the problem involves either a) urine ,  b) poop,  or c) a and b combined.

Smiley Lady:  He is refusing to open his mouth.

Phew!

Me:  Ok.  Would you like me to go back and talk with him?

Smiley Lady:  No!  We prefer not to force the children to open their mouths.  We will just wait and see if he will let us get a look.  If he decides to allow us to, we will clean his teeth.  Otherwise, there is simply nothing we can do.

Alright.  I'm all for smiling and pleasantries.  However, I have to drive 45 minutes each way to the dentist.  I have four children and a limited gas budget.

And if I take him to the dentist, and he won't open his mouth, then what, pray tell, is the point?

No.  I am not worried about forcing that kid to do anything.

I have to deal with his broken glasses, peepee toilet seats, piling snow on his bedroom floor, pulling his sisters' hair, hitting his brother, yelling, kicking, screaming, complete refusal to attempt to chew broccoli, his strange habit of putting everything in ziploc bag, his stealing of gum, his sneaking of cookies and his newest habit: blow-drying his hair in one spot to make it stand straight up.

He can open his mouth at the dentist.  It's the least he can do.

But, I am sure the smiley, pleasant lady is not going to be on board with my plan.

Me:  Could you just try one thing for me?

Smiley Lady:  Umm . . . .

Me:  Just tell him this:  Your mother said if you open your mouth you get a piece of gum when we leave.

Bribery.  Don't pretend you don't do it, too.

So, he opened his mouth.

And now, my dear friends, he is Johnny-Clean-Teeth and he has already used an entire tube of toothpaste and flossed four times since he woke up.

The boy is intense, is he not?

***

Many moons ago, I had a talk with my husband.

You know.  The "boy, I know you love me and we have been married for, like, forever, and life is good, but every now and then, and maybe even just like once a year, could you surprise me with flowers or something on a day that is not Valentine's Day or any other day that you are supposed to bring me a gift?"

Don't pretend you haven't had this same discussion with your husband, you fibbers, you.

So, today, my husband comes home.

Me:  Hi!  You are a bit late.  Did you have trouble?

David:  No.  I just decided to buy you a present.

Glory be and the saints be praised!

Me:  Really!?! Wow!  You didn't have to that!

Even though I kind of told him he did.

Me: What is it?!

David:  A new water heater!

I know, I know.  So disappointing on so many levels.

However.  This is actually fantastic news!  We truly needed one.

And here's the best part:

In just a bit here, I get to go "help" him move it into the basement.

Fun fact:  I am not helpful when it comes to muscles.

Therefore, we will probably get into a tiff.  And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow I will get some "I'm sorry flowers."

Maybe.

Happy Thursday!

Oh, Bother.

There are times in my life when I become overwhelmed.

Oh, yes.  Overwhelmed.

I feel antsy and worried, but I can't figure out why.  So sometimes it helps to make a list.  A list of things that are bothering me.

Once I see what it is, I either get my bum in gear and get things moving, or I see that it is all silly and I should not be bothered with it at all.

So, without further ado, here is what is bothering me.

(Yes.  I am pretending this will be of interest to you.)

1)  I have not printed out a single picture to preserve my family's memories since late 2007.

2)  Little Dude was born in 2008.  As far as the photo albums know, we only have three children.

3)  Poor Little Dude does not have a baby book.  Children 1-3 do.

4)  Swimsuit season is looming around the bend.  And I cannot find my swimsuit body.  I fear I never had one.

5)  I ate about 37 cups of popcorn last night.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I have a tummy-up-my-berry.

Lest any of you are confused, tummy-up-my-berry is what my dad always referred to tummy aches as.

He is creative, is he not?

Who knew?

6)  There are people in my circle who are getting into this extreme couponing craze.  I feel guilty if I don't try and participate, because who wouldn't want to get 14 tubs of fabric softener for $1.17?  However, I am apparently dumb and I cannot figure out how to get these deals myself.

7)  After considering the matter for three days, the best I could come up with was Yoplait yogurt for 37 cents each and Kellogg's cereal for 88 cents each. 

Three days.

8)  I should probably potty train Little Dude at some point. 

9)  Many moons ago, I got creeped out and I went all paranoid with my blog.  I started using fake names for the children and I blocked search engines.

I just recently allowed search engines, and now I am wondering if I should remove that feature.

Here are some searches that have led people to this blog:

*how to avoid the lumberjack crack

*my belly hangs over my pants, yay

*taylor is peeing too much, why?

*wife peeling apples in the morning light

*taylor ate a cheeseburger

*ugly mudder blogs

*shall we earn good money in breeding

*punishment for kids leaving poop in the bathroom

*peace out word to your momma

And there are many other creepier ones that I shall not share with you for fear that I will bring more creepy searches with those same creepy search terms.

Let's just say I shall probably be blocking search engines.

Fun Fact: 90% of people who are using search engines have no idea how to spell or come up with complete sentences.

10)  I need to find ivory dress shirts for my boys.  They do not exist anywhere in the continental US.

11)  I just realized that my favorite jeans are in the washing machine.  And, since I am leaving soon, it looks like there shall be no hope for me wearing my favorite jeans to town.

Which is unfortunate, seeing as how I only go to town twice a week.

A gal should always wear her fanciest of jeans when heading into town.

12)  I will be 30 soon.  This discourages me.

13)  My kids are growing up too fast.  This saddens me.

I hope I am being a good mom.

14)  Should I exercise today?  Nah.

15)  I lied to you all.  I told you I was a hardcore Diet Pepsi fan.  Alas, I really don't care.  I will drink Diet Coke and Diet Pepsi interchangeably.  If given a choice, I prefer Diet Pepsi.  But it really doesn't matter.  Judging from the comments section last week, it would appear that I am the only person in the world who enjoys Diet Pepsi and I must wonder how they are still in business.

16)  I kind of want to ask you all to vote for me in this blogging contest.  However, I feel kind of dumb asking you.

So, I won't.  Kind of.

I would keep going, but I fear I shall be late for my going to town day.

Wish me luck with my not-so-nice jeans!

Happy Wednesday!

Fat Tuesday, week 6

Welcome, welcome.

I have a sneaking suspicion that some of you, who shall remain nameless, said you were "in" for Fat Tuesday, and yet you have already bailed on me.

Again.  It is just a suspicion.

Alright.  Today is the for reals Fat Tuesday.  Or realz.  Whichever you prefer.

Now.  When I was a young lass, I took an Intro to French Culture class.

It was around this time in my life:

Check out the mini-skirt!

I was scandalous, was I not?

Let's move on.

I thoroughly enjoyed the class.  And I remember learning that Mardi Gras meant Fat Tuesday.  And it was a huge party that was thrown on the eve of Ash Wednesday.  And, if my middle school education memory serves me correctly, Ash Wednesday marked the beginning of Lent.

Look at me and my knowledgeable self!

But, really, I am not sure on any of this.  But let's pretend I am smart just for today.

I suppose I could do some research, but, alas.  I am in a hurry.

If nothing else, let us just wonder why my skirt was do darn high.

***

This Fat Tuesday has nothing to do with any of that.  But aren't you glad I shared?

This Fat Tuesday is supposed to be a weight loss accountability group for me and my peeps.

BUT IF THE AFOREMENTIONED PEEPS FAIL TO CHECK IN, THEN WHAT, PRAY TELL, IS THE POINT?

Not that I am annoyed or anything.

Ok.  Let's go through this week's wins and fails.

I tracked super good on Monday and Tuesday and I even exercised on Monday.

WIN!

I did not track Wednesdsay through Sunday.

FAIL!

Nor did I exercise.

FAIL (or win.  depending on your attitude towards exercise)

I lost 0.4 pounds.

WIN! 

At this rate, I should meet my goal in December.  And by then , I will probably have put on holiday pounds.  Such is life.

FAIL!

I ate garlic bread.

FAIL!

It was delicious!

WIN!

I ate brownies.  And popcorn.  And rolls.  And lattes.  And lots of generally frowned upon treats.

FAIL!

I can always pretend I shall do better this week!

Hopeful WIN!

So, how about you?  How was your week?

You can check in by leaving a comment or by sharing the link to your blog.

Or you can ignore me again this week.

Whatever suits your fancy!

Just remember . . .

You shall never look as good as I once did in a red, denim skirt.

Happy Tuesday!