is anyone out there???

2012-01-08T18:01:00.000-08:00

Dream Weaver

I spent this past weekend volunteering on the Cadet's food truck for one of the winter camps. Last night I had a dream that the director of the Cadets told us that the only way we would be able to get a new food truck would be if we catered weddings on the off season.

The next thing I know the food truck volunteers were in a huge argument over whether or not we could serve ants on a log (celery topped with peanut butter and raisins) at the wedding reception.

In between the arguing, people kept coming up to me to congratulate me and also to thank me for arranging my mother to be the first wedding we would cater.

I saw my dad sitting at a table eating oatmeal and I started freaking out. I ran to my mom to find out what was going on. She insisted that this was a good cause and she wanted to support the Cadets.

I took the matter to the corps director and explained the situation. The verdict came quickly. My mom would be allowed to be married as long as I agreed to marry my father. Then they could charge for a double wedding. It would be a win-win situation.

I woke up this morning trying to figure out which was more upsetting. Me marrying my father or me having to have my wedding on the food truck.

2012-01-05T07:45:00.000-08:00

Heather you said I hadn't written in a while and that you were unable to know what was going on here at home while you are away at college. In your honor I will blog about what I did this morning. So you will know what you are missing.

Mission Code Name: Not impossible, just really really hard.

When I woke up this morning I knew that today was the day. So it was with excitement and only a small amount of dread that I got out of bed this morning. With amazing efficiency, I dressed in my spy clothes. All black. (Which also double as running clothes). And I gathered my supplies.

I put new batteries in the flashlight, found eye protection, donned a knit cap and put on rubber gloves (so as not to leave fingerprints and also important for touching icky things.)

I was ready. And I have to admit that now that the adrenaline had kicked in I felt nothing but confidence as I climbed the ladder, removed the ceiling piece that led to the crawl space, and pulled myself up into the ceiling.

It wasn't exactly how I imagined it to be. Lying in my bed I had envisioned a spacious walkway with a tall peaked roof. And maybe a few forgotten valuable pieces of antique furniture tastefully arranged around the edges.

What there was, was a whole lot of insulation, darkness, and mouse droppings. Conspicuously missing was the walkway and antique furniture. I guess I'd always thought that 'crawl space' was just an expression...

Anyway, a while ago I had discovered a spot in one of the bedrooms that made me suspect a mouse had died and was currently decomposing on and, perhaps in the future, through the ceiling.

My mission was to find the perpetrator and dispose of the evidence.

I failed.

Surveying the situation I realized I was not properly trained and decided to retreat. Basically I threw myself back down the hole, falling down the ladder and couldn't get to the shower fast enough to wash off all the dirtiness.

But I am not giving up. I may have lost the battle but war is still on the horizon. I will regroup. Gather back-up. Maybe buy some more flattering black pants, and find a good position to run interference. Basically I want to watch...

And as for the rest of the day? Picture in your mind: Mindy versus the vacuum cleaner. The excitement never ends.

2011-10-01T06:16:00.000-07:00

Flushing optional.

Yesterday I got to spend the day with the high school band at the Buckwheat festival. The band was marching in the parade. And we all know what this means.

Port-a-potties.

After the parade (where it rained on us) I ran to a port-a-potty cursing myself for getting 3 refills of Dr. pepper during lunch. I couldn't believe my luck that there wasn't even a line!

I went to reach for some toilet paper and discovered why there wasn't a line. The toilet paper was gone.

"Hello! Anyone out there?" I called outside. Nothing.

I waited a bit and tried again.

"Hello?"

"Are you talking to me?" a girl finally asked.

I told her the situation and asked her if she could grab some toilet paper from another port-a-potty and give it to me. It sounded reasonable. I would've done the same for someone else.

"They are all full, and, um, I really really need to go. Can you just come out before I pee my pants?" She sounded desperate.

So without any other options I gave up. I tried to use the complimentary hand sanitizer but found that it was also empty. But that turned out okay.

Because everyone knows that if you don't wipe you don't have to wash your hands. It's some kind of unwritten rule.

Right?

2011-09-13T07:58:00.000-07:00

Say What?

I'm not sure if I mentioned that my niece from Switzerland is here living with us. She is going to try American high school and see how she likes it. I do hope she likes it, because we love having her here with us.

Anyway, this week my niece has to give a presentation in French class. She is a bit nervous to talk in front of the class so my husband was helping her organize the PowerPoint presentation. Then he explained how he gives presentations at work.

My niece didn't sound convinced: "You mean I have to tell them what I'm going to say, say it, and then tell them again what I just said? That seems like a lot of saying!"

"I know," my husband reassured her. "But you have to assume that everyone is an idiot."

My niece thought for a few seconds then nodded her head. "You are probably right Uncle Brian. I know for sure that three people in my class are idiots---I'm not sure about the rest though."

She cracks me up.

So in conclusion, my niece is giving a French presentation this week. I'm sure it will go well and hopefully even the idiots will be able to follow along.

2011-07-12T12:09:00.000-07:00

More adventures from my week of volunteering on the food truck

I joined The Cadets in Oregon. The next day we drove to Washington. It wasn't a super long drive so we arrived at the school in WA at 2:30 AM. At this time we unload the food truck and get everything set up for breakfast. Then sometimes we can lay back down and sleep for a couple of hours.

It was a rough night and by the time we arrived in Washington I was pretty out of it. I stumbled off the RV and headed for the school. After finding a bathroom, I met a lady who had come over to the school to help us get situated.

"I'm here to help you!" she called over to me.

I told her I was okay. She smiled and patted me on the shoulder.

"Honey, your hoodie is on backwards, you aren't wearing any shoes, and you just came out of the men's bathroom. You are not okay."

Truer words have never been spoken.

2011-07-09T11:12:00.001-07:00

Good Morning Sunshine!

Last week I was on tour with my son and The Cadets---a drum and bugle corps he marches with. I volunteered on the food truck and we prepared 4 meals a day for 200 people. It's hard work but I love it.

Anyway, usually The Cadets rehearse during the day, have a show and then travel during the night. The kids sleep on buses and us volunteers sleep on an RV. On days that we actually get to stay in the same place for more than one day we are given rooms inside the school where we can set up air mattresses and sleep for the night. The volunteers get one room and the bus drivers get another room.

One morning after a good nights sleep at a school, we were told we needed to make a Sam's run to stock up on food for the next 4 days. Someone needed to use the truck later that morning so they wanted us to go to the store right away.

Kevin who had the shopping list was still asleep. So they asked me to go wake him up. I was a little unsure how to go about waking him up so I asked some other volunteers for ideas. They decided the best way would be to jump on his bed and roll him onto the floor.

I went into the volunteer room and it was dark. There were 2 people still sleeping but I was pretty sure Kevin was the one closest to the door. I went over to the air mattress and whispered, "Kevin!" Nothing. So I jumped on the air mattress and started bouncing. Up and down, up and down, trying to roll him off to wake him up.

After what seemed like several minutes Kevin pulled the covers off of his head and looked at me. It wasn't Kevin. In fact I didn't even recognize the poor guy. I apologized profusely and left the room quickly.

Outside I was able to re-group. I could do this---after all there was only one more person left sleeping in the room. So cautiously I went back into the room and stood by the other air mattress. "Kevin!" I whispered again. Still nothing.

I started poking him in the arm. Repeatedly. Then tried shaking his arm. He rolled over and once again it wasn't Kevin.

Running from the room I went back to the food truck to admit my defeat. It was time to go and I still hadn't waken up Kevin.

"Oh, I think he decided to sleep in the driver's room last night," a helpful volunteer informed me. Great.

Luckily there was only one person sleeping in that room and I woke him up without any trouble.

After shopping a guy came up to me. He offered me his hand and said, "If you plan on jumping on my bed every morning I think we better introduce ourselves." I had hoped it would be too dark for him to recognize me...

Anyway, his name is Phil and he drives the brass bus.

Phil no longer sleeps in the volunteer room...

2011-06-22T08:17:00.000-07:00

It's a small world.

I'm not sure how to write this so that it makes sense. It is kind of confusing, but I will to try...

Several weeks ago I blogged about a random neighbor kid hopping into my car one morning for a ride to school. I guess this kid's mom Nellie is friends with someone I know from church (I'll call her Jane.)

Jane called me yesterday. Jane and her husband are going on a Pioneer Trek this week and their babysitter cancelled at the last minute. Jane told me that she was telling her friend Nellie (my neighbor) that she was looking for a babysitter.

Nellie my neighbor told Jane that she knew a lady who lived down the street (ME!!!) who absolutely loves kids and she was sure that I would love to babysit for her.

Jane asked her what this neighbor's name was and Nellie said, "Mindy." Jane laughed because she knows me from church and was planning to ask me to babysit anyway.

After that introduction, I had no choice but to say I'd babysit, right?

Anyway, apparently I have a random person living down the street named Nellie offering off my services to the neighborhood. Because I love children. And this is true. I do love children.

This whole conversation made me smile. Because it IS a small world after all.

2011-06-08T08:29:00.000-07:00

Got Mustard?

We planted mustard seeds in our garden. We weren't sure what to expect but they grew. It turns out that it isn't really mustard at all. They are little lettuce leaves. Every time we eat them for dinner my husband comments that they don't taste like mustard at all.

Anyway. Last night as we ate our 10 little mustard leaves, my daughter asked if mustard doesn't come from mustard seeds, where did it come from?

Hmmm. Good question.

I had an idea. It was the first thing that came into my mind.

"Maybe mustard comes from an animal. You know, like milk comes from cows. Maybe mustard comes from milking an emu?"

Anna wasn't impressed. "You can't get milk from an emu, mom. Emus are birds."

"Have you ever tried milking an emu?" I challenged.

"An Emu isn't even a mammal." Anna knows stuff like this.

Okay. She might have a point.

So for the rest of dinner I had to endure the mocking taunts of "Emooooo" from across the table.

However, I still maintain that it's possible. Not for an emu of course. But maybe a different sort of mammal.

2011-05-16T04:31:00.000-07:00

Random carpooling.

Monday morning. Ahh, another week begins. And it's my month to drive the carpool.

So I throw a sweatshirt on over my pj's and back the car out of the garage. And I wait for my daughter and the neighbor...

I watch in my rear view mirror as this kid wanders into my yard. He walks over to my car and gets into the back seat. I recognize him from the neighbor hood. I've seen him around. But I've never actually met or talked to him. And I don't know what his name is.

I'm waiting for him to say something. But he doesn't. He just sits there.

"So, where are you going this morning?" I ask.

"To the middle school," he replies.

"Well you're in luck---that's where I'm going." I still think he's going to explain why he's in my car. But he doesn't.

"Did my husband or someone tell you I would take you to school?" I know. It's awkward. But surely he talked to someone to make these arrangements. Right?

"No," he says. (Okay. Thanks for clearing that up.) And really I don't mind. Really. I don't. I'm going to the school anyway. It just feels so strange. And awkward. I mean is now a good time for me to ask him what his name is?

"So...you need a ride to school?" I just can't let it drop.

"Yeah. Um, my mom said the lady at the yellow house would take me to school." He mumbles this, clearly uncomfortable.

I live in a yellow house---and yet this still doesn't explain anything. Oh well. I tried.

For sure if he comes back tomorrow for a ride, I'm going to ask him what his name is.

2011-03-28T13:46:00.000-07:00

The wheels on the bus go round and round.

Today I locked my keys in my car. I checked the doors and trunk several times to make sure nothing was unlocked. I could see the keys sitting in the front seat. Staring at me. And if keys could laugh, I have no doubt they would be laughing at me as well.

I was clear across town---about 20 minutes from home so I didn't want to have to call someone to come and get me. I wanted to figure this out for myself.

I called my husband who is out of town. I knew he couldn't do anything but figured some sympathy would be nice.

"Did you check the doors?" he asked.

Next, I wandered over to the store and casually informed the men who were talking out front that I'd locked my keys in the car.

"Did you check the doors?" they asked.

Skeptical of my competence, they accompanied me to my car to check the doors for themselves. Then one of the men checked my window and decided there wasn't any way to shove a hanger in without doing some serious damage. The other man suggested using a rock to break the window and then offered to drive me home.

Fortunately a bus pulled into the parking lot right at that moment so I thanked the men and ran over to the bus.

I rode the bus for a while before realizing that there are many different buses and maybe I should've checked the destination before boarding. The man who sat down next to me started listing all the ways you could kill someone and make it look like an accident. (His uncle has a large wood chipper, a pit of snakes, etc.) He then asked me what methods I've used that have been successful.

I pulled the rope and got off the bus.

20 minutes later another bus stopped by. Learning from my mistake, I asked the driver if this bus would take me to Bridgeport. He said no, but he would drop me off at a different stop where I could catch another bus to take me where I wanted to go.

People on buses are very friendly and talked about who was hiring and the best cell phone plans. After a couple of stops a man sat down across from me and kept giving me dirty looks. He wouldn't stop staring at me and finally came over and told me that I was sitting in his seat.

I moved. And got off at the next stop.

There I waited for my third and final bus where a lady sat down behind me. She started asking everyone on the bus if they had an extra room she could use. She had left her boyfriend and wasn't going back to live with him. No one had an extra room for her. She tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I had a couch she could sleep on.

Luckily we passed by the library in town and I was able to pull the rope and get off the bus.

I had reassessed my plan to be self sufficient and called a friend to pick me up and drive me back to my car. Not that I didn't want another two-hour bus ride, or that the people I met weren't interesting enough, but I just wanted to get my car.

Tomorrow is another day. I'm hoping for a dull, uneventful, boring day. No more bus rides.

2011-03-20T18:05:00.001-07:00

It's a sign.

This morning there was a "For Sale" sign in our neighbors yard. I was flabergasted. I mean, I'd not heard anything about them moving. Not a whisper! And we carpool. Every day.

I know I shouldn't feel betrayed, but for pete's sake, we've raised our children together for the past 12 years or so. It's almost like we're family!

So all morning at church I sulked and brooded over the impending move. It's not like I actually expected them to call and ask for my permission or approval or anything. But it would have been nice...

Anyway, my husband and I spent the drive home from church speculating why they could be moving: new job, bigger/smaller house, etc.

"Maybe they don't like their neighbors?" my husband suggested.

"No," I insisted with confidence. (If that were the case they would've put the for sale sign in OUR yard.)

Immediately after getting home, I ran next door to confront them.

My neighbor laughed as I ran up his driveway. He said that they were just as surprised as we were to wake up with a "For Sale" sign in their yard.

My neighbor thought it was most likely someone's idea of a joke. (And not a very funny joke, I might add.)

In the end, it turns out that my neighbors won't be moving after all. What a relief!

For future reference: If they do decide to move, I would like at least 60 days notice. In writing. Please.

2011-03-14T07:55:00.001-07:00

Honesty is the best policy.

Last night we were skyping with Sarah and Heather. They mentioned a talk my husband gave when the kids were little. I remembered it. It was a classic family moment. I was sure I'd written a blog about it. I looked for it, but I couldn't find it...so I guess I didn't write about it. It was too good to miss so I thought I'd write about it now.

Several years ago my husband gave a talk at church on honesty. The kids were little and I'll just say that they had listening issues. Anyway, he was talking about the time we went to the Virgin Islands on a business trip. He rented a car but the island was so small, we walked everywhere. When it was time to return the car we decided not to fill up the tank since we'd only driven it back and forth from the airport.

Anyway, by the time he had to sign the paperwork saying he had filled the tank, he felt so guilty he left to get more gas, almost making us miss our return flight.

Back to me and the kids: I was sitting in between Nicholas and Heather, to keep them from talking to each other. Nicholas turned to me to ask, "What's going on?" I was about to explain what their dad was talking about when Heather answered, "I'm not sure, but I think dad stole a car."

Then the older, wiser sister Sarah added, "And he felt really guilty about it."

2011-02-22T05:15:00.000-08:00

Mind your own business.

There was an article on the news about Japan's new interactive toilets. I guess they can talk, tell jokes, give weather reports, play music and do a variety of other things as well.

I don't know. I guess I consider myself more of an old-school type when it comes to toilets.

Although I must agree it might be helpful for your toilet to let you know that you're pregnant, have diabetes, or that you need more fiber in your diet, I prefer not to be so personally involved with my toilet.

It seems there should be limits to what a toilet should be doing---especially with a talking toilet...You'd have to start worrying about what your toilet knows and who they will tell...I can see things quickly getting out of control.

And just think about the future. Who knows what more a toilet will be able to do for you? Maybe, like my husband suggested, it will eventually offer you a photo when you are finished. Just like a roller coaster ride...

So as interesting as those fancy, new-fangled Japanese toilets may be, I'm going to stick with my plain, low-tech, non-interactive toilet. Thank you very much.

2011-02-18T06:09:00.000-08:00

These are a few of my favorite things.

One of the things I love most about being a parent is getting to share my favorite childhood things with my children. There are foods: rice krispie bar treats, scones, and making ice cream out of snow. Movies: Back to the Future, The Princess Bride, Karate Kid, ET, and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. TV shows: Gilligan's Island, and the Cosby Show. Books and Music...

I remember positioning myself on the couch so I could watch my kids' faces as they watched the movies I used to love. Wanting them to love them as much as I did.

My kids know all the music from the 80's. I couldn't wait to introduce them to Weird Al and teach them all my favorite girls' camp songs.

Of course there are always those things I remember loving but could never replicate for my own kids. Take for example the circus. I remember getting those free tickets from school and finally my mom letting us go to the circus. It was the most amazing show on earth!!! We took our kids. Once. It was crowded and smelly and chaotic. I couldn't get out of there quick enough. And as I grabbed my kids and ran to the car I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness---my kids would never love the circus!

Candy corn was another big disappointment. If asked what my favorite candy is the first thing that comes to mind is candy corn. I used to bite off each color layer one by one. I bought a bag for my family to try...Not a big hit. I couldn't even eat them.

Anyway, I have always thought that I'd done a pretty good job teaching my children all the essential need-to-know culture from my past. I thought I was pretty well-rounded and thorough. Until yesterday. It seems I forgot a vital part of my past...

Yesterday my husband sent this text to my kids:

"Feeling a little slow today, so in a "Calgon-take-me-away" vein, I just used 5 pumps of hand soap."

To this my daughter replied:

"Who is Calgon?"

2011-02-14T07:28:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day: Today I want to feel the love.

This past week, I asked my daughter Anna to do something for me. For some reason, she wasn't being very agreeable. In fact, she told me no. So I decided to try a different tactic. Guilt.

"Where is the love?" I asked her. "I'm just not feeling it," I continued.

She proceeded to explain to me that the last time I cleaned up around the house I must have put it away somewhere. Because she couldn't find it.

Now since I do have this habit of finding really good hiding places---I mean very creative places to put things, I couldn't really disagree with her.

Take, for example, the paper shredder. Who would think to look in the bathroom closet? Or to look in the garage for envelopes? I'm clever like that.

Anyway, this Valentine's day I really do need to ask: Where is the love? No really. Where is it?

2011-02-08T06:42:00.000-08:00

Career Goals.

I was talking with some friends at church the other day. Three moms with very young children were discussing their plans for all the amazing things they would do when their children were in school: going back to school, their future careers, hobbies they would start, etc.

When someone asked me what I my plans were, I just sort of shrugged my shoulders. It's not that I haven't been thinking about it. I mean in less than 5 years all my kids will be out of the house. "I don't know," I finally replied.

I could see the confusion and disappointment on their faces and I am sure one of them even gasped. "But what do you want to do?" one of them persisted. "What are you PASSIONATE about?"

Honestly? I don't really feel passionate about anything right now. Except maybe trail mix---which is the most amazing food ever created. (Which probably doesn't really count as a valid passion.)

This past week I tried thinking about jobs I might like and came up empty. So I decided that instead I would make a list of things a job should have. Maybe then I will know what kind of job to look for.

Some days I don't like to wake up...

1. No early morning hours.

There are days that I really need to stay in my pajamas.

2. No strict dress code.

I don't like to do hard things.

3. Must not be too hard.

Some days I really really need a nap. Not to sleep necessarily, but just to lie down and rest. With my eyes closed.

4. Optional nap time.

I like to listen to music while I work and it's always better if I enjoy what I'm doing.

5. Allows loud music and must be fun.

I stay more focused when snacking.

6. Trail Mix is encouraged and allowed.

So, if you are looking through the newspaper and see any jobs that meet these requirements, please let me know. That would be really nice of you. Because I don't really like looking through the newspaper either.

In the meantime I will lie on the couch in my pajamas, eating trail mix and try to think about what I'm passionate about...

2010-12-29T09:45:00.000-08:00

Practically Perfect.

I was at the store trying to find my shopping list. I reached my hand into my coat pocket and I found a spoon.

As I wandered the aisles I wondered if my spoon would possibly come in handy. What if someone at Walmart had a spoon emergency and I could whip out my spoon and come to the rescue? It could happen.

My spoon was dirty. Upon further consideration I realized this was okay. I didn't want to show off too much. I mean all my fellow shoppers would be amazed at how prepared I was during the spoon emergency. I didn't want to rub into their faces the fact that I had a spoon to offer and they didn't. This way when I waved my spoon in the air and it was covered with lint and bits of pocket gunk that had stuck to the parts of the spoon I hadn't licked completely clean, they could relax. They could applaud my gesture. A dirty spoon is much more likeable than a clean spoon.

I'm home now. Unfortunately no spoons were needed during my errands. I have to wonder whether it is time to relinquish my spoon to the dishwasher. Or perhaps after lunch I could stick a dirty fork in the other pocket...

2010-12-26T12:52:00.000-08:00

I really was going to send you a Christmas card. But I didn't. You see I realized that after Sarah and Heather left for BYU I wouldn't have the chance to get a current family picture. And as far as I'm concerned Christmas cards are all about the pictures.

So, there you have it. No Christmas card. I really do feel bad about that.

Instead I hope you'll accept my sincerest apologies. And while you're at it, enjoy the Christmas song Nick wrote for our family to play together. Merry Christmas!

2010-12-25T09:35:00.000-08:00

It's the best time of the year.

I like Christmas. I really do. It's fun to decorate the tree and go shopping. I have nothing against Christmas.

It's just that when it's over with...well it leaves me feeling uneasy and unsettled. It feels so chaotic with wrapping paper everywhere, and piles of gifts stacked on the couch.

Last year I cleaned everything up...Immediately after we unwrapped presents. By noon I had the trash out, the ornaments neatly put away and the tree down.

Then I was able to lounge around all afternoon and enjoy Christmas. Without all the stress of the holiday mess.

Apparently I ruined Christmas. Apparently I sucked the joy and happiness from Christmas.

So this year I'm not cleaning up or putting anything away. I'm going to smile as the Christmas spirit spills over onto the floor, puddles under the couch and runs down the hall. Merry Christmas to you all.

2010-11-22T06:48:00.001-08:00

I hope some things will never change.

"You are back!" Ben exclaims when I pick him up from kindergarten class today.

"Yes, you were here before," Tim adds as I give him a big hug. How I've missed these boys.

"What's your name?" Ben asks.

"Mindy," I tell him.

Tim looks around and asks, "Where's that other one?"

I know exactly who he is talking about, but it is too fun to listen to them figure it out.

"Yah," Ben chimes in. "Where is your dad?"

"My dad is in America," I inform them.

"Oh. Then where is, um, the other one?"

"Nick?" I offer.

"Yes! Where is Nick?"

I tell them that Nick is at their house waiting to see them.

"Is he your grandma?" Ben wonders.

"No. He is my son." I love this.

"Is he my grandma?" Ben continues.

I explain they are cousins and then we go home, eat lunch, and then I take a nap. I get up and go in to the living room.

"Hey!" Tim yells coming over to me. "You have been here before!"

"What's your name?" Ben asks as I give him a big hug.

2010-11-16T10:45:00.000-08:00

Persona non grata.

This morning I tried to log in to my facebook account. Only to discover that my account has been closed. From what I can figure out, it's because I am using a fake identity.

I must ask you: If I'm not me, then who exactly do they think I am?

Anyway, my facebook account is gone. Poof. It's like I never even existed.

So I will take some time to ponder my situation. And maybe after I get back from visiting my sister I will be ready to create a new, more improved version of myself.

Because in two weeks, who knows who I'll feel like being...

2010-11-06T06:59:00.000-07:00

We were in the car after leaving the doctor's office and my husband turned to me at a stop sign. "Don't even think about writing a blog about this."

"Why would I do that?" I asked him. In fact, the thought hadn't even occurred to me yet.

"I know you want to," he baited. "I can just hear you writing it in your head."

Anyway.

My husband has had a pain in his side for 10 days now. I've tried to get him to go to the doctor for the past week. I figured that finding out what the real problem is just had to be better than what we have been coming up with searching the Internet with his symptoms. So far we had it narrowed down to mono, kidney stones, or a ruptured spleen.

Finally I talked him into going to the doctor. They came and poked and prodded. They took a lot of blood work. Which all came out fine. They did an ultrasound of his spleen. Which was normal. They came and poked and prodded some more. They took an x-ray.

Apparently he has gastritis. He has...um, "blockage" clear up under his ribs. They gave him some medicine and told us we would need to get in touch with a specialist for further treatment.

So we are walking out of doctor's office and I know you know what I told him.

"I've been right all along," I had to tell him.

"What's that?" he wondered.

"That you are full of crap."

But he was right too. I guess this was something I would blog about.

2010-10-13T16:48:00.000-07:00

Organized chaos and prayer.

We used to have a system. It was difficult to remember, in fact, only my husband and maybe one of the kids, knew what it was. Nevertheless, it was a good system. But that was back when we had six people living at home....

The old system went something like this: everyone had a day of the week in which they were assigned to say the dinner prayer. Then, on the seventh day, my husband calculated the trajectory of the moon and how it related to Earth's orbit---and that was who prayed. Or something like that.

Anyway. Now that there are only four of us, it would really be more convenient if there were eight days in the week. Then we could each pray 2x a week. It's just mathematically unfortunate that it can't work out that way. And for this reason, we couldn't figure out a new system.

So I had an idea. My husband rolls his eyes at this, but it is brilliant in its simplicity. And it works!!!

The new system: On even days the girls pray. On odd days the boys pray.

Don't worry, there's more. To decide who prays the girls (or boys) do rock-paper-scissors. The winner chooses whether to pray for dinner or that night before bed. See? It's easy.

And the best part is that Anna always does rock. So I can usually beat her...

2010-10-12T01:49:00.001-07:00

I've got your number.

I know it's early. I hope I didn't wake you. But I just got a phone call. At 4:14 am. This is never good. The library does not call at 4:14 am to tell you that the book you are waiting for is in. No, phone calls at 4:14 in the morning are always bad.

And knowing this, I still couldn't get myself to get out of bed and go downstairs to answer the phone. I stayed in bed for another half an hour going through all the possible scenarios:

There has been a computer glitch and my girls have been evicted from their dorm rooms and they are sitting in the parking lot with all their belongings waiting. Homeless.

The emergency brake on my car has disengaged and the car rolled down the hill and is now parked in someone's living room.

My cat is on fire.

Someone somewhere is dead. Or dying.

After a half an hour of imagining all the reasons for a phone call at 4:14 am, I finally decided that finding out who had called probably couldn't be worse than not knowing.

(This whole thing reminded me of that time when my husband was out of town and someone kept calling me and telling me they were locked in my basement and couldn't get out. It had me so freaked out I ended up calling my friend. She sent her husband and two sons to check out my basement. They had baseball bats.)

Maybe someone was trapped in my friend's basement and she needed me to return the favor.

Anyway. I went downstairs and there it was. 4:14am. Missed call. From a number I don't know. Which leaves me in exactly the same situation I was before: There is still some unknown emergency out there.

(At least they didn't leave a message. Everyone knows that I don't know how to check the voice mail on my new phone.)

But I do have their number. And I'll think of a perfect time to call them back. Maybe 4:14 tomorrow morning.

2010-10-09T19:11:00.000-07:00

Mutant Marshmallows.

I was at Walmart doing my weekly shopping when this woman stopped her cart next to mine. She held up a bag of marshmallows and waved them in front of my face. "Look at these marshmallows!" she yelled. "Just LOOK at them!"

I looked at her marshmallows.

"They are big," I observed. And they were. In fact they were much bigger than normal marshmallows.

"They are HUGE!" the lady continued, as she kept waving the bag in my face.

I agreed again and hurried on my way through the store. Walking down the aisles, I saw at least three displays of these gigantic marshmallows. They were everywhere. It made me wonder if Walmart had gone a little overboard and been a bit hasty with their inflated expectations for these marshmallows. But then again, the marshmallow lady did seem very enthusiastic about them.

And you know how it is at the grocery store---you always seem to pass the same people up and down every aisle. So everytime I saw her, she grabbed her bag of marshmallows and waved them at me. I tried to look happy to see her, but honestly, by the third aisle of ohhhing and ahhhing over marshmallows, it was getting more and more difficult to be excited. About the marshmallows. Even if they are really really big marshmallows.

I guess the lady also found a large Hershey's candy bar, which she showed me. She said she was planning on having her very own "campfire" smores extravaganza as soon as she got home. I told her that sounded yummy as I pushed my cart faster through the aisles, passing her by, hopefully for the last time.

Oh, I thought I'd warn you that in case you are interested in large marshmallows, you better hurry. They have them at Walmart, but they won't last long.

2010-09-05T14:22:00.000-07:00

When I'm helping I'm happy.

I'm in the kitchen making dinner. My husband comes in and tells the kids that they should come and help.

"I'll watch," Anna offers.

"I'll clap," Nick replies.

"I'll be a street performer," my husband decides as he starts posing in various positions. "And you can pay to get your picture taken with me."

My son claps and jumps on his back. And together they all go to the back porch.

And I'm still in the kitchen, wondering what just happened.

Next time I get to be the street performer.

2010-09-01T06:30:00.001-07:00

Too bad I didn't think of it first...

After getting home from a trip I always expect to find things out of place. But this time I was actually surprised. There was a brick. In the sink. And this brick was in a plastic bag.

I had to ask...

I guess Brian was ambitious enough while I was gone to soak some of Nick's laundry. He soaked Nick's "white" shirts for four days. Apparently he needed the brick to keep the shirts from floating to the top.

I rolled my eyes and put the brick back in the garage.

Then last week I needed to soak something to get out a stain. The shirt kept floating to the top of the bucket.

So I went to the garage and got the brick.

And it worked!

2010-08-20T09:15:00.000-07:00

Ready for anything!

The big day arrived! We dropped off Sarah and Heather at BYU yesterday. I was so ready! I put all my money, ID, and credit cards and secured them safely into the pocket of my cute, black, BYU approved, knee-length shorts. I had my camera and we were all set!

We drove down to BYU and hurried to the ID center so the girls could get their BYU Id's. The room was full of fellow students all waiting for their id. "Huh," I remarked loudly. "It looks like no one else brought their mom!" Sarah moaned and elbowed me. Hard.

I knew we had an appointment at the bank next, so I reached my hand into my pocket to reassure myself that I had the money and my ID. And it was empty. I felt that rush of panic start as I frantically put my hand into all my other pockets just to check, but they were empty as well.

I clearly remembered putting everything I needed into my pocket. I know I had! I looked down in dismay at my black shorts feeling very betrayed.

Except I wasn't wearing black shorts.

Then I remembered. Right before we left I had changed into a pair of jean capris!

Off to the bank we went anyway. I informed the bank guy that not only did I not have the money to put into the accounts, I didn't have any id on me either.

So much for feeling like I was on the ball...But I did have a camera! That has to count for something, right?

2010-08-12T06:55:00.000-07:00

Laundry time.

When we drove up to Massillon, Ohio to visit Nick we thought it would be fun to surprise him by washing his laundry while he was busy marching.

His laundry was very dirty. And by saying "very dirty" I am being kind. It was more of a "toxic-nasty-should be burned" kind of dirty.

Anyway, we put all his laundry in one of those super-duper-triple capacity sized washing machines, put it on the "For The Love Of All That Is Holy, Get This Laundry Clean!!!" setting. And watched it work it's magic.

We finished and put his laundry away nice and neatly into his duffel bag. And waited to see if he would notice.

That night my son came over and asked us what we had done to his clothes.

Hummm. "We washed it?" My daughter replied.

"Why?" I wanted to know.

"It's so clean!" he replied sounding surprised and amazed.

Well we had just washed it...I wonder how he does his laundry?

Maybe he just hasn't found the special setting yet.

2010-08-11T09:13:00.001-07:00

Self-discovery.

We learn things about one's self when we are in adverse situations. This summer I spent 3 weeks "volunteering" on the Cadets food truck. We worked 15 hour days, slept on an RV with 8 other volunteers and worked hard all day in the sun.

Things I have discovered:

1. You can judge a shower by how it looks. I can forgive a lot about a shower if the floors are clean.

2. I require more than 3 hours a sleep at night. My brain just doesn't function properly and it takes me a long time to connect the dots when going on only a few hours of sleep.

For example: I put the other food truck crew members cell phone numbers into my cell phone using their first name and food. (Mainly because I don't know their last names and it gives me a quick reference to who they are.) So one day I got a call from Robin Hood. And I was like: "How did Robin Hood get my number? And why is he calling me?" It took me several minutes before it finally occurred to me that I had mistyped "Food" and put "Hood" and that it was Robin from the food truck calling. See? Not so quick...

3. I don't require a lot of time to get ready. I was amazed at how quickly I could take a freezing cold shower. And without access to a mirror, I can be dressed and back to the food truck in only minutes.

4. Please and thank you can go a long way. It was amazing how just a simple thank you from one of the kids made it all seem worth while. Some of the kids were so polite and gracious and thankful for the work we were doing for them.

5. Aprons are wonderful things. The first day I went through 3 changes of clothes. Then someone introduced me to the aprons and it was, well, amazing.

6. I do not like heat, hard physical labor, and functioning on little to no sleep.

I'm so thankful to know this about myself.

And after saying this, I can guarantee that I will be one of the first to volunteer to be back on the food truck next summer.

2010-07-22T20:35:00.000-07:00

I guess I won't be getting that nomination for mother of the year...

Today as Anna and I were leaving the dentist's office, I realized I had received several texts. So as we made our way to the car, I quickly tried to reply to them. Since the dentist's office is on the top floor of a junior college, there was a group of college students hanging around outside.

I heard several of them talking as I walked by. "Oh my gosh. Did you just see that?" And, "Can you believe her mom just clobbered her in the face with the door like that?"

My first thought was, "poor kid, her mother should be paying more attention" and then I turned around.

And saw Anna. She was standing in the doorway with her arms loaded down with all of my stuff (Obviously I couldn't text with my hands full), her face smashed against the glass door.

I ran over and opened the door for her. As we walked by again, I heard someone say, "Poor kid."

Trying to redeem myself I paying extra close attention to make sure Anna was completely inside the car with the door shut and seat belt fastened before I drove away. Because that's what a good mother who is paying attention does.

2010-07-19T08:07:00.001-07:00

Look! Our very own tomato!

We have a plethora of tomatoes growing on our back porch. Anna counted 17 green ones.

We also have strawberries which didn't do so well. I think we got 5 or 6 tiny little strawberries. And one raspberry plant that has yet to produce a single raspberry. I wonder if they aren't just snobby fruit that are offended by being planted in kitty litter containers...

For a while our neighbors thought that we were growing illegal substances on our back porch. But we set them straight.

So it appears that gardening isn't really our "thing." But we are trying really really hard. And we're going to eat our tomato and smile.

2010-07-09T07:42:00.000-07:00

Charting new territory.

I've been wondering if there is a protocol. You know. For how long you are actually supposed to wait after your children leave for college, before you can take-over their bedrooms. And put your stuff in there.

My kids are telling me that I can't actually have their rooms until they leave.

In theory, I guess I have to agree with that. It does make sense.

Except if I wait until after they leave, who will be there to help me pack up their stuff and re-paint their bedrooms? Who I ask you?

So this was my general thinking back in May. Maybe a day or two before the girls officially graduated from high school. As I had them pack up their belongings. Into nice plastic bins. That are now stored neatly in a closet.

And Sarah really did do a great job painting the new recording studio.

P.S. Lest I seem too uncaring, please notice that I did leave a "guest" bedroom for the girls to use if they do decide to come and visit in the future.

And I sincerely hope that they will come visit.

2010-06-30T06:45:00.001-07:00

Gone fishin.

The other day we took the kids to go trout fishing. They caught 12 fish in just a few minutes. It was amazing.

But the best part was they have this guy that cleans and fillets them for you. While you wait.

So there we were. Watching the guy fix up our fish. Happy and feeling relieved that he was doing it and not us.

One of the kids remarked that maybe having fish guts spattered on you just might be the worst thing ever.

"I bet there are worse things," my sister commented.

Yeah, I thought to myself---hemorrhoid's are way worse than that.

Seeing the look of surprise and horror on everyone's face I realized that I had just blurted this out. In front of everyone. "I mean, it's just what I've heard. It's not like I would know this from, um, personal experience or anything." I assured everyone.

I'm sure they believed me.

2010-06-26T20:27:00.000-07:00

Sisters are a wonderful thing.

Me and my sisters are together for the next few days. I love my sisters. They are awesome and we seem to laugh a lot.

I don't know if other sisters do this, but we seem to spend a lot of time comparing body parts. Our children are completely grossed out. They are like---you guys are always saying something like---mine is bigger than yours, mine has more hair, mine turned black and fell off...

We totally didn't say that last one. Except maybe once.

All I can say is this. Wait until you are 40 and see what you and your sisters talk about.

And when we aren't comparing we are grooming each other. We decided to dye my sisters hair blonde. She is now a redhead. But it looks cute. It really does. And I'm not just saying that.

We are trying to convince another sister to let us do her hair tomorrow night. And we can't figure out why she won't let us. Of course we can always try when she is asleep...

2010-06-07T15:04:00.000-07:00

It's amazing what you can find...

I have a filing cabinet upstairs in the nook. A few months ago I noticed that for some reason someone had moved my filing cabinet down to the cellar. Then last week the filing cabinet was back upstairs! This was very confusing.

This weekend we were dragging stuff from all over the house outside for our garage sale. It was then that I made my big discovery.

We have TWO filing cabinets. Huh. Go figure. How is it that I did not know this? The good part is that my husband hasn't been moving the filing cabinet up and down two flights of stairs in the middle of the night.

But the big question is: What in the world is in the second filing cabinet!

2010-05-26T09:14:00.000-07:00

Unsettling Dreams. Again.

There I was. Wearing a Spiderman suit. At a wedding. Which apparently was my own wedding. And I was trying to marry my dad. Except everyone kept saying that I couldn't marry my dad because I was already married. (Which by the way no one even mentioned the fact that I couldn't marry my dad because he was, well, MY DAD!)

Anyway. I announced that because I was wearing the Spiderman costume, I could marry anyone I wanted. Which seemed to make everyone happy. Because everyone nodded their heads in agreement, and decided it was now okay for the wedding to take place.

So I married my dad. In a Spiderman suit.

2010-04-20T05:18:00.000-07:00

When in Rome...

Do you remember that time when we were in Rome and driving to Pompei and I had to go to the bathroom? Really, really bad? And we'd been looking for gas station signs for miles and miles without any luck?

When all of a sudden we saw a guy pulled off to the side of the road peeing against the guard rail? And we were like, maybe we should pull over!

And there weren't any good bushes so I had to hide behind the guard rail while Julie held a blanket up around me. So no one could see me. Peeing.

While Diane took pictures, capturing the whole event forever on film?

Do you remember that? Yeah. Good times.

2010-04-13T11:09:00.000-07:00

Aliens among us.

"Are you an alien?" my 5-year old nephew Ben asked me today.

"Nope," I replied.

"I think you're an alien," he insisted, his twin brother Tim shaking his head in agreement.

Trying to change the subject, I asked them if they knew who would be arriving soon.

"Who?" Ben and Tim asked eagerly.

"Diane is coming!" I told them.

"Is Diane your dad?" they wondered.

"No, she is my sister," I clarified.

"Are you sure she isn't your dad?" Tim wanted to know.

"Yep," I answered.

Tim and Ben turned to look at each other and Ben said, "I bet she's an alien too."

2010-04-13T01:52:00.000-07:00

The Swiss Nursery ROCKS!

On Sunday I went with my sister to the nursery. I'm in the nursery at home, so I thought it would be a fun way to maybe get some new ideas.

To my surprise there were very few things the same about our two nurseries. Yes, we both have snack time. My sister baked bread (in an oven inside the nursery) and sliced up various fruits and veggies. Making the stale animal crackers we have, seem even more lame.

One more thing we have in common is play-doh. Well, I did try play-doh once. But one little boy kept eating it so I put it away and never tried it again. Here, they do play-doh every week and just let the kids eat it.

But that is where the similarities end.

Can I just say two words? Sand box. Yes, in Switzerland, they have a sand box in the nursery. How cool is that! My sister bought it and put it in there. If I were to bring a sand box into my nursery at home, I think they would completely freak out.

But the best part is the bikes. They have half a dozen bigwheels and baby strollers that the kids climb on and race down the halls when they take a "walk." I can just imagine how well this would go over in West Virginia.

I'm seriously thinking about trying out some of the great ideas I've seen here. Maybe a sandbox and a few bigwheels...Because, as my sister says, "The kids love it!" And that's all the reassurance I need.

And it may even ensure a speedy release from the nursery.

2010-04-08T08:07:00.000-07:00

Feeling a bit jet-lagged, but loving every minute.

I think the second I landed in Switzerland, Julie's five-year-old boys started asking me questions. Wow, I've missed them.

"Are you my mom's brother?"

"Were you little the same time my mom was little?"

"Were you in my mom's tummy?"

I had thought we finally got it figured out when they declared: "Oh, so you are my mom's sister!"

But then I wasn't so sure...

"Are you a boy?" Tim wanted to know. "Because when you came to see us in England, you were a boy."

Julie left to pick up the older kids from school and Ben reached up to grab my hand. "So, I guess you're the boss now," he informed me.

I asked him who the boss usually was. "I'm the boss of me, Tim is the boss of Tim, and George is the boss of everyone," he answered.

And then the conversation changed. Which is one of the things I love most about these guys.

"Who made the world," Ben asked standing inches away from my face as I was trying to use the bathroom as discreetly as possible.

I told him that Heavenly Father made the world. "Did he die?" he wanted to know.

I reminded him about Easter and how Jesus was raised from the dead. "Oh yeah," Ben nodded his head, remembering. "That's when the Easter Bunny came to raise Jesus from the dead." Or something like that.

2010-03-31T07:20:00.000-07:00

Time for a Scooby snack...

It's that crazy place between real and dreaming. That's where I was this morning. I'd woken up and driven the kids to school but had a terrible headache. Got home took something for the headache and checked my mail and facebook. My sister mentioned something about having tickets to see some kind of murder mystery dinner train. Wow! I've always wanted to go to one of those.

My head was throbbing so I decided to lie down for a while. And suddenly I was in the middle of a ghost hunt. Not quite the murder mystery I wanted, but I guess it was close enough. It was almost like a Scooby Doo episode...

And I was chasing down ghosts when all of a sudden the phone rang. In my dream it was someone trying to trick me---trying to convince me they were not really a ghost when I knew they were.

I woke up as I was hanging up the phone---the real phone. Desperately hoping that I hadn't just had the same conversation on my phone that I'd just had in my dream. I'd just yelled at the "pretend" person, telling them that they had to be a ghost because were too ugly to be real. "Of course, I'm real," the person on the phone had insisted. But I knew better and had hung up them.

So, maybe I'd just picked up the phone in my sleep and no one was ever really there. But just in case---and you called me this morning---I apologize. I'm sure you're quite lovely. Not ugly at all. And maybe next time, don't call so early.

2010-03-29T10:37:00.000-07:00

It's possible.

Today as I sat in McDonalds drinking my 10th refill, waiting for it to be safe for me to go to my car, I had to wonder. Is it just me? Does everyone else have encounters with crazy people and find themselves in strange situations on an almost daily basis? Surely I'm not the only one. But then again, maybe I have my own magnet that attracts crazy.

So, I watched the lady check my car doors one final time before giving up and finally wandering off. She had been beside me in line and arguing with herself over who would get to sit in the front seat on the way home. Then she'd taken her drink and gone straight to my car and tried to get inside. There were cars parked on both sides of me, yet she had stood waiting beside the passenger door of MY car. I decided that waiting inside for her to leave was the best way to handle things. Even if it had taken an hour.

Anyway, I realized that things do seem to happen to me. For example, recently my husband and I were driving to pick up Anna from choir practice, and we noticed that one of our front headlights had just gone out. AutoZone was less than a mile away so my husband figured we could just stop by and pick up a new headlight on our way home. I was not so sure. But my husband convinced me that it would be fine. A few blocks away from the store we were pulled over by the police for having our headlight out.

We bought another headlight and I begged my husband to put it in right there in the parking lot. He needed tools we didn't have in the car, so he wanted to wait until we got home. "Besides," he assured me, "what are the odds that we'll get pulled over twice in one night for the same headlight."

He'd forgotten that I was with him. And yes, we did get pulled over on the way home.

And then yesterday. I noticed the shorts my daughter was wearing looked like they were ripped in the back. But I can never say the right thing the right way. "Anna do you have a hole in your butt?" I yelled out. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at me. See? Anyone else would have figured out a better way to phrase that or would have been more discreet.

So, I'm going to challenge myself to be more invisible. To try to make it through an entire week without making a scene or attracting the attention of crazy people. I think I can do it.

2010-03-22T08:27:00.000-07:00

No good deed goes unpunished.

I was just trying to be nice.

Why else would I have 10 cases of Pepsi Max piled into my cart. Target is always out of Pepsi Max, so when I saw they had some in stock, I bought all they had. 9 cases fit into my cart perfectly, but I was able to balance the 10th box on top.

And it would have been fine...except I saw my neighbor and was waving hello to her. Instead of watching for potholes.

The case of pop flew off the top of my cart and instantly I knew that at least one can was leaking. And since I couldn't put a leaking box of pop into my car, I knew I'd have to remove the damaged can(s). I picked the box back up and put it into my cart where I could open the soggy end of the container. Before I was ready, all 12 cans came flying out of the box.

It was like mini explosions with pop squirting in every direction. The lady walking towards me ran for cover behind the trash can. If it wasn't such a surprise and pop wasn't spraying all over me, I would have stopped to watch. It truly was incredible.

I threw the damaged cans---that were still spraying out pop with amazing power---into the trash can. (Once again I needed to apologize to the lady who was then hiding behind the trash can.)

I had it almost under control and was ready to continue my trek across the parking lot when I overheard a women passing by inform her friend that maybe I should start drinking non-caffeinated pop. Before I could scream, "It was the POT HOLES!" once again my cart lurched into a hole and the few cans that hadn't been damaged went flying out of the open box...

This time I wasn't so apologetic to the women who ended up getting sprayed. It really was an accident.

2010-03-12T08:50:00.000-08:00

The fabric store is not my friend.

This morning I decided to finally go buy the fabric my sister had asked me to get for her. I've been putting it off because fabric stores are a bit intimidating to me. It turned out that my fears were justified as it ended up being a stressful experience for me.

My sister wanted some baby fabric she could use to make baby quilts. Any fabric at all, she assured me. As long as it was cute. I ran around looking at baby material for an hour trying to decide if it was cute enough or even cute at all. I mean what if I thought it was cute, but it really wasn't?

I gathered my "cute" fabric candidates and decided to canvass the store to see what other people thought. 8 out of the 10 people at the fabric store agreed that the material I had picked out was cute. One guy tried to talk me into choosing a nice cammo print instead. Another lady declined participating in my little survey. (Whatever that means.)

Now I'm home and I'm second guessing my choices. What if those people were just telling me what they thought I wanted to hear so I'd leave them alone? Maybe after I left they all started laughing at what ugly and inappropriate material they had talked me into buying.

Anyway, I don't visit my sister for another month so I still have time to re-think my fabric selections.

2010-02-22T18:41:00.001-08:00

Got the time?

I lost my watch a while back. I kept thinking it would turn up eventually. But it hasn't. So, I went to the store today to buy a new one.

I showed it to Brian this evening. It's silver and kind of sparkly. He looked at it and asked why I had chosen it. (It looks nothing like my old watch.)

"It was the only watch in the whole store that had the correct time," I replied. It's the truth. And actually I'm quite grateful. It made chosing a new watch very easy.

Brian started laughing. But seriously, doesn't everyone choose their watch that way?

2010-02-10T08:35:00.001-08:00

Grab some popcorn and enjoy the show.

It's snow day 3 this week. And it's still snowing. I'm not really complaining. I like snow well enough, and my kids don't usually bother me. It's just the little things that start to get to me.

Like exercising. There's nothing quite like trying to exercise with an audience. And not even a quiet, respectful audience, I might add. One would think they could keep their comments and questions to themselves...

"Mom, how come you aren't doing it like the lady on the video?" Gee, I wonder.

"Is that sweat on your pants? Gross!" Why, yes it is! Thanks for noticing.

"You're not very good at this." You think?

And my favorite: "I'm exhaused just watching you!" That would be from all your laughing and mocking.

Of course I don't even have to mention the giggles and muffled laughter behind me on the couch. I may be out of shape but my hearing is fine. So, although my self esteem may be suffering, I look forward to enjoying at least one of the perks of having my children home on a snow day---I'll let them clean the bathrooms and fold laundry. It's only fair. They've had their entertainment.

2010-02-05T07:55:00.000-08:00

I'm just saying...

I'm a nag. I know, it's not like I'm bragging or anything. I'm just trying to face the facts. And if my husband says that saying something more than once is nagging, well that makes me a nag.

But is that really such a bad thing? Why does that always have to carry such a negative connotation? I like to remind people of things. It's what I'm good at.

For example: every day for the past 10 years I've told my kids to put their dishes in the dishwasher. And today as I was unloading the clean dishes from the dishwasher I found someone had added a dirty breakfast dish this morning. How can I be annoyed to find dirty dishes mixed in with the clean when my family is only doing what I have trained them to do? I can't, but it does show that nagging is effective. And it doesn't really matter that I couldn't find the dirty spoon so I went ahead and put all the silverware away anyway. If I couldn't tell it was dirty, chances are my children won't notice either.

Okay so back to nagging. I'm trying to be less of a nag. I will never be able to give up my nag status, but I'm trying to improve. However, I've found that telling someone to do something in a nice, round-about, "less nagging" way doesn't usually work.

For example: sometimes the drum set is left upstairs in the living room. Which I might add right now, is NOT where it belongs. So trying to do better I say, "Gee, I sure am getting tired of looking at the drum set in the living room." What I'm really saying is TAKE THAT DRUM SET DOWNSTAIRS NOW! But since I didn't actually say that, what happened? My son merely rearranged the drum set. Not exactly what I was going for.

So it all comes back to this. I'm a nag. It's what I'm good at. If you don't like it, too bad. Or just do it the first time I ask and we'll all be happy.

2010-02-03T11:08:00.001-08:00

I've lost track of the time.

It's been a busy day and I've been trying to run around to get everything done before the kids arrive home from school. I look at the clock and figure that my youngest should be home any minute. I check out the window to see if I can see my neighbors van yet. I take the kids to school in the morning and my neighbor picks them up from the bus stop after school. It's a nice arrangement.

Ten minutes later I start to get worried. Not panicked. Just concerned. So I go over everything in my mind once more: I distinctly remember my daughter telling me that quiz bowl practice for today after school was cancelled. So she should be taking the bus home. Hmmm. So where is she?

Now I'm worried that my neighbor doesn't expect my daughter to be at the bus and maybe she made other arrangements for her kids to get home. And therefore my child is stranded without a ride home.

It's sleeting outside and I can just picture my daughter trying to walk up the steep hill to our house. I grab my purse and keys not bothering with a coat or even my shoes. I can't believe I let my child walk home in this weather!

I drive around for 10 minutes and my daughter is no where to be found. I've driven every possible route home and I'm to the panic point. My child is gone!

I drive like a maniac to the school figuring if I get pulled over I can just let the police take over. I pull up in front of the school and leave my car running as I race inside.

"My daughter didn't get off the bus!" I shriek. There is a part of me that whispers I may be over reacting just a tad, but I don't listen as I rush to the counter.

"Well that might be due to the fact that school doesn't get out for another hour," the lady informs me.

I look at the clock. I mean I really look at the clock. Oh. I'm mortified as I slink back to my car. And hope that no one notices that I'm not wearing any shoes.

2010-02-02T11:16:00.000-08:00

Stealth and yoga.

At Walmart today there was a little boy wandering around. I was just about to ask him if he was lost when a man walked over to him first. "Are you lost?" he asked the little boy. "My mom is here but now I can't find her," the little boy replied, his lip trembling. The man asked if he could help him find his mom, took his hand and off they went.

Huh? Had I just witnessed a child being abducted? What if he walked right out of the store with the little boy? And I didn't even have a very good description of him! So that was when I started following them. Very covertly. He was wearing a black jacket, black t-shirt, blue jeans and a black overcoat. It was the coat that first made me suspicious. Creepy guys wear trench coats, right?

They wandered around the produce area and I was getting worried. Why didn't he just take the boy up to the front counter to have his parents paged. I mean, that's what someone who wasn't planning on abducting a child would do.

I needed to get a little closer. His eyes were brown, he had long brown hair pulled back into a pony-tail. I just couldn't gauge his height!

We had veered back around towards the front registers just as I got next to him to determine how tall he was. Taller than me. I'm not really very good at this.

As he approached a cashier to tell her about the child, I sighed with relief. The pressure was off, I no longer had to figure out his shoe size. I turned around and to my surprise and horror, bumped right into the creepy dude.

"Sorry," I apologized. "Are you following me?" he asked.

"Well that depends," I stammered. "If you were going to kidnap that boy, then yes, I was following you." Awkward pause, so I continued. "But since obviously you aren't, then no, I'm not following you."

He shook his head. "The boy was lost, I was only trying to help him find his mother. He said they were looking at apples and then she was gone."

Oh, right. That would explain the tour of the produce section. I gave a sheepish grin, apologized again and started to walk away.

"So what would you have done if I was trying to kidnap him," the man challenged.

"I know yoga," I tried. He laughed. "No really," I warned him as I went into the warrior pose. Which I guess isn't as intimidating as I thought. He laughed harder and reached into his pocket.

No way. I just knew he had a gun. I couldn't believe that this was how my life was going to end. I was going to get shot. At Walmart. I stood there frozen. Just like in my dreams I couldn't scream or run away. I was paralyzed.

"It's okay," he replied pulling his ID out of his jacket pocket. He was a Walmart employee. "You can stop cringing," he told me, "and thanks for the laugh." He walked away, still laughing and shaking his head.

So even though I need to learn some new moves and I'm not as stealthy as I thought I was, I guess it turned out to be an okay day.

The boy found his mother. And I didn't die in Walmart. Yes, overall it was a pretty good day.

2010-01-24T10:40:00.001-08:00

Official Invitation.

Go west on route 50, take the first exit after you pass the Red Caboose Bar. Continue through the light past the Tattoo Parlor and follow the road around as the road curves past the High Life Lounge. Turn right at the Discount Liquor Store. The church is located at the third right after the Harley Davidson Shop.

If you reach the Butts & Ashes Tobacco Stand, you have gone too far. Church starts at 10am---hope to see you there!

2010-01-22T09:17:00.000-08:00

We have a plan.

Heather is looking into different programs for college. She's gone from math to physics to---you get the idea. Most recently she has settled on a MD/PHD program (being a research physician). I think she is more captivated at the idea of being a Dr. Dr., then anything else.

Anyway, a while back we were looking through the BYU directory and discovered that there is already a McKibben enrolled at BYU. Since it isn't a common name we were surprised. And then we came up with a plan...

So, Heather could marry this Jared McKibben. She wouldn't have to learn how to spell another last name. Or they could always hyphenate their names and she would be Heather McKibben-McKibben.

Actually she would be Dr. Dr. McKibben McKibben or Dr. McKibben squared...

Of course she will have to meet this guy and see what he thinks about the whole idea. But I think it definitely has potential.

2010-01-21T11:54:00.000-08:00

Wanted: Creepy Stalker

We've had a little fun at our house this past week learning about Internet safety. We just found out that apparently one of my daughters has a stalker. So we've been going through and making sure our information is not accessible anymore to just anyone.

My daughter sat down the other night and lamented, "Gee, I thought having a stalker would be more exciting... " Yes, I'm sorry no one was looking through her bedroom window with a telescope, sending pictures of her in the mail, or making phone calls in the middle of the night with lots of heavy breathing. It's a shame really.

"Don't worry," we reassured her. "Next time maybe you'll get a better stalker."

2010-01-14T06:12:00.000-08:00

Where are we again?

I have smart kids. But there is something about geography...

Earlier this week my daughter came home from school and couldn't wait to tell me how awful her day was. Her teacher was making her memorize all the state capitols, and she wasn't very happy about it. "Do you even know what they all are?" she demanded. Sure, I mean at least I used to...

Not believing that I did, she decided to test me. "Provo," she announced. Seeing my blank look she continued. "Provo is the capitol of Idaho." Um, no. First of all, Provo isn't even a city in Idaho---it's in Utah---and Salt Lake City is the capitol of Utah. I guess my reasons weren't very convincing and my daughter went to look it up. "See," she called to me, "right here---the capitol of Idaho is...oh. I guess the capitol is Boise." I gave her a smug look, but didn't go as far as to say I told you so. "Close enough," she exclaimed grabbing her book.

Last night at dinner my husband was talking about Denver. "Delaware!" my daughter randomly yelled out. Delaware? Seeing everyone's confused expression she proudly explained. "Denver is the capitol of Delaware!"

"No, it's Denver, Colorado and it's Dover, Delaware," everyone clarified. "Same thing," she muttered, "they both start with D."

So did I mention my kids are geographically challenged? I actually find it very amusing. It means that they really don't know everything.

2010-01-11T05:43:00.001-08:00

French cuisine.

Nick had an assignment to prepare a French dish and bring it to school today. He was gone all weekend so finally last night at 9pm Heather and I decided we should get started on it. My son had picked out the recipe and so we separated eggs, whipped, beat, and folded. Okay, we improvised.

Nick got home after we'd put it into the oven and asked, "so tell me again how we made these?" While going through our step by step process, the buzzer rang and the French Cheese Puffs were finished. Grabbing a cheese puff and giving it a taste, my son decided they were not very good. "Nothing personal," he added...

So it's 10pm and he's flipping through the cook book trying to find a different recipe. "Just tell everyone that they are supposed to taste bad, that the French LIKE their cheese puffs runny and smelling slightly of rubber," we begged. But he settled on a French cake recipe.

It looked easy enough. I finally sent him to bed at midnight and was up until 3am. The first cake never did cook all the way and there was the slight problem of having chunks of egg from where it didn't get mixed well enough. I think the second one won't kill anyone. But then again, I didn't have the nerve to exactly taste it.

I just want to say that I'm so grateful for the opportunity "we've" had to take this little adventure into French cuisine. It's made all the difference in my life. And the next time we get the chance, I'm going straight to the store to the nearest loaf of French bread.

2010-01-07T11:36:00.000-08:00

Forever in my heart and never to be forgotten.

I've started going through my house and throwing out everything that hasn't been used recently, or is broken. It is a total rush to drop off a load of stuff at the Goodwill. Seriously. I can't seem to stop myself. I fall asleep at night thinking about what I can sort through and throw out the next day.

We have a lot of stuff. But it seems like whenever someone wants something, they can't find it. So we end up buying another one. I figure I might as well get rid of everything---thus eliminating the middle step of looking. I'll never have to bother looking for anything ever again!

I've gone through the kids' rooms and filled trash bags full of clothes, toys, and anything else I can find. I find it rather enjoyable to throw out their stuff.

My own stuff, however. Not so easy. I've included a picture of my absolute favorite sweatshirt. You can see that I wear it all the time. It is so comfortable. And the fact that it is falling apart only makes me love it even more.

In the spirit of fairness, I've decided to finally throw it away. I do have other sweatshirts. They are somewhere in my closet where I can't find them. So this is an official goodbye to the absolute best sweatshirt ever. YOU WILL BE MISSED. I will wait to throw it away though, because I think I'll wear it just one more time.

2010-01-05T07:16:00.000-08:00

The obsession continues.

So there's this large construction truck parked in front of my driveway. They are building a new house two houses down, yet insist on parking in front of MY house. Last week, I let them know I have 3 teenage drivers and it would be in their best interest to park elsewhere, but it doesn't seem to bother them.

The bigger problem is that it's Tuesday and with the truck parked where it is, there is no way for the garbage men to come and pick up my trash. Yes, it is very disturbing.

Last week one of the kids came running in to tell me that the garbage men were here. I rolled my eyes and said that it's not like I sit around all day watching for them to come. Okay. So I do. Is there something wrong with that?

And then they only took half of my trash so I spent the next hour theorizing why they didn't take all of it. It was very disconcerting. It was proof that my trash really wasn't good enough. But eventually another truck came and took it all away.

So here I am. In a predicament. The garbage men should be here any minute. Hopefully it will all work out for the best.

If worse comes to worse, I can always pile my trash onto the construction truck. And hope they learn their lesson before next Tuesday.

2009-12-31T05:45:00.000-08:00

Ovens.

Yesterday I broke the door off my oven. It isn't important how that happened--just so you know that I did finish painting my kitchen...

Anyway, I had to look at what a disgustingly dirty oven I have all afternoon. I finally decided it was time to clean my oven. Of course, not me personally. It does have a self-cleaning setting (which is quite lovely with an appliance.) I know. I've used it before. Once.

Since we had the instruction manual out to try to fix the door, I was able to get the oven cleaning setting information. It had times for average and heavily dirty ovens. Unfortunately neither of these options could describe MY oven. I added an extra hour for it to clean mine.

So, after 30 minutes the smoke alarm started going off. I opened all the windows and doors, hoping the freezing cold wind would help. It did not. My husband was able to rig up a fan which finally stopped the incessantly loud beeping of the smoke alarm. (The cats may never recover from this trauma.)

I think I'm supposed to wipe out the inside of my oven now. Except with the door now back on, I can no longer see inside it. I will most likely not remember. So basically I blame the door for my dirty oven. I'll get around to it the next time I paint.

2009-12-28T06:17:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas!

We decided to get Sarah and Heather laptops for Christmas this year since they'll be leaving for college this fall. We asked Heather what features she wanted her lap top to have. You know, stuff like a camera, Internet access, memory, etc.

"I want it to be purple," she decided.

So on Christmas morning she opened up her computer and smiled. "It's just what I wanted. It's purple."

Luckily for her, she has a long time to discover all the other features on her purple laptop.

2009-12-20T12:13:00.000-08:00

It's the most wonderful time of the year.

The Snow Cave

Alternative housing in case the need arises.

These accommodations sleep two comfortably.

The snow this year has a decidedly "industrial" taste to it.

Making snow angels with my honey.

This is Nick's excited face. See all the snow on the deck rail?

Shoveling the driveway on Saturday morning. They had to shovel it 3 more times because it just kept snowing and snowing...

2009-12-18T09:22:00.000-08:00

It's harder than you'd think...

On my list of things to do today was "buy a maroon towel for Nicholas." Okay, I can do that. At the mall I went to Marshalls and looked through the towels. Man, there are a lot of different colored towels!

"Excuse me, but would you call this towel maroon?" I asked a lady walking past. "No, that is eggplant," she informed me. (Eggplant?!?)

Obviously this lady knew her colors. I wasn't about to let her get away.

"What about this one?" I asked holding up another towel. "No, I'd call that more of a paprika," she told me.

"This one?" I asked hopefully, holding up yet another towel. "Nope. Here let me show you." She led me over to the pillows and pointed to one. "This, is maroon. See, it has more red in it."

I lamented not being able to drag the color lady through the mall with me as I walked to another store. I immediately asked the sales lady at Sears, "Do you have any maroon towels?"

"The closest we have is cranberry." she replied. I left wondering why all the towels seemed to be named after food.

A few more stores later I went to JCPenneys determined to come out with a towel. "Is this maroon?" I asked another unsuspecting customer who had the good fortune to be lingering in the towel section at just the right time.

"What does it say it is?" she asked grabbing the towel and looking at the label. Labels! What a great idea...that I'd never thought of...

"It says it's 'Wine' colored." That was helpful. "Would you say that wine colored is also maroon?" I tried, desperate at this point.

"It's close," the lady replied. Probably just to get me off her back.

"I'll take it!" I yelled, excited to have finally found a towel I could buy. Some guy laughed and elbowed his wife. "Why don't you get that excited about towels?" he asked her.

So now I'm at home wondering what Nicholas will say about the towel. I don't know why I'm so worried. I mean the towel is just going to be used to wipe up spit from his trumpet. And I'm willing to bet that some poor kid is going to show up with a cranberry towel or dare I say it---an eggplant colored towel.

But at least it won't be my kid.

2009-12-17T06:31:00.000-08:00

Dreams are a mysterious thing.

Three of my fingers were black with frost bite and I was standing in line to have a doctor cut them off. Every time I got to the front of a line, a guy from Pizza Hut would be there asking to take my order. I'd try to explain that I was waiting for the doctor---showed him my fingers--and he'd say "So do you want fries with that?"

I'd get in another line and the same thing kept happening over and over. Finally I asked the Pizza Hut guy why he was asking me if I wanted fries and he said it was because he used to work at McDonalds and it was a habit he just couldn't break.

My fingers never did get fixed. And now I'm awake and craving pepperoni.

2009-12-13T09:32:00.000-08:00

Apparently I've met my musical match!!!

2009-12-11T05:58:00.000-08:00

Family Resemblance.

Someone asked Heather if her parents played instruments. She told them that yes, they did.

"I knew it!" the guy replied. "I saw them rehearsing with the Orchestra."

"Actually you saw my dad and my sister---they are playing percussion for the Orchestra concert," Heather informed him.

"You look like your mom," he replied.

"But you didn't see my mom. You saw my sister!"

Unfazed, the guy tried again. "Then you look like your dad."

2009-12-10T08:08:00.000-08:00

Dating...

We were driving in the car last night and I mentioned to the girls that some guy called and thought I was them and kept talking to me like he was going to ask me out. Finally I yelled out again that I was the mom and the girls weren't home.

They laughed because apparently he thinks that Sarah and Heather are the same person (which oddly enough, happens to them quite frequently).

My husband offered them $50 each if they promised never to accept a date with this kid. He then had to add that no one was allowed to ever tell the guy about this. If you think about it, if the guy or his parents ever found out, it could get a little awkward...

Of course, Heather being the entrepreneur she is, hopefully won't try to make money off this. "Will you give me more than $50 if I go out with you?"

2009-12-01T07:49:00.000-08:00

'Tis the season...

Don't you hate it when you have a cold and it's bedtime? It takes like ten minutes to find just the right position so that you can breath out of one quarter of one nostril. Then just when you are drifting off to sleep your nose starts running...and you jerk awake every few minutes throughout the night and have to re-position yourself AGAIN.

I've decided the role of NyQuil is not to prevent any of that from happening but eventually with the correct dose, you just won't remember it. I'm still working on tweaking the dosage...I'll let you know when I've got it perfected.

This morning my nose is running and I'm trying to make "Crispels" (a recipe from the middle ages---kind of like scones but they don't taste as good) to drop off for Heather's class. I'm wiping my nose and washing my hands and wiping and washing and I'm in a cycle and I can't stop and the crispels are burning...so I stick a wad of Kleenex up my nose and continue on.

I'm almost to the high school office when I think to myself how great it is that my nose hasn't been running. I realize it's because I still have the Kleenex stuffed up my nose. Ahhh, this explains the look I get from several high school students on my way to the office...Lovely.

It's okay though, because hopefully with a large enough dose of Nyquil tonight, I won't remember any of it tomorrow...

2009-11-25T07:20:00.001-08:00

A waste of time.

I guess I haven't added a new post in a while. Huh. I'm trying to figure out why, but I'm coming up with nothing. Aha! This is exactly why I haven't written in a while! It seems nothing has been happening...

I mean I could write about how the other night Nick decided we just HAD to go buy another season of Spongebob. All six of us piled into the car and went to Walmart since it was the only store open so late. We thought it would be fun to see how long we could go all linked together in a chain. The greeter was laughing so hard when she saw us trying to get through the doors that everyone else in the store had to look to see what she was laughing at. Then at the top of her lungs she started singing "Row Row Row Your Boat." (We still haven't figured out why she did that.)

See, that wasn't blog worthy.

Or I could write about how at the doctor's office we had to wait so long that Nick started playing with the chair---making it go up and down and recline, etc. When the doctor finally came in Nick was almost touching the ceiling.

No. That isn't quite interesting either.

What about last week when we went to the AB Honor band concert and sat in the front row. I was kissing Anna and she was freaking out that I was embarrassing her. So I decided to lick her forehead. She agreed that maybe kissing wasn't so bad...

And there are more, semi-interesting-but-not-quite---things that have happened. But nothing worth you wasting your time reading. So by not writing, I'm actually doing you a service and giving you more time to do more productive activities. You can thank me now.

2009-11-11T17:00:00.000-08:00

We had the scavenger hunt tonight at the mall. I think it was a success. I kept forgetting that I was in disguise...I saw someone my husband works with and started talking to him. It took me a while to realize that he didn't recognize me! I finally told him that it was me and he wondered why I was dressed up like "Betty Boop." I figured that was better than "The Creepy Lady," which was what my daughter had been calling me all night!

2009-11-07T07:49:00.000-08:00

Side note: Embarrassing and awkward things always seem to happen to me. So when embarrassing and awkward things happen to OTHER people, well...I just LOVE it!

Brian sent me an e-mail about his excitement this morning that I just had to post. And the best part of the story? It didn't even happen to me!

What a way to start the day.

So, there I was, sitting trying to mind my own business in my adopted stall in my adopted bathroom in the CAC (Music Building at WVU). Suddenly, I hear "clip clop clip clop" go by outside in the hallway. I figure I'm safe from being joined in my little pre-8 AM commune with nature. However, the clip clops get closer and closer. They get so close that they sound like they're in the little airlock area leading into this bathroom.

Then the door opens! Two people walk in. One goes into the stall beside me (the only other stall in this bathroom) and turns around in black, satin high heels with little black bows on the closed toes.

So, now my mind is racing. Did I really read "MEN" on the door like I thought I did on the way in? Did I see all the hallmarks of a men's bathroom on my way to the stall?

"Can you turn the water on?" the girl in the stall beside me asks. "Sorry, I'm just...you know."

So, apparently she has a companion with her who then turns the water on in one of the sinks.

Now my mind is really going. Surely she can see my shoes and knows that I'm not a girl. I've got my coat hanging over the crack in the door, so I can't even peek out to verify my own gender's porcelain accouterments on the opposite wall.

So, I sit very, very still and hope she doesn't start screaming at me and bring the police into this already uncomfortable situation. That, and I keep hoping she'll hurry up---I'll have to, well, finish things up AFTER she leaves; then I'll have to wait a couple minutes to make sure they are far down the hallway. And I parked in a 15-minute parking spot!

Tick tick tick tick tick....

Then the door opens again. A male voice says, "oh...well, this is awkward..."

One of the two girls answers, "we could NOT find a girl's bathroom!"

Whew! At least it wasn't me that was mixed up!

So, the magnanimous guy offers to show them where it is. He leaves. I get a little uncomfortable again when I hear the toilet paper roll turning.

Finally she flushes and is about to leave. Amongst all the things going through my head that I COULD say ("sorry about the mix up", "I won't tell if you won't", "Here are my keys---can you move my car?"), the thing that I feel like I can't resist saying is this:

"Nice shoes."

2009-11-06T05:00:00.001-08:00

Hello?

I finally got the phone call this morning that I knew would someday come. 7:30am: "Mom, can you bring some spoiled eggs to school?"

Spoiled eggs? As I sat wondering just how long I'd have to leave eggs on the counter for them to "spoil" properly, my daughter grew impatient. "Mom, can you bring them as soon as possible?"

I tried to explain that it may take all day for eggs to spoil. Did she really want them now?

"Boiled Eggs!" she clarified. Boiled eggs for her chemistry class experiment. Ah, now that makes much more sense. And just to be on the safe side, I'll need to look up exactly how to spoil eggs just in case THAT call ever comes.

2009-11-02T08:18:00.000-08:00

To be or not to be.

Or more specifically, who to be. It's time again for the youth scavenger hunt at the mall. Every year I convince 5-10 adults from church to dress up and "hide" in the mall. The youth have to answer clues and try to find as many of these adults as possible before time is up. It's been a fun activity.

The hardest part for me is trying to come up with some kind of costume clever enough to trick but not stand out, so my kids will have a challenging time finding me.

The first year I dressed up as a hooker. My friend let me borrow an awesome long blond wig and the rest of the costume sort of evolved from there. In the picture, I'm just getting ready to go next door to ask my neighbor if she had a more appropriate (or would that be inappropriate) shirt I could borrow to complete my ensemble.

When I explained what I was doing and what I needed, she was insulted. "You mean you think I would have a hooker shirt?!?" Gee, when she put it that way, I could see why she was offended. I assured her that I only meant she had better clothes than I did and she was more likely to have something "fun" I could wear. She laughed and immediately helped me, also insisting that I fix my skirt to make it shorter.

I don't have a picture of my complete ensemble---an "after" shot, with added accessories and new shirt---but you can get the general idea. Too bad you can't see my knee-high black boots...

When my son saw me, I went over to give him a hug. He pushed me away and my husband had to explain that it was me. With a horrified expression he squeaked out, "Mom?"

The next year, I dressed up as a jogger with a black wig.

Last year I decided to go as a very pregnant lady with a red wig.

So you can see my dilemma. I have to come up with something GOOD. I've gotten several great ideas, so I just need to see which one I can pull off.

2009-10-29T04:48:00.000-07:00

Got Pop?

Yesterday I bought 10 cases of pop. Thank you to all those who noticed and took the time to comment. I do realize it is a lot of pop and I appreciate your concern. But it was on SALE!

So I got home and Brian helped me unload the car. "Wow! That's a lot of pop," he exclaimed, after seeing the cases stacked in the trunk.

"Yep, it was on sale," I replied, wondering why I felt like I'd been having the same conversation over and over again. "They were only $1.98 each!" Pepsi Max is Brian's drink of choice and we have a hard time finding it. Sometimes we can find it at Target and it will sometimes go on sale for $3 but usually costs $4.98 for a box of 12 cans. So $1.98 was a good deal. And there's nothing better than a good deal:)

"Did you buy all they had?" my husband wondered. "Nope," if only he could've seen how hard it was to push the cart with all my regular groceries plus all that pop.

"Too bad," he lamented. (Now I guess I'll have to go back and get some more.) We do have a pretty impressive "Wall of Pop" going on. I think we'll have to move it though, so it isn't the first thing people see when they come to our house.

2009-10-27T07:50:00.000-07:00

I win.

I took Sarah and Heather to the doctor again today. As we waited in the room to be seen by the doctor, Sarah said, "make sure the doctor tells us which one of us is sicker."

I immediately began explaining that both of them were sick, both felt miserable, and that there was no such thing as "who is sicker."

A nurse came back into the room to re-take Sarah's temperature and asked which one was Sarah. I pointed to Sarah. "Oh, the sicker one," she replied as she stuck the thermometer into Sarah's mouth.

The girls started laughing and I shook my head. It's always a competition...

2009-10-19T07:20:00.000-07:00

What's that, you ask? It's a pile of socks without matches. 8 socks without matches, and in only 10 days. That's pretty good, don't you think? Impressive even. Hey, at least they did the laundry while I was gone:)

I just wonder where they all went...

2009-10-17T07:07:00.000-07:00

I'm in Nebraska visiting my youngest sister Jodie. She has a 9-year-old daughter named Olivia. We've done puzzles, played with Bratz dolls, etc. Yesterday she asked me if I wanted to play a game that my older sister, Aunt Diane always plays with her. Of course, I told her yes. I'm not going to be the Aunt who won't play...

So this game is Olivia pretending to be my mom and I am her child. She gave me a name, "Min" and told me that I was supposed to go to bed at 8:30pm. I told her that I should be able to stay up later. To which she responded, "But Aunt Diane always goes to bed when I tell her to."

Gee, thanks Diane.

Jodie got to play "the van driver." Olivia would call to her, "Hey van driver," and the funny part was that Jodie would respond. I love this age where kids use their imagination.

Later that day we went to Sam's Club and Olivia and I went around "pretending" to buy food while my mom and Jodie filled their cart with meat. They were attempting to fill up the freezer she'd just bought. As we walked through the store we got more strange looks than I've ever gotten...and, if you've read any of my other posts, you can see that that's saying something. People openly gawked at the meat piled in her cart. We felt like we needed a sign or some sort of disclaimer: Just bought freezer.

You'd think people would be a bit more discreet. I wanted to yell, "Quit checking out our meat!" It was a glorious amount of meat though...

2009-10-05T19:14:00.000-07:00

Light bulbs---there is a reason I refuse to change them.

A bulb burned out above the computer my dad was working on. He unscrewed it and handed it to me. Even though changing light bulbs is not my job, I figured, how hard could it be to buy a light bulb?

I clutched that light bulb in my hand all day as I went from store to store looking for a match. I spent 30 minutes looking for one in Walmart. I just knew it had to be there somewhere. It wasn't. It wasn't at Ace Hardware either.

Walking down the light bulb aisle at Lowe's, a guy saw me clutching my light bulb and started laughing. He reached out and showed me what he was holding: THE SAME EXACT LIGHT BULB! Unbelievable.

Both of us started searching frantically. I think we were both worried there would only be one bulb left. But alas, there weren't any. The guy shook his head in defeat, "They don't have any at Walmart or Home Depot."

I know. "Don't bother looking at Target or Ace," I warned him as he walked away dejectedly. He told me he was going to order one off the Internet.

An employee gave me a light bulb that he claimed was the closest they had to the one I was looking for. Even though it wasn't the same, I bought it. I figured I'd looked long enough and frankly, I was tired of carrying around the light bulb.

I got home, elated to show everyone that I'd finally found the light bulb. My husband took one look at it and shook his head. "It's iridescent." (I don't even know what that means, but it's okay, Heather explained it to me.) He went and retrieved another light bulb and handed it to me. "Here, get one like this."

So I have a new light bulb to find now. The good news is that I get to carry around a different light bulb tomorrow.

2009-09-28T06:03:00.000-07:00

YES, YES, YES!!! I mean...sure, that would be nice.

The car filled with balloons, on our way to deliver!

Heather with all the balloons.

Yesterday a guy gave me a rose with a balloon attached and asked me if I would give it to Heather after she finished playing her violin solo. We were at a Young Yomen in Excellence program at church and I happily gave Heather the flower. We spent the rest of the meeting wondering how we could pop the balloon to read the message we could see was inside the balloon without drawing too much attention to ourselves.

As soon as it was over, Heather grabbed her sisters and a few of the other young women and ran straight to the parking lot to pop the balloon. Inside the balloon was a poem asking Heather to homecoming. All the girls swooned at the sweet gesture.

It was already almost 8pm so we headed home to plot and plan. By the time we got home everyone ran to gather supplies and got started. It took all of us to keep up with Nicholas. He was a machine. Sarah printed and cut up "magic 8-ball" type answers. Heather and I rolled the strips of paper and put one in each balloon. Nick blew up balloons. He could blow up a balloon with only 2 huge puffs of air. Amazing. Sarah tied the balloons and Anna stuffed balloons into black garbage bags.

After blowing up over 100 balloons, sweat dripping down his face, Nick asked: "Can't you just say Yes?" And miss out on all this fun??? Anyway, we loaded the guy's truck with all the balloons. Inside each balloon were messages like, "Your answer lies within another balloon," "Concentrate and ask another balloon," and "You will find your answer in due time."

We gave a balloon with a "Yes" answer to his dad to give the guy after he'd looked through all the balloons. We're hoping he wasn't running late this morning so he wouldn't be annoyed to find his truck full of balloons instead of surprised.

And of course, we're hoping we put the balloons in the right truck.

2009-09-25T03:22:00.000-07:00

I swear it's the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Having lunch with some friends yesterday we were talking about high school and we all agreed that none of us would ever want to go back and re-live our high school years.

I told them that I was making my girls go to prom this year even though neither of them wanted to. It is a rite of passage. They all agreed. One of my friends mentioned that she had two nephews who were seniors and over six feet tall. If either of my girls were interested, she could make sure they were visiting during prom.

I told this to my girls last night. They sorta freaked out. "You broke the rules," they insisted.

Yes, we have rules.

Prom rules:
1. If a boy asks them to go to prom they must accept. Unless the boy is covered from head to toe in tattoos and has more than three body piercings.

2. My girls will not ask a boy to take them to prom.

3. I am not allowed to ask a boy to take them to prom. This includes making/posting fliers, etc.

4. Cousins, brothers and other relatives are not acceptable prom dates. (I'll need to ask them about second cousins.)

So, you see, there are rules. For the record, I did not ask anyone if they had eligible dates for my daughters. My friend brought this up completely on her own. Besides, the prom is months away. I told her I'd get back with her. I don't see what the big deal is. No rules have been broken here.

Besides, we've already bought the dresses.

2009-09-19T04:35:00.000-07:00

Finally found my breaking point.

"There's a red mark on your neck," Sarah told me at dinner last night.

"Really? Let me see," Anna demanded.

"It's huge," Sarah continued, for some reason really interested in my neck.

"Is it a hickey?" Heather questioned.

"No," I assured them. It wasn't. But everyone at the table had to come over and personally reassure themselves.

"Nope, NOT a hickey," my husband announced. Geesh, I hoped that the official prognosis was now complete and we could talk about something else. It wasn't. My family continued to conjecture around the table about what could've caused such a large red mark on my neck.

"Your shirt must be too tight around your neck," one of the kids declared. The other kids finally agreed that this must be the reason.

"And you've kept your shirt on this whole time?" Sarah wanted to know. "Even though it has given you a red mark on your neck?!?"

***Aside***As you can see there had been way too much talking about the mysterious red mark. It was driving me nuts. It was all anyone could talk about around the dinner table. You can hardly blame me for what I did next.

I took off my shirt. At the dinner table.

Before you judge me too harshly, Nicholas had already left the table and gone to the computer room to print out music for his band practice that evening, so it was only Brian and the girls. But still. It wasn't my proudest moment. At least I was wearing my new bra.

Heather covered her face and kept repeating, "Can she do that?" very loudly; Sarah averted her eyes and told me to put my shirt back on; Anna started laughing hysterically. And Brian. When he realized what I had done, just sat there and smiled.

So, I finally realized that if I hadn't made my point, I never would and put my shirt back on. But from this experience I have realized a few things:

1. Sometimes I need to think one step ahead of myself before acting.
2. With my luck, my husband is now going to expect me to start taking my shirt off as part of every meal...
3. Modesty IS the best policy. So remember children, do as I say. Not as I do.

2009-09-18T07:28:00.000-07:00

Just say what you mean.

Dropping my daughter off at the middle school this morning she leaned over towards me. "Is your hair wet or is it just greasy?" she asked before opening the door and getting out of the car. Kids are great. I love how they keep things real. I can't imagine how self absorbed I would be without my kids around to keep me humble.

But I like to think that it doesn't have to be REAL all the time. For example, for me it just seems a bit much to pick up used Kleenex throughout the house. Yesterday I remarked to my child that she needed to throw away her Kleenex because I didn't appreciate having to touch her disgusting snot rags. She informed me that she doesn't use all of them to blow her nose with. Some of them she uses to clean out her ears.

Too much information. But that's my kids. Keeping it real.

2009-09-12T13:06:00.001-07:00

Just one copy, please.

Ahhh, Staples. We've been there a lot this past week. Anna's new English teacher likes her to turn in papers that include colored pictures. We were at Staples twice today trying to print out a poem Anna had written with an accompanying picture. It was one page long. And it was taking the guy FOREVER.

While we waited, a song came on and it was one I liked. "Mom we let you sing at home because we love you---but NOT in public," she informed me. I continued singing. "Mom if you don't stop singing I'll start flinching again," she threatened. Okay, I stopped.

Flinching whenever me or Brian came near the kids was a funny trick their Aunt Molly had taught my kids when they were little. It was hilarious. Strangers would watch me approach my child who would then flinch making it look like I beat them. Very funny. I can't wait until Molly's little boy gets old enough so I can teach this trick to him.

Anyway, without my singing to distract us, we started watching the printer guy. We were the only customer and he was still not getting the page to print. Finally something came out of the printer, he looked at it, crumpled it up and threw it on the floor. "I don't think he likes your poem," I whispered loudly to my daughter.

Printer guy looked very unhappy and called for another employee to come help him. Together they spent another ten minutes looking at the computer. I had to wonder if they were perhaps proofreading her poem. Or maybe they were trying to rework it into a haiku.

Finally the poem was printed. Or more accurately a whole stack of Anna's poems were printed. Unhappy printer guy handed them to us, apologized for making us wait for so long, all the while muttering insults about the printer under his breath. Oh, and he wouldn't even let us pay for them. Which was very nice.

2009-09-09T04:44:00.000-07:00

You can never have too many boyfriends, I mean, socks.

I sent Heather and Anna to the store and after the fourth phone call with questions about what they were supposed to be getting, I hear, "We've found ourselves in the sock department, and we don't know what to do."

Since I find myself in this situation all the time (?!?) I understood completely. Actually, knowing Heather's love for socks, I understood completely. "Go ahead and pick out a couple of pairs," I told them before hanging up. Heather brought home a pair of sparkly tights and Anna found some owl socks.

You needed to know about Heather and her sock fetish so you can appreciate the next story:

Just last week Heather and I were at Target and the guy at the check-out counter was flirting shamelessly with my unsuspecting daughter. "Wow, those are some great socks," he admired. And, "Those socks are really awesome." I should mention that she was wearing said socks.

But the guy just wouldn't stop and kept going on and on about Heather and her socks. I felt so bad for the guy, but Heather just smiled and stood there. She really was clueless. I had the urge to tell the poor guy that I'd go out with him just to put him out of his misery. Maybe we could have lunch and I could help him work on his pick-up routine...

Or maybe he just really, really, really liked Heather's socks.

en794jw2fu

2009-09-08T05:40:00.000-07:00

Family togetherness is a beautiful thing. Painting a deck,
Is fun to do,

Fun to do,

Fun to do.

Painting a deck is fun to do.

To do, to do, to do.

Painting a deck using an oil based paint that cannot be sprayed or rolled on is especially fun. So fun, in fact, that it is necessary to make it mandatory fun. And fun it was. Although, after an hour or so, we had to make Anna the official photographer, and then a little while later Heather volunteered to be the caterer. We've never eaten better.

Deck painting tips: If you feel the paint dripping down into your armpit, you've put too much paint on the paint brush. And most importantly: whatever you do, DO NOT MENTION that this is just the FIRST coat.

2009-09-03T12:27:00.001-07:00

She did WHAT?!?

Brian came home from lunch today and announced that someone at work came up to him and told him that we need to make sure our daughter keeps her paws off of his son.

Several things flew into my head at once after Brian told me this.

"His son should be so lucky."

"Wait, which daughter?"

"Who is his son, anyway?"

"Good for her....whichever one it is..."

"I'll kill her!"

And then I knew. As sure as I know that trail mix is the most perfect food ever invented (and it's delicious, too) I knew that the guy had to be talking about someone else's daughter.

It turns out, after I got all the dirt from my husband, I was both right and wrong. In fact, the guy had been talking about our daughter. But he had been joking.

I guess Heather was lab partners with the guy's son in Chemistry. He'd told his dad that Heather knew everything and he had just sat there. The guy said that he'd told his son that Heather was smart so he was supposed to do everything Heather told him or she would chew him up, spit him out, walk over him and never look back. I wonder where he was getting his information...That sounded a little harsh. Not that I'd stand in her way of getting a good grade. But she would at least be polite about it...

So, thinking about it, I guess I am relieved that none of my girls were pawing random boys in public. I guess I should be thankful.

2009-08-29T07:38:00.001-07:00

I smell bacon.

School started this week. With school means the start of football games. And that can only mean one thing. Bacon. We started the tradition last year. After the kids came home from the football games we would have bacon cooked and ready for them to eat. The first time, Nicholas came through the door and yelled, "I smell bacon!" He had such a huge smile on his face, we've been doing it ever since. Then we sit around and hear about how they did in marching band at the game while they ate. Kind of a late night breakfast, if you will.

Anyway. Last night at breakfast, Sarah told us that on the way home from the game in Buckhannon she got in trouble on the bus. We were very surprised. Sarah never gets in trouble at school. One of the chaperones busted her for sitting in the back of the bus. In the same seat with a boy. This is clearly against the rules.

But it gets better. Apparently, she sat and argued with the chaperon saying that she'd done it all last year and even as recently as last week on the band trip to Kennywood. She did her best, but in the end she had to change seats.

And so did her brother.

2009-08-27T10:42:00.000-07:00

Just call me Sherlock Holmes.

The past few weeks I've been having problems with my husbands' white shirts. Each week one of his shirts has ended up in the laundry basket with marks all over it. I haven't been able to figure out what they are or where they come from. One week there were blue steaks up and down the arms, the next week gray spots on the back, and this past week yellow smudges on his collar. And I can't get any of the marks off either.

I've tried shout, oxi-clean, bleaching, etc. Nothing works. It's a mystery.

Until yesterday at lunch. My friend casually asked if I've had any luck getting stains out of Brian's white shirts. What?!? I haven't told anyone, so I was curious as to how she knew about his shirts.

Apparently during church her grandson has been coloring with markers. All over the back of my husband. She'd been too embarrassed to mention it before. I have noticed her grandson has been a lot quieter lately...

Ahhh, this explains everything. Permanent markers. Hence all the drawings and designs on his back. Then when he puts his arms up on the back of the pew, little lines up and down his sleeves.

So, Sunday I have a couple of options. I can bring some washable markers. Or we can find a different seat to sit in. Either way: Mystery Solved!

2009-08-25T06:14:00.000-07:00

It's okay. Her virtue wasn't lost---just temporarily misplaced.

Sarah and Heather got their Young Women Recognition Awards this Sunday. It's the completion of 4-5 years worth of goals and projects. It was a lot of work and I was proud of them for finishing it.

They spent a lot of time this summer working on the different "value" projects. Even though I knew what they were doing, it always threw me off to hear them talking about it. "Anna how is your integrity?" I heard Heather ask one day. Anna replied, "I'm working on it, but I don't have any faith."

This past year they added the value "Virtue." Since it wasn't in the book, the girls were given a separate virtue pamphlet. Last month Heather could be heard yelling through the house, "Mom, I lost my virtue! Has anyone seen my virtue?" Don't worry, we found Heather's virtue. It was in the kitchen. Where she left it.

2009-08-18T07:51:00.000-07:00

Trying to cut the cord, but it's just too hard.

Today Sarah and Nicholas went to Kennywood with the band. For the whole day. Not that I mind so much. It's just that it is really hot out and you know, I worry. So this morning I went through the whole spiel about making sure they drink water all day because dehydration is no laughing matter. I know I went over all of this last night so I probably deserved the eye rolling, but I can't help it.

I was about to start going over everything one last time when my children volunteered:

Yes, we charged our phones. Yes, we have money for food and water. Yes, we have hats. (There is a 67 percent chance of rain today at Kennywood and they refused to bring rain ponchos.)

Fine. I get it. I watched them drive out of the driveway feeling a pang of sadness. I decided I'd run out to wave goodbye. On my way to the garage door I saw they had forgotten something. "Wait," I yelled running after them.

More eye rolling as my daughter informed me that she had grabbed a different hat. "That's fine," I told her. "But you'll need your band shoes," I replied smugly as I handed them to her. Ahhh, it's nice to know my children still need me.

2009-08-14T05:50:00.000-07:00

Please pass the manners.

Last night I was standing in the kitchen eating cookie dough. When out of no where, my husband and 2 of my kids tackled me, taking the cookie dough. Tackled me. To the ground. I ask you, what has this world come to when you can't eat cookie dough in the sanctuary of your own home without having to worry about getting pummeled?

I think the trouble can all be traced back to the day our cat gun was mysteriously broken. We used to have a cat gun which was actually just a spray bottle. When the cats were little we sprayed them to remind them not to get on the table. Later, starting out as a joke, we used it on the kids. When the kids were chewing with their mouth full, eating rice with their fingers, or licking their plates, my husband would spray them with the cat gun. It worked wonders on their table manners.

Anyway, it seems that this past summer I have been asking "Where are your manners?" way too often. So often, that I'm considering buying a replacement cat gun. Getting tackled for cookie dough would have definitely been grounds for a good spray. I mean, chances are that had they asked politely, I might have given them some...

The last time I asked Anna where her manners were, she turned to me and replied, "Manners can't be taught, they are bred." First, what does that even mean? Second, at our house the only "breeding" you'll find is white or wheat. As in bread. I had responded by asking her if she wanted butter with her "bred."

I admit that maybe I could have come up with something better to say. It probably showed my lack of breeding. Yep, I definitely need to buy a new cat gun.

2009-08-12T08:37:00.000-07:00

Mind your p's and q's.

Can I just say that the amount of crud I just sucked out of Brian's crack is just plain embarrassing? And before you get to thinking how nice I am for doing this, stop right there. Normally I am right there with those of you who believe you should clean out your own crack, but today I made an exception.

Because last night, well, I may or may not have left his car window open and we had this huge rain storm. So, I'm kind of hoping that by the time he comes home, he'll be so busy noticing his squeaky clean crack and newly vacuumed interior that he won't realize that his behind is completely wet from the car seat...hey, it could happen.

Plus, now that I have this nifty little vacuum, it is fun to vacuum all the little cracks and crevices that before were out of reach and therefore off limits. So beware. No one's crack is safe.

2009-08-05T09:25:00.000-07:00

You'll never know what you'll see at the doctor's office.

Sarah has had a sore throat for the past couple days and today she woke up with an ear ache. I knew what this meant and I dreaded it. A trip to the doctor. Ugh. I dropped Sarah off at the door so she could sign in and went to park the car. After getting Sarah registered, I went to the waiting room when, who did I find myself sitting across from? It figures. It was the guy I had just seen in the parking lot. The guy who was peeing on his car. Seriously. Who does that?

It was awkward for several reasons. First, he had turned to look at me as I drove past. So he saw me see him peeing. Second, I didn't know him, yet it felt like I knew him. If you know what I mean. So, there we sat, both of us trying not to look at each other and while doing so, we kept making eye contact and then both quickly looking away. Awkward. I've never felt more relieved to have the nurse come and call us back. And speaking of being relieved...sorry, I know, but I couldn't help it.

Luckily creepy guy was gone when we left. So here is my friendly tip for the day: if you ever have to go to the bathroom really, really bad, try to avoid peeing on your car in the middle of the parking lot. It is creepy.

2009-08-03T09:43:00.000-07:00

Watch out, this isn't pretty.

I need to look and see how many times I write about my trips to Walmart. It's rather embarrassing. I think I almost got escorted out by security today. But I swear it wasn't my fault. I went to the customer service counter and boy was I mad. I was livid. I took the Black and Decker hand vacuum I had just bought less than an hour ago and dumped the contents of the black "dust bowl" container on their counter. A pile of cigarette butts, animal hair and crud sat in a pile between me and the customer service employee.

"It's disgusting, isn't it!" I told her, possibly a little too loudly. My hands were shaking and I could barely control myself. Another employee came over and asked if she needed to call security. "I just bought this and when I got home and opened it, all this filth dumped out all over my kitchen counter!" I explained quickly before anyone had time to call for back-up. "I'm trying not to throw-up," I added, it was disgusting!

The employees finally understood that I was not a crazy person. "Wow, I'd be mad too!" one of the ladies admitted while the other employee started writing up a complaint. They both apologized to me repeatedly, but it still didn't make me feel better. Well maybe dumping it out on the counter did a little.

2009-07-29T20:52:00.000-07:00

High Standards.

We had 4 missionaries (all young men ages 19-21) over for dinner tonight. It was a nice evening, but I have to admit there was something they said that I found rather odd. They mentioned that one of the things they usually find out right away about their new companions was which Disney princess they liked the best. Seriously? Now you see that I wasn't kidding when I said it was odd.

Although, I do remember when "The Little Mermaid" first came out, at least half the guys at college were in love with Ariel. Also, strange. (I'm sure it didn't have anything to do with the shells she was wearing.)

Anyway, being curious I asked one of them which princess they liked. He said he liked the "Swan Princess." Instantly there was a loud uproar. I guess the Swan Princess isn't a Disney movie. So technically that means she isn't elgible to be a "Disney" princess. This was sounding a little too complicated.

Since the first princess went over so well, I decided to ask another missionary. He liked Meg. Again, another round of comments. "Meg married Hercules who was a god, so she isn't a princess." Wouldn't you agree that goddess trumps princess? I mean we are talking about cartoon characters.

That night, as I lay in bed trying to sleep, the more I thought about the whole conversation, the more disgusted I became. I mean, it's bad enough that girls have to live up to Hollywood's expectations of what they should look like. But now they have to compete with Disney Princesses? Geesh. Give me a break.

Unless of course we get to wear costumes. If that's the case, I call dibs on the sea shells.

2009-07-29T05:35:00.001-07:00

Argh!

My friend and I took her kids to get something to eat the other day. As we sat down with our food, a man with an eye patch entered the restaurant. Her son had a look of awe on his face as he stood up on his chair and yelled as loud as he could, "Look everyone, it's a pirate!"

Interestingly enough the subject of eye patches just came up again. My son and I were just talking about them yesterday. On the back of his learner's permit it has "2 corrective lenses." I explained that "2" was the code for corrective lenses, not the number of corrective lenses. "Do you think there is a code for eye patches?" he had asked.

Had I been thinking, I would have used my previous opportunity at the restaurant and asked the pirate if I could see his driver's license. Now we may never know the answer to his question.

2009-07-27T08:50:00.000-07:00

INXS is not for the faint-hearted.

I haven't been running since right before I got sick. Since it's been a while, today I decided I'd do a short run in my neighborhood. I was approaching an older couple when all of a sudden, the man grabbed his wife and pulled her off to the side of the road. They looked quite scared so I turned around to see if a car was coming. There wasn't. They kept looking at me, though.

Did I smell? I guess it was possible...it was 11:00 and really too late for me to be running. It was already hot outside. But I couldn't smell that bad, could I? Then I realized that I was singing out loud. It was an INXS song and the words I had been singing were: "Devil inside, devil inside, every single one of us, the devil inside..."

I guess I had to admit that a sweaty, heavy breathing person, singing about the devil would make anyone a little nervous...As I continued running I tried to figure out what I could do when I saw them again at the other side of the circle. Apologizing would only remind them that I was creepy. I decided I'd just smile and pretend I was normal. But the closer I got to them, I realized that I probably did stink.

I ran past them and tried not to cringe as the man grabbed his wife's arm as a precaution. I knew there was a reason I usually try to run early in the morning. And scaring old people is an all-time new low for me.

2009-07-26T18:20:00.000-07:00

Happy Happy Birthday!

Today is Nicholas' 15th birthday. He plans on taking the test this week to get his learner's permit. It's hard to believe he'll be able to drive soon. The other day when I reminded him he needed to start reading the manual, he remarked that he should because it's been way too long since he's driven. I just had to stare at him for a while. I told him that it's been a long time since he's driven because HE DOESN'T HAVE HIS LICENSE AND HE DOESN'T DRIVE! I think he's referring to all the times he used to "borrow" the car keys after church and drive around the parking lot.

Heather made a birthday cake after we got home from church today. She was mixing it when Nick came up and asked her what she was doing. "I'm knitting a sweater," she replied. After the cake was done they noticed that someone had eaten a small piece. For some reason everyone automatically assumed it was me---but hey, I was just trying the sweater on...

2009-07-23T07:50:00.001-07:00

I'm now officially too old for the teeny boppers to understand.

It's been raining or looked like it was going to rain all week. Every day I ask myself or my husband, "Should I have Nick mow?" And then I can't help it. I just start laughing and laughing and laughing.

My kids have stopped trying to figure out why I find this funny. Which makes it even funnier to me. They don't even know what a NICMO is! That is how old I am.

I tried to explain it to them after the first time I accidentally commented that it was good that Nick had mowed. (See, even just writing it makes me smile.) But my kids got that expression on their faces. The one that they save just for me. The, that's-the-stupidest-thing-you've-ever-said-in-your-life, "I don't know what you're talking about" look. For some reason, I know the look very well.

Or maybe they are just mortified to hear their mother speaking of such things. Perhaps their system just shuts down as soon as I start speaking about it. Which of course, only makes me laugh more. When probably it isn't even that funny. To anyone else, of course. Because to me, it is hilarious.

NICMO: An alternate spelling for NCMO--which is short for No Commitment Make Out. Two people mutually agree to not get into a relationship--but just enjoy making out.

But now NICMO is whenever my son mows the lawn. See? Funny.

2009-07-22T06:08:00.000-07:00

Harry, Bella and all our other good friends.

On Monday we went to see the new Harry Potter movie. It was fun to go with the whole family. Brian had read the books out loud to the kids when they were little, so Harry Potter has always felt like one of the family to me. Before the movie, Brian pulled out a handful of plastic colored bracelets and passed them out to everyone. They each had the name of one of the four Hogwarts houses on them. Mine said Hufflepuff. I guess he and Sarah got them while waiting in line for the last book to come out and he has kept them all this time. So with matching bracelets, we all sat together and watched the movie.

In the parking lot that same day, we saw a car with the license plate "Bella 13." I rolled my eyes and said how pathetic it was that 12 other people had the license plate "Bella". Brian surprised us all by informing us that it was "Bella 13" because Bella's birthday is on the 13th of September. Huh? We've all read the Twilight books several times but have never picked up that fun fact. I looked at Brian, who after realizing that he was the ONLY ONE who knew this, seemed a little embarrassed. As he should be.

My husband has teased us endlessly for reading and rereading the Twilight books---even refusing to refer to the last book by any other title than "Breaking Wind." I was shocked when this summer he read all of the books while we were away on vacation in Utah. He is now re-reading them. Huh.

Talking about the books over the phone one night while I was in Utah, he apologized that he would never be Edward. Although sweet, this was actually a relief---he did know Edward was a vampire, right? I'll whisper this next part, so listen closely: Vampires aren't real. Besides, if Brian really knew me, he would know that I would never, ever want him to be like Edward.

Everyone knows I'm a Jacob fan.

2009-07-19T13:02:00.000-07:00

We're all together again, we're here, we're here.

We drove to Wheeling yesterday to pick up Heather from Governor's School. She was gone for three weeks and made me think that if this was what next year would be like---taking kids to college---I am soooo not ready. Three weeks was just too long.

The drive home was full of deep discussions. Like just what do you call the place behind your knee? I call it your knee pit. We counted dead raccoons on the side of the road and filled Heather in on everything she had missed over the past several weeks. I told her that we must have hovered a little too close when the guys came to install the new washing machine. "You look very anxious to start washing clothes," one of the guys mentioned. I didn't think we were being THAT obvious---maybe other people don't stand next to them and peer over their shoulders as they work. "We're out of clean underwear," I had blurted. Heather decided she was glad she missed that particular moment....

We read scriptures last night and in the midst of Anna's turn reading, some phrase must have caught Heather's attention because she suddenly burst out in song. It's good to have Heather home.

2009-07-15T09:32:00.000-07:00

Random is as random does.

I was checking out my books when the librarian asked me if we were finally finished with our vacation. I was surprised anyone had noticed we'd been gone. "You're here almost every day," she exclaimed. "You're practically family!" Next time, perhaps I'll bring my vacation pictures and set up a slide show for her. Yesterday I wore my pajamas to the library so maybe I do feel a little too comfortable there...

I think living with 3 sisters has finally taken its toll on my son. I'll hear him yell through the house, "Has anyone seen my lipstick?" The problem is that it amuses me so much, I usually don't correct him and tell him that it's really his CHAPSTICK he is looking for...

My washing machine is broken and without the steadying flow of laundry in my life, I feel out of whack. The new white washing machine arrives on Friday. I voted for either the orange or wild cherry flavored machine. Even though, if I am honest with myself, if I did have a red washing machine, I think every time I did a load of whites I'd worry they would all come out some shade of pink...

So, here's to Friday. A day of laundry. A day where everything will be right again in the world---as long as I remember to check pockets for chapstick before doing the laundry.