Ode To Clorox

Tis the season of the Uglies

And my house is full of littles

You clean up snack time messes

And even bathroom pittles.

Your wipes are just plain genius

For Uglies and much more

Especially when the Uglies

Splatter walls and on the floor.

The "splatter" of the Uglies

Seems to be the worst-est part

When the toilet seat's left down

And when the Uglies shart.

But let me show the Clorox love

Outside of Ugly season

Little boys that stand to pee

Earns respect for you and for good reason.

The love is deep within my heart

Year round despite the flu

Sniffles, snots and boogers

Just reaffirm how I love you.

And the choice of smell and color

Fresh or lemon scent

Oh, Clorox wipes, it's plain to see

You're truly heaven sent.

CAUTION! DO NOT MIX!

Sometimes two good things are even better when put together.  Diet Coke and pizza.  Ipod and running.  Amazon and free shipping.  Chocolate and cinnamon bears.  Chips and salsa.  Cheese and crackers.  Rain and a movie.  Grilled cheese and tomato soup.  Boogers and Kleenex.  Boys and Clorox wipes.  Music and dancing.  Dancing and me.     

However.....

 

Lip Smackers and dryers do not mix!  Both are good things.  Both are GREAT things.  Lip Smackers are a classic deliciousness for little girls and big girls the same.  A washer and dryer are somewhat magical except for the fact that they don't fold and put away the laundry after they clean it.  I'm not complaining.  It's still a far cry from a washboard and basin.  The problem is, the two joys of soft lips and dry clothes should not, under any circumstances, be put together.  If only my little darlings could understand that.  "Stop putting them in your pockets!!!"  I've made myself pretty clear if you ask me.  And then to add to that....

Yes.  Crayons and dryers.  Not good.  Not good at all.  One little blue crayon goes a long way when it melts.  Trust me.  Should you ever find yourself in such a predicament though, WD-40 is your new boyfriend.  He cleans crayon like nobody's business.  I huffed more than my share while de-blue-ing the inside of my dryer.  That was 8 years ago and I'm still buzzing.  But now our little family has evolved from Crayola to Lip Smackers.  Guess it comes with age.  I might as well embrace it.  I mean, there's nothing like sprucing up your wardrobe with a few grease spots. 

"No.  I'm not lactating.  It's a grease spot from chap stick.  Promise."

Books! We Don't Need No Stinkin' Books!

The other day I asked the kids to clean the toy room.  I threatened that if they didn't then I would!  Scary, I know.  Because when I clean I take a garbage bag with me and fill it with treasures to donate to the DI.  The monkies were mortified, but still not convinced that it was worth entering the dungeon where the toy room lies.  Then I added that if they didn't clean they wouldn't have room for the new toys they might get for Christmas.  Their eyes widened at the thought of new toys and they were off.  After about an hour of intense cleaning, the four of them came to announce, quite proudly, that they had filled 3 garbage bags with things they would be happy to donate to another child.  Cleaning wasn't so bad after all!  Why hadn't we thought of this sooner, Mom?  So silly!  During inspection of the 3 garbage bags and the toy room, I was surprised to find that they had done little more than empty all the books off the bookshelves into the bags.  The floor of the toy room is still littered with Matchbox cars, ponies, trucks and dolls of every size, shape and color.  Three bags of books!  Are you kidding me?  Heaven forbid we should part with the headless Barbie or the collection of Kids Meal toys.  However, I have to give them props.  They did do what I had asked them to do.  They just did it in a way that sufficed both me and them.  Brilliant little cusses!  Guess I'd better be more specific next time.  Doh!     

Gifts that Keep on Giving

Giving.  It's what Christmas is all about.  Or is it?  Depends who you ask.  Ask me and I'll agree.  Ask my monkies and they'll try to agree with a hidden speck of hesitation.  Ya see, when you're a child at Christmastime, making your list and checking it twice is more about how many gadgets and games you saw between Saturday morning cartoons and then plotting how you can can cram, in microscopic penmanship, all of those treasures onto an 8x10 sheet of paper, hoping and wishing that your wildest dreams will come true and Santy Claus will bring each and every item on your list.  Because yes, your Christmas will be ruined without a Zu Zu Pet or a Pillow Pet or even a crayon maker.  Little do these little people know that their mother can make crayons just by melting down their old crayons.  Tah-Dah!  Magic!  But those years of dreaming of ridiculous prizes are over too quickly so I quite enjoy watching the kiddos boiling over with dreams and anticipation.  I've been there.  Done that.  And I can understand where they're coming from.  After all, I never did get a remote controlled car or a baby sister even though I asked for both of them for years. 

To encourage us to learn to give, as children, our parents let us draw names between siblings.  It was a secret and we were not to tell who we had or what we bought.  Some of us were better at keeping the secrets than others (cough, cough.....Meg).  I loved drawing names.  I loved buying for my siblings.  There were, of course, certain family members that were easier to buy for than others.  The hardest family member to buy for, in my opinion, was my older sister, Meg.  She had expensive taste and an eye for fashion.  I'll never forget the year that my brother Teej got her name.  He was at a loss as to what to get her so I offered my advice and assistance.  (that's the kind of sister I was)  Meg had mentioned that she wanted a purse.  So Teej and I went to Shopko hunting for a purse and trying to keep to his $10 budget.  And there it was.  Navy blue.  Gold accents.  The purse of all purses.  Meg would love it.  Shopping done.  And before long it was Christmas Eve and the moment of truth as Meg unwrapped her gift.  Still to this day I don't remember her immediate reaction.  If I had to guess it would be all smiles and dimples because she was so sweet and too kind to say anything mean.  But before we knew it that navy blue grandmotherly fashion flaw was thrown in the back of her closet where it forever stayed.  Never used.  Meg confided in me afterward that the purse was hideous.  I agreed.  She told me how nerdy it was.  I laughed and played along.  Silly boys, don't know nothin' 'bout purses!  Sheesh!  Sorry, Teej.  I totally threw ya under the bus. 

We've all had years of bad gift giving.  I, for one, have had more than my share.  One year I falsely assumed my father for a lumber jack and gave him a red and green plaid flannel shirt that he never wore, and for good reason.  One year I mistakenly labeled myself  a seamstress and needless to say that was an ugly gift year.  The silky pillowcases my BIL got, compliments of Yours Truly, got shorter and shorter with each mistake I made until they are now undoubtedly too short for his pillows.  Unpicking the seams just got monotonous so obsessive cutting seemed the logical solution. 

In the spirit of giving it's the thought that counts.  Right?  Good luck this Christmas season.  And much luck to myself.  May you avoid tacky flannels and gold accented purses at all costs.  And may you be grateful for the precious treasures that you are so sweetly given even if they go straight to the back of your closet.  After all, even those bad gifts given bring us years of laughter and stories to tell.  Happy shopping!

Why My Hubby is Embarrassed of Me - "Burrito" - Part 4

I recently had a birthday.  Holla!  I know.  Lame sauce.  It's just not as cool as it use to be.  However my day this year was quite lovely.  The kids and hubby brought me breakfast in bed, did the dishes, decorated the house, made me cards, brought me lunch, let me have a nap, and provided dinner.  I really can't complain.  I love this chapter of my life.  And although I'm no longer in my twenties or even a round 30, I'm looking forward to 30-something.  Wasn't that a TV show?

At this age I realize and embrace the fact that I'm a little bit quirky, weird, free spirited, eccentric and imaginative.  I'm totally okay with all of that.  I'm more comfortable in my own skin today than I have ever been.  And no matter what adjective you use to describe me or what you may think of me, there is one thing that I discovered years ago that has only gotten better with age.  My dancing.  Don't laugh.  I've got some mad skills.  And how did I discover this talent, you ask?  The "Burrito".

When I was a teenager I made up a song and choreographed a small dance.  It was done completely to make my siblings laugh.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  And it worked brilliantly.  The song is about a fellow named Jose and a flying burrito.  No.  It doesn't make sense.  That's partly why it's funny.  This song and dance quickly became popular with not only my family but my extended family.  It has since been labeled the "Burrito" and has been performed at Christmas parties and other family events.  The routine is really quite simple.  I make the ugliest face I can physically muster, and yes, it is the same hideous face every time, and then I dance and sing.  Above all things that I have done or will ever do to embarrass my husband, this is by far the worst of the worst.  With that being said, along with my desire to stay married, the "Burrito" was kindly put in the vault several years ago.  Bye-bye.  So sad.  No "Burrito" for ever more.  So don't ask me to do it.  I will not.  But those of you who have seen it will have it burned into your brains for years to come.  From the humble beginnings of an ugly song & dance about Mexican food evolved a timeless talent that is what I like to consider a fairly decent robot and a semi-good worm.  I'm working feverishly to combine the two with the "coffee grinder".  More info to come. (wink)  

A toast to the "Burrito".  Good-bye old friend.  Cha-cha-cha!

Marco.....Polo

The boys were playing Marco Polo the other day. 

CJ was the seeker as Ranger ran circles around him. 

And where did they find the blindfold you ask? 

They just borrowed the bra off of Lil G's Little Mermaid Bear. 

Little bra = perfect blindfold. 

I'm just glad they didn't use mine. 

Whi-Rash Workout



Whoosh!  I'm famished!  Hard work out this morning.  Ya see, I've been working out with my sister a few times a week in her home gym.  It's pretty rad.  We meet early in the morning at her house and go downstairs to her unfinished basement.  It's nothing fancy.  We just use what we have and dance our way 'round her storage.  We have designated areas for push-ups, sit-ups, lunges, running, pull-ups and squats (which the squat area is also used for burpees, double unders, and jumping jacks).  Today's routine was especially grueling.  I decided to go for the treadmill and Sister started her journey down what we like to call "lunge lane".  By the time she had made one pass down lunge lane I had plugged in the treadmill and was ready to go.  As I entertained the treadmill and she ruled the lane, we chatted and laughed and chatted some more.  After what seemed like forever I looked at the time and realized it was time for me to go home and get the kiddos ready for school.  I unplugged the treadmill and headed up the stairs.  Phew!  This osmosis exercise kicks my trash.  I never did turn the treadmill on after I plugged it in and even that 15 minutes of standing on it wore me right out.  I wonder if that's how karma works.  I thought about exercising while standing in place.  Thank you treadmill for reciprocating those feelings.  Well done today, Sister.  Until next time.



Why is this post considered Whi-Rash?  This diagram should explain.

Birthday Wishes

Yesterday it was the birthday of one of my favorite people.  I'll call her Charlie.  Yes, it's true that in the past several years we've lost touch to some extent.  However, she is one of my oldest friends and has contributed to some of my most lasting memories.  Each year at this time no matter how long it's been since I've talked to her last, I think of her often.  She grew up just up the street from me so we played regularly.  She is also my first cousin which was a bonus.  How great is that?  Best friend and relative?  Just plain rad!  And our birthdays are only a week apart which from day one I always found totally awesome.  Since her birthday is right after Thanksgiving we often went to see the Nutcracker Ballet.  The first few times I'm sure we were just enthralled with the lights, music, dancing and sparkly tutus, but it didn't take long for us to outgrow that.  Soon we just giggled about boys in tights and the "potato" in their pants.  From that year on whenever we visited the Nutcracker Ballet it wasn't so much a magical fairytale but rather rosy cheeks and laughter due to the "produce" on display.  Now as a mother, my children go to the Nutcracker with Nana and their cousin each year after Thanksgiving and come home in awe of the production but also blushing and giggling about the boys in tights.  How great it is to see the next generation enjoying the same memories that my cousin and I do.

Charlie always had the coolest toys.  She had the complete Care Bears Care-a-lot world with more gadgets and pieces than I can remember.  I loved the little cloud cars the most.  She also owned the castle and action figures to Heman and Shera.  Wow!  It still blows my mind just to think about it.  "Masters of the Universe!"  And best of all, she always had a healthy stock of Lip Smackers.  I vividly remember standing in the kitchen at her house one day and eating a whole tube of Orange Lip Smackers.  It was pretty much delicious not to mention somewhat nutritional.  "Nutritional?" you ask.  Well, it was orange which I'm pretty sure fits into one of the food groups.  My lips were soft for a week.  One year for Christmas we both asked for BB guns and miraculously we both got them.  I don't know how many times we heard, "you'll shoot your eye out!" from the classic Christmas Story movie.  And although neither of us ever got hurt by our trusty Red Riders, there were many an aluminum can or robin that didn't stand a chance against our marksmanship.

Whether car pooling to school, doing the Burrito Dance together at Christmastime, fighting at Girls' Camp, spending a summer together on crutches, playing Mario Brothers, making burnt spaghetti (how is that possible you ask?), or riding bikes, I love you, Charlie.  You are one of the funniest people I know and I hope you had a wonderful birthday full of Lip Smackers and wholesome Nutcracker entertainment. 

Happy Birthday!

Target 2‐Day Sale: Tip #5: Draft to the Doorbusters

I conquered my first Black Friday this year and was also told on two separate occasions last week that I resemble and act like the Target Holiday lady. Hmmmmm.....  Not sure what that means.  But I did do some serious drafting into the DVD display at Walmart on Friday.  Holla!

Why I'm Thankful

My little soon-to-be six-year-old son came home from school the other day so excited he could hardly stand it.  He had a surprise!  And bless his little heart, his surprise was a candy dish he had made, which he asked me to immediately fill with treats.  As I looked at his little creation, permanently imprinted with his chubby little finger prints, I realized that it's moments like this that I'm truly grateful for.  I mean, in all honesty, I'm grateful for a lot of things.  I'm grateful for indoor plumbing and heating.  I'm grateful for toilet paper and shoe laces.  I'm grateful for elastics in my underwear.  I'm grateful for modern medicine, freedom, and people that fight to protect it.  I'm grateful for RedBox, Mt. Dew, and chocolate.  I'm grateful for band-aids.  I'm grateful for Clorox wipes.  I'm grateful for #12 "The Beach" at Jimmy Johns.  I'm grateful for Febreeze and smelly candles that make my life bearable on especially stinky days.  I'm grateful for ice cream.  I'm grateful for razors, deodorant and bras and people that use them.  I'm grateful for music and Ipods and dance parties in the kitchen.  I'm grateful for sleep.  I'm grateful for religion and the freedom to worship however we choose.  I'm grateful for good health.  I'm grateful for incredible neighbors, friends, and family members.  The list goes on and on and on and on......and on.  I'm sure other people feel much like I do and find joy in not only the large celebrations of life but also the sweet little moments that really make us truly happy.  Today I am most grateful for a homemade candy dish big enough to hold only 3 midgee Tootsie Rolls and even more grateful for the little hands that made it.  I'm grateful for 3 more sets of little hands that make my life more entertaining, fun, unpredictable and worthwhile than I ever thought possible.  I am also thankful for a tall, dark Mr. Handsome that gave me four little monkies and who makes me laugh everyday during the 10 o'clock news.  Who knew the news could be so entertaining?  He is the funniest man I know.  So in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I find myself unbelievably thankful.  I hope we can all find plenty to celebrate and be thankful for as we endure even the simple mundane moments of life.

Happy Thanksgiving!  

In the Spirit of Thanksgiving

Pet Peeve

Seriously, tooth paste maker people!  Help a sista out!  This is ridiculous!  I can't seem to change the little people who make these messes on a daily basis, so instead, I'm gonna request that you change your form of toothpaste distribution.  There's gotta be a better, cleaner, make a mom happier way.  Ahhhhhhh!!!!

Dear Puberty

Dear Puberty,

Why are you bothering me?  I'm pretty sure I kicked you to the curb 15 years ago (cough, cough....okay....maybe 8 years ago).  People of my maturity should not be pestered by acne of this severity.  Why...oh why must you torture me?  As if the first go 'round wasn't painful and humiliating enough.  You could argue that I'm married.  What does it matter if I'm covered in zittage?  You could also argue that I must not have a life, any self respect or remaining dignity since a husband and four children are at home waiting for me.  Is that what you think?  If so, you are sorely mistaken.  I may not have much of a life, but what little of it is left I'm holding onto with a white-knuckle grip.  For the record, I have more self respect today then I did during my first encounter with you and your plague of puberty triggered facial diseases.  And as for dignity....okay...you've got me there.  I lost all but a shred of that during four pregnancies and birthing four children and exposing myself to the world.  I still loathe the human being that invented stirrups.  Can't you see that I've suffered enough?  Please, please, please leave me alone and take your facial oil and scarring sores with you.  Today at the store the lady at the checkout counter couldn't seem to find my eyes on my face.  All she looked at was my "growth".  I wonder if this is how women with big boobs feel.  Nobody looks you in the eye anymore.  My kids look at my face inspecting my over sized pimples with expressions of concern.  Like a car wreck you try to look away but you just can't.  I should put myself out of this misery and squeeze my shoulders.  I'm curious to see if that alone would solve all my worries.  What you are doing to me is disgusting.  And whether or not this is inappropriate to publicly admit this, it is my life.  It is true.  Puberty you are evil.  Enjoy your 60 seconds of blog fame and go torment the high school kids.  Leave me alone!

Sincerely,

Me

Lazy....and I Can't Blame 'Em

Me:  Hey, do you wanna play winter basketball this year?

Ranger: Ahhhh, man!  Why do I have to decide right now? (whining)

Me: Well, first of all I didn't think it was that big of a deal, but sign ups are right now.  Games won't start til after Christmas.

Ranger: Ahhhh....why do they make you decide so early!  (sigh of disgust)

Me: (Wow!  And here I thought he'd be excited.)  You don't have decide right this second.  Just in the next couple of days.

Ranger: Ahhhhhh!  Why?!

Me: Fine.  If it's causing you that much inner turmoil then clearly you're not ready to play.  We'll skip this year and you can decide next year.

Ranger: Well, I don't know if I wanna play or not. 

Me: Why not? 

Ranger: I just don't know.

Me: Would it help if you played on a team with your sister or with your friends?

Ranger: I just really hate basketball cuz you have to run so much.  I don't like sports that you have to run.  And I really don't like bouncing the ball.

Me: Okay then.  If you don't like bouncing a ball and you don't like running then basketball probably isn't the sport for you.  How about football?

Ranger: Nope.  Too much running.

Me: Baseball?

Ranger: Hmmmm...well I really like to hit the ball but I hate to run around the bases.

Me: Soccer?

Ranger: Well, at least it doesn't have as much running as basketball. 

Me: (WTH?)  Wrestling?

Ranger: Well, what do you do?

Me: Wrestle other boys to the ground and put them in headlocks and stuff.  (short demonstration)

Ranger: Ummmm....what do you have to wear?

Me: A leotard.

Ranger:  (mortified expression...scared eyes...mouth open...speechless...dumbfounded)

Me: (Dang!  I lost him at leotard!  Screw it.  He can be a musician.)

What I Learned In Denver

Last week I had the chance to go to Denver, Colorado for a conference.  There were three other amazing chickas that went with me and we had a blast.  We drove 8 hours each way and laughed our heads off.  Seeing how this was my first trip to Denver, this is what I learned.

1. The drive through Wyoming and parts of Colorado are agonizingly boring.  Nothing to look at but sagebrush and antelope.  Lame.

2. Our theme for the trip came straight from one of the best movies of all time, "Dumb and Dumber", when they said, "that John Denver is full of .....!"  True dat.  Colorado is not nearly what I imagined.  I thought there would be more mountains and stuff.  Nope.  Lame again.

3. People in Denver are rad.  They either have very poor vision or know how to flatter a gal cuz at one stop there was a comment that, "you don't look 10 years older than her".  Oh shucks!  I didn't have the heart to tell them that I had a husband and four little ones waiting for me at home.  Just enjoy the moment.  I'm cool with their insanity.

4. Watching someone else get their eyebrows waxed could possibly be the most hilarious thing I've ever seen.  The screams and body jerks of pain were nothing short of side-splitting laughter for those of us not being tortured.

5. Traveling takes it's toll on the digestive tract.  No lie. 

6. Saying goodbye to regular life tends to bring out the kid in everyone.  No worries.  No stress.  Just prank calls and ice cream.

7. There is a reason that hotel gyms have towels available in the gym.  Who wants to use a swassy bicycle?  You're welcome.

8. When hosting a business conference there should always be a keynote speaker addressing the dos and don'ts of business casual attire.  Up dos are for prom, not the work place.  Just because you're wearing a purple blouse does not mean purple shorts look good with it.  And slacks should always be bought in long sizes or unhemmed for good measure.  Floods with high heels are not okay even if your socks match.

9. Boxes of tissue should always be available for conference goers, especially for those who like to have a good time.  Giggles are hard to control when you're using your shirt to wipe the tears of laughter. 

10. They should never serve tuna fish at a conference luncheon.  It lingers.

11. Vegging in a hotel room with cool women equals watching a lot of Food Network, TLC, etc.  "Sister Wives", baby!

12. Thank you GPS!!!

13. Four women in a car for 8 hours.  Four women in a car for 8 hours who need to pee all the time.  Four women in a car who need to pee and there is nothing in sight but desert.  Who knows when the next rest stop will be?  Just pull over, throw caution to the wind, and pee on the side of the road.  Then get back in the car and start driving to discover a rest stop less than 2 miles from where you were just squatting.

14. Hobby Lobby is cool no matter where you live and no matter where you visit.  My husband would say, "You drove all the way to Denver to shop at Hobby Lobby when we have one 10 minutes from home?"  Yup!

15. Having an individual in your car for 8 hours who is backed up and has extremely bad gas is just torture for all.  My eyes are watering just thinking about it.  Good thing we all love you.

16. My kids did just fine without me home.  My husband is amazing, as is my MIL and mother, and whether or not the girl's hair looked good or the boys had on undies doesn't matter.  They all survived. 

17. Road trip + good company + good tunes = Priceless dance parties in the car!

18. It's always good to be home.

Bye-Bye Halloween

As I was reminiscing about the best and worst costumes of my Halloween career, it didn't take long to focus on the costume that is forever etched in my brain.  It was a year of nerdiness and eternal scarring to my ego.  If only I could have dressed up as a pirate, a mummy, a witch, or even a dog that year.  To this day I don't know what is worse.  The year that my parents dressed me up like Mozart.....

Take note of my mother's Isotoner gloves that I'm wearing.  Nerd alert!  Nerd alert!

....or this year when I took my kids trick-or-treating to my mom's house to find her dressed up like Mozart.  It's pretty much a toss up.  And let's be honest---they're both embarrassing. 


This is her "dead" faced Mozart.  Just a side note.

Oh how I love you, Mom.  So weird.  So nerdy.  So cool.  I totally come by it naturally.

Why My Hubby is Embarrassed of Me - Part 3 - Dew

Dew

Several years ago Handsome and I invited some of our neighbors over for dinner.  We were fairly new to the area and wanted to get to know our new peeps.  This couple was close to our age and starting a family.  It was just perfect. Good food.  Good company.  Why not?  Thanks to my friend, who was the wife of this couple, I was aware that her husband was a huge fan of ham.  Since we raised and butchered a pig each year I thought there was no better occasion than this to pull a ham out of the freezer and cook it for dinner.  I did just that along with some side dishes including funeral potatoes. 

During this time of my life I had two small children, was most likely pregnant with my 3rd little one (because I was always pregnant back then) and was taking some classes at the university.  I was busy and exhausted.  My day times consisted of changing diapers, cleaning, cooking, feeding, etc., while my night life consisted of hitting the books from 10PM - 2AM while the house was quiet.  Mt. Dew was my life line.  (not much has changed) 

As I prepared for my dinner company I ran to the store and bought myself a drink to help me stay awake and get all my work done around the house.  Unfortunately, the Dew took over to create utter chaos.  I accidentally doubled the butter in the potatoes.  Oh well.  No biggie.  But then as our company arrived at the house and we sat down for dinner I got my second wind.  My mouth literally would not stop talking.  It was a freak of nature. 

Blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah....!!!

And that's how the remainder of the night went but at about 100 mph.  After our company left Handsome informed me of how embarrassing and annoying I had just been.  Two hours of babbling dinner conversation.  Two LONG hours.

So to our unlucky company that night (you know who you are), my apologies.  And whether it's true or just for the sake of my pride, I'm confident that having me for company that night wasn't near as ugly as the potatoes. 

Why this story made the Top 10 with Handsome is crazy to me.  And although I hate to admit it, there are many of you who have suffered through similar conversations with me.  So sorry.  Maybe it should be a standing rule that when I have a Dew my present company should have a stronger drink in their hand.  Any opposed?

Why My Hubby is Embarrassed of Me - Part 2 - The Incident

The Incident

Shortly after Mr. Handsome and I were hitched we were driving out of town for an occasion of sorts.  We had stopped for gas before getting on the interstate in my very cute black Nissan Sentra.  I had just pulled out of the gas station and was waiting behind a man in his vehicle at a stop sign.  The gentleman in front of me started to go and then hesitated.  I followed his lead but didn't catch his hesitation in time.  I slowly bumped into the car in front of us.  Mr. Handsome was mortified and freaking out.  I shrugged my shoulders and said, "What's the big deal?  I barely touched him?"  We both got out of the car, as did the older fellow in the other car, took a quick look at both vehicles to find not even a scratch, and decided to go on our way.  No harm done.  Just a love tap.  I shrugged if off and considered it all good.  Handsome was seriously peeved at me, and the fact that I blew it all off after everything checked out just fueled the fire.  To this day he claims that we got in an accident.  I argue that it was more of an incident.  Huge difference.  A love tap can in no way be categorized as an accident.  And that's just what it was.  A love tap.  It's also funny to me that after all these years "the incident" was one of the top on his list of what I've done that embarrassed him.  He's such a funny man.  God bless the Sentra.

Why My Hubby Thinks I'm Weird - Part 1 - The Proposal

My Mr. Handsome and I just celebrated our 11th anniversary over the weekend.  I know...I know.  Pretty rad.  (applause)  In honor of the past 11 bestest years of my life, I'm starting a blog collection called, "Why My Husband Thinks I'm Weird".  Last week as Handsome and I were talking he was reminiscing about some things that I had done that either embarrassed him or he found odd.  I was laughing out loud listening to some of the things that I had long forgotten and still find totally appropriate.  I, however, have obviously scarred him.  Some might be normal occurrences for you as you read them.  Some might be as weird as my husband claims they are.  Some might make you think less of me.  But the past is the past and I am who I am.  So if nothing else, hopefully you can laugh at my expense and realize how truly amazing my Handsome is for putting up with my crap. 

The Proposal

Handsome and I had been dating for a few months and were driving up the canyon on a date.  No.  We weren't going parking.  Rumor had it that there were some waterfalls that we had yet to see.  I had recently received a new camera for my birthday so I was pumped about using it.  As we bounced up the gravel canyon road we realized we would have to park and hike the rest of the way.  We walked a short distance before we found the small waterfall.  Handsome spotted a bench at the base of the waterfall headed in that direction.  I, in my happy-go-lucky fashion, started my photo shoot and slowly made my way up to the bench where Handsome was waiting for me.  As we sat there and talked, Handsome got down on one knee and pulled a ring box out of his pocket.  I was totally confused at this point because he had been very clear that if we were to get married it wouldn't be til the following year.  As he sweetly said his sh-pill and asked, "Will you marry me?", I looked at him and said (with a small pinch of attitude), "Are you serious?" (snap, snap....head bob)

Handsome and me after the proposal.
Check out my fleece.  Still have it.  In
fact I just wore it last week. Maybe I
shouldn't admit that.  Hmmmm.



Okay, so not your typical fairytale response to a proposal.  But it is what it is and we've been happily driving each other crazy for more than a decade.

School Pictures

My kids got their school pictures taken a couple of weeks ago.  School pictures are something that I like to buy but categorize as one of the biggest rip offs of all time.  Thank heaven for digital photography.  It reduces the need for retakes and can insure that eyes are open and nothing super weird is going on from the chest up.  No boogies.  No food in teeth.  It's kind of magical.  

The three oldest of my monkies are the only ones in school and therefore the only ones who would be getting school pics.  I decided to take CJ in to have a picture taken as well so that all the backgrounds would match and I could hang them on the wall together.  CJ sat on the stool waiting for the photographer to take the shot but instead of the flash going off the photographer asked him to put his chin down.  Rather than lowering his entire head, he just opened his mouth as wide as he could and stretched his chin to his chest.  Once again, thank you digital photography.  But here we are a couple weeks after the school photo shoot and all four school pictures are adorning my living room wall and all four little people look amazing.  Hair looks good.  Eyes are open.  Smiles are appropriate.  Well done.  Can't say the same for my school pics when I was their age.

1st grade



2nd grade

Check out my first grade photo.  I'm smiling, yes.  And my eyes are open, half way.  But there is something the picture left out that even digital photography wouldn't have changed.  That is the fact that I slept in that lovely turquoise striped jumpsuit the night before (yes, it was a full length jumpsuit made by my mother) so that I could sleep in longer and take less time getting ready in the morning.  Genius if you ask me.

My second grade pic shows the sad truth that I started doing my own hair.  Not bad for an 8-year-old.  But not that great either.  As for the Chicklets in my mouth....they are my real teeth.

 



5th grade

Fifth grade was a whole different story.  As 5th graders we were the oldest in the school and therefore the coolest.  No matter what my school pictures turned out like I knew I was still da bomb, especially since Steve T. was my boyfriend.  I had recently had my yearly perm done at the local beauty school and it was looking most fantastical.  My bangs rocked it that day after a little ratting.  And to hold it all in the place I'm sure there was a half empty can of aerosol hairspray.  Smokin' hot!  Then there was the matter of the perfect outfit.  No prob.  I found the most amazing overall culotte short set at the local mall while school shopping.  Mustard yellow with black plaid.  I was ready and on my way to smile pretty for the camera.  But as I was standing in the hall before class started that morning I overheard a couple of my friends around the corner talking about clothes.  I eavesdropped only to hear one of them describe this hideous ensemble they had seen at the mall.  It was shorts colored mustard yellow with black plaid.  Awful!  Wait a second, I thought.  They're talking about my culottes!  So uncool! 

The Dog Formerly Known As Tucker

This is our new puppy.  His name is Bodie, or Bo for short.  Our dog, Kai is nearly 11 years old, has a broken foot and a torn ACL.  So for years my husband has dreamed of getting a new dog in hopes of getting one and having it trained before Kai passes away.  As he has looked at dogs and talked about dogs for all this time, he and little Ranger have been set on the name Tucker.  I'm a realist.  So in my realistic brain, all I can imagine is Mr. Handsome and the boys out hunting birds with Tucker and getting mad.  Really mad.  Mad at what?  Doesn't matter.  Mad at each other....mad at the birds....mad at the dog.  Either way, when emotions are running high and you're yelling at everyone and everything, chances are you're gonna slip and say some things you shouldn't.  Mistaking the dog's name for another word isn't a risk worth taking.  The last thing I need my boys to learn is "that word" and come home using it by mistake while playing with Tucker.  On top of that analytical assumption, the other kids have been getting used to the name Tucker.  Lil' G started going through the alphabet last night trying to find other words that rhyme with Tucker.  Not good.  That's just as deadly as playing the Name Game and singing, "Tucker, Tucker bo bucker...."

Needless to say, I trumped the kids and Handsome and we settled for the other favorite name, Bo.  As for middle names, Ranger is rooting for Bear.  Bodie Bear.  Hmmmmm....I think this actually might work.

Simple Pleasures

I'm not sure what it is about this picture that makes me happier.  The Double Stuff Oreos and milk, or the vintage orange Tupperware cup that reminds me of Grandma Lois.  Oh, Double Stuff....you are not only double stuffed but oh so Double D.  Tupperware, thank you for cute little mugs in shades of rust, olive green, chocolate brown, and gold that take me back to a happy place in time. 

My Hands & Feet

I loved this picture and saying on my calendar because I am the lucky sister to two sisters, two brothers, three SILS and three BILS.  I can honestly say that I would be lost without my siblings (in-laws included) just as if I'd lost my hands and feet.  Today I was reminded of how much I value my siblings and being able to talk to them about anything and everything.  And the best part about having brothers and sisters to talk to is that when they're as rad as mine are, you end up laughing and crying all during the same conversation.  It's kind of like a real live version of "Steel Magnolias".  You've got humor, tears, and sarcasm together in perfect harmony.  It doesn't get any better than that. 

I'm Smarter

What I Learned This Weekend:

Chokecherry syrup, plum syrup & applesauce

*There is a reason smart people buy their food at a grocery store rather than make it themselves.  For starters it's cheaper and waaaaaaay easier.  Let's take applesauce for instance.  You've gotta pick the apples, wash the apples, cut the apples, cook the apples, mash the apples, strain the apples, sugar the newly made applesauce, cook the applesauce, bottle the applesauce, and process the applesauce.  Delish?  Yes.  Messy?  Yes.  A workout?  Yes.

*Certain provisions are required for a full day of canning produce.  Just as if you would take someone soup if they were sick, two of my favorite ladies prepared me with Dew, a Milky Way Simply Caramel, and marshmallow brownies for my Day of Domestic if you will.  Much thanks to both of you.

*Canning home goods is much easier if you have a Camp Chef.  You can cook inside and process outside.  It's pretty much fabulous.  But if you've never lit the Camp Chef yourself because your husband usually does it be very careful.  It can result in singed eyebrows, eyelashes & peach fuzz.

*Oprah wasn't kidding when she gave us all a step by step guide on how to pluck eyebrows.  Unfortunately my plucking this weekend ventured out of the Oprah designated perimeter.  Singed hairs are better plucked than left alone.  Trust me.  Otherwise it's like have dozens of tiny dandelion balls all over your face.  And as baffling as it is, Oprah didn't discuss what to pluck or not pluck in the case of a singeing emergency.  I can truthfully plead ignorance.

*I've been reading a book that takes place in ancient China.  At one point of the story the elderly Uncle Lu lost his position with the emperor and came home.  This is what was said about him.  "He had two moles on his face.  All people cherish the hair on their moles, but Uncle Lu's were splendid.  He had at least ten hairs--coarse in texture, white in color, and a good three centimeters long--sprouting from each mole."  Wow!  Why have I been plucking all these years?  But seriously, I just threw up a little in my mouth.

*I'm am badly out of shape.  Most times this truth is revealed when my pants are too tight or my butt shakes more than normal when I run up and down the stairs.  This time it was magnified with tight sore muscles after canning all day.  Who knew it was such a workout to be domestic?!

*Chocolate covered cinnamon bears = YUM!

*My mother is pretty much to the moon and back amazing.  When I was a child she sewed all our clothes, canned our food, and made everything from scratch.  As much as I joke about the downfalls of being dometic, I'm grateful for an incredible mother and an equally amazing grandmother who taught me everything I know.  I'm glad to know the secrets of a dying trend even if I don't always love doing it.

*I've got a little "whi-rash" in me at all times.  Living in an old farm house that has green carpet in the kitchen doesn't exactly scream "practical" to me, especially with applesauce flying everywhere.  But for me, no prob.  Simply drape tableclothes on the floor.  Might be tacky but is way easier to clean.

My New Must Have

This is a genius idea started by my very own Mojito and another amazing woman who I will call Shaw.  Together they are changing the world of accessories in a most clever way.  This is seriously worth checking out.  And because I am sitting here wiping tears due to the fact that I will be 6 long hours away from the action during the totally rad Miss Plunkett Grand Opening, I'm doing my part to spread the word.  Hopefully Ms. Mojito & General Shaw don't mind.  And if they do, maybe they'll forgive me if this shout out gets Miss Plunkett some sales.  So if you're anywhere near Southern Utah tomorrow night....be there or be square.  And if you're much like myself and far far away, check out the website and pick out your favs.  Some of you will be getting these treasures from me for Christmas.  After all, this loveliness is the new "must have".  Enjoy!

Dew Diaries 3

Sunday

No Dew today.  (clap, clap, clap)  Well done, Me.

Monday

Went and picked apples with Sister and Mom.  I love that at 30 I still feel young enough to climb trees and reach for those big juicy apples that are out of my reach.  So fun and luckily there was no falling.  As we picked apples I declared that I was off of pop.  No more soda for me.  Sister says I'm crazy.  Either way, I stuck to my guns even when Mom and Sister made plans to hit Sonic for an ice cold drink.  Yeah, Me.  Another Dewless day under my belt.

Tuesday

After breakfast I got most of the kids off to school.  Hall Monitor and I went up to the University to meet with a team of therapists to discuss her bad and extremely finicky eating habits.  Ranger came along with us and watched and listened nearly bored out of his mind.  It was a great meeting and we learned and accomplished a lot.  Hall Monitor was very proud of herself and tasted turkey and Mac 'n Cheese for the first time.  We were all so proud.  On our way home from the University we stopped at a grocery store to buy something new for Ms. Hall Monitor to try for lunch.  After making our rounds up and down the grocery aisles we found ourselves at the ever so common dead end of, "I'm not ready to try that.  But look!  The Doritos are on sale!"  So frustrating for me as a parent.  How do people manage?  After so much progress I just wanna scream.  But no, I will refrain.  I'll find another way to cope. 

Oops!  How did this large Mt. Dew end up in my hand?  Why is it following me to my car and getting all cozy in my cup holder?  Crazy!  Oh well.  Delicious non the less.  And since I pride myself on not being wasteful.....

Wednesday

Woke up with good intentions of sticking to my Crystal Light.  It's good stuff and can't be nearly as bad for me as soda.  Now I've just gotta get some chores done.  My girlfriend, Crystal, can help me through.  That's what friends are for, right?  Oh wait.  Chore #1.....Pay bills.  Oh well.  It's all good.  That's why Bill Pay is so magical.  What the....?  Things aren't balancing quite like I had planned!!!  Not good!  Not good at all!  WTH, Bill Pay!  You're obviously not magical enough to fix my problem.  Ba-bye!  And as for you, Crystal, don't let the door hit ya in the butt.  I feel my Stress-O-Meter rising.  Healthy just aint cuttin' it.  These crazy economic times are hard on the wallet and even harder on the Dew-diction.  Maybe tomorrow.

PS--Whoever's idea it was to fill the punch bowl with Halloween candy, know that you're seriously contributing to my problem.  Thanks for nuthin'.

Homecoming

Homecoming was a big time when I was in high school.  The dance, football game, etc.  However, my first Homecoming was nothing short of awkward.

I was a Sophomore.  I got asked to the Homecoming Dance by a guy who was a Junior.  He was nice.  Very shy.  I had never had a conversation with him before and still to this day have no idea why he asked me out.  But it was my first date so I was excited.  Besides, Homecoming meant I got to get all dressed up in a pretty dress with fancy hair and jewelry.  What girl doesn't wanna do that?   

My date picked me up sometime that Saturday afternoon.  We went swimming at a local hot springs.  I wore my best swimsuit and rocked that forest green gingham one-piece like it was nobody's business.  My date and I chilled in the pool with the other couples we were with.  As our little posse hopped out of the pool and headed for the water slide my date and I tagged along.  Within 10 steps of leaving the pool....WHAM!  I was down!  WTH?  Did I just fall flat on my back in a forest green checkered swimsuit on my first date?  Whatevs.  I bounced up quickly and acted cool.  I'm sure nobody noticed.  Ummmm...DUH!  How do you hide that?  Either way, the water slide was calling.

After returning home from swimming I cleaned up and got ready for the dance that night.  I wore my sister's hand-me-down forest green velvet dress.  (It seems as if forest green was a theme here.)  I curled my hair and did it up.  By the time my date arrived I was ready to roll.  From my house we went to dinner where I ordered a steak.  I was sure that my date would appreciate that I was a good eater.  I wasn't one of those "anorexic salad girls".  But to my disappointment my steak was still mooing when they brough it to me.  Being too shy to speak up and send it back to be cooked, I picked around it and ate what I could.  When we were finished eating we headed for the dance at our high school.  My date didn't talk much.  Neither did I.  Awkward.

From the dance, my date and I, along with the other couples we were with, went to someone's house to watch a movie.  Oddly enough this was my least favorite part of the date.  I had just eaten a steak.  I had just eaten vegetables.  I had just downed a soda.  I had just danced for an hour.  My stomach was digesting in a very loud and un-lady-like manner.  My forest green dress was tight.  How do I watch and enjoy this movie?  I was surrounded by people I didn't know and a date that didn't speak and all I really cared about was how hard I had to concentrate to not fart.   

Several days after the dance I heard that my Homecoming date had felt much the same as I had.  Apparently he hadn't had a very good time.  I don't know why.  I entertained him with comedy at the swimming pool.  Then I wasted a good $13 worth of steak at dinner.  And then I flattered him with conversation for the remainder of the night. 

Happy Homecoming!  These moments in time are exciting, horrible, and life altering.  I haven't been able to look at forest green gingham since that splendid Homecoming that was my first.