One Scoop, Please

I went to get ice cream last night with my sister.  The chickaroo working at the ice cream shoppe, whom we shall call Gretchen, came out to get our order. (That's right, she came out to our car while we were in the drive through.  If you've ever been to Charlie's you know what I'm talkin' about.)  My sister ordered her frozen deliciousness and then I said,

Me: "I'll have one scoop of mint chocolate chip in a sugar cone."

Gretchen: "Would you like the one scoop size or the actual one scoop?"

Me: (thinking WTH with a confused look on my face because I didn't think my order was confusing) "Ummmmm, is there a difference?"

Gretchen: "Well, the one scoop size is actually three scoops of ice cream but the actual one scoop of ice cream is the child's size cone."

Me: (still thinking WTH) "Ummmm....I would like literally one scoop of ice cream."

Gretchen: "So the child size it is!"

It's one thing in our country to make politics and taxes and everything else confusing.  Why must we spoil the joy of buying frozen deliciousness?  One scoop should be one scoop.  Three scoops should be three.  I don't want to think or do math when buying my ice cream let alone solve a story problem.  If I'm stuffing my face with frozen deliciousness at 9 o'clock at night with another woman in the car, chances are that we're emotional eaters who just wanna eat....not think....not nuthin'.  Just one scoop please.  I'm hormonal.  Just give me my ice cream.  "I said what I meant and I meant what I said."  (Dr. Seuss)  One scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream on a sugar cone.  I think that's clear.  You're ice cream sizes however are not clear.  Thank you. 

PS - Mmmmm...frozen deliciousness....

PMS - I love you "Charlie's".  Even if you are confusing.  See you next week.

Crosstitch

I need this crosstitched and hanging on my wall for my husband to see everyday when he walks in the house from work. It would become my "go to" explanation.

"Honey," said while pointing at the wall,  "that's why!  You're welcome!"

Whi-Rash

My whi-rash moment of the week is my leaning tower of garbage.  As my 9-year-old pointed out, it is literally white trash.  Thanks, Paige.

And the Winner Is...

After all my hair controversary I settled on a style that my brother suggested and thay my neighbor, Jordan, wouldn't be jealous of.  I've gotta say that I look pretty drop dead sexy.  Much thanks to my beautician. 

One Year Older

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY BOY!

He had his first big boy party with all of his buddies.  He requested "me time" with his friends (meaning without his siblings) and I think he was pleased with what "me time" he got.  We had a boat load of little boys here and they made good use of the new swimming pool and the slip 'n slide.  He was overly excited for presents, like any child would be, and yelled across the yard to his guests, "Everyone, come give me presents now!"  One of his favorite gifts was an old tennis ball and a plastic baseball bat that a neighbor found in a ditch.  Just goes to show ya that kids are easily pleased.  I love and envy the simplicity and excitement of my children.  I am exhausted but glad to say that I too survived the party.  Thank you, sis, for the Diet Coke.  It made the heat and somewhat organized chaos today much more bearable.  I am also proud to say that there were no tears shed at the party today.  It was touch 'n go for a while thanks to the ginormous zit on my forehead.  But all in all it was a happy day.  I love you, my little man.

Food for Thought

1)  Never pour Crystal Light in your eye.  It stings.  It's contrary to what I would have expected as well, but take my word for it. 
2) Beware of ice in your beverages.  When it settles it can splash Crystal Light into your eye.  Once again, it doesn't feel good.

Crystal Renn, size 10 plus size model

3) Who in their right mind decided that women that wear a size 10 are "plus size"?  The answer to that is clearly "a skinny person".  (I used the word "person" rather than what I was thinking.  I like to consider this blog a family friendly blog.)  The Today Show interviewed a plus size model this morning (size 10) who was angry that her photos had been retouched to make her look thinner. 
4) As a plus size model myself I'm not angry that my photos were enhanced (that was deliberate) but angry that "normal" or even "skinny" is considered plus size.
5) I fear for the future of my daughters.  Unreal expectations.  (refer to #4)
6) My 5-year-old son took me on a tour of the farm last night.  We climbed fences, squeezed through cracks in barns, and I was graciously introduced to the new bull who is famous for the ring in his nose.  However, the ring seemed pointless to me after my son gave me a tutorial of his "nuts".  What?  Did he just say that?
7) Why adult acne?  Why?  Wasn't I tortured enough during high school?

8) Is it okay for children to miss meals during the day?  Cuz I'm pretty sure that we missed both lunch and dinner yesterday?  Is that normal during the summer or am I a bad mom?  I vote for normal.  At least on occasion.  And dinner at 10 o'clock never hurt anyone.  Right?

9) Febreze.  Clorox Wipes.  Fly swatters.  D-Con.  I heart you.

10) Do earwigs and Box Elder bugs serve a purpose other than to annoy?

11) Mad Libs. 

12) I love summertime.  Cooking on the grill.  Swimming.  Running through sprinklers.  Sun kissed cheeks and shoulders on my babies.  Gardens.  Mowing the lawn.  Popsicles.  Baseball games.  Campfires.  And that one time I dared my brother to stick a peanut up his nose and it got stuck.  Good times.

Whi-Rash

What's that, you say?  That's my MacGyver style of fixing the broken bag on the lawnmower.  I couldn't find the duct tape so I settled for blue painters tape.  It worked beautifully and prevented all of my clippings from blowing in my face.  Now that I've explained myself you still think I'm a moron, right?  Nope.  I'm not.  I'm just very resourceful and a little "whi-rash".

Alien Toe

I have an alien toe!  It's straight out of ET.  It looks just like his finger.  And who or what is to blame for this atrocity?  Running!  That's right!  Running!  Ever since I started training for that wicked relay race months ago, my second toe on my right foot has gradually declined in health.  First it started hurting.  Then the toenail turned black.  Then the toenail started coming off.  I loved it and cared for it and painted it hoping that it would look as beautiful as my other toes.  But the fate of my little toenail was inevitable.  Last night we parted ways and I wrapped my alien toe in Band-aids to hide the hideousness.  

This morning the kids and I were wrestling.  I accidentally scratched Gracie with my alien toe Band-aid.  She asked, "What happened to your toe?"  I told her about my toenail falling off and she exclaimed, "Let me see it!"  I reluctantly took of the Band-aid to reveal the deformity.  The kids were mortified.  They wanted to touch it but didn't dare.  They wanted to stare at it but didn't dare.  In fact, they were so grossed out by it that I started chasing them with it.  They squealed and screamed and ran.  I thought it was funny.  Maybe a little twisted, but funny.

Not long after the alien toe was revealed the kids started whining and fighting.  I told them that each time they whined they owed me a nickel.  They didn't like that idea.  So I tweaked it.  The new rule of the day is that each time the kids whine or fight they have to kiss the toe. 

It has been a very peaceful day.     

Stripes

Since I recently admitted that I'm "hair challenged", I might as well add to that and let everyone know that I am also fashionably challenged.  I wear the same clothes every week.  Rotation takes place every 7 days.  And to add to that shame I'm pretty sure I have a skirt hanging in my closet that I wore in high school. 

A few years ago my husband and I went to a dinner party.  I had  nothing to wear and was in a huge hurry.  I grabbed some pants and an old sweater and threw them on.  As I walked into the party one of my friends looked me up and down.  As I got closer to her she said, "I'm pretty sure I had that same sweater in high school.  Is it from the GAP?"  Hmmmmm....awkward!  I replied, "Oh, I'm not sure.  My sister gave it to me [back in high school]." 

After I had one of my baby girls I saved up some mad money to go shopping.  I was feeling frumpy as a new mom so I thought a new outfit might cheer me up.  I came home with a bag full of surprises and was so excited about my new purchases.  The next day I put on my favorite new shirt.  It was red and white striped, scoop neck, 3 quarter sleeves.  Very cute under a pair of overalls.  (cough..cough)  My new shirt was magic.  Until I ran into my husband's grandma wearing the same one. 

Oh....hold up....did I mention that with my mad money my first stop to shop was Shopko?  Really?  No wonder Brian's grandma had the same outfit.  And to think that the mall was right across the street.  So close and yet so far.  I disgust myself.

PS---I quite enjoy Shopko even to this day.  But due to past experiences I no longer buy my own clothes there.  If you do, please take no offense.  After reading the above story you should understand my reasoning.

"Uncle"

Dear Mother Nature,

You will be happy to know that I recently washed my car.  According to our track record that means that rain showers are due.  I have seen the trend.  I am dealing with it.  However, I am not happy with it, and quite frankly, no matter how magnificent, beautiful and breathtaking you claim to be, I don't like you much for this singular reason.  Why can't you wait to send rain another day when my car is already dirty?  I so wish we could work out this problem.  But until then, "uncle".  You win.

Sincerely,

Me

Hair

I have hair issues.  I get bored and have a habit of changing my hairdo constantly.  I was born a brunette but quickly grew into a blond.  The older I get I tend to fall into the middle of not blond, not brunette, but something of a dirty dishwater blond.  Picture the nappy color of a mouse's fur.  That's my current natural hair color.  Pretty, huh?  So like most women I've highlighted, I've lowlighted, I've dyed every strand of hair on my head nearly every color of the rainbow.  Okay, not really.  I stick to shades of blond and brown with maybe a little red here and there.  And to add to the color I try to grow out my hair.  Then I cut it.  Then I grow it out a little bit, then cut it shorter than the first time.  Then I cut bangs.  Then I cut more bangs.  Then I cut layers.  It just goes on and on and on.  Then I get lazy and cheap and decide to color it myself.  Sometimes the color turns out nice.  Sometimes it looks like Kellogg's Corn Pops.  And sometimes my hair gets so overdone while processing the color that it turns into stretchy rubber bands.  Weird!  That can't be good.  But hey, you get what you pay for and my hair might be able to hold itself in a pony tail because it's so stretchy, but I saved $60!  It's all how you look at it.  Sad thing is that it doesn't stop with the color.  I have a bad habit of trimming my own bangs.  I have had a few good experiences but I've had twice as many bad ones.  One time I trimmed a little too much a little too short and a little too straight and looked like Moe from the Three Stooges.  Another time I went for "fashionable" but ended up looking like a lesbian.  I guess I can't win.  And here I am typing this because I've been too lazy to get my hair cut and my bangs are getting so long that I'm debating whether I should grow them out altogether.  Ahhhhh!  But do I look better with bangs or without?  Do I look younger with bangs or without?  And do I look like one of those moms who is trying too hard to look younger than she is?  I mean, I want to look young, I just don't wanna look like I'm trying too hard.  Does anyone else have this inner turmoil about their hair?  Please share. 

Service? What the?

Last week my two girls, my two piano students and I went to a local nursing home and put on a small piano recital for the residents.  My two daughters were nervous and excited all at the same time.  As we were getting ready for our performance Gracie asked, "We get payed for this, right?"  Paige replied, "Ummmm, Gracie, it's called service!" 

I can not put into words the look on Gracie's face at that moment.  Service?  Try explaining that to a 7-year-old. 

But I am proud to say that all four of my piano players did totally rad.  I'm so proud.

Jell-o Butt

After I got home from running this morning I was laying on the living room floor stretching.  My 3 oldest kids were watching curiously.  As I rolled over onto my stomach I said, "Watch.  This is how you do the worm."  Now for those of you who have been lucky enough to witness it, I do a killer worm.  But I have only figured out how to roll from front to back.  This morning I was trying to demonstrate to the kiddos how to "worm" back to front (meaning knees to chest).  As I rolled down onto my hands, my hips and butt hit the ground with a vengeance.  I layed there on my stomach trying to figure out what had just happened.  I thought, I'm pretty sure that's not how they do it on TV.  The kids laughed hysterically.  Paige said, "Mom, your butt just jiggled like jell-o!"  They all giggled harder.  Then Paige said, "That's your new nickname.  Jell-o Butt!" 

It's not even 10:30 AM and every time I walk into a room my kids laugh and say, "Hi, Jell-o Butt!"  And here I thought I was going to be Cool Mom.  It's gonna be a long day!

2 Down

We lost another calf today.  Cort's beloved Snowy was dehydrated yesterday and not doing well.  Cort asked Brian if Snowy was going to go to heaven.  Brian told him that it was possible.  Cort shrugged like it wasn't a big deal although I wondered if he would show more emotion should Snowy actually die.  This morning when Brooks and Brian came home from doing chores they broke the news to Cort that Snowy had passed away.  Shortly after that, Brian announced that he was headed out to pick up some new calves to add to the herd.  He told Cort that he could have one of them to replace Snowy and he could even name one of the new calves.  When I heard all of this news I asked Cort how he felt about it.  This is how the conversation went.

Me: Cort, Snowy died?  Are you sad?

Cort: Hmmmmm.....no.

Me: So do you get a new calf?

Cort: Yea.

Me: What are you going to name your new calf?

Cort: Ummmmm....not Snowy.  It will just die.

Me: (trying not to laugh) So what will you name it?

Cort: Ummmmmm....Buckin' Bull.

Apparently the name Snowy is forever jinxed at our little farm.  Either way, RIP Snowy.

One for You...Three for Me

Whether you think giving children chores is mean or not, I don't.  So earlier in the summer I made up job charts for all four of my monkeys.  That's right.  My 9-year-old has the same jobs as my 3-year-old.  And trust me, they aren't that hard.  The way I set it up this year was that each child has the same basic jobs all week long.  It is less confusing especially for the little ones who can't read the job charts.  With that being said, I dread the weeks that anyone has "DISHES" as their job except for Paige, my oldest.  Oh what would I do without her?  (Sigh!)  She is the only one who has really figured it out.  And although you may get a spoon with a little leftover som'n som'n on it, for the most part she is pretty thorough.  This week it has been Gracie's turn to do the dishes.  She has worked sooooo hard and improved so much over the summer.  But the other night at dinner my little 5-year-old grabbed a glass and filled it up with water and started drinking only to exclaim, "This tastes like soap water!"  I turned around to see a full head of bubbles on the top of his H2O.  I grabbed the glass and smelled it.  Green apple soap.  Mmmmmm.  How refreshing when you need a drink!  Gracie laughed about it claiming that she had rinsed the dishes before putting them away.  I'm still not sure if I believe her. 

Last night I was up late watching "The Office" so I went and got myself a bowl of cold cereal.  As I sat down and started eating I could smell dish soap.  I licked my lips and took one close look at my spoon only to realize that it had dry dish soap on it.  Gracie!  (said how Seinfeld says "Newman!")  And then I finished my bowl of cereal. 

My point is that when you give your child a job you create three for yourself.  You either have to help them do their work or you have to go back and redo their jobs after they've already done them.  Being a parent is hard.  But it's a lot of fun too.  And I'll admit that while eating my soapy midnight snack I laughed about my Gracie.  I'm guessing that she was laughing about it too.

PS--In Gracie's defense she really does do a great job on the dishes.  We just need to work on her rinsing technique.  And I'd take her dish washing over my 3-year-old's any day.  Just sayin'.  This is how he does it.

Missing Cat Missy

Missing cat Missy

Click above. 

Hilarious!

Honey Bucket

I never thought I'd say this but I love you, Honey Bucket.  After 188 miles of running and colon stimulating movement; after 2 days of little to no sleep and living in a mini-van; and after drinking what seemed like gallons of water, you, Honey Bucket, were my bestest friend in the whole wide world.  It didn't matter that you were kind of stinky.  I loved you anyway.  I looked for you at every stop.  I ran and stood in line for however long it took.  I visited you frequently and am grateful for your hospitality.  Bless you.  You made the Wasatch Back Relay more comfortable for everyone that ran it.  What is it that they say?  "A true friend sticks with you through thick and thin no matter what."  So true.  You are a true friend.  Until next year, Honey Bucket.

Sincerely, Team Bouncers

 

Minute to Win It

This 4th of July weekend my sweet husband had to work.  So the kiddos and I packed up and went to the lake with my family.  My family consists of 2 fun and spunky older sisters, 2 out of control hilarious younger brothers, 2 SIL's (sister-in-laws) who are equally crazy and fun, 2 BIL's (brother-in-laws) who seamlessly fit into the wacky bunch & a mother and father who are creative, weird and funny (obviously, since that's where we all got it from).  Between myself and my 4 siblings there are 14 grandchildren in our family under the age of 10.  Our time spent together is loud, chaotic, food-filled, sleepless, sarcastic and very entertaining.  At our last family vacation my brother and his wife put together a talent show.  Sounds cheesy, huh?  But it turned out to be nothing short of ab burning laughter, including a premeditated and very accurate version of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" dance.  This year, however, the same brother and SIL put together an intense competition of TVs latest hit, "Minute To Win It". 

"Minute To Win It" happens to be one of my little family's favorite shows.  My husband and kids watch it regularly.  Not only is it creative, funny, humiliating, and intense, but at the end someone wins some serious cash for making a fool of themselves.  Between it and "Wipeout", televised family entertainment doesn't get better.  Posted below are some of my favorite pics from our family "Minute To Win It" competition.  Some of the tasks at hand included moving an Oreo from your forehead to your mouth without using your hands, unrolling an entire roll of TP by spinning in circles, knocking over bottles of water with pantyhose on your head that had a baseball at the end of one leg and moving cotton balls from one bowl to another using nothing more than Vaseline on your nose.  I highly suggest trying some of these at your next family reunion. 

Enjoy!

Wally World

Walmart.  Always an adventure.  Especially when the kiddos tag along.  Yesterday was no exception. 

The kids and I (including my niece) had just left the matinee movie and stopped by Walmart to grab a few things.  (Did you catch the matinee part?  Yup.  I'm fun mom.)  As soon as we walked into Walmart we headed straight for the bathrooms.  Afterall, we had been eating junk food and sitting for the past two hours.  I wasn't gonna let a potty break interrupt my shopping.  I shuffled all 5 kids through the bathroom stalls, broke up arguments about who got the "big" handicapped stall and if all the girls could go together at the same time.  Then it was my turn.  And I'll admit, it was long overdue.  I had chugged a Diet Coke during the show and refilled it on my way out of the theatre.  (Don't judge me!)  I really had to go.  So I slipped into the next available stall and locked the door, turned to hang up my purse and cussed under my breath.  No hook!  The only stall there that didn't have a hook.  Great!  Well, I took a quick overview of the toilet.  Nope.  Definitely not sitting down.  So over the next few minutes I attempted to pee standing up, squatting of course, with my over sized purse under my chin.  Do not touch anything!  Not the toilet.  Not the walls.  Nothing!  Wow!  Could you have given me a harder task?  Balance is not a well known trait of mine.  That fact alone made this task even harder.  Then....more distraction....

"Mom!  Mom!  Mom!  Are you done yet?"

Frustration setting in I clumsily finished my business with no harm done.  No touching the toilet.  No dropping my purse.  And no swearing out loud.  (It doesn't count if it's in my head, right?)

Walmart conquered once again!  Holla!  I'm da bomb!