Soap

I love you.  I hate you.  I don't know why.  But tell me, why is it too much to ask that you do not collect hair?  And why is it so blasted hard to get a hair off of you?  It's as if there is a magnetic force holding you together.  No matter how much I turn you around, no matter how many times I run you under the water, and no matter how many times I drop you, you still remain hairy.  Are you in love with the hair?  Perhaps even married?  Just go away, hair!  GO AWAY!  The hair just swirls and slithers like a snake around and around you.  It will not leave!  Not until I physically dig my fingers into you and grab the hair and remove it, which is EXACTLY WHAT I'M TRYING TO AVOID!  I don't want to touch it!  Just fall off!  Disappear!  I don't even care who's hairy body it fell off of.  Even if it's my hair, I loathe it!  And when I do get the hair off of you I have to re-lather and rewash my entire body because for some reason you now seem dirty to me.  Hairy soap is dirty!  Can soap be dirty?  Can you be dirty?  Isn't that an oxymoron?  Add this to my list of many issues.  And, no, Joey from "Friends", soap is not self cleaning!  

Our Kai Girl

Shortly after Handsome and I were married we got a dog.....or our first child if you will.  We weren't crazy and fanatical about our baby.  She was an outside dog.  A hunting dog.  And being the beautiful yellow lab that she was we knew she would someday be a big dog.  Although our "babying our baby" was scarce we loved her and enjoyed the newness of her energy and puppy breath kisses.  And for some reason, having a dog kind of made us more of a family.  I'm not sure why.

Kai was the smartest dog I've ever met.  Alcatraz didn't stand a chance with that pup.  She climbed kennels and jimmied locks.  Still to this day neither Handsome or I can figure out how she got out of a choke chain that we found laying in a straight line in the dirt.  Like I said....Houdini smart.  We tried everything to keep her contained and safe and to teach her not to bark.  After multiple embarrassing and aggravating middle of the night phone calls with neighbors we even invested in a bark collar.  That was hundreds of dollars well spent!  Kai had the collar off and buried within days.  We later found the collar in a shallow grave in her kennel.  

Although like most dogs Kai was full of shenanigans, she made up for her naughtiness on hunting trips.  Handsome swore she was one of the best dogs he'd ever had if not the best.  And year after year Kai and Handsome would venture out to hunt pheasants.  It's true what people say about a dog being a man's best friend.  And it makes sense.  Those two spent a lot of time together.  How could they not be best friends?  As a pup Kai would tag along to the milk barn and sit on the step while Handsome tended to the cows.  Then they'd go hunting and walking ditch banks between chores.  

As we welcomed kids into our family Kai was a sweetheart.  Never once did she nip or bite at them.  In fact, as she got older, she would lay in the yard by someone and just let them love on her.  She spent most of her days guarding the front porch and watching people come and go.  And the older she got the slower and more crotchety she got.  She took on the attributes of an old lady who enjoyed the company of others for short times but mostly wanted to be left alone.

We have added several other pets, mainly dogs, to our family over the years.  Some pets have been sold.  Others have died.  But Kai stayed year after year.  Just shy of 14 years old she recently passed away.  And although we always knew she would die, and knew that it would be sooner rather than later, it was still hard.  Last weekend Handsome dug a small grave in our garden and gathered the kids together to say goodbye to the dog that they have never known life without.  There was silence.  There were lots of tears.  But later that night there were also many prayers.  Said one of my babies with eyes closed and arms folded, "Thank you for letting Kai be part of our family.  Please help her to be happy and not hurt in heaven."  

Oh, how I love all of my babies!  

Big Man - Little Body

It has been 9 long years since I was blessed with a baby boy.  And let me just say that those last couple of weeks of pregnancy were crazy bad!  I was crazy!  It was bad!  Not to mention I was bigger with that pregnancy than any of my others.  When I delivered a 9 lb 1 oz 24 inch long baby boy it all made sense why my belly was super gigantor.  I still remember the doctor holding my big newborn and touching his little hands with eyes wide as he exclaimed, "Look at the size of those hands!  He's like a puppy!"  The comment made perfect sense to me since my own Mr. Handsome is a dog lover and when scoping out a pup of his own is always looking for large paws.  And my baby definitely had large paws!

Having a little boy after 2 little girls was a lot of fun.  I loved getting into trucks and tractors and sports and everything boyish.  I loved the short hair and lack of having to worry about a "hairdo".  And my sweet easy going little fatling was awesome!  Just awesome!  He never cried.  He ate like a champ.  He slept great.  He was just fat and happy all the time!  What more could a mother ask for?

Right after our Lil Rig was born he continued to fail his hearing tests.  When he was 6 months old we followed the advice of doctors and he underwent surgery to get tubes placed in his ears.  The audiologist was in the OR with the ENT so that while my little boy was still fast asleep they would be able to perform a "post ear tube" hearing test to see if the tubes had solved his hearing problem.  It was interesting sitting in that waiting room by myself wondering what the doctors would come back and tell me.  Could he hear?  Was he deaf?  So many thoughts and concerns.  Yet nothing that really rocked my world.  In fact, what was going through my head was....I can deal with this!  I can do deaf if I need to!  I can totally learn sign language!  This is going to be okay!

My little man came out of surgery just fine and had passed his first hearing test.  He could hear for the first time in his short life.  Everyday sounds like the toilet flushing and doors closing and even people talking scared him and brought tears to his eyes on a daily basis.  When he grew old enough to attend kindergarten we had to make special arrangements with the teacher when the school would do fire drills because the alarm would scare him and hurt his tender ears.

I guess my point is that I am grateful everyday for my little man.  I am grateful everyday that he can hear.  And I am grateful everyday for those moments, whether long or short, that help put things into perspective and help me remember how blessed I am and how grateful I am for my trials.  I don't wish to trade my trials for somebody else's.  I am, however, continually grateful for mine.

It's funny how each year when one of my babies turns a year older I think back to when they were born and the feelings and events associated with those years.  And here I sit today reminiscing about the past 9 years and how that chubby little boy has grown into one of the sweetest, most thoughtful, considerate, helpful children I've ever known in my entire life.  He notices when I get my hair cut.  He offers to help with dinner.  He opens doors for me and tells me I'm pretty.  He is the perfect man wrapped up into the body of a little boy.  And, yes, even though he'll soon outgrow me, I still kiss on those chubby cheeks every chance I get.

Though She Be Small....She Be Fierce

It's not a surprise that my little Emmy Cakes is a spicy cuss.  She is busy and sassy and determined and smart all wrapped up into chubby dimples and crazy hair.  I can't imagine my life without her.  And I also can't figure out how to organize my life with her.  

Earlier in the week she climbed on top of the kitchen bar where she likes to dance.  I try to discourage table dancing at an early age, hence my problem with this habit.  While on the bar she shoved a mini Mint Milano in her mouth and then chased it with spoonfuls of powdered sugar.  I guess that's what I get for not cleaning up the powdered sugar the night before.  The bar stools are now sitting on top of the bar at all times.  And yes, that totally defeats the purpose of having both a bar and bar stools.  

Last night Miss Emmy grabbed the hand sanitizer from her diaper bag and proceeded to chug it.  She was dissatisfied with the taste but I think she enjoyed the buzz/alcohol poisoning she accrued only minutes later.  (Can I get another nomination for Mother of the Year?)

Today my little angel reeked havoc at a local book sale that I now regret going to for several reasons.  She then refused to take a nap when we got home and has since kept me running all afternoon.  At one point I panicked at the stillness of the house as I sat working on my computer so I ran down the hall to find my sweet angel in the boys' room where she had pulled the heater vent from the floor and was hurriedly shoving things down it.  Of course her little hands moved faster and faster once she realized she was busted.  As I cleaned up the mess and pulled treasures from the heater vent including pencils, a binkie, and a toy sheep, Miss Emmy ran from the room chewing on a crayon.  All was well for a short time after that and I went back to work on my computer.  Soon I heard noises of discontent from my little monkey and went to check on her.  She was watching a movie but losing patience fast.  I persuaded her to follow me to the kitchen for a snack but as soon as my hands were full of goldfish and the sippy cup she took off running.  I finished making her a snack and walked down the hall to find her sitting at my computer with my glasses around her neck and my cell phone held to her ear.  Her eyes widened when she saw me enter the room and she started pounding the keyboard of my laptop with determination.  I guess she figured that if she was going to get spanked she might as well make it worth it.  I will admit she does a pretty good impersonation of me minus the Mt. Dew.

Let me just say that I have not accomplished near as much today as I had hoped.  But let me also say that it still makes me laugh to think that that spunky little monster outsmarted her mother more than once today.  I will no longer be carrying hand sanitizer in the diaper bag and I probably won't be invited back to the book sale, but I will happily carry germs on my hands and find somewhere else to buy books.  It's a good thing she's cute because some days it's the only thing she's got going in her favor.  

And yes, it's hard to believe such a sweetheart can cause so much trouble.

List Making Madness

I encouraged my kiddos to start making their Christmas Wish Lists a couple of weeks ago.  I like to get a jump on my shopping, as I'm sure Santa does as well.  So like the little angels that they are, they pulled out the construction paper and markers and started listing away.  The lists now hang on a closet door for me to read each day as I walk through the house.  It's funny to 1) see what they started out with and 2) see how the lists change from day to day.  These are a few of my favorite requests.

* 1,000 dollars

* stuffed minion

* wiener dog - a real one

* piano

* 4-wheeler or dirt bike that runs on gas

* donuts

* 1 billion dollars or $50 real money

and the request that ended up on 3 of the 4 lists from my 4 older children

* caffeine free Mt. Dew  

(I wonder where they got the Dew gene!  Weird!)

Not only do I love the specifics of the Christmas Lists but I also love the simplicity of them.  I know, a piano, a dirt bike, and 1 billion dollars might not seem simple.  But seriously?  It says "I billion dollars or $50".  And donuts and Mt. Dew?  I can do that!  And I know my kiddos would be "to the moon and back" excited.  

I can't wait to get shopping!

Trick Or Treat

Sorry.  But I had to!  I just had to..had to..had to post pics of my kids on Halloween.  They are too much fun!  Okay.  Not all the time.  Some days they are definitely "too much" and not so much "fun".  But either way, I love 'em and they are stuck with me FOREVER!  Hope you all had a wonderful Halloween like we did at our place.  

PS---Yes, I deserve an award for the make up.  And yes, I will probably give myself one.  No, I am not humble.  I think I earned it this year, whatever "it" is.  Especially after applying makeup to Mr. Scary Clown for 1) the neighborhood party, 2) school, 3) the first round of grandparents on Halloween evening, and 4) the touch ups required after dinner.  Yep!  Count them!  Four!  

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Abs of Steel

My kids were competing in exercises.  CJ, who is the youngest and smallest, is also my toughest child.  Even as a toddler his little calf muscles bulged from his legs leaving Handsome and I shaking our heads in disbelief.  And being the smallest and youngest, CJ feels that he has the most to prove.  And he does not disappoint.  So whether it's on the baseball diamond or competing in a made up world of fitness in our basement, my little man is all in.

After completing a round of sit-ups the kids came running upstairs to the kitchen to announce that CJ had a six pack.  CJ came strutting over and lifted his shirt.  Sure enough!  He does indeed have a set of abs that would make most grown men jealous.  His eldest sister giggled and told him that he will be the "hot guy" in school.  CJ beamed with pride and asked, "What does that mean?".

Then Lil G bounded into the kitchen to join in the conversation.  She carelessly lifted her shirt and said, "Look!  I've got a sex pack!".  

Uhhhhh.......

Game over.

Short Stories

Bending Over Backwards

My daughters were trying to teach themselves how to do back bends from a standing position.  I was surprised to hear that while in the shower one morning one of my girls tried to do a back bend in the shower.  When I asked her why she replied, Well, I needed to pick up the soap so I figured I'd do a back bend to grab it.  

Uhhhhh....That makes perfect sense!

Still having a hard time wrapping my brain around this I asked her if she was able to do it.  She said that, no, it ended badly.  She slipped and fell on her head.  

Holy crap!  If that visual doesn't make you laugh I don't know what will!

Flying Dishes

I was sitting at my daughter's soccer game on a Saturday morning by myself.  This was especially rare since I usually have a train of little people following me wherever I go.  I had left the four other kiddos home to get their Saturday jobs done and play with the baby rather than take her out in the cold.  I thought I'd be able to sit and enjoy the soccer game for the first time all year.  But no.  My phone continued to ring and ring and ring.  I answered the phone to hear screaming on the other end of the line.  I asked what was going on.  The reply was, "Mom!  CJ is throwing plates at us!"  I was totally confused.  

"What?" I asked.  

"CJ is throwing plates at us!  And I can't eat breakfast because he won't let me use a bowl!"

I knew I needed to get to the bottom of whatever fiasco was happening at my house.  All I could visualize was plates flying across the room which is exactly what every mother wants going on when she's away from home.  Glass plates?  Paper plates?  Plastic plates?  What are we dealing with here?  What will the damage be by the time I get home?

Apparently, CJ was in charge of doing the dishes that day and was in the process of loading and unloading the dishwasher.  The other kids came into the kitchen to eat breakfast, which, in turn, would create more work for CJ.  And CJ didn't want more dishes to clean.  DUH!!!  So he started throwing plastic plates at his brother and sister to keep them out of the kitchen and then he held the breakfast bowls hostage.

Sadly, the only thing that kept popping into my head was, "At least he's not throwing knives!"

Yes.  I am still in the running for Mother of the Year.  Pretty sure I've got it in the bag!

What's For Dinner

These 2 recipes are right up my alley.  Simple and delicious.  Yep!  The best of both worlds.  

Thanks, allrecipes.com!

Baked Ziti I

Rated: Submitted By: Colleen B. Smith Photo By: cookin'mama Prep Time: 20 Minutes Cook Time: 35 Minutes Ready In: 55 Minutes Servings: 10

"Combine ziti pasta, prepared spaghetti sauce, and three kinds of Italian cheeses for a surprisingly quick and budget-friendly Italian casserole that's easy enough for a week-night meal or a covered-dish supper."

INGREDIENTS:

1 pound dry ziti pasta 1 onion, chopped 1 pound lean ground beef 2 (26 ounce) jars spaghetti sauce

6 ounces provolone cheese, sliced 1 1/2 cups sour cream 6 ounces mozzarella cheese, shredded 2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese

DIRECTIONS:

1.	Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add ziti pasta, and cook until al dente, about 8 minutes; drain.
2.	In a large skillet, brown onion and ground beef over medium heat. Add spaghetti sauce, and simmer 15 minutes.
3.	Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Butter a 9x13 inch baking dish. Layer as follows: 1/2 of the ziti, Provolone cheese, sour cream, 1/2 sauce mixture, remaining ziti, mozzarella cheese and remaining sauce mixture. Top with grated Parmesan cheese.
4.	Bake for 30 minutes in the preheated oven, or until cheeses are melted.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED © 2013 Allrecipes.com

Printed from Allrecipes.com 9/26/2013

French Bread

Rated: Submitted By: Jenn Hall Photo By: lherman Prep Time: 25 Minutes Cook Time: 40 Minutes Ready In: 2 Hours 40 Minutes Servings: 30

"A crisp, crunchy crust and slightly chewy center make this bread as traditional as the breads served in France."

INGREDIENTS:

6 cups all-purpose flour 2 1/2 (.25 ounce) packages active dry yeast 1 1/2 teaspoons salt 2 cups warm water (110 degrees F/45

degrees C) 1 tablespoon cornmeal 1 egg white 1 tablespoon water

DIRECTIONS:

1.	In a large bowl, combine 2 cups flour, yeast and salt. Stir in 2 cups warm water, and beat until well blended using a stand mixer with a dough hook attachment. Using a wooden spoon, stir in as much of the remaining flour as you can.
2.	On a lightly floured surface, knead in enough flour to make a stiff dough that is smooth and elastic. Knead for about 8 to 10 minutes total. Shape into a ball. Place dough in a greased bowl, and turn once. Cover, and let rise in a warm place until doubled.
3.	Punch dough down, and divide in half. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Cover, and let rest for 10 minutes. Roll each half into large rectangle. Roll up, starting from a long side. Moisten edge with water and seal. Taper ends.
4.	Grease a large baking sheet. Sprinkle with cornmeal. Place loaves, seam side down, on the prepared baking sheet. Lightly beat the egg white with 1 tablespoon of water, and brush on. Cover with a damp cloth. Let rise until nearly doubled, 35 to 40 minutes.
5.	With a very sharp knife, make 3 or 4 diagonal cuts about 1/4 inch deep across top of each loaf. Bake in a preheated 375 degrees F (190 degrees C) oven for 20 minutes. Brush again with egg white mixture. Bake for an additional 15 to 20 minutes, or until bread tests done. If necessary, cover loosely with foil to prevent over browning. Remove from baking sheet, and cool on a wire rack.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED © 2013 Allrecipes.com

Printed from Allrecipes.com 9/26/2013

Canned Goods

In years past I've tried to can my own produce and stock my pantry shelves just like my mother did when I was a child.  I have since learned that canning is very bitter sweet.  There is something incredible about accomplishing something that now seems so old fashioned.  And just like slaving in the yard and then scrubbing the dirt off your elbows at the end of the day, there's something extremely gratifying and fulfilling about standing in the kitchen for hours peeling fruit, blanching it, cutting it, canning it, and then processing it.  I'm always a smelly, sticky, sweaty mess by the end of each canning day.  But then I get to shower and lay in bed that night and listen to the lids "pop" as they announce that they are successfully sealed and ready to be stored.  It's magical!  

So far I've been slow and hesitant to can this year.  Last year I threw in the towel before the canning season even started and blamed it on my job and newborn baby.  This year I was determined to at least put up some peaches and pears.  Unfortunately, I came home on a Friday night after a busy week of soccer and football to find that my peaches were ripe and needed attention immediately.  So at 8:30 PM I started canning.  My 3 oldest kids wanted to help like they usually do, so I taught them how to blanch the peaches and peel them and then leave for me to put in the jars.  "Bleaching" the peaches quickly became the coveted job and I soon put a rotating schedule into action to resolve the bickering.  Soon I noticed that the entire kitchen floor was not only wet but extremely sticky.  I turned to see one of my daughters peeling and cutting the peaches on the counter top and warm peach juice splashing on the floor.  I covered the floor with a table cloth and tried to pretend that this mess would magically be cleaned up when I awoke in the morning.  (deep breaths....deep breaths....it's just juice...)  Handsome came out periodically to see how things were going.  His wide-eyed expression said everything as he shook his head and walked away.   

About 2 hours into canning our peaches I noticed that the peaches were mushy and falling apart in my hands.  Cutting them was impossible!  As I watched the little factory we had created in our teeny kitchen I noticed that Ranger was on "bleaching" duty.  He would place some peaches in the hot water on the stove, then transfer them to the sink, attempt to peel them, and if peeling was not up to his high standards, he would return the peaches to the blanching pot and repeat it over and over and over.  My peaches were mushy because they were cooked!  I salvaged what I could and threw the rest in the trash without the kids seeing.  They continued to ask if I enjoyed their help.  I half lied and told them that I did.  And so we puttered along until about 11 PM when I turned off the stove and the Camp Chef and sent the kids to bed.  

The following morning we ran to early morning soccer games and returned home for a lunch break.  To my frustration my box of pears had ripened overnight and were fading fast.  I lit the Camp Chef and started peeling pears.  Ranger bounded into the kitchen and with excitement asked if he could help.  He took particular interest in peeling the pears when he found out that we would not be blanching them.  As he peeled and peeled he said, "Mom, I wouldn't tell my friends this, but I really like canning!"  

Oh, you sweet boy!  How can I not appreciate my mushy peaches and my bruised pears when you stand here for hours with your mom helping me can rather than play outside with your friends?  I know that my jars on my pantry shelf are not near as "pretty" as the ones Grandma puts up, which was always a priority.  But thanks to my cute kids I got both my peaches and pears done which is more than I would've accomplished on my own.  And every time I look at those peaches and pears it makes me smile.  I am so grateful for those simple reminders of how incredibly blessed I am to be a mother.

Summer O' Fun Recap

What We Did This Summer:
(in no particular order)

1-We went to the lake.



2-We played baseball.



3-We broke dad's recliner.



4-We painted.



5-We changed lots of diapers & drank lots of Dew.



6-We slept out on the tramp.

7-We worked on the farm.

8-We played soccer.

9-We turned 1.



10-We went to the Taylor Swift concert.



11-We rode a mechanical bull & one of us got trampled. 
(true story as unlikely as it seems....and unfortunately it was the Mom that walked away injured)

12-We went to Wacky Wednesday.

13-We saw lions and tigers and bears...oh my!



14-We had sleepovers at Nana's.

15-We saw Tim McGraw in concert.

16-We went to the fair and the rodeo.

17-We had a bonfire in the backyard.

18-We went on a hike.



19-We went down the Red Neck Waterslide.



20-We went sledding down the stairs. 



Stay cute and cool.  See ya next summer!

A Thousand Words

Oh, how we love our sweet, Emmy.  

We are grateful everyday that she joined our family.

The Alarm Clock

The alarm clock.  Genius.  Obnoxious.  Loud.  It's as if I'm describing myself.

My 7-year-old is curious.  And lately he's curious about night time.  Not 9:00 PM or even midnight.  But the deep dark hours of early morning when everything is quiet and most people are sleeping.  He found an old alarm clock in my D.I. box and decided that he really wanted an adventure.  And so he set out to discover 5:00 AM.  

All I have to say about that is $@&%$!!!!!  Yep!  I'm the only one that woke up at 5:00 AM that morning.  Lucky me!  I staggered down the hall towards that awful noise and turned it off as my sweet boy rolled over and snuggled into his pillow without a care in the world.  Bless his little heart.  

Stupid alarm clock!  

Later that morning when my little boy got up and at 'em, he was a tad disappointed that he had missed 5:00 AM, but decided he would try again.  He asked me, "Mom, have you ever been awake at 2:00 in the morning?"  "Yes," I replied.  He then asked about 1 AM  and 4 AM and 3:25 AM.  I answered over and over again, yes, yes, and yes.  He then wanted details.  What's it like at that time?  Is it dark?  Is it scary?  I did my best to explain the deets of the early morning hours that I don't personally enjoy.  And so, he declared, "I'm going to wake up at 1:00 AM!"  I told him I was not okay with that, especially since the last time he'd set his alarm I had been the only one in the house that had heard it.  

That night as I made my rounds to tuck the kiddos into bed, C.J. marched downstairs.  I was confused.  His bedroom is upstairs.  He then announced that he was sleeping on the couch in the basement.  He was determined to see 1:00 in the morning and so he made his bed on the couch with his alarm clock near his head.  His theory was, if I slept upstairs and he slept downstairs it would be a win/win situation.  He could wake up whenever he wanted and I would be none the wiser.  Brilliant!  I agreed.

I slept through the night last night.  I didn't hear that ugly alarm buzzing or anything else for that matter.  And from what I was told, C.J found the early morning spectacular.  And why wouldn't it be a wonderful time of day?  I later found out that my 7-year-old had just outsmarted his mother and set his alarm early so he could wake up and play the PlayStation for hours without anyone knowing.  

(standing ovation)

Well done you little fart!  You earned every minute!

Summer O' Fun

Last year I decided that we were going to have the Summer O' Fun.  For the most part I was trying to cope with the fact that I was pregnant with my fifth child and homeless.  By homeless I mean that I was living with my parents.  Yes, that is every one's dream that one day they will grow up, get married, have children, and move back into mom and dad's basement where they will bring home baby #5.  And being the overachiever that I am, I did just that.  I tucked my kids into bed each night and then retreated to my childhood bedroom where I rolled into bed 38 weeks pregnant thinking, "I never saw this coming."

The older I get the more I realize that there are so many things you can't plan for or anticipate no matter how hard you try.  And then I wonder why nobody warned me about them?  Isn't that why we ladies have besties?  Why didn't somebody warn me about pregnancy and postpartum?  A heads up about the hemorrhoids and involuntary farting would've been nice.  What's with all the secrecy?  It's weird!  We should be swapping pointers on how to deal with these issues just like we should be sharing pointers on how to not despise our children during the summer.  But, no.  That would be too easy.  It's much more fun to witness the innocently raw reaction like when the nurse walks you to the bathroom after your 13 hour labor and delivery and watches you pee, wipes your butt, and then puts a nice cold rubber glove full of ice on your ya-ya.  I don't know that even a warning would've made any part of that scenario feel normal.  But it sure wouldn't have hurt!

When I announced that we would be having the Summer O' Fun, why didn't somebody pull me aside and explain to me that there was no such thing?  Because no matter how fun you try to make the summer and no matter how much you love your little ones, there is only so much whining and fighting that a normal human being can handle.  Had I chosen to plan the "Day O' Fun" that would've been a different and much more realistic scenario.  But really?  The Summer O' Fun?  Uhhhh...I don't think so.  Not realistic.  It's like thinking that moving back in with my parents house was going to be easy or that maybe, just maybe, I've matured enough over the past 15 years that my dad and I wouldn't butt heads like we did when I was a teen.  Uhhhh...still no.

So then I feel guilty.  I feel guilty that my kids are bugging me.  My kids aren't suppose to bug me.  IT'S THE SUMMER O' FUN!  F-U-N!  But they are.  They are bugging me bad!  And then I feel guilty because I don't have a fun activity planned each day for the kids.  I don't even have an activity planned every week.  The extent of my planning is: I will wake up, eat breakfast, work, survive, go to bed, repeat.  Is that so bad?  Is that so abnormal?  And why do I feel guilty?  Oh, I'll tell you why I feel guilty.  It's because of all of you overachievers out there!  Stop it!  You're making me look bad!  I know you don't like your kids all the time.  Stop pretending that you do!  It's not normal!  (or am I not normal?)

I remember when I was a child and I could tell that my mother had had enough of me.  I was obviously annoying her and she was ready to scream.  I remember thinking that it was her job to like me all of the time.  I also swore that when I grew up and had kids I would always like them and they would never bug me.  Again....where was the warning?  I love my kids all the time.  However, I do not like them all of the time.  And I don't think that makes me a bad mother.  I think it makes me an honest mother.  A normal mother.

So here is my proposal and my advice.  I strongly encourage that all school districts add the following to the curriculum for the upcoming school year.  Here are a few things that nobody tells you but must be said.

* Mothers, never declare the "Summer O' Fun".  It is not realistic.  Plan for a day of fun or perhaps an hour of fun.  Then you won't feel guilty when you've run out of patience or curse words half way through the "Summer O' Fun".
* Plucking and shaving your facial hair at an early age is not only acceptable but encouraged.  Unless you're a teenage Mexican boy, a Mexi-stache is not okay.
* Pregnancy is neither easy nor glamorous.  Hemorrhoids are normal and uncomfortable.  Farting is inevitable.  And craziness is just part of the package.
* Poop is just poop.  Get used to it.  The kids will use it as finger paint.  They will wipe their butts on the shower curtain.  This is why we have Clorox.
* Motherhood is painfully enjoyable.  It is not only the hardest thing you'll ever do but the most rewarding thing you'll ever do.  And there is no such thing as a perfect mother.  NO SUCH THING!
* When your child puts stickers on his undercarriage, don't try to pull them off.  Just let him soak in the tub.  They'll come off in a few days.  No harm, no foul.
* Home cooked meals don't happen every night.  Neither do fruits or vegetables.  And that's okay!  Why do you think they invented the $5 pizza and cold cereal?  Duh!
* Someday you might move back in with your parents.  Yes.  You might.  And it's okay.  Worse things have happened.
* Fiber Gummies are not only delicious but they serve a much greater purpose.  Remember the hemorrhoids?  You're welcome.
* When you grow up you will do things that you swore you would never do and you will say things that you swore you would never say including, "If your friends jumped off a cliff would you?"  and "If you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all."  In other words, you will grow up to be your mother.
* Teaching your children how babies are made is only as awkward as you make it.  No.  I take that back.  It's only as awkward as your daughter makes it by asking, "So, mom, what position did you and dad do it in?"  (True story.)
* Tan fat is better than white fat.
* Gravity and motherhood might be rough on us women, but can you imagine the alternative?  Floating breasts and no kids.  I'll keep the saggy boobs tucked into my pants and the 5 little monkeys jumping on the bed.
* Dirty dishes will still be there tomorrow.  You're kids might not.  Leave the dishes.  Enjoy your Summer O' Fun!  Even if it isn't so fun.

To All You Non-Perfect Mothers

Put your feet up for 3 minutes, sip a Diet Coke and read the following link.  It expresses everything I was thinking...and then some.  

Happy Mother's Day! 

From one non-perfect mother to another.  

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Welcome to Aeropostle!

I never go to the mall.  Well, mostly never.  Maybe once or twice a year for something specific that I can't find anywhere else.  But I avoid the mall when possible.  Unfortunately I ran into the mall last week to grab a couple of birthday gifts for my daughter's friend's birthday parties.  I figured Aeropostle would be an easy one stop shop for everything cute, girly, and tween.  

It just so happened on the day that I went shopping at the mall at Aeropostle that I was wearing a hoodie that I had gotten from Aero several years ago.  Nothing fancy.  In fact, between my mom jeans and my hoodie I was just this side of frumpy.  But I was running errands and all about comfort and simplicity.  Besides, I love hoodies.  Love them!  Wish I had one in every color and wish I could wear one everyday.  And although they aren't necessarily fashionable, they complete me in a Jerry Maquire kind of way.  As I walked into Aeropostle that day wearing my green hoodie I was instantly approached by a young 20-something-year-old gal.  She was wide eyed and grinning ear to ear.  She greeted me with an enthusiastic, "Welcome to Aeropostle!  Your sweater is so pretty!"  (imagine this statement in a Legally Blonde kind of way)  

Hold on!  

Pretty?

Seriously?

First of all, I don't think I would classify this as a "sweater".  It's a hoodie.  Hoodie!

Second of all, nothing about this "sweater" screams "pretty" to me.  Cute?  Maybe.  Comfy.  Absolutely!  But pretty?  Uhhhhhhh.....no.

Needless to say, cheesy "I work on commission" girl sold me a whoppin' $14 worth of nail polish & t-shirts.  I considered buying more.  But I couldn't get over the initial obviously exaggerated lie of a compliment.  

Nope.  Still not over it.

(The picture above is not the actual hoodie I was wearing.  Mine is darker green, much much older, and stained most likely with smears of spit-up and Cheetos.)

Think Before You Speak

As a parent, I am constantly putting my foot in my mouth.  But thankfully, today it wasn't me that had to eat their words.  It was Handsome.  He offered each of the kids a quarter for every weed that they pulled in the yard, in hopes of getting some yard work done.  Needless to say, the kids were ecstatic about the idea of earning money, and within 10 minutes my 6-year-old came inside and proudly announced that he had pulled 124 weeds.  124!!!  In less than 10 minutes!  That's $31.00!  I tried to remind my husband that when I was a child we were offered a nickle for each weed we pulled, and we easily pulled enough to make 5 or 10 bucks which was considered a hefty payday.  Why a quarter?  Why oh why?  A nickle...a dime...anything less than a quarter!  Since Handsome wasn't home during our weed pulling contest, I was giving him play-by-play's via text.  All I got in response was a four lettered word with an exclamation point.  Oops!  Think before you speak next time!  And get a second job.

What's For Lunch?

Food gives me anxiety.  Clarification.....lack of food gives me anxiety.  Can you say eating disorder?  Nah, not that kind of lack of food.  Empty cupboards and a bare fridge.  That's what really gives me anxiety.  It's a mystery my husband still can't figure out.  But for some reason, as a mother, there is something comforting about having my cupboards and refrigerator and pantry stocked to the max that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  I have come to the conclusion that comfort connected to large quantities of food is because it makes my job as a mother that much easier.  I have choices.  I have options.  I can cook from scratch on my slow days and resort to sandwiches and cold cereal on my crazy days.  Not to mention that there is something satisfying about being able to feed your children without having to ration fruit snacks and slices of bread. 

This is my menu with stocked shelves.

Breakfast:  You choose!  Lucky Charms?  Oatmeal?  Banana?  Good...good...and good!  Whatever you want my little monkeys!  Eat up!

Snack: Hmmmm....fruit snacks are in the cupboard, fruit is in the fridge, and crackers are in the pantry.  Help yourself!

Lunch: Sandwiches sound good.  Tuna?  PB&J?  Ham?  Grilled cheese?  Yes, yes, yes, and yes!  Plus a side of yogurt and a brownie to top it off.  Yum!

Snack: How about some homemade cookies?  You're welcome!  

Dinner: Chicken alfredo with a salad and garlic bread?  Done!

Second Dinner: How about a bowl of cereal?  I don't mind if I do!  (This, of course, only applies to me and I'll take it in my bed while I watch Castle.)

Yup!  Easy peasey lemon squeezey.  Breakfast, lunch, and dinner with snacks in between.  Now that is the life!

This week at our house is Mother Hubbard week.  I have to be creative.  I hate being creative.  Especially when I don't have time.  And with work, scouts, and soccer x 4, I don't have time.  But heaven forbid I break my rules and go to the store early!  No way, Jose!  We'll tough it out.  And this is how we're doing it.

Breakfast:  No cereal.  No fruit.  No milk.  Dang it!  Oatmeal again!  Blah!

Snack: Homemade peach muffins from yesterday will do.  Not bad!

Lunch: The kids don't like what they're serving at school.  And it looks like they've already packed a lunch.  Probably a sandwich.  Wait!  We're out of bread.  Ugh!  How about a leftover steak from Sunday dinner, the last apple in the house, and another muffin?  It's edible!  Buh-bye!  Have a nice day!

Snack:  Day 6 of afternoon popcorn.  Who knew this popcorn popper that was a wedding gift would come in so handy?  Thank you!

Dinner: Something with noodles because the kids will actually eat it.  Homemade mac 'n cheese?  Tuna casserole?  Oh wait!  We have a few eggs left.  Maybe some homemade pancakes!  But there's no milk & we've got soccer tonight!  Well, I'll mix up some dry milk and it will do nicely.  Pancakes it is!  And homemade maple syrup too.  Who cares if we don't get dinner til 10:00 PM?  It's better than not at all!

Second dinner: I'm out of ideas.  Maybe a muffin.  (Heaven forbid I skip second dinner!)

So as you can see, having my cupboards stocked and my fridge overflowing is a luxury I enjoy.  It is definitely one I can survive without.  But if I have the choice, I choose food!  Lots of food!  And options in food!  Easy food!  Prepackaged food!  Homemade food!  I love it all.  And I love to cook and bake.  I'm a homemade type of gal.  But making bread everyday just for sandwiches and to dip in soup just doesn't fit into my schedule.  I know!  Carolyn Ingles would be ashamed!  But Carolyn Ingles is fictional and lived before microwaves and chicken nuggets.  (Bless her heart!)  I am very spoiled!  I have never truly starved and neither have my children.  But it still makes me laugh when I mix powdered milk in with the real milk to make it go further (a trick I learned from  my mother and swore I would never do).  It's back to the drawing board for me.  Dinner tonight is still a mystery.  Let's see what I can create with ground beef, soy sauce, and canned pears.  Macgyver style!  

(It might have seemed like an exaggeration, but my son did in fact pack his own lunch today and when I asked him what was in it he said he packed a steak.  I'm sure he won't draw attention in the lunchroom taking bites out of  a cold steak.  And I'm sure he won't use a fork and knife.  Corn on the cob style!  I don't make this stuff up.  This is my life.  And it's for real.  Don't judge me.)

Family Conflict

Our family had one of those adventurously hellish mornings the other day.  After the events of the morning I delivered my kids to school late and stood at the office signing them in.  I have always hated the part of the sign in sheet that asks for the reason the child is late.  In my mind I always figured, what business is it of yours or anybody else's why my child is late?  Maybe they're late because I slept in.  Maybe they're late because they slept in.  Maybe they're late because they didn't have any clean clothes and I forgot to start the dryer.  I'm the parent!  My child can be late when I say they can be late!  Right?  But that particular morning I was more than stumped as I stared at the box labeled "Reason".  I didn't even know what to write.  Should I write that we went as a family to visit a newly built temple?  Should I write that our van broke down in the canyon and was still sitting there waiting for the tow truck?  Should I write that I stopped at the house before taking them to school so I could grab a Dew and feed the baby?  All of those things, although true, would've raised the eyebrows of Ms. Patty, the secretary, and made her, along with others, seriously question my parenting.  So to make it simple and easy I found myself scribbling in the "Reason" box, "family conflict".  As soon as I reread what I had written I realized that all of my previous thoughts and ideas would've sounded better than that.  Family conflict?  Really?  WTH?!  That's the best I could come up with on the fly?!  Great!  Now it just sounds like we were fighting all morning.  And in reality, that wasn't far from the truth. 

(I found this post that I had written several months ago.  For some reason I never posted it.  Maybe it was a sign that I should rethink blogging and posting in general.  But I'm posting it late just so that I can have record of it, because this day, the "adventurously hellish" one, is worth remembering.)

Spray Tan

I've never had a spray tan.  I've always been curious about them and wanted one.  With my fair skin I'm always in need of a little color.  Especially because, as we all know, tan fat is much cuter than white fat.  Since I have a family and personal history of skin cancer I am opposed to using both the tanning bed and the sun for that sun kissed look.  Too risky.  So a tan without the risk of cancer is very appealing to me.  Or should I say "was". 

I recently heard that when you get a spray tan they spray your under carriage.  

Uhhhhhhh....

Tap...tap.  Yup.  That's the sound of me tapping out.  I'm done.  No thanks.  Buh-bye!

Sorely disappointed by this new found information about spray tans I found myself sauntering down the aisles of Walmart investigating the bottles of "do-it-yourself" spray tans.  I know.  Orange disaster waiting to happen!  Surprisingly, other than the fact that I can't spray it evenly on myself because of the awkward nature that I have to twist and turn to hit all my critical areas, (under carriage not included), it's not bad!  The do-it-yourself tan has come a long way since 1998.  (standing ovation!!!)  The first few times I used it I sprayed a nice light mist onto my legs and arms.  By spray 5 I was feeling a little bit more brave, and again, the thought pops into my head, "tan fat is cuter than white fat".  So I spray more generously on my thighs and other problem areas.  This little bottle is not only going to solve my tanning dilemma but will certainly assist in boosting my self esteem!  Win-win!  

Wrong.

There should be a disclaimer on the bottle that warns of excessive use over bumpy or crevice distraught areas.  So FYI to the rest of you, the do-it-yourself mist does not hit the inner areas of small indentations hence the magnification of my lovely postpartum stretch marks.  Ummmmm....yea.  Not cool.  Very not cool!  At this point it will either take a putty knife or a professional spray tan (under carriage and all) to even out this color.  Wish me luck!