Remember When...

So my super sister posted a great list of memories (her blog is here) and I decided to copy her...

Remember when I could sit on the toilet talking to myself for hours?
Remember grasshoppers in my "angel hair"?
Remember when mom let us walk to Safeway when Beth was probably 7 and I was 5 (for kitty litter of all things!)?
Remember Show Biz Pizza?
Remember when I made Tommy ride home from school on a bike with a flat tire?
Remember when I made fun of Tommy's hand me down coat at the bus stop?
Remember when I would hit Tommy and he would just laugh?
Remember the Commodore 64?
Remember Castle on the Osborne?
Remember when we used to wear at least two pairs of socks?
Remember when we cuffed our jeans?
Remember Missy and Chucky and their old mom who smoked?
Remember perms?
Remember shoulder pads?
Remember staying the entire day at the pool in the summer, oh and the frozen Snickers from the snack bar?
Remember when we wore boxer shorts as shorts?
Remember when my lunch consisted of a roll and a cookie every day?
Remember when Mrs. Crow went crazy and broke the overhead projector?
Remember when Shelly and I glued all the copy to the light board in that same class?
Remember when we were clearly out of high school and we went to get a roll during lunchtime and Mr. Pitman said hi to us like it hadn't been 5 years?
Remember falling up the stairs at Heritage?
Remember Erasure?
Remember when Stake dances were the highlight of the week?
Remember the Galleria?
Remember when I made a basket for the other team?
Remember Will's Pit Stop and Baby Animals in my Pocket?
Remember when I smelled like "deer poop"?
Remember riding the bus to school and the bus driver named Dottie?
Remember when your permed hair would freeze at the bus stop?
Remember when it was cool to wear your dad's t-shirts?
Remember when Christine and I tricked our computers class by writing "go to room 111" on the board before class?
Remember when Jared purposely fell over and caused a commotion during Sunday School?
Remember when I thought the unmarked bottle of furniture polish was conditioner?

Bill Supa?

My Little Conservationist

*** I've already told several people this story, but I wanted to put it on the blog to preserve it for the future when our world is destroyed due to human negligence.

Kitty had a nightmare.

I asked her to tell me about it:

"No. It's just too sad."

I begged.

"Ok. I was wasting water."

"Oh. No." I waited for more information.

"The sink wouldn't turn off and the water just kept coming out until it was all gone," she paused a second to give me a sad, serious look and then turned and walked away.

The new poster-girl for water conservation.

Why do I try?

I have grand plans but inevitably fall short on the execution.

I spent the entire afternoon making candy to give to my neighbors. When I finally finished, I decided they didn't deserve any. Don't ask why, they just don't because I'm too tired.

Tomorrow I will deliver it... maybe.

I am tired of the unwarranted competition that goes on at this time of year. I don't necessarily seek it out, but seriously, when it gets thrown in your face it's hard not to react.

So if you are someone who got all the things done that you wanted to before Christmas-- good for you-- I don't want to know about it.

If your children are better than mine (mine are cuter)-- congratulations-- don't tell me about it in a form letter.

So take note:

I only want a newsletter that tells about all of your family's shortcomings. You know, the kind that will make me feel better about my situation.

If you are going to bring me a clever crafty gift it better not be made well. It better look like you made it. I want to see the flaws so I will feel better about giving away my sorry attempts at being creative and frugal.

Don't show me or tell me about how you made thirty of these homemade gifts in July in preparation for Christmas. Because if you do, I will proceed to tell you how I stayed up late the night before to make the same thing.

And aren't you bored with getting the same thing? What happened to ingenuity? It died with the internet. Suddenly everyone (including myself) has access to one person's creativity. Guess what? It's not creative, it's copying.

BAH! Humbug!

This is what happens when I am up four hours past my bedtime... making gifts I shouldn't be allowed to give away...

Is it just me?

We were both supposed to make a face, thanks for selling me out Kitty!

I think I'm getting old and out of style. Ok, not getting, I am old and out of style.

Do you remember that place the kids call the "mall"? I haven't been to one in months, possibly even a year. I just saw a news story about the crowds at the mall. I got to thinking, what are those people buying?

If you can't find it at Target, Costco, Nordstrom Rack, or TJ Maxx then I know it's too expensive and not worth my time.

This is how I know I'm a nerd.

Back in the day I used to shop at the mall all the time. I bought my makeup from the MAC counter, my shoes from Nordstrom, and my clothes from the Gap, Banana Republic, and J Crew. Now if I want a "name brand" I go to the outlets and balk at the prices. And really, are these aforementioned stores even considered cool anymore? Probably only for out of style moms.

Back in those days, "Christmas shopping" meant going to the mall. Now it means facing the toy aisle with all the indecisive grandparents, parents, and children (don't get me started).

Does anyone go to the mall anymore? Tell me you don't, it would make me feel better.

Kitty's Christmas list

As dictated to her preschool teacher:

Everything.

I want it all so bad.

Does half-way count?

I always have great ambitions going into the Christmas season. I heard some author explain Christmas as the illusion of the possibility of perfection. I think that sums it up.

This will be THE year.

I will decorate my house like a winter Christmas wonderland.

I will actually put up both trees, one with super fancy, coordinated decorations, ribbons and sparkles, and the other with our family ornaments.

I will get a real garland, or better yet, make my own from fresh cut greens... can you smell it?

I will spend cold, snowy days happily making cookies with my kids (I'm wearing an apron).

I will start at least three new family traditions.

My house will be warm, clean and smell of cookies and garland for the entire month.

I will come up with some great, creative, homemade gift to give all of the teachers and neighbors.

This will be the year I entertain friends and family for a Christmas get together at my house, I'll even break out the Christmas dishes that are still in their packages.

I think of all of these things in November. In December the reality hits and it all seems so exhausting.

I'm sitting here looking at my tree with decorations scattered around 2/3 of the circumference. You don't need to decorate the part against the wall, right?

Bad attitude

Its hard to see but some of the people in this picture are good examples of what I'm talking about. Not my grandparents, and not really my parents (they didn't know any better). But really? The kids? Super annoying looking nerds that would irritate the crap out of me if I saw them today.

I've got to shake this bad attitude before the holidays get into full swing. So what better way than to vent on the blog?

**Disclaimer: you might not like me after this, if you are already up in the air regarding your feelings toward me, stop reading now.**

Yesterday I saw an average looking baby and thought to myself, "That kid is UGLY". Poor thing wasn't that ugly, I was just in that kind of mood. It's a good thing my kids are never ugly.

Ugly people used to really annoy my sister and me. I remember one day she called me from the Wilk at BYU complaining about the Afterglow-esque music (remember them? if you don't, just think popish, inspirational Mormon music) blaring and the ugly people that were really irritating her. Actually, I just realized that was before cell phones so she probably called me after the experience, not while it was happening. Ah, the olden days....

What is it about the holidays? The influx of people out and about increases the likelihood that you might see one or two (or 75) that just really look ugly. Let me clarify, the one's that really bug me aren't your run-of-the-mill uglies. They are average looking and actually have an air about them that gets under my skin. Words can't describe it. Maybe it's a sort of dorky, ugly person. Maybe their pants are just a hair too short. It could be their hair is stringy, or that they are (heaven forbid) wearing a Christmas sweater. It could be the way they are devouring their plates of food like an animal. It could be the volume of their voice, or their choice in vocabulary.

These people are usually the one's interviewed on the local news after a shooting, fire, car crash, drug bust, etc. They are the neighbors that describe what they saw in an uneducated, inarticulate manner. They tend to describe events in terms of the sounds they heard. For example, the guy with the missing teeth and greasy hair might describe the shooting as: "I was watching the TV when all of the sudden it was like, GAT! GAT! GAGAGAT!"

Just so you know, I am usually very tolerant and willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I usually try not to be too judgemental, but about once a year the bottled up feelings get the better of me and I have to stay away from WalMart for the safety of myself and the uglies.

Freestyle

John has been doing a lot of drawing in class lately.

This series of freestyle BMX guys are some of my favorites.

**My artist grandmother suggested the watermark, because you never know with the internet...

We're taking up a collection

Anyone willing to donate to the tooth fairy cause should contact me before Monday night.

John wants to wait to put the tooth under his pillow until after he can take it to show all his friends at school.

I'm sure they will be super impressed.

Actually, Jared and I both like Wendy's suggestion of a dollar coin, so if anyone knows where to find Sacajawea laying around, let me know.

The thankful list...

As I sat here eating my third Andes Mint cookie I decided it was time for me to write my Thanksgiving list...

I am thankful for:

Andes Mints and Andes Mint cookies

I am thankful that I can enjoy my Andes mint cookies because I am obviously NOT obsessed with calories, sugar, or fat.

My ice maker when it works. This makes my water more tolerable.

My vacuum, now to just change my carpet...

Four year olds. I love this age, it's the last of the little child years.

Bedtime.

Good shows on TV that I can look forward to.

Good friends. Real friends. The kind that are genuine.

My sewing machine, my grandmother's sewing basket, and my mother-in-law's serger.

My mother-in-law for her love and willingness to watch my kids on a weekly basis. So important for my sanity.

Two cars that work.

A job. An education.

Two super fantastic children that are pretty funny, cute, and smart.

One strong-willed, opinionated, hard working, attractive husband who needs and loves me.

Health.

Daily breath.

Sometimes I forget how it feels to have lungs that don't work, I never want to take breathing for granted.

In fact, I am thankful for modern medicine.

Without it, Jared wouldn't have a job, I would have succumbed to natural selection (twice), and come to think of it, most of my extended family would not be around either.

Family soccer games.

Especially when Katherine tries to stop the ball 3 feet before it gets to her and when John tries to perfect his drop-kick.

Polish neighbors.

She has literally saved me on more than one occasion.

Everyone needs a Polish neighbor.

My parents for teaching me humor, patience (still working on it), integrity, and the importance of family.

Good memories.

I love to relive the past.

I love visiting with my extended family and relatives.

I love the comfort and ease of family.

I am thankful for my testimony.

The end.

Another one?

A little Kitty resemblance?

I'm not so sure about this one, but Beth and Brady see a little Kitty in there somewhere.

I just think it's funny...

Where were you in 1981?

Jared was kicking for the NFL.

I'll bet you never knew he had hispanic blood back in the day...

But I'll bet you did know that he has ALWAYS been #1.

This one comes courtesy of Brady and Quinton.

Where were you in 1986?

I was in a B-rated zombie movie.*

Did I tell you I used to have a raging tan? I get the dark skin from my mom, she used to be super tan too (or at least that's her story).

Thanks go to my brother, Tommy, the only person on the planet who actually watches zombie movies from the '80s.

*Traci Biddle in Zombie Nightmare

Insomnia?

I know everyone has been waiting for some dry reading over at the Little Bully Blog, if you are one of those who can't sleep, go check it out.


**click the name to get the link**

A serious bone to pick...

So here's the thing, John finally has a loose tooth. He has been waiting forever to lose a tooth. The permanent tooth is growing in behind it at a pretty rapid rate. Our dentist friend suggested that he wiggle it like crazy for a month and if it isn't out by then he will need to get it pulled. No problem, right?

Wrong. He refuses to move it, insists on soft foods, and even included it in his list of ailments the other day when he wanted to stay home from school. He has a very real fear of swallowing it without realizing it.

In order to get the show on the road (and avoid an expensive extraction) I asked him if he knew what happened when you lose a tooth.

"The tooth fairy comes-- does she really exist?" How do you answer that? Especially when I have kind of wanted to experience this rite of passage with him.

So I said, "I don't know. I guess we'll have to see."

"She puts money under your pillow."

And now I am talking to everyone who has ever had a child that has lost a tooth...

HOW DARE YOU???

Remember when the going rate was something like a dollar or less? Thanks for ruining the experience for me and my family you people who obviously want to buy your children's love!

I tried to test the waters, "How would you feel if she left you a penny?" I wanted to set him up to be ecstatic when he got 75 cents.

"Disappointed."

"How about if she left three--"

'Quarters' I was going to say but he cut me off with, "--dollars? I think she should give me five for my first tooth."

Really? If you do the math that is $100 over the life of his baby teeth! Multiply that by two since what he gets Katherine will have to have in order to maintain fairness and you get $200 by the end of it.

You people obviously haven't done the math.

So much for experiencing the joy of this rite of passage. I should have just told him the truth he likely knows already, there is no tooth fairy and his parents don't love his teeth enough to pay $100 for them.

The Slowest Day

Sundays are some of the hardest days.

They

are

so

slow.

Especially when my kids get up a 6 am. Seriously, it has been Daylight Savings for a week now, you would think they would have adjusted. Not my kids. They are sensitive to change. The hour difference rattles our whole world around here.

So we wait for church.

And wait.

And wait.

And the whole time we wait I think to myself, "Gee. I really wish they would do something active to get all that energy out before church." Active, but not wild. Active, but don't bug me. Active to them usually means expending energy arguing.

Sundays are like snow days. We are cooped up until church and then we are cooped up some more.

The irony? We wait all morning for church at 1 pm, and we are inevitably late.

The latest deal

John told me this morning that Veronica (from his class) promised to give him $9 (sounds like all the money she has) if he would not pull her hair for two days.

Music From the Past Part I

So Tommy, in an attempt to totally copy you I was rummaging through my old music and I always come back to the old stand-bys, The Jesus and Mary Chain.

Back in high school and college they were one of my favorite bands. They have several songs that just make me smile and remember the good old days of my youth. This was back when I listened to music and prided myself on knowing all the cool "alternative" bands. You know, back when I was alternative.

I think I've seen them live at least three times. Once at the 1992 Lollapalooza, once in 1993 when I got kicked in the face, and once in 1995 at Saltair. I remember just before the 1995 concert Beth and I purchased MAC lipstick, a first of many shades. Mike and I made the drive from Idaho for the concert. I also remember that the singer (aka Jim Ried) dropped the microphone during one song and totally started laughing.

I am posting this video, not only because it is one of my favorite all time songs, but also because it cracks me up. See if you can find the "one of these kids doesn't belong here"-- I'm still laughing.

**P.S. As any true fan knows, they are NOT English brothers, but in fact, Irish brothers. I know that bothered you as much as it did me.

One big slew of pictures

The obligatory pictures from our week.

You can't have three snow days, two feet of snow, and Halloween without posting something.

I forgot that I didn't post a good picture of Katherine in her Dragonfly costume.

Unfortunately this one was taken after trick or treating, so her hair wasn't as curly and she wasn't wearing her antennae.

These are some pictures from the snow storm this week. John was throwing the snow and Maya was trying to catch it in the air.

Kitty having a great time.

John would run and then fall. He liked that it didn't even hurt.

Remember this guy? We decided to name our resident squirrel Bugsy, a name Katherine chose for one of her stuffed squirrels.

(Except, I'm almost certain that he's a she.)

Happy Halloween!

Wish I had a spooky story to go with these, but I don't. Make up your own.

*Photos courtesy of John

Mummy love

Last month I felt super ambitious and confident that I could make a costume for John this Halloween.

Last week that ambition and confidence waned, but I was committed. As I was soaking, cutting and imagining the finished product, my confidence returned. This would be a piece of cake. I mean, how hard is it to make a mummy when my friend Sara was busily sewing Little Red Riding Hood?

I'll tell you how hard. HARD. Especially if you don't have the meticulous patience of a perfectionist. I eventually started slapping cheesecloth together and abandoned the needle and thread all together. That's right, the look was accomplished with spray-on adhesive, Spra-ment if you will.

I was afraid the finished product was going to be a shotty toilet paper-esque swamp thing. BUT... with a little blood and make-up, and here's the secret-- cheesecloth falling off everywhere-- the final product looked kind of cool.

Someone won Best Overall Costume at the ward Trunk-or-Treat!

Someone else did not.

Means to an end.

I am posting this because I am soooo tired of looking at those awful pictures from the last entry. Unfortunately, my house doesn't look much better, in fact it's worse. BUT, I did have a day or two of semi-cleanliness between this post and the last one.

This time I have an excuse, I think they call it the swine flu. Just kidding, I think it's just a bad cold. Either way, my two favorite kids were left to their own devices for most of the day yesterday and you can just imagine the havoc that ensued, and now remains.

Oh yeah, and by the way, when someone posts some horrendous pictures the only polite thing to do is comment about it. As much as I might pretend they don't, your comments give me a much needed boost. They bring a little smile to my face and help me know that I am not alone in this world. If you happen to be one of three who like to comment, you know who you are and will know to disregard this rant. But to the rest of you-- I will try to comment for you if you will comment for me.

Balance

Bogda was on a rant again the other day. Our elementary school is in the process of obtaining IB Certification. If you are unfamiliar with the IB programme (yes, they spell it that way because that makes it more exotic) you can get no real information about it here. From what I can gather the programme (doesn't it look sophisticated?) focuses on analytical thinking and using our experiences to learn about the world and then somehow kids learn how to read, write, and do math (aka CORE curriculum) along the way.

Bogda's second grader has started a new IB Planner (aka "unit") in which the concept of "balance" is explored. The importance of balance in one's life will be examined through learning about a balanced diet, literal balance in science, and balance in our personal lives. Her homework has entailed bringing in an "artifact" of what balance means to her (no math, no reading, no writing). This week her homework is to record her healthy food choices and exercise for a week.

Bogda is up in arms. She is refusing to let her daughter do the diet homework because "what are they going to want to know next, the last time I went to the toilet?"

The concept of a balanced life is foriegn to my foriegn neighbor. It is obviously a concept I am not familiar with either. When my life is out of balance the first thing sacrificed is housework. So I took a few pictures to illustrate that balance is essential to a happy life. I hope you enjoy looking at them as much as I love living in it!

Scheduling conflict

"John, I am NOT going to fight about that with you right now."

"Ok. I'll fight with you about it later. I won't forget."

Hittin' the Hard Stuff

Jared answered a call from the school today. Apparently John brought an empty bottle of vodka into class this morning. When confronted he said that yes, it was his and, yes, he did drink it. I guess the teacher freaked out a little.

Jared explained that we don't have vodka at home and that he was 100% certain that John did NOT ingest anything close to it.

When Jared finished his conversation with the teacher he came and told me. Of course I knew exactly what it was about.

Yesterday on the walk home from school John found a small EMPTY bottle of vodka in the gutter. It was the tiny bottle kind that you get on a plane trip or from the minibar in your hotel room. I told him to throw it away, but he insisted that he wanted it to add to his "poison" bottle collection for his Halloween decorations. After a few minutes I had forgotten about the bottle and he had placed it in his backpack.

I asked him about the incident this evening.

"It was in my backpack so I got it out with everything else."

"What did you do with it?"

"I put it on my desk of course. And I am still mad because they never gave it back."

A Little Belt Tightening

So we are tightening our belts around here.

Oh how I wish that was literal... wouldn't it be great to tighten your belt for real?

But I digress, we are trying to save a little and make what we have go further. And guess what? It's not easy. Mostly because of my habits and ideas of what makes something special.

In short, something qualifies as special if it came from some place other than my home. Here are some examples:

Dr. Pepper- special if it comes from Sonic or a gas station fountain, boring if it comes from a can in my fridge.

Ice cream- special if it comes from Dairy Queen, McDonalds, or Chick-fil-a, boring if you have to scoop it from your freezer.

Tuna Sandwich- special from Subway, boring from my kitchen.

Low quality T-shirt- special from Target, boring from last year's wardrobe.

Jeans- I just want some that fit and are comfortable, I don't care where they come from.

The lesson I've learned?

My kids don't care if the ice cream comes from DQ, they just want ice cream. Dare I say it was MORE special having it at home?

My kids would rather have two hours of uninterrupted play time with me than any toy from Target (and can I tell you that I am embarrassed to say that was really difficult? But the joy it brought to Kitty while John and Jared went shooting was priceless).

So... it's not my kids who are making me spend needless money, once again this is my problem.

Another one

I know people get tired of reading about John's little conversations, but I also know one person who loves them. And so here is another one for my dad...

"Do you know the worst enemy of bees?"

No.

"Their own stinger because once they use it they die."

One thing's for sure

"Mom, do you ever think about what the future will be like?"

"Yes. What do you think it will be like?"

"I don't know, but one thing's for sure, I'll be angry about something..."

Me too.

It's good to know you can always count on some things.

My Rejection Issues

When we pulled into the cul-de-sac this afternoon our teeny tiny first-grade neighbor was out throwing his football in the air and catching it.

John was jumping out of the car before I was completely stopped.

"Hey, do you want to play catch with me?" John eagerly asked the kid that he rarely wants to interact with.

"No."

"Ok, well come and get me if you change your mind."

No reply.

"Hey, come get me when you want to play, ok? ok? ok?"

"K."

"I'm going to get my football for us to use when you want to play, it's really cool."

The neighbor disappeared into his house a few minutes later. John was totally ok with the whole exchange.

I was totally not.

I couldn't believe the gaul of that kid. I mean, really? Who better to play catch with than John?

Later, after we had gone in, I happend to look out the window to see our itty bitty neighbor playing catch with his sister. Really? It was all I could do not to yell out the window at him.

So what if your dad is a cop and never hesitates to remind me of that fact (sooo annoying)? So what if you are the same size as Kitty but the same age as John? So what if your dad drives me crazy telling me how smart you are (wow... you really memorized your lunch number? Wow, smart.)

Ok, so I'm the one with the rejection issues, not John.

Kitty's Pictures Volume II

Taking a break in the "pile" she and John love to make and hate to put away.

She got a hold of the camera again, I love what it reveals about her life.

Mmmm... Still Life with Oreo

She certainly has an eye for composition.

(I promise I've dusted since this photo was taken).

What's for dinner?

Seeing as it snowed today, I decided to finally defrost the frozen whole chicken in my freezer for chicken soup. Bogda inspired me by telling me how to make homemade chicken soup. I haven't wrestled a whole chicken in my life. The last time I worked with a whole piece of poultry was when I was thoroughly disgusted by a turkey my mom asked me to clean, stuff and put in the oven.


Having seen the lady on America's Test Kitchen demonstrate how to cut up a whole chicken years ago, and with a little knowledge from KFC, I felt confident in the task. Plus, it finally gave me an excuse to use the Cutco kitchen shears I bought only after the sales rep promised they could cut through chicken bone. Not that I really anticipated cutting up a chicken at the time...


Anyway, the task was difficult and taxing. I felt for my grandmothers who were probably the last members of my family to cut up a whole chicken on a regular basis (with a knife no less!). My back began to ache as I struggled cutting through the backbone, breastplate, and limbs.


I literally turned the little hen inside out by ripping off her skin. I was slightly proud of myself for separating the breasts and putting them aside for "cutlets" as Bogda suggested. She promised that I could get at least three meals from this one chicken.




I have been fascinated by the way people used to get by in simpler times, especially during the Depression. Next I will have to actually kill the chicken and defeather it, then cut it up and cook it. Bogda promises that fresh chickens are much better than the store bought kind. For now I will just have to take her word for it.

***PS*** There are no pictures of the final product because I thought you might want to see some raw chicken in a pot. I mean, we've all seen chicken soup a million times. Raw chicken? Not so much.

A little blog envy...

I think sometimes I suffer from blog envy. You know what I'm talking about if you have ever happend upon a blog and thought to yourself, "Are those thriving container gardens in the background?"

I am not ashamed to admit that there are times I wonder how to transform myself into THAT woman. You know the one with the blog that has cool pictures, cool dishes, and a house full of furnishings you swear you could have if you just knew which thrift store to hit? The woman who seems to have fun with her kids by simply being outside in their wild, yet green and manicured yard. The one who makes gourmet meals on a daily basis and then takes time to take a photo with fresh flowers in the background.

As much as I can appreciate the aesthetic and beauty of THOSE people's lives, I do not appreciate some people's attempts at imitation. There is something to be said for being genuine.

Therefore, as much as I long to have a sense of style like some of my blogging counterparts, the truth of the matter is that I don't really. The pictures will remain a little weird, the content somewhat bland, and the background will always reveal any truth I'm trying to hide (ie. laundry).

So in my own way I might appear to be making fun of the beautiful blogs. That's only because I can't be a beautiful blog myself, so I have to mock them. Didn't we all learn that in grade school?

Another one without a picture...

"What's for dessert?" John asked.

"Pumpkin Cobbler," I replied

"Hmmm... It doesn't look like a shoe," He stated.





It took me a minute to get it.

It's a sordid affair...

I have slowly, and sometimes secretly, worked the Dr Pepper back into my life. It doesn't give me the same pleasure, but we can't seem to live without each other.



Sorry to let you down Jack.

A word of advice.

You know I like to dish out unwanted advice. Here's my latest.

If you are going to read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (did I get that right?) don't try to flip ahead to the last page.

Especially if the page you assume is the last one before the book club discussion questions is not actually the last page.

It will ruin the whole story for you. So much so that you might consider abandoning the book all together.

But then in a fit of boredom you will pick it up again, get to that "last page" and realize the story continues, just in a different format.

Phew! That was a close one.

A little religion...

Tonight Kitty was teaching me a new song she learned at school:

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly,
I don't know why she swallowed a fly,
Perhaps she'll CRY...

My mind began racing asking myself, "Since when did it become a problem to say DIE?"

"Probably because it's a religious preschool," I told myself.

I was deep in thought as she started again:

There was an old lady who swallowed a shell,
I don't know why she swallowed a shell--

"She'll go to HELL" I finished in my head for her. "Again with the religion," I thought.

Instead she sang:

She wouldn't TELL...

Whatever.

My relationship with the Dr.

It has been four days now...

I'm lethargic
I feel bloated
I've lost ZERO pounds
I'm short with my kids
I feel depressed

In other words, nothing has changed.

I used to be able to blame it all on my outrageous Dr. Pepper habit. Now the only change I see is that there is an empty space where the pep (as in Pepper) and spice (as in Dr.) of my day used to reside. It was there when I ran errands, it was there when I made dinner, heck, it was there when I made breakfast. It was, literally, something to look forward to everyday. Pathetic, I know.

Don't comment if all you are going to do is encourage me to keep going. (See? the melancholy even translates to the blog.)

I plan to make it through the weekend, beyond that is anyone's guess.

Happy Birthday Sweet Kitty!

Katherine turned 4 today! These pictures are from our little party a week ago.

Sandy made the requested "castle cake"-- waaaayyyy better than my Dora fiasco that ended up in the trash two years ago!

The girls made princess crowns.

Sophie and Penn- I love this picture!

Kitty and Sophie-- two brown babies.

Sandy, Katherine, and one very tired Daddy.

Really? Is this not the cutest nephew anyone could have?

Katherine is such a delight to have in our family. She is a crack up and a doll. We always have so much fun with her bubbly personality.

Happy Birthday Stinkles!

Embarrassing...

Today I caught myself

first humming

then actually
singing out loud

to Culture Club's

I'll Tumble For Ya

What was Michael's doing playing it in the first place?

Weatherman chin

Tonight I asked John about his meeting with the school social worker.

He has really dark hair like daddy and a very unusual chin.

Unusual? How? (I've met this man before and don't remember anything unusual about his chin).

It comes down like this and hooks to his lip and then does this on both sides... It looks like a cartoon weatherman's chin.

Oh.

*** And read Beth's blog (here) for my take on the whole school fundraising thing-- I couldn't have said it better myself. Angry parents unite! ***