Going Overboard Again

Here are some pictures from Jedi Training Camp, a.k.a. Evan's birthday party. Once again I think I am going to make it a goal to only do homemade parties every other year.

In the interest of paying it forward, here's my Jedi party. So the little Jedis arrived for Jedi training camp and were given a Jedi robe. The Jedi Master (MJ) put them through a series of training exercises. They demonstrated their agility and speed by leaping out of a carbon freezer (plain box--didn't have time to gussy it up but would have painted it shimmery ice blue if I had time). They practiced swordfighting moves and kept balloons afloat with their light sabers. The Jedis also had to practice using the force to lift a crashed helicopter back into the sky. (Emma and her little friends were upstairs pulling it up with fishing line.) Here's Evan using the force:

Once the Jedis had passed their training, they had two final tests. R2D2 delivered a message from Princess Leia (filmed earlier and loaded onto my computer of Emma saying, "Help me Obi-Wan, you're my only hope"). The Jedis then went in search of the princess while fighting off some storm troopers. Their second test was to face ultimate evil: Cowboy Darth Vader. Again, the jeans and boots with the Vader costume just makes me chuckle. But what can you do?

Poor Darth was unsuccessful at turning anyone to the dark side. Luckily for him, those light sabers were made out of foam. By the way, the pool-noodle light saber has to be the best toy ever for boys. Take a pool noodle and cut it in half. Wrap some black electrical tape around one end and your boys will love it for weeks and weeks.

The Jedis then attended the awards ceremony where their valiant efforts were acknowledged by Princess Leia who placed peppermint patties around their necks. I mean silver medals.

Here's part of the gang hanging out at the Star Wars cantina. We had a menu of galactic grapes, Vader's veggies with Dagobah dip, Chewbaca chips, Jedi jigglers and Yoda soda. Emma and her friends were the waitresses. The best part, in my humble opinion, was snagging the Star Wars soundtrack from the library. It really set the mood and the cantina music from the original Star Wars was cracking me up. Just me really. But I am easily amused, you know. All in all I think it went off well considering we had to move it indoors at the last minute.

Halloween

I decided to try to catch up a little on my blog at the request of family members who were wanting to see some more pictures of the kids.

Here they are at Halloween: Princess Leia, Obi-Wan Kenobi and R2D2. Isn't R2 so cute? And he kept that hat on for me the whole time--probably because he soon realized that if he kept the hat on people would give him candy. Seriously, each time I turned around that kid had another sucker in his mouth.

Here's the family shot: Michael is Cowboy Darth Vader, I guess. I mean, jeans and cowboy boots? Sigh. Not that my costume is any better. By the time I'm finished with the kids' costumes there's no steam left. I have on a Jedi robe so I guess I'm supposed to be a Jedi master. Pathetic. At least the kids are cute.

The Week of Exploding Eggs and Fish Food and Fire Ants from Hell

My brain has gone missing. I wish it would come back. It left with my patience and I sorely miss having Patience, that calming, soothing friend. I just don't feel quite complete without both of them around. I am happy and grateful to have three beautiful children but did I have to give up my brain and patience for them? Is it too much to ask to have three kids and a brain and some patience?

This is how I first noticed that my brain had left me. I put some eggs on the stove to hard-boil and promptly forgot all about them as I got distracted by five thousand other things. As Evan and I were upstairs reading stories, I heard an explosion downstairs. Little known fact: when eggs are left on the stove for an hour and a half and all the water boils out, they will make a terrific explosion sound and come out of your pan. Evan, who is obsessed with taking pictures of everything, documented the moment for me. Thanks.

The next very smart thing that I did was to let Isaiah play with the fish food shaker that we were returning to the store because the goldfish that Emma won at the church party had died and we didn't need the food after all.

I thought nothing of it as Isaiah sat in his car seat with the fish food. When I arrived at the store and opened the door to get him out, there was fish food all over the car and all over Isaiah. While I am not working the line with all of my brain, Isaiah obviously has plenty of it working for him. The shaker, which had been sealed, was now open. I pulled him out of his seat and tried to shake as much fish food off of him as I could. Of course some fish food got on my legs and feet.

Did I mention it was raining? Rain makes fish food stick to everything. I came home from the grocery store and showed MJ the fish food stuck on my foot.

"You do know how they make fish food, don't you," he asked.

Who knows how they make fish food? How does he know all of these things? Well, apparently fish food is made up of dead fish, ground up. That's what I had all over me. Isn't that pleasant?

And now for the final story in which I realized that Patience had left too:

I took the boys in the double stroller and Emma's dog Lizzy to go pick Emma up from school. After Emma joined us, we stopped on the sidewalk to chat with a friend for a minute. There were lots of kids passing by and some people walking by with little dogs. I was trying to move the stroller out of the way while keeping Lizzy on a short leash because she was going berserko wanting to run and jump on these dogs (in a friendly but very out-of-control, psycho-excited dog way). I had the leash wound around my hand several times but still she was requiring all of my attention just to keep her in control.

My friend, who ironically, was offering to let Lizzy come play sometime with her dog for much-needed dog socialization, then alerted me that I had stepped into an ant pile in the grass. I looked down to see ants swarming my legs. My friend took Emma's beserko dog and I stripped off my shoes and socks.

And now let me just ask a question. Did God really create fire ants? Because if so He must have been in a foul mood when He did it.

I can only say that Lizzy should be very grateful there were lots of people around because I seriously wanted to pretend that she was a soccer ball and deliver a huge kick to her rump. That's when I realized that not only had my brain gone, but my patience too.

They say these things come in threes. I'm hoping that means I'm done and now my brain and patience can please come back.

Belize Baby

About a few weeks ago MJ and I got to sneak away for a little rest and relaxation in Central America. We went to Ambergris Caye, an island off the coast of Belize. It seemed like the perfect quick getaway, only two and a half hours from Houston and it boasts the largest barrier reef in this hemisphere. A reef means diving and I am all about scuba diving.

Ironically, the week before we left I caught a cold. I did everything to rid myself of it. I told myself it was gone when we left. But when our plane descended and I was having to stand on my head to keep my ears from exploding, I realized that there might be some trouble ahead with the diving agenda. Still I took some decongestant the next morning and jumped in the water, but alas I was too congested to equalize my ears. MJ finished out the dive and I sat on the boat and got seasick and barfed breakfast over the edge a few times. What a crappy start to a vacation! But the trip did get enormously better and I was able to snorkel our last day at aptly named Shark Ray Alley where we saw tons of nurse sharks and sting rays and turtles. It was amazing. Michael, who hates snorkeling because he has no fat on him to keep afloat, finally put on a life jacket and I think kind of enjoyed it too.

We also went to the mainland one day and did some cave tubing and ziplining in the jungle with a very interesting couple we met on the tour. We were fast friends by the day's end. She was from Seattle; he was from South Africa. They live in Nigeria and had all sorts of interesting stories.

The resort was very lovely and honeymooners abounded. The island was quite small so we biked around most of it. How fun it was to bike everywhere! I so loved it. It's such a simple and quaint concept to be able to bike everywhere you need to go. Granted, we didn't have the kids with us. I can't imagine how biking everywhere would work in real life with having to pack around three kiddos in Texas heat. I'm going to pass out just thinking about it.

We also went to church while we were there and it reminded me of those small branches where I served in Portugal. The members in Ambergis Caye meet on the third floor of a building right off the main street. There was no AC so we sat dripping sweat with a couple of ineffective fans but about twenty stalwart members who were so very friendly and welcoming. It was wonderful and funny to be there. The customs and habits are so different and I could only smile as we sat in Relief Society with six sisters, two of whom were drinking bottles of Coca Cola while the teacher taught the lesson. It makes me laugh. Wouldn't I love to try that here in good ol TX? I love it.

Oh and the other thing that I have to divulge to all of you North American Mormons is that in Central America, Church is only two hours long. What!? Yes, I kid you not. They have given Sunday School the axe. I'm not saying it's a good idea or not. I'm just passing on some info in case you might need to move to Belize immediately after reading this.

It's English speaking too by the way.

Go Cougars!

Last night Michael and I and his family went to the new Cowboys Stadium to see BYU play Oklahoma. First of all, this stadium is incredible. There's a reason it's nicknamed the Death Star. It's an indoor arena with a roof that opens up and it is humongous. The jumbotron itself is amazing....even if it can be hit by punts and cost $2 mil to fix. Oops.

Going in, I didn't have a lot of faith. I was nervous for the cougars. I just wanted them not to lose too badly. Michael says OU's coach can be classless in running up the score when OU is winning. This I did not want for my poor cougars. I also was expecting a few more BYU fans. Out of around 75,000 people there, 70,000 of them were in crimson, 5,000 were in blue and one brave woman who married into an OU family was in burnt orange. I hope she made it out of there safely.

This game was the most thrilling game ever! We were few but we were intense. As we began watching the game unfold, we were nervous. But then the defense held. We started hoping...cautiously, anxiously. Then before long we were jumping up and down, screaming, chanting, waving, agonizing and finally exulting. It was over the top. I've always claimed I don't care much for football. I will now eat those words.

As an aside, I would say that most of the OU fans were very gracious and classy. Numerous people afterwards congratulated us and wished us a safe trip. It's nice to know that despite cheering madly for opposing teams during a game, when it's all over people can still get along.

Digital Scrapbooking

I'm pretty last-century with technology, my computer and email being the one exception. We don't own a television so anytime I go to someone's home with five different remote controls, I stare at them like a deer in the headlights and then pass on the TV-watching option. Too much trouble. Texting annoys me and I'm not too hip on phones either. Michael just went to get an iPhone today and refused to take me with him because he said I was lacking the proper excitement.  All I want in a phone is something that does phone calls. And why would I want to pay out buckos for something I can't find most of the time either? Yes, I'm very happy paying no more than $15 a month to be on my family's plan. 

Am I seriously going to be that crotchey old woman griping about all these new-fangled technologies some day? Bemoaning the breakdown in social interaction and the art of written discourse? Probably.

But I did venture into the 21st century the other day to try out digital scrapbooking. I've been having so much fun lately with a free trial version of IScrapbook, a digital scrapbooking application for Macs. I keep a photo album/scrapbook for each of my kids but lately the old-fashioned scrapbook process times three has been quite daunting.  I'm hoping this speeds up the process and saves me time and money and that huge mound of pictures and cardstock paper. Does anybody else do digital scrapbooking? I would love any tips, hints, helpful Web sites to check out.  Or does anyone have advice for printing their pages?

Slamming the Door in My Face

You may not be able to tell from this picture but I have the battered-woman look going on right now. My left eye has cuts underneath the lid and there's bruising below that. When I smile, it hurts and if anything comes near my face, I panic and throw up my arm. 

What happened is this: We were on the lake this weekend. I was doing some flips on my board. Kind of like this guy in the picture, except I was ten times more amazing than that. 

That is until I tried out my backflip and biffed the landing. Sadly, the board and my face got a little too close together.

Uh huh. Sure. Well, that's the official story anyway because who wants to explain that they slammed the car door in their face? Who wants to explain that they were in such a hurry at the auto body shop, transferring car seats and stuff back over into their now-fixed-after-being-rear-ended car, that they didn't realize their face was in the way when they opened the driver's door at full-on, break-face speeds? Did I mention this was in front of the auto body guy who was like, "Uh, are you ok?"

"Yeah, sure. It was nothing."

Ice pack please!

I mean, who does things like that? Idiots? No need to answer that.

The one good thing that has come out of it is that I have convinced my children that my "monster eye" is all-seeing and all-knowing.  The monster eye knows if they are being naughty. The monster eye also has special flame-shooting powers to immediately silence and singe fighting children. Now I just a drop an "I've got my monster eye on you" and they shape up lickety-split.

Ok, time for another ibuprofen.

In Disguise

The kids love to dress up and make people laugh. Their latest outfits were donned in anticipation of their cousins coming.  Emma is usually the mastermind behind the costumes. Evan's dress-up name is "Butter," short for "Butter Milkshake." I have no idea where they got that name from. Evan goes along with his sister dressing him crazy because he likes to be funny. 

Isaiah, on the other hand, does not go along with it very willingly.

Puppy Love

About a week ago, we made good on our birthday promise to Emma and let her pick out her very own puppy. She had decided on a yellow lab.

We initially wanted to go the rescue/shelter route but after the rescue organization wanted to take fingerprints and run background checks, we told them to take a hike. It was almost that bad. The skinny of the story is this: I filled out a rather lengthy online application with essay questions about our home life and intentions for a new dog. The rescue organization then called two of our family members to check up on us. After that we then received an email from them telling us that although we sounded like a wonderful family and got glowing reviews, they needed to do additional research on us by contacting two more references of non-family members who knew us when we had a dog nine years ago. I guess they didn't like it when Michael said, "My dog lives outside and I live inside." I guess that was not a satisfactory answer.

So on to better things. We found a family whose dogs had just had puppies. Emma knew just which one she wanted. Not the one that Mom thought was cute. Not the one that Dad thought liked him. But her very own "Lizzy."

Needless to say, Emma and Evan are having fun with her.

Isaiah is another story. It's like a love/hate thing with him and Lizzy. He is very intrigued and interested in her but if she comes near him, he goes a little crazy. Observe:

Ok, what kind of sick mom would think this is funny?

You Have to Be Just a Little Bit Crazy To Do This

My mom and sister visited me a couple weeks ago.  While they were here they offered to help me with any projects I had in mind. I took them up on their offer.

The first matter of business was the game room. It was a paint patch-up job of chocolate brown on all four walls. Not a bad color, but not very fitting for a kids' play room. I wasn't sure what color or colors I wanted to paint the room. I had been thinking of doing stripes in four or five different colors until MJ asked me if I knew how much work that would be.

I thought about it.

Yikes, he was right. That would be a LOT of work. So I wasn't really sure where to go next. I mentioned doing the two and two wall colors. My mom shot that down as being an artistic no-no. She was an art major so I took her word for it. She then mentioned that my aunt had once painted a room four different colors.

But who would be crazy enough to do something like that? I knew just the girl.

Here are the before pictures:

And after pictures:

I like it. It's fun and bright and airy. But now what do I do with the rest of the room? Paint is the easy part for me. Decorations, not so much. 

Anyway, thanks for the help Mom and Jen.

What Have I Done?!

We celebrated Emma's birthday this weekend with our family who came down for the holiday weekend. Emma wanted a dolphin cake, so I made some dolphins out of Rice Krispies, dipped them in white chocolate and stuck them on the cake. Um, not quite as magnificent as I imagined. Oh well,  Emma liked it.

And then Emma opened her card from Mommy and Daddy.

A coupon valid for one PUPPY! I love that face! I love that I caught it on camera. She is soooo excited about getting a dog. She has wanted one forever and has her heart set on a yellow lab. I know it will be a good thing. It will teach her empathy and responsibility. I  know that childhood doesn't last forever.  I know that having a dog will be something she will always remember. 

But AAAGHHH what have I done? Help! Any advice from those of you juggling kids and dogs? 

How to Get Poop Out of Carpet

Just in case you needed to know how to get poop out of your carpet, here are some handy tips:

*Scrape as much off with a spoon and towel.

*Don't rub it in. 

*Use 1/2 tsp. dish soap to 1 cup of water to wet spot. Then pull as much fecal matter up with a towel. 

*Vacuum.

*Repeat a lot. 

Why would I think to share this information? You have one guess.

And he looks so sweet and innocent after being scrubbed down in the bathtub! 

So while I was doing dishes in the kitchen today, Isaiah was having a bowel movement in the playroom. I'm not sure how the offensive matter managed to get smeared all over his leg and then on the carpet and on the table and on the chair and in the hallway outside of the bathroom. When I discovered him, his diaper was still firmly attached to his bottom, little help that was.

What did his older 4-year-old brother do while this was happening, you ask? Just watch it all go down. Thanks, Evan.

Like I said in an earlier post, this kid is trouble. I need a cowbell and surveillance camera on him 24-7. 

Here's Isaiah caught red-handed: 

Ice water anyone?

Need some help at the office, Dad?

How does this thing start again?

It's a good thing he's such a cutie.

Home Sweet Home...Almost

We are set to close on our new house on Monday. Hooray! We've enjoyed hanging out with family who have been gracious enough to let us live with them. But we must say we are excited to have a home again.

Wanted For Causing Mayhem

"Zay"

Also answers to: Grabby Hands, Stinky Pants, Buddy Man

Have you seen this kid? If so, beware! This is one dangerous little boy. If he tries to give you his flirty smile and endearing giggle, don't be taken in. Given the chance, this kid will wreak havoc faster than a herd of buffalos stampeding through your house.

What? You've never had buffalos stampede through your house? Alright, use your imagination on this one. One sunny morning you open your front door to get your newspaper or go for a run or take the kids to school when suddenly three dozen buffalos run inside. What happens next? Yes, you are right. They will not be tidy and polite and remember to wipe their feet. No, they will leave dirty footprints all over the place. They might break your vases and TV and electronic equipment. They might knock over the table and eat all your breakfast and breakfast dishes. They might gore your couches or your kids. In short, they will leave the place a disaster.

I'm not saying this kid is on the same destructive level as buffalos. Not yet. But he is working on it. Fast.

Here are just a few of the felonies this kid is wanted for in two cities:

1. Breaking Grandma's Christ in Gethsemane statue (Who would have thought he could pull that table down all by himself and send said statue flying down the stairs, two inches out of Mom's reach who was already trying to catch the table and the baby?)

2. Dispensing hand soap on his aunt's carpet (Which was immediately steam cleaned by MJ who suddenly turned domestic and ended up steam cleaning and spot treating the rest of the room for the next three hours. Go figure.)

3. Knocking his Mom in the face with a very heavy keyboard this morning (No comment. Grrrrrr.)

I don't know what it is about this kid. He seems much more destructive than his older siblings were at that age. Is it his own mischievous nature? Is it the fact that as a third child he is the beneficiary of less parental supervision? Or is he simply aided and abetted by his older sister and brother who often leave the tools of destruction right in his path?

Any advice for what to do with a kid like this?

Thoughts From the Move

It is official. We have moved out of our house and are now officially homeless, dependent on the kindness of family to house us. So now that I am not running around like a crazy woman, I can share a few thoughts and stories from the whole moving experience.

My Apologies

First of all, I must apologize to all of my friends who have moved. Why was I not there to help you? I am so sorry. I just never knew. I never fully realized the pain that is moving. Holy schmoley! And moving with three kids helping you and one husband not helping....much....is like eating cardboard. Except eating cardboard is more fun.

Packing + Being Passionate About Recycling= Slow Moving

Seriously. It would have gone a lot faster if I had no compunction whatsoever about throwing everything in the trash. But oh no, not me. I have to be OCD about it.

Playing Queen of the World Is Only Fun Until Someone Sees You

Being OCD about recycling means an overflowing recycling cart. And an overflowing recycling cart leads to someone whose name I will not mention climbing on top of her cart and jumping on top of it, trying to compress the recyclables while neighbors walking dogs pass by. Such a great moment.

Dumpster Diving Can Save You $$$

I got most of my moving boxes from people off of Craig's List. However, I was still in need of a box big enough to fit a mirror and some pictures. I was in a time crunch. So I did something I never thought I would do: I stopped at a box store. Here's how it went down:

Box Store Person: Hi, can I help you?

Me: Yeah, I'm looking for a box for framed art and mirrors.

Box Store Person: Oh, we have one right here.

Me: (after seeing that it cost $19) Is this the price for one or for a pack of boxes?

Box Store Person: That's just for one.

Me: (incredulous and huffy) There's no way I'm going to pay $19 for one box. How about I just drive around back and look through your trash?

Ok, not really. Not that last part. But as I was driving away I did notice the dumpsters behind the box store and a certain large cardboard recycling dumpster with the most perfect giant HDTV box. What goes around comes around baby. I think it was karma. So I returned later that day in my super stealthy minivan and fished out that box right under the nose of Mr. Box Store Person while giggling maniacally, "Hee Hee. Hee Hee Haw Haw. Hee Hee Hee Ho Ho Haw Haw."

I gleefully presented my find to MJ. He just kind of shook his head and said, "Kasey, we can afford boxes." But it's not whether we can afford it or not. It's the principle of it. Selling one box for $19 is a ripoff, especially when people throw that same thing out every day.

Where There's Smoke, There's Your Refrigerator

Only when you are insanely busy with packing will your refrigerator decide to burn up its overload relay device and smoke out your house. While I was taking the kids to school, I got a call from MJ saying that our house was filled with smoke. Naturally, he thought it was caused by something I had packed in one of the boxes. When I finally persuaded him that I had not packed flammables in any of the boxes, he started looking for a new culprit. The toaster oven, an appliance he has always had it out for because it unfailingly delivers him burned toast each time he uses it, was put in the giveaway pile.

But the toaster oven was falsely accused. The true culprit of the smoke was detected by my own sophisticated sleuthing abilities. You see, only a highly trained specialist would think to test the consistency of ice cream in the middle of the afternoon. How would I think to open the ice cream carton? It's all part of the job folks. You have to know these things when your other job is with the CIA.

So I was happy to rescue the toaster oven from the giveaway pile. MJ, not so much.

Well, farewell Baxter! You were a good house for our family.

Is This Normal Baby Behavior?

Zay seems to have a strange predilection for women's undergarments. 

I thought this was a little bit weird.  Is this just part of raising boys? Heaven help me.

My Husband Might Leave Me Over This

What do you think? Should I go for it? I've been mulling this haircut over for months. I found a fun site where you can upload your picture and then try on new hairstyles. 

 I haven't had my hair really really short for years. Probably not since the time I was twelvish and some man at the airport thought I was a boy. That wasn't much positive reinforcement. 

The problem is one. MJ.  He only likes long hair.  Do I dare? 

You Can't Take It With You When You Go

As I was packing up my house tonight, I thought of the old cliche: You can't take it with you when you go--supposing, I imagine, that when you pass on to your reward, you can't take any earthly possessions with you. To this I say, "Thank heavens for that!

Packing and clearing out closets and drawers lately has made me wonder how in the world I have accumulated so much stuff. I've always thought I was pretty good at getting rid of things but the masses of boxes in my living room tell otherwise.  Being free of all the junk is definitely one positive for dying. Honestly, I think when a person dies they get the better deal. They get to go on up to the spirit* in the sky (as the song goes) while the rest of us down here are left to sort through and pack up all the junk they left behind. 

So to all my family and friends, I'm going to make it easy on you. When I pass on, just put all my stuff in one big pile and burn it. See, how easy is that? Pick out anything you want and then just torch it.  Have a bonfire party and roast some brats and marshmallows and I'll be with you in spirit.

Ok, ok there might be a few things I don't want to be rid of just yet. I probably should be rid of them so I could be more productive but where would the joy in life be?  What things are on your must-have list? Mine include my computer, my bed, my DVD of North and South. Yes, I was re-watching it again today when I should have been packing. Actually, I was watching Katie's DVD because mine is packed. I must admit I am once again in love with Mr. Thornton. Sigh.

Anyway, this talk of packing has probably prompted some questions.  Here are the answers:

Yes, we sold our house.

We have to be out of it in about a week.

No, we don't have a new house to move into. Each time we put an offer in, the sellers refuse to sell it to us.

We might get an apartment or we might travel for a while. We've been talking about parents' houses, Florida, Mexico, the British isles.

Well, that's about it. Yes, this has definitely been another strange and random post brought to you by My Other Job Is With the CIA.

*For you gospel scholars, yes, yes I know that the Spirit in the sky is technically not a spirit but has a glorified body of flesh and bones. But that would kind of ruin the catchiness of the song, don't you think? Hmmm, was this how false doctrine crept into the early Church?  To make the pop music of the day easier to sing?

Barfing Is Ruining My Social Life

Michael was out of town last week on a biking trip in West Texas. It was me and the kiddos 24-7 with no changing of the guard. I wasn't too worried about it. He travels fairly often and since I'm a fairly independent gal, it's not that big of a deal. Usually, the kids and I eat cereal for dinner and watch movies in his office. Then I stay up late painting rooms in my house. This time around I had all sorts of social events lined up.

The first event was enrichment on Thursday night with free babysitting--a whole uninterrupted hour to chat with all my favorite girls. I rushed straight over from Emma's soccer practice and dropped my two older kids off in the nursery. Hurrah! I planned to send Isaiah in there as soon as I had fed him some dinner.

When I got into the cultural hall, everyone was already eating or waiting in line to get their food. Since I was supposed to pass out some visiting teaching surveys that night, Isaiah and I went from table to table passing out papers. That's when Isaiah decided to make the evening truly memorable.

As I was counting to see how many papers I needed to pass down the row, Isaiah let loose with the wet and chunky. All over me and the papers. I turned quickly away from the dinner table. Isaiah still had more to go so I crouched down and tried catching the rest of it in my skirt. I don't exactly know why I decided to catch it on myself. It sounds kind of silly now. But I think I was hoping nobody would notice that my baby was barfing all over me during the Relief Society dinner. I was hoping there would be no mess or disruption and I could just quietly escape. It's not really the thing you want to be known for. Oh, you're the lady whose baby barfed all over her last week.

I was noticed of course. My friend asked me if I was ok.

"Sure," I said. "But we're going to need to make a few more copies of those surveys." I didn't think anybody would want to fill them out at that point.

So I went home straightaway. After something like that, there's only one thing you can do: go home. I suppose I could have washed my shirt out in the sink, but Relief Society dinners are not really the place for wet T-shirt contests.

Well, by the time Saturday rolled around, all the kids had been barf-free for over 24 hours. My sister-in-law was going to watch all three kiddos while I attended a wedding in San Antonio. I was excited to go. I was looking forward to visiting with extended family.

That is, yes, until....Evan, a.k.a. "The Fire Hose," decided to unload in his bedroom. Really, is it too much to ask to make it into the toilet, or the sink instead of all over the dresser and wall and bed and carpet? Just wondering, that's all.

At least it wasn't all over me this time. So much for my social life.

Too Good For Birthday Cake

Isaiah just turned one.  He was not so impressed.  We stood around with cameras ready as he stared down his slice of birthday cake.  He looked at it suspiciously.  He didn't break a smile. When I finally tried to feed him a little bite, he cried and shook his head back and forth. Seriously, that picture is him at his birthday happiest.

I think he could sense that he was getting third-child treatment and decided to act accordingly. "So you think you can get away with no birthday presents, Mom? I'll show you. I'm not eating any of this homemade cake.  And next year you better have this party catered with a bounce house, pony and thirty of my buddies or you won't get one single happy face from me."

The Tooth Fairy Pays Us a Return Visit

Emma lost her first tooth after weeks of showing us how much she could wiggle it.  She was so excited to put it under her pillow for the tooth fairy.  Thankfully, she didn't remember the last time the tooth fairy visited our house.  You see, the tooth fairy has been to our house before.

Someone--I won't mention my name--was fed up with cavities and candy a couple years back. Emma had gone to a birthday party and come home loaded with junk in her goody bag. This came right on the heels of an expensive dental visit.  So after finding Emma sneaking candy between meals, this person came upon the bright idea of having the tooth fairy come and exchange the candy for a crisp dollar bill.  After all, Emma loves money just as much as candy. Right?

Wrong. Emma does not love money just as much as candy.  She loves candy more.  The results were catastrophic.  Emma was enraged.  There were tears and screaming and death threats against the tooth fairy.  The tooth fairy was enemy number one at our house.

But fortunately, time has erased this particular memory.  Welcome back Tooth Fairy.  

My Theatre Dates

As I've posted about before, the kids are huge fans of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.  So when I found out it was at the Majestic Theatre in San Antonio, I jumped at the chance to take them. It was a fun evening.  We had dinner along the Riverwalk and then went to the theatre.  The kids loved it.  I need to be more diligent about planning special events with these guys

Why Didn't I Think of That?

I love the resourcefulness of kids. Who would have thought that these handy dandy gel pads I've been keeping around in the hall closet in case I ever have to nurse a new baby could be used on your hands to make them stick to walls like Spiderman? Duh, why didn't I think of that? 

At least I know now that there is lots of brain activity going on in that little Evan head. I was beginning to wonder. How many million billion times can you ask one little boy to get dressed, put his shoes on, make his bed, etc., etc.?

A Long Indulgent Stroll Down Memory Lane Involving Love Letters, Enchiladas and Wesson Oil

Back in the day when I was in college, I used to do a lot of crazy and silly pranks. I know you would never believe this of me, being the very straight-laced and serious individual that I am now in my maturity. One particular thing I did was write psycho-chick love letters for one of my favorite roomies Shelley to this guy named Dale. Shelley worked with Dale at BYU Independent Study. Dale also happened to be in the same ward and apartment complex.

Shelley didn't have a crush on Dale. In fact, Shelley didn't even ask me to write love letters for her. I did it all out of the goodness of my heart because that's just the kind of person I am. I even helped her lock Dale in his apartment with a rope made out of nylons known as the lasso of love.

(Thankfully Shelley still loves me, as evidenced by the fact that she is still willing to be my friend some ten years later. See, here we are this summer in Park City with our other roomies Angela and Becky.)

As you may surmise, it was all a big joke really. And Dale was a good sport about receiving crazy letters. One of my favorite lines from a love letter we sent him went something like this:

I'm going to stand outside your apartment,

Pour Wesson oil in my hair

And light it on fire

Because I want to be your torch burning bright.



Brilliant stuff, eh?

So I had reason to remember this memorable line recently when I was making chicken enchiladas for my sister-in-law Melinda. Melinda was celebrating her birthday and had requested this dish for her birthday dinner. The enchilada recipe calls for frying each tortilla in oil for a few seconds. It's a pain and it's fattening, but hey it was for a good cause.

I finished frying the tortillas, laid out my enchilada assembly line and got to work. I had finished one 9x13 pan when all of sudden I smelled something really stinky. Something that smelled like burning oil. Yes, I had forgotten to turn the stove off. As I turned around, clouds of Wesson oil smoke started billowing up around me. Heroically, I managed to turn off the stove and take the offending pan outside. The CIA training comes in handy in emergency situations.

That, of course, was not the end of it. No, that hideous odor of cooking oil hung around in the kitchen like an unwelcome house guest. The kitchen stunk of it. My clothes, my hair all smelled like Mr. Wesson. Then Mr. Wesson went upstairs and got into all the bedrooms and bathrooms and nooks and crannies. Mr. Wesson even had the nerve to stick around all week long.

Mr. Wesson's constant presence in my life made me remember that old love letter I wrote so long ago. I started thinking about the whole image of Wesson oil burning in one's hair. Now with the practical knowledge of what Wesson oil on fire really smells like, I realize that it would not be at all romantic to have burning Wesson oil in your hair. No. It would be really stinky.

But maybe if it were lavender oil, it would be quite nice. What do you think?

Just a little stroll down memory lane for me this week. Yes, I do all of this for my own amusement. It's cheaper than therapy.

This Is How Addiction Begins

I was digitizing my old photos today and couldn't pass this one up. 

Yes, this would be me when I was 4 years old.  The chubby-faced, straggly-haired little girl on the left holding a triple-scoop ice cream cone. Did I say three scoops?! Holy cow! What 4-year-old can eat that much ice cream? Me, I guess. 

Look at my sis Jen. She's much more moderate in her ice cream indulgence with just one scoop. Of course, she was only 2 then and couldn't talk. I bet if she could have talked, she would have said something like, "Hey, give me more ice cream! Why does Chubby get 3 scoops and I only get a lousy one scoop? Cheapskates."

So this is how it all began. For those of you who know me, you know that I am constantly trying to go "off-sugar."  Moderation does not exist for me. One cookie leads to a dozen cookies. There are simply no brakes in my car.  It is all or nothing for me.  And sadly, I do much better at all than nothing. 

Not that I'm blaming this on the wonderful parental unit that got me hooked in the first place. Nope. I'm just saying, "Wow, look how early it began in my life." Nice, 70's outfit too, huh? Groovy, man.

Static Power

My kids have discovered static electricity.  And being the smart kids that they are, they soon realized they could use it as a weapon.  

The funniest thing is to watch them gather up their electrons.  They lie on the trampoline, waving theirs arms and legs back and forth like they're doing snow angels.  How they giggle when they sneak up behind you and give you a first-rate shock.  Michael took this shot of Emma above, charged up and ready to attack.

Multi-tasking

As a mom, I think multi-tasking is my middle name. So here's my new favorite way to get two jobs done at once:

I get the dishes done and Isaiah gets a bath.  I'm happy.  He's happy. And we conserve water. What's not to like?

A Little Inappropriate Humor

I picked up some new bibs for Isaiah at Walmart the other day.  They have a bunch of funny sayings on them.  One of them says "Ladies Man."   

Now my kids do not know what a ladies' man is.  But they think it sounds so funny.

So this morning at breakfast, Michael picked up that bib and said, "Ladies' man!  Who's the ladies' man?" 

Evan grabbed the bib and put it on and said, "I'm the ladies' man."

Then he noticed that it was dirty.  Isaiah must have gotten bananas or pears on it. Evan then very astutely put two facts together.  The bib was dirty.  The bib said Ladies Man.

He started chanting, "I'm the dirty ladies' man.  I'm the dirty ladies' man."

Michael and I just lost it. It was so innocent and yet so hilarious.  

Dumb Happens

Yes, it does. And it happens to me more frequently than the average person. I'm not quite sure what is happening to my brain. I used to consider myself a reasonably intelligent person. No matter. It all helps me stay grounded and not get all stuck-up smarty pants on you.

Here's tonight's random list of decisions I have made without consulting my brain:

1. Buying expensive consumer electronics.

From now on, I'd much rather just buy crappy stuff. Because when it breaks down, you don't care. I bought a VCR from Goodwill and although, it doesn't rewind very well, I don't mind. I paid $5 for it and am very satisfied with my purchase.

2. Buying white couches.

Ok, I did buy these before I had kids. But really, did I think I would never have kids? The problem with white couches is that I don't want anybody to sit on them. Seriously, get off those couches. Don't get food anywhere in a 10-foot perimeter of them. Don't jump on them. Don't touch them. They are not for sitting--just for looking at. Move on people.

3. Thinking I could lose the last ten pounds by only consuming water with lemon juice.

This was in high school and I only tried it for maybe an hour.

4. Thinking I could paper mache a Greek statue using a vacuum cleaner and an empty milk container.

In college. With no paper mache experience. See, the great thing about going to BYU is that we don't have to be drunk to do silly stupid things.

5. Buying a house next to a train.

Because if you want to sell it one day, no one will ever want to buy it. People looking for homes are so picky these days. I mean, there are a million things that are far worse to live near than a train...such as....um, a dump, a nuclear testing facility, a minefield, a gun range, a strip joint, a chicken processing plant. I could just go on and on, you know.

So there you have it: decision-making without using one single brainwave (I'll call it part 2 of my soon-to-be patented pride-sucker method.)