Where Did This Kid Come From?

This is Isaiah. This picture was snapped while he was singing about shaking his booty. He is three. Where does this stuff come from? This kid is so naughty and yet so stinking cute and adorable at the same time. He also cracks me up with his arsenal of insults and taunts. There was the "stoppy pants" stage (go figure on what that means) and of course "poopy pants." That one he used on his nursery leaders as he was exiting the nursery room. I think he meant it in a fun, playful way but, um, I don't think they saw the humor in it. Now we have moved to calling people "baby head" and taunting kids at church with, "Hey, you can't get me gingerbread man!"

I don't know if it's the age or being number three in the birth order. Either way this little guy always keeps us laughing.

Help Me Obi Wan Kenobi, You're My Only Hope

I keep finding random Star Wars guys sitting in bowls of ice in my freezer. Who is this guy anyway? Can someone please help him?

This seems to be Evan's new thing. It's not just Star Wars guys either. I'm finding frozen Legos too. He's very obsessed with it. It's a little strange but not as strange as when I used to open closet doors and find Barbies hanging by their heads. And that was an Emma thing. Never a dull moment around here.

How to Poison Your Husband Without Really Trying

Does your husband have it coming? Has he been super snarky and grumpy? Does he need to learn a little lesson he won’t soon forget? Yes? But what can you possibly do, you might ask. You don’t really want to kill him. You just want to make his life miserable for a few hours. If this is a situation in which you find yourself, I have a solution for you. I can tell you how to poison your husband without actually killing him. This method will clean him out from top to bottom, make his throat scratchy and hoarse and leave him moaning and repenting on the couch all night.

As added benefits, it will cure him of drinking out of the jug and your girlfriends will thank you. Why will they thank you? Because your husband will tell their husbands how you tried to kill him and those husbands will then shape up right quick lest their wives poison them too.

It really is embarrassingly easy. Almost no effort is needed on your part. As long as he likes to drink juice and drink it out of the jug, you are set. Here are the basic items you will need:

1) an apple juice jug

2) cooking oil

I know what you're thinking. That's it? That's too easy! Yes, it really is that easy. As with most things in life, there's no need to overcomplicate it. Simplicity. That is the key.

I will put this in action for you so you know how it works and can make your own plans. The next time you fry something, save the oil and put it in an empty apple juice jug. Store it away for a couple of months. If you don’t have a couple of months, just empty an apple juice jug and fill it half full of cooking oil.

Now it's showtime. Make something yummy for dinner. How about some chicken flautas with a green chili enchilada sauce and sour cream and cheese sprinkled on top? If you have 40 leftover flour tortillas from the father-son campout, this recipe is a great way to use them up.

The next part is crucial. Plan your alibi. Think of or invent somewhere you need to go as soon as your husband comes home. Perhaps your daughter has her church activity days meeting that night. Perfect. Just set the scene and get yourself out of the house. Why is this so important? There are several reasons. First, when the poisoning is about to take place, you don't want to inadvertently let the cat out of the bag by some nervous giggle or unnatural behavior on your part. Second, you don't want your 8-year-old daughter, who could potentially be smarter than your husband, to alert him to what he is about to do. Third, you don’t want to risk having a last-minute change of heart and intervene at the last moment. And last, you need to be far far away from the scene of the crime so you can feign astonishment with a convincing degree of credibility.

Are you with me still? Ok, so let’s get it set up. Leave the frying pan with oil on the stove. Don't worry about cleaning up the kitchen. Just leave it messy. Place the jug of oil on the counter. Be sure to leave the apple juice label on. (By the way, the oil does not have to be cold for this to work. See I told you this was easy!)

When your husband comes home, tell him dinner is on the table and that you have to leave and will be back in an hour. Immediately leave the house. You’ve set the trap and now it is time for your husband to walk right into it. I know it sounds a little unbelievable. No one in their right mind would possibly do this! Who would drink oil thinking it was apple juice? Wouldn’t he notice the strong smell of oil as he went for a drink? Wouldn’t he recoil the very moment it touched his lips? Wouldn’t the fact that it wasn’t cold alert him to something being off? These are all valid questions but they are irrelevant. Like a creature of habit, your husband will not take time to process these considerations until the self-inflicted poison is running down his throat.

When you do arrive home, your reaction is very important. He will accuse you of poisoning him. You need to be prepared to dismiss these allegations. You must act astonished. You must alternate between hysterical laughter, sympathy and horror. Look at him with an incredulous expression and say something like, “You did what?! How did you not know as soon as it touched your mouth?"

Be careful not to act too calm about it. Refrain from saying things like, “I see you took the bait, you old dog.” Or “Boy, you made that too easy didn’t you?”

And by all means, wait until you are around the corner and out of sight to do your victory fist pump.

Great Wolf Lodge

Over Easter weekend, we went to Great Wolf Lodge in Grapevine, Texas. We stayed there Friday and Saturday night and then spent Easter Sunday with my mother-in-law. Great Wolf Lodge is an enormous hotel with an indoor and outdoor waterpark and a Magic Quest game that the kids can play during their stay. My kids absolutely LOVED it! We had so much fun. They all just loved the slides and lazy river and wave pool.

The kids also had so much fun playing the Magic Quest game. They loved waving their wands over pictures and various items located throughout the hotel. There are different quests you can go on and when you wave your wand over a specific item it will give you a message or wizardry points or experience.

We had such a fun time. The kids keep asking and asking when we can go back. Thanks so much to all of our friends who pitched in to give us this amazing gift. We enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Keeping It Country

For all of you with a Deseret Industries thrift store in your state, I thought I would let you know that they don't sell gift cards for their store. Just in case you were wondering, trying to find something super special for your Valentine. The answer is no. Nope. Nada. So save yourself a trip and try somewhere else instead. If you don't know what DI is, it's like a Goodwill or Salvation Army but it's owned by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

I came across this disappointing piece of news several weeks ago when I was talking to my mom over Christmas break. My sister Becky was trying to figure out what to get my dad for Christmas. Let me tell you a little bit about my dad. He is the most kind-hearted generous man I know. His favorite restaurant is McDonalds. He likes to exercise at Walmart by doing laps around the store while reading the "trash" magazines. And he loves loves loves shopping at the thrift stores. He would absolutely adore a gift card to DI. If you gave him the choice of a gift card from one of these three places: Nordstrom, an expensive restaurant and DI, he would take DI hands down. That's just the great guy that he is, bless his heart.

So my mom said something like this to Becky, "Well, your dad loves shopping at DI. Why don't you get him a gift card there?"

And Becky said something like, "Why not? I'll hop in the car right now and go get me one of those little babies." And she really did. So Becksters pulled up to the store, walked inside and said to the cashier, "Hi, I'd like to buy a gift card."

The cashier just burst out laughing.

So sadly, there you have it. No gift cards! Can you even believe that? They are losing out on some big-time opportunities, I tell you what. Well, I hope this was helpful for someone out there, maybe saved someone a trip. At the very least, it gave me a good laugh.

Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeams Teacher

I was just released a couple of weeks ago as a family history consultant and called as a Primary worker, specifically the Sunbeams teacher.

It's fun to be back in Primary. I've done everything in the presidency but I've never been a Primary teacher. I'm excited for the opportunity. I think you really get a unique chance to connect with the kids when you're their teacher. I'm also so happy and relieved not to have been called as the choir pianist, which happens to be on my never, ever or I may have to go inactive list.

There are 8 Sunbeams that are likely to show on any given Sunday. My first two weeks I had 4 in my class, 2 boys, 2 girls. It was quite fun and easy. We had snacks. We went for a walk in our Sunbeam choo-choo-train formation and got lots of drinks at the water fountain. We did wiggle songs. We had a lesson and craft.

This Sunday was different.

There were 7 Sunbeams today, 5 of them boys. Here's a little visual for you of my class today:

Ok, I wasn't wacking the kids. But it did feel remarkably like a game of wac-a-mole.

I separated J1 and W from their wrestlemania tournament on the floor only to find that E is crawling underneath chairs.

J2 is pilfering through my bag.

C is having a spitting contest with J1 now.

W is on the run again.

S is sitting quietly in her chair.

K is giggling and running around.

E and J1 and J2 and W and C are going five different directions.

And now for the lesson. Oh wait. W and J1 think it's wrestlemania time again.

Did I mention the walk to the drinking fountain that ended in a 100-yard free-for-all dash to tag the Primary room door and then roll around on the floor?

I even had a parent in there with me. It's not like I wasn't prepared either. I had a schedule that included snacks, a walk, fun songs, a lesson with lots of visuals, coloring, etc. But I might as well have been talking to the ceiling or maybe just S. I think she was the only one who listened or sat for more than 15 seconds straight.

I felt completely incompetent. I thought about doing the 100-yard dash out the door myself. What happened to those cushy days in Relief Society, playing around on my iPhone? I never quite appreciated the boredom as I should have.

I'm determined to get this right. Any helpful hints out there that don't include tying them to their seats or letting them tie me up and swing from the chandelier?

My Latest Obsession

Since we've been in our new house, MJ bought a television. You would think that after TV fasting for six or something years that I would be so above watching TV, preferring to shun it for more intellectual and useful employments of my time.

This is what I have to say about TV now. I love TV. I love that when I make dinner and my kids are screaming at me and trying to sneak food from the pantry and pulling at my pants, I can turn on the magic button and there is silence and happiness for all.

And the next thing I love about TV is DVR. Love love you DVR!

DVR has made possible my latest TV show obsession: Design on a Dime. I know I'm probably late to the party in expressing my love for this show but better late than never, as they say. The premise of this show is that a design team of three takes a room in someone's house and completely redecorates it for $1000 or less. They almost always pull out the heavy tools to create new furniture or art or accessories. I love the creativity they have and the way they take ordinary materials or thrift store/garage sale finds and make them amazing.

The boys get to watch this with me a lot. I think they like it. I can't even turn on the TV now without Evan asking, "Mom, are you going to watch Design on the Dime?" Even Isaiah will chill with me and watch what the crew comes up with.

MJ is afraid I'm making them gay. I'm just well rounding them.

This show is going to help me take it to a whole new level. I've finally worn MJ down. He didn't blink an eye when he came home to find I'd been using some of his saws. He even offered, without grumbling or possessiveness, to show me how to use the router. It was amazing.

I have lots of projects lined up now, which really isn't good because it's not like I don't have 27 other things I should be doing instead. And since it's my modus operandi to take anything I get obsessed with to the maximum limit, I'm probably going to be neglectful of everything else in my life for a while.

Emails and phone calls will go unanswered. My kids might not get baths for a week. Cereal might be served for dinner. If I don't blog for a loooong time, please understand.

Why Melinda Will Never Ask Me to Babysit Again

A while ago my sister-in-law and her husband went on vacation and I got to babysit my cute little niece Ava. Ava loved Emma--and especially Emma's room. Ava loved Evan and how fun he was to play with. Ava loved me and followed me around calling me Mama because she couldn't say Aunt Kasey. And Ava loved Uncle Michael more than all of us because...well, I don't really know why. But to her he might as well be Santa Claus.

There was one person in the house who Ava did not love. There was one person who I must admit, was not very nice. One person in our house had his own secret weapon for striking terror into his older cousin's heart. Let me just put it this way: When Melinda later asked Ava about her stay at Aunt Kasey's, she had this to say, "Zee-ah bite. Zee-ah bite."

Yes, it is true. I had to dive in numerous times to prevent my little jaws from setting his chomping mouth onto his cousin. While I believe I saved her 99% of the time from actual infliction, she did go home with teeth marks. Whether it was Zay or his younger-cousin Peter, with whom Ava also stayed, is not known. It is most likely though that the culprit lives in my house.

Each time I would discipline the little turkey, he would do this chomping jaws thing with a naughty smile on his face. I was sooo not happy with him, but at the same time it was just a little bit funny. He knew he was being bad and he was showing me exactly how he was terrorizing poor Ava.

After Ava left, we tried to see if we could catch Mr. Jaws on camera.

According to the nursery leaders, Isaiah is an angel at Church and never ever bites anyone. I guess he saves it up--or the threat of it--to harass his cousin.

It's Always Fun When Grandpa Comes

Back in October Michael had to go to Utah to conduct some business. We thought it would be fun for him to take Evan along for some one-on-one time and to visit the grandparents. Since Evan doesn't attend school yet, it was the perfect opportunity.

We told Evan that we had an early birthday present for him. He would get to go to Utah, just him and Daddy.

His response was lukewarm. Where was the jumping up and down? The hoorays? Nada. This sure wasn't what we were expecting. So we tried it another way. "Evan, you'll get to go with Daddy to a BYU game!" And still he was just so-so. He said he'd rather have a rocket. BYU? Utah? Yawn.

Then we spun it this way, "Evan, you'll get to go see Grandpa!"

All of sudden, a smile broke out on his face and he was the most excited boy ever. He couldn't wait, for Grandpas are better than rockets or BYU or airplane trips.

The kids have such a fun time with Grandpa. He just loves to play with them and take them places and spoil them rotten. He'll call them several times a week just to talk to them. He'll send them packages from time to time. We flew him out this summer and they had him busy from sunup to sundown. Then he even came out a second time, making the long drive from Utah. It's no wonder Evan was so excited to see his Grandpa.

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.