April 30, 2010

Freaky Friday

Since I'm a SAHM mom of multiple young monkeys, I don't get out in the wide world much. After all, it's kind of embarrassing when the monkeys start climbing the diaper boxes at Walmart while yelling they discovered a tower, or grab a bra from the ladies section and run around shouting that they found a hat.  So most of my writing is limited to my immediate surroundings with the occasional store trip where we make cart trains.

I was contemplating what life-altering experience to write about today.
  • The plate Joseph shattered into a thousand pieces yesterday?
  • The indoor swimming pool Jacob created by turning on the faucet in the bathroom while using his hand to create a sprinkler that soaked all four walls? 
  • The four sobbing, screaming children we yelled a family prayer over last night before bed?
  • The maple syrup the boys got into while I was in the shower? Leaving a trail of sticky destruction from the pool on the counter that dripped down the side of the counter and all over the floor?
Never ceases to amaze me how innocent they manage to look sometimes. 

But this blog talks about important stuff like that all the time!

Seriously, if you've never read THIS, you're missing out on a life-changing experience. Trust me.

But today, it's all about something I have a love/hate relationship with.

My dishwasher. I can sense the excitement rippling through the crowd.

Well, it's a piece of junk. It really, is. It doesn't clean very well, even after I pre-scrub the dishes, and they are ALWAYS dripping wet, much like the bathroom walls around here, even though it's always on "heated dry".

That being said, I still lovingly pet it, whisper sweet nothings to it because I would rather have a bad dishwasher than none at all. Been there, done that for many years with multiple children.

ANYWAY, a few weeks ago, my husband loaded a few dishes into the dishwasher. This in and of itself is blog-worthy since it is such a rare occurrence. But the next day, it was time to fill it up.

As I opened the door, I was mortified at what I beheld! Dishes were just randomly thrown into it like it was of no importance where they landed! Oh, the HORROR of it all! I immediately set about righting this great wrong.

Then I stopped, stared, and burst out laughing. Seriously?

Every dish has to be organized by color and size or I go crazy! I even manage to catch myself re-arranging the dirty dishes just so they can be perfectly organized.

My life would be a big fat mess unless I organized my dishwasher. Wait....

Well, at least it makes it easy to put dishes away!

What freaky thing do you find yourself doing! Come, share! We won't laugh! 

Okay, maybe just a little....

April 29, 2010

Their Logic is Astounding.

"K' boys! Movie's over! Time to turn the TV... JACOB!"

"Jacob what are you doing!? Your face is covered in marker!"


"Yup. It is."

"Oh Jacob, where did you find that marker? Is it ours? I don't recognize it! Were you coloring on something else? You better not have been! Why is it in here? Why is the lid off?

"Umm, because it is. See?"

"Oh, I see alright. But why is it all over your face?"

"Because it is!"

Have you ever noticed how adults use about ten times more words and aren't nearly as logical as kids are?

I wish I had his gift for straightforward answers.

April 28, 2010

What does Webster know anyway!

Word of the day: FEEN

In the english language, it is commonly known as the color "green". A color pigment most often found in plants, the contents of my kid's diapers, and on occasion, the color of last month's leftovers still sitting in the fridge.

"Feen" has also been know to endow magical powers in the average four-year old boy.


"Turn feen! Turn feen!" Joseph shouted from the back seat of the car.

Before reaching the intersection with the red light, it magically turned green.

"HAR HAR HAR! I have da POWER!!"

 As we approached the next, red-lighted intersection, the command was once again given.

"Turn feen! Turn feen! Turn feen!"

And before we had to slow all the way down to a stop, the light magically turned green.


A minute later, we pulled up to a red light and came to a complete stop.

I turned back to Joseph and asked with my very best shocked face on,

"Joseph, I thought you had the power."

"I do!"

"But the light is red."

At that very second, the light turned green.

"Har har, see?? I DO have da POWER!"

Now that IS power!

Oh ya, he gets his bulging muscles from me! Wait....

April 27, 2010

A love story... of sorts.

When Alayna was born, (my only all natural, felt-like-pushing-out-a-spikey-bowling-ball-that-was-lit-on-fire experience) she had a full head of beautiful, silky, super dark brown hair.

And how I loved her little head of hair.

So when I handed her over to the surgeons, I was just so devastated when they had to shave all her hair off so they could cut open her head for her big surgery.

No really, I was ready to scream when they handed all her wispy hair to me in a little bag with the words, "toxic waste" printed on it.


And I was just SO thrilled when her hair started growing back in! It was kind of a symbol that the whole experience was behind us and that she is perfectly healthy.

I so loved watching it get longer and longer. So despite the fact that my dad thinks it would be cool for her to show off her scar to her boyfriends (though she'll never have any unless they can survive getting past her father) and telling them how she's had the bone plates taken off her head before, I'm just fine with her scar being hid by her hair.

What is it with men and scars anyway?

Of course, now that my dad is losing his hair to the chemo, maybe he'll reconsider his thoughts on staying bald to show off "cool" scars. Then again, maybe not!

Well, a couple of days ago, I took Savannah's pigtails out and started to brush her hair. When I did, several small chunks of blonde tuff fell out. Mortified, I asked her if she had cut her hair! The clumps I found in her room sealed her fate. Thankfully it wasn't a whole lot, and not very noticable.

But on Sunday, Luke commented on how uneven Alayna's hair in the front looked. Not thinking much of it I didn't bother to investigate.

But today, I was looking at her and realizing that something was indeed amiss with her hair.

What the... SAVANNAH!!!!!!

Suddenly, the pieces all came together as my Sherlock Holmes instincts kicked in... which have been pretty rusty since having kids. You know, pregnancy killing brain cells and all that. But the blonde tuffs from Savannah's head, Luke noticing something was funky about Alayna's hair. I mean Luke noticed!! As in a male... noticing something about hair. That's HUGE!

After a few futile attempts at dodging my "did you cut Alayna's hair too?" questions, Savannah finally admitted that she had.

Seriously? Are you kidding me?

I can't... I mean.... BAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!  I just... *growl*

*hyperventilating* It's just hair right? It grows back right?

I DON'T CARE!! Her hair was growing in so good. Now she has a BALD spot in front.

I... I... I need to go eat something milky, chocolatey, and very, very sweet.

Now now, don't give me that "Oh mom, you're overreacting" look!

*sniff* I love your hair sweet girl! It is a symbol to me that you are okay!

The next person who touches her hair, loses a finger.

Or worse.

No, we don't have a dog. That growling noise is coming from me.

Because I protect the things I love.

Like Alayna's hair... and my chocolate stash.

April 26, 2010

Some entertainment is a two-way street.

Dear young blonde chic at Walmart,

First of all, I'd like to thank you for being there Saturday. My last couple of trips there with all my kids have been strangely uneventful. Not so much as a "wow, you sure do have your hands full!" comment. It made me feel like an alien from another planet. Like I had stepped through the looking glass into the strange and unknown.

 But with you there, I suddenly felt right at home.

As I pulled my two-cart-train to the checkout counter, you seemed oblivious to me while I watched with great amusement as your eyes quite literally double their size. They widened when they saw the kids, the diapers, and the cart train.

Just be sure to blink next time, I'm sure your eyes were drying out at an alarming rate due to the amount of exposure to the dry air.

I keep eye drops in the diaper bag for just such an emergency.

I was thoroughly enthralled with the show as I watched you nudge the young man at your side, and since I'm still working on my lip-reading skills, I failed to read what you said. But the quick head nods in my direction where awesome. Truly classic. I just wish I had brought my theatre popcorn.

Sadly, I missed your male partner's reaction as I had to unload my carts at that moment. But during the process, I glanced over at your from time to time to find you still staring.

While I was paying, you were staring, while I was convincing he kids to stay in the cart because we were done, you were staring. And as I started to pull the train away from the check-out depot, you were still staring. You should try smiling next time, it puts us more at ease.

But maybe I've got it all wrong? Maybe you weren't staring at my kids but rather at the cart train! It is pretty sweet after all, and so simple to make.

Simply hook the child safety strap from one cart around the front end of a second cart. Ta da! Instant train that is surprisingly maneuverable through the human throng of bodies, some more disturbing than others, that walk the Walmart isles.

Some things just become a way of life when ALL the kids want to ride in a cart. That's an EASY trip!

That hard ones are when they all want to walk.

Anyway, I appreciate the diversion and the entertainment. It made my weekend.

Yours ever,

April 24, 2010

"Did you ever get the feeling...

... that you were being watched, and that maybe that thing watching you is... ehhh, a giant elephant in the sky?"  -Horton Hears A Who

Heh, and you know those times when you just feel like every little thing you do is wrong and horribly awful even if it really isn't it just feels that way because someone else has it more together than you do and you know you shouldn't compare yourself to others but sometimes it's hard not to especially when it feels like everything is spinning out of control and you are at a loss as to how stop it all and get back on track and save your children the embarrassment of having such an awful parent who seems to goof up everything all the time and who wonders why the heck they were even given children if they are just going to mess up their lives with their own imperfections and so you feel like the scum of the earth for even existing and having the gall to become a parent in the first place and messing up all of humanity and bringing nothing but chaos and destruction to the world!

*massive intake of breath*

Do you know that feeling?

*crickets chirping, blank stares*

Whew... *nervous laughter * me either.

April 23, 2010

This is what happens...

...when I take the time to catch up on all your blogs.

I hope you appreciate what I go through for you.

And feel guilty enough to send me chocolate.


P.S. I decided NOT to show pictures of the other side of the basement.

I need to maintain some sense of dignity.

April 22, 2010

Sudsy Potions

"Mom?" *cough hack wheeze... deep breath* "Mommy?" Savannah croaked at me again.

Looking up from the toilet bowl I was scrubbing, I saw Savannah walking slowly towards me, both hands at her throat with the most distraught look on her face.

Only the tiniest alarm bell went off in my head, for many reasons.

One, I saw no blood. Always a good thing.

Two, she was walking, talking, and breathing, also a good thing.

And three, she does have a flair for the dramatic. So no, I didn't freak out.

"What's wrong baby?" I asked, eyeing her with slight concern.

"Mom, I did something."

NOW, I was starting to be concerned.

"What did you do? What happened?"

"Mommy, I did something and I didn't know it would hurt me."

Now the alarm bell was getting slightly louder with just the faintest trace of panic.

"Savannah, just tell me, what did you do?"

"I just made a special drink and I put soap and shampoo and water together. I didn't know it would hurt my throat!"

The alarm bells died instantly. Oh, was that all? Poor girl. *sigh* Some people just gotta learn the hard way, you know?

"Here, show me what you did." 

We walk around to the other bathroom where I found this:

Can you see the bubbles at all? She was probably making some kind of "potion". She's all about playing make-believe.

Hands still at her throat, making all sorts of gagging and choking noises, she complained that she drank regular water and it wasn't helping.

This is why mommies need to know everything. To help in dire, painful situtaions like this.

Pouring her a large cup of milk, I gave her a kiss on the forehead and told her she'd be okay and I went back to scrubbing the toilet.

Because that's what mom's do.

If you want to read about the time Joseph had an encounter with soap tasting, and I KNOW you do, click HERE.

April 21, 2010

Of alarm clocks and toilet paper.

Back in college, before I had wrinkles in places I'd prefer not to mention, I lived in a two bedroom apartment with five other girls. Just in case math isn't a strong point, allow me to clarify. Three girls per oh, so small bedroom.

*That would be me in the middle on the bottom. The weird face indicates I was compensating for lack of oxygen. If I was going to die, I was going to go out smiling!

I was lucky and had awesome roomies who all got along pretty well.  If you could overlook the hair that collected in the corners of the bathroom, the insane amount of shoes strewn throughout the small apartment, and the dishes that always filled the sink to overflowing, they didn't argue about much.

With the exception of two very important things: toilet paper and alarm clocks.

There was a never-ending dispute over who's turn it was to buy the toilet paper or whether to get one ply, or two ply paper. One roommate would always buy the one-ply and no matter how much you bunched together, it seemed to instantly dissolve upon impact.

When my kids go to college, I'll expect them to pay for tuition and I'll cover toilet paper costs.

Because I love them THAT much.

*First time experiencing frozen clothing. At the time, I thought it was cool! No pun intended.

As for the alarm clocks, there was constant grumbling over "so-and-so", or "you-know-who", who NEVER woke up to her alarm and it would beep incessantly for a good half hour until you would hear someone get mad enough to pound over to the poor, homework induced coma of a roommate like a bull seeing red, and jerk them out of their hot-guy-make-out dream and back into reality with a big *WHACK!* to the alarm clock that sat a mere inches from their heads.

I witnessed this ritual fairly often and honestly, I'm only guessing at the hot-guy-make-out dream part because they were ALWAYS drooling before they were so rudely brought back to reality.

At the time, I was a nice girl who never wanted to make anyone mad so I never had the guts to say anything about the toilet paper or the alarm clocks.

Although, I'm fairly certain that once or twice I would wake to the sound of my name being hissed across the room like a bunch of poison filled darts, telling me to either get my backside out of bed or quit hitting snooze.

Apparently, my life depended on it.

*First college dance. "Ha ha... wait, what?"

If I remember correctly, which I probably don't,  it was one of the biggest complaints in our apartment; the six different alarm clocks going off at all hours of the early morning.

Oddly enough, these strange memories came flooding back to my disgruntled mind this morning as I heard the rustle of a diaper walk into our bedroom, *rustle rustle rustle* pause, then *rustle rustle rustle* around to my husband's side of the bed.

My kids know better then to bug me. I am demon mommy before sunrise. It's the only time you'll ever see my horns.

 Vaguely aware that the rustling diaper had ceased its movement and was now snuggled up into our bed next to Luke, I started drifting back to sleep when I was jolted back awake by Luke's distraught cry. He leaped up as though he had just discovered a snake in our bed and exclaimed, "Jacob! You're soaked!!"

Since Jacob had leaked his diaper and soaked his bed, what else was there to do other than climb up into mom and dad's nice dry bed?

Who needs an alarm clock when you've got loving, considerate children to wake you up? Still, if I had to choose between the roommate with the annoying alarm clock, and a urine soaked body crawling in next to me, I think I'd opt for the alarm clock.

Just sayin'. 

April 20, 2010

The Good Life

First, you'll find me over at MMB today, trying on the fashionable and chic, serious and inspirational style.

I don't know if it matches the color of my eyes, or fits me well around the waist, but the topic is something that I feel strongly about so, it is what it is.

Even if you don't think it goes well with my shoes.

And second, I appreciate you all putting my washing machine in its place. It's been pretty whiny lately, protesting rather noisily as to what it has had to wash lately. Picky, picky.

But I don't know how it managed to sneak onto my computer yesterday to write that last post up. It must have been while I was out taking pictures of this.

Now now, before you click off, vowing to never again read the blog of the weird girl who takes pictures of the strangest things, I will explain why this picture was worth missing out on watching my washing machine scuffle it's way over to my computer.

You have to understand, we bought our very first house, this house, almost a year ago. It was a new construction so we spent all last summer putting in the sprinkler system ourselves!... Okay, so it was more of an 80/20 effort. Luke of course being the 80%.

But only because he has bigger muscles than I do. And because he has facial hair.

Last fall we put some sod down in the backyard so the kids would have a place to play. So, this was the first time mowing OUR grass in OUR backyard, with our NEIGHBOR'S lawn mower.

*sniff* It was a tear-jerking moment.

Don't worry, all-in all we're a pretty normal family. Almost to the point of being dull really.

And so after a fulfilling day of mowing half a yard, Luke and I lay on the trampoline, romantically snuggled in a blanket, surrounded by toy tools, bouncy balls, and cracker crumbs, whispering sweet nothings such as,

"Honey, we need to get rid of the rocking chair. It's broken again and someone's going to fall over in it." And, "After having to fix both vehicles, it looks like we'll have to post-pone working on the basement for a little while."

Ahh... the good life.

April 19, 2010

Diary of a washing machine.

Dear Diary,

It must be spring. 

Today, my usual load amount doubled. 

Dirty dirt. Evil mud. Sneaky water. Nasty baby bums.

 My arch rivals always win in the spring!

*sigh* Oh well, time to submit my daily report.

Savannah: TWO outfits

Joseph: FIVE outfits

Jacob: FOUR outfits

Alayna: TWO outfits

 Serene: TWELVE loads of laundry today.

I despise spring cleaning. So many loads of laundry! *groan* 

Insensitive humans. 

I should have put it in my warranty that TEN loads in one day is my limit.

Is it too late to ask for change in household humans?

Serene's over-worked and underpaid washing machine.

What would she do without me.

April 18, 2010

To my Blogitty Blog Pals

There are 1000 unread emails in my inbox. *weep*

I check my email all through the day just so I can laugh, cry, or choke on my chocolate as I read all your delicious comments or emails. But anything less worthy than you all fell by the wayside this week.

There are dozens of blog posts I haven't read yet. *gasp* Sorry!

I even bribed three people into giving me blog awards this past week (insert Miss America wave here) so I had to go sell at a craft fair yesterday to make up for it.

Sorry, what was that? How did it go, you ask?

*clearing throat*

Dear Craft Fair... er, people, 

I understand that it was your first time doing this and didn't want to pay for good advertising, (cou*tight wads*gh) but I am just a little miffed.

Yes, miffed. 

I barely made enough to cover what I paid for a booth spot. But my five-year old daughter made bank selling 25 cent cookies. Was it because she still has her baby teeth? A cute button nose? Blue eyes?Pigtails? Because I could do pigtails next time if that's what it takes. I'm not afraid. 

I refuse to believe it was because the cookies were only 25 cents. I think it was the pigtails. Maybe I'll put her in charge of selling everything next time.

At least you sat me by some cool people so I had someone to talk to and saved me the embarrassment of falling asleep and drooling all over my business cards. After all, I did only get three hours of sleep preparing for your craft fair.

Not that I'm trying to make you feel guilty. But if you do, it's all on you man.

But don't mind me! Worry about my poor husband. When the craft fair was over I told him I was exhausted as I dozed on the couch and absolutely refused to make dinner. After he brought home pizza, I stayed up till midnight finishing a book. But that's beside the point here.

I just wanted to humbly implore you to work on your advertising skills next time.

Your still very poor and desolate vender,

*sigh* In the words of the famous Molly Brown, "Oh it's not the money I love Pa, it's not having it hate!" 

ANYWAY, with my husband out of town, my brother living with us for the week....zzzzz.... the kids cleaning the house and the crafts magically making themselves, I just lounged in a bed with a cup of warm, liquid milk chocolate, while getting a massage and read books all day.....zzzzzz.... *snort* Huh? Oh sorry, was I talking in my sleep?

Eh hem, awkward.

I just wanted to apologize profusely if you feel I have abandoned you, for I have not. It was just kind of insane week and I fell behind. Now if only my behind would fall off, I'd be set.

Hahaha... what? I thought it was clever.

And now, for a dramatic change in topic, after reading all the comments left on my last post about who wants/wanted more kids, the man, or the woman of the family, I have become curious. So I hope you'll vote on the poll over there in the left-hand corner.

Remember, the truth will set you free.

I know, so poetic.

April 16, 2010

It's all HIS fault!

(Joseph: Hahaha! Mommy! Hey wook! Wook at what we dan do!" )

Several weeks ago, I attended a relief society meeting where I got to talking with a new mother. She's a couple years younger than me and she just had her first baby. We are also both somewhat new in the ward.

We talked about some of the struggles being a new parent brings and how everyone and their dog, and their dog's favorite squeaky toy gives you advise on what to do and how to do it. Which isn't always a bad thing, but differing opinions can get confusing when you're new to something. Not to mention when they start demonstrating, it can get disturbing. But we saw eye-to-eye on many things so we were having a great chat.

(Savannah: Here Joseph, I will help you get down.)

She then told me about the first time she ever saw me. These are her words.

The first time I ever saw you was during the last hour of church, in Relief Society. You were holding Alayna and I thought to myself, 'Oh how cute! She's a first time mom, just like I'm going to be soon!'

Then the next Sunday, you walked by me with ALL your kids and I was like, Holy cr**! (because I don't like the "c" word) Are all those her kids? How old is this girl? And then I turned to my husband and said, 'DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT TO ME!'"

She was just so cute and funny about it that I burst out laughing.

(Savannah: JOSEPH! *growl through clenched teeth* LET GO AND I WILL HELP YOU! *pulling so... hard*
Joseph: *squealing* NO NO! LET ME DOE! LET ME DOE!!! *holding... on... for dear life*)

But the moral of the story here is, it's all your husband's fault that you have all those kids. Kids create the messes, the laundry and the rise in the grocery budget. So next time your husband says anything about those things, you can turn to him and say, "Honey, it's all your fault. Because some girl said it to Serene who wrote about it on her blog. And if its in writing, then it must be true." 

(Savannah: Humph! FINE!
Joseph: Haha, See?
Jacob: Ya, see? Me too!)

April 15, 2010

Washers are full of surprises.

I would just like to say that there's nothing that throws off your cleaning groove quite like discovering you washed a used pull-up in the washer with all your other clothes. It's amazing how well kids can hide those things in the leg of their pajamas.

Ever seen a kid go swimming in a regular diaper? Same thing was going on with the washed pull-up.

I didn't take a picture, figured I'd let you create your own mental image so as to obliterate all responsibility for the rise in birth control sales.

Your welcome.

April 14, 2010

The window sill is the place to be.

If you had approached me on my wedding day, placed a hand on my little nineteen-year-old shoulder and said, "Serene, in five years time, you will have four small kids, a constantly messy house, and forget your obsession with organization, 'cause it just ain't gonna happen. So just let it go now... just let it go." I probably would have poked you in the eye with my tiara and whacked you over the head with my bouquet.

Then you would have been so mad you would have yelled, "Oh ya! Not long before your seventh anniversary you'll bake 15 loaves of bread in a single day! So HA!"

Then I would have had to chase you out of the reception with my big platform shoe. I had found them in the garage since I had completely forgotten to buy wedding shoes.

I probably should have thrown one at my brother when he quite unexpectedly grabbed the microphone and read an autobiography that I had written about myself when I was only ten years old.

The last phrase in the book that he read was, "And I want 50 kids."

Eh hem. Anyway...

There are so many days I still feel like a little teenager and catch myself thinking, "Whoa, I'm a mother! A real, honest to goodness, walking, talking, crying, screaming mother! Wait, that can't be right! I'm still just a kid!"

But it's true. Everything about me screams out to those around me that I am a mom. Right down to the way I talk. Geez, just because I use the word "ginormous" and "undy-wondies" doesn't mean I don't have an amazing vocabulary. Besides, my kids like when I call their underwear "undy-wondies", they think I'm smart because of it.

And instead of having kids, some people get pets. Like a cat.

Cats to snuggle on your lap insisting on being held, scratching your face with their nails, or basking in the warmth of the window sill to greet you when you come home.

Me? I have kids to do all that. I don't need a cat.

Now if only I could get them to clean themselves, and hiss instead of scream, we'd be set!

And if you are one of those brave people who manage to have both kids and pets, well, more power to you I guess.

But I bet you don't use cool words like "undy-wondies".

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