My scale is lying, I just know it!

I stepped on the scale for the first time in weeks, yesterday morning before church.

This was a serious lapse in judgment on my part.

I stared at the number looking up at me. Surely there must be some mistake! This scale must not be working right! I thought to myself.


Feeling reassured that the scale must be wrong, I got off, then got back on again. Still convinced that something was amiss, I repeated the motion... three more times.

The number stayed horrifyingly the same.

So as I sat in church, munching on my shortbread Sandie cookies, with chocolate and almond bits, I contemplated on a recent experience.

I had decided to do a little maternity clothes shopping and happened to stop in at Motherhood Maternity to check out their clearance racks. (cause I'm just too cheap to buy anything full price there)

After chatting with the sales girl for a minute, I realized that she too was pregnant. We were about the same height, though she was a little taller, and about the same belly size.

She graciously asked how far along I was, which was about 21 weeks or so at the time. I, in turn, asked how far along she was assuming we'd be pretty close.

Eight months! She replied cheerfully.

I stared at her for a long moment and wanted to tell her I would never, ever shop there again since she all but killed off my self-esteem.

Instead I told her we could never be friends.

Jokingly of course... sort of.

So back in church, as I sank my teeth into my tenth cookie, I realized that perhaps my lack of exercise, late-night eating, and never ending sweet tooth just might have something to do with the atrocious weight gain.

However doubtful this may be, since I am inclined just to blame it on my scale, I suppose I have to consider the very remote possibility.

But it's not likely, cause nothing is ever my fault.

Just ask me.

So here I am at 23 weeks.

I purposefully cut my head off this time as I woke to find half my face red, swollen and a bit deformed. Wouldn't surprise me to find out I have yet another infection, this time in my face!

I feel like I must be setting some sort of weird body infection record with this pregnancy.

Cause I'm just cool like that.




P.S. This is not a self-criticism post. It's suppose to be funny and all in good humor!

Daddy's Bedtime Story

It had been a pretty rough evening, the kids were fighting and screaming and dragging their feet at every request. And in many instances, just flat out not listening. Both Luke and I were getting rather frustrated.

After our attempt at scripture reading and family prayer, which I doubt any of us heard above the continuous streams of wiggles and screams, Luke and I finally put the kids to bed.

I usually end up putting the girls down, since that seems to be Alayna's preference, and Luke will put the boys to bed. The girl's will often prefer a song before bed, while the boys generally prefer a story.

I already had the girl's down and was in the kitchen when I overheard the following.

Boys: Story, daddy, story!

Daddy: *sigh of frustration, deep breath* Fine.

Once upon a time, there was a little frog who didn't listen and obey his daddy after his daddy told him not to go into the road. So one day he hopped into the road where he got ran over by a truck and was squished flat like a pancake.

Then  a woodpecker came along and scrapped him off the road, fried him up and ate him like a sandwich, all because he didn't listen to his daddy.

The End.


I couldn't help but laugh as I listened, and when Luke appeared in the kitchen a minute later, I asked, "Did you really just tell them a story about a frog who got squished and eaten by a woodpecker?"

Luke broke out into a huge grin and answered, "That's right. Cause that's when happens when you don't listen to daddy."

Remind me to never encourage him to write a children's book.

Especially one with a moral.

The Best Part

The best part about making a birthday cake, is licking the beaters.

 

And... your hand of course. Oh, and the spatula.

Yup, the best part of all is licking up the cake batter.

Every last drop.

The best part about it being your own birthday cake, is that no one can say anything when you spit all over it.

(please, please ignore my scary cackle of a laugh)

And the best part of eating cake and ice cream, is getting a brain freeze from eating too much at once.

The end.

The Monster Turns Two

I wished her a happy birthday and sang her the "Happy Birthday" song, four times.

She just stared at me, blank-faced, having no clue what I was talking about.

 All the other kids however, have asked when they get cake, and where all of Alayna's presents are, and cried, Is it my birthday yet?

When is it going to be my birthday?

Who's birthday is next?

Will I get lots and lots of presents on my birthday?

I want a big cake for my birthday!

It's my birthday next!

No, it's my birthday next! 

Nuh uh! *pow*
 
*growl *

*whack*

*run away*

*scream*

And that's just the condensed version.

And Alayna was content to watch it all as one watches as movie before sneaking off to my closet to grab her favorite item.

They're the only shoes she ever plays with anymore. No others are good enough for her now.

Perhaps I should find her her own pair of sparkly shoes for her birthday!

Because like any good parent who is always so on top of things, I haven't found her a present yet.

Not that that has anything to do with the fact that I forgot her birthday was coming up until a couple days ago.

*cough* Really!

So Happy Birthday cute girl! It's been a crazy two years!

Make it do, or do without.

Gosh, thanks everyone for all your input! Truly, I have learned much and will be reviewing your comments again and again as we try to find something that will work!

You guys are great, you know that? We should have a party at my house.

An all chocolate party of course.

But I had to laugh at Jess's comment about all our broken stuff.

It's true that perhaps we could have replaced many of those broken baby things.

But I have never heard of Freecycle, so I will definitely be checking that out. And Craigslist for East Idaho STINKS! Trust me, I check it all the time. Luke hates garage sale shopping almost as much as rubbing my feet, so I often don't get a chance to sneak away for those.

Generally, we wait for a really good sale, check out the local second-hand store (cause D.I. is bad here too) or we simply do without.

Like Boyd K. Packer said, "Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without."


We tend to do that a lot.

For example:

We don't have cable. Just don't want to pay for it. So our kids watch movies.

Thank heavens for the library.

Well, our DVD player broke.

Instead of buying a new one, we pulled out Luke's ancient of days dinosaur of a laptop, and hooked that up to the TV and used it as a DVD player.

Then the computer started getting all weird. Half the time it wouldn't play the movie, then the keyboard quite working, and little Alayna monster has pulled off about half the keys anyway.

Instead of buying a new one, we pulled out the little travel DVD player that Luke got at a work Christmas party a couple years ago, and hooked that up to the TV.

Then, over time, the kids kept messing with all the wires that connected the TV to the little player, and eventually, they ruined the wires.

So now, they have been reduced to this.

But hey, it works for now. And even though we've had a few choice fights over all the kids trying to see, I think we've got it about figured out.

Someday we'll get a new DVD player, but not for a while.

Oh, and that's why Jacob wears pink snow boots too. Since we have 'em, might as well use 'em!

What are some of the crazy make-it-work things you've done?

Single or Double?

Just so we're clear, the title is NOT referring to hamburgers, sorry.

Despite the fact that we had our first four kids in four years, we have never owned a double stroller.

Or a triple stroller.

Or a quad stroller.

Although I did find one once that I coveted... a lot.

But no, we just had our one, single stroller and it worked like this.

Alayna sat in the stroller.

Jacob sat on top of the handle.

Joseph lounged in the basket underneath.

Savannah stood on the front foot rest... thingy.

That poor stroller took a lot of abuse. Even with its wheels bent out at an unsightly angle while hauling all four little toddler bodies, it held on for quite a while.

Till out of pure exhaustion, it bit the dust, and broke a wheel.

I mourned the loss of our ever-faithful stroller, and we have been stroller-less ever since.

Oh, and our baby car seat expired.

And our baby walker broke.

And our baby chair for the table broke.

Thankfully, we got our crib already broken so we don't need to worry about that changing!

But the point of all this is, someone gave us a really, really, really, really ugly single stroller. But hey, it was free and I could try and find a way to re-cover it or something.

But I don't sew.

Or, should we finally give in and go for a double instead?

Part of me is thinking that a double would be pointless since the little monster-child Alayna, who hates being restrained in any way, would most likely refuse to sit in it.

But at the same time, it's like herding sheep trying to get that girl to keep up and follow you anywhere.

Not that I've had experience with herding sheep, just sayin'.

Plus, deep down, I think I just really, really want a double, even if I don't need it, simply to feel the luxury of it beneath my fingertips.

And practically speaking, we'll eventually have another kid.

But do you really think I should spend the extra money and go for a double, or stick with the single since we still have to get a new car seat. And high chair. And all that. Because I also think in dollars and cents.

Astound me with your advise, oh wise readers!

Single or double?

To Hoard a Biscuit

Growing up in a large family where you are all really close in age, teaches you a few things.

Like:

• Keep your own toothbrush in your own room. It's just safer that way.
• Never, ever, drink out of a used water bottle that has been left in the car, especially after a long car trip. 
• Offering to lend your older brother a pair of your own jeans, leads to depression.
• If you want seconds at any meal, eat faster, pile your plate higher, or hide and hoard.

So yes, I like to think I am the understanding sort.

Especially on that last issue. With the eight of us kids evenly divided between boys and girls, it was every man for himself at our house. Of course with older brothers, you learned to just go ahead a grab extras of whatever you wanted from dinner or chances are, you just wouldn't get any.

My little sis Becka even confessed to hiding leftover pizza in her scripture bag once, and took it to church, just to ensure she got some later.

I thought she was brilliant.

So I shouldn't have been surprised when I found this, but I was.

Apparently the "hide and hoard" concept is universal, even among my own children.

I'll have to remember to check their scripture bags from time to time.

Watch what you say!

I know she talks really well and all that, but I was still surprised when she looked down at her toy in frustration and exclaimed, "Dang it!"

Perhaps we need to be more careful about how often we use that expression around her.

But I'm not about to make any promises. 

Especially since this was before the cheerios, popcorn, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were emptied all over the living room floor.

My sad tale and the gender announcment!

I had originally written this nice long post going into detail about how my week had gone from good, to bad, to the worst ever!

Then I decided no one wants to read all that hullabaloo!

So I decided to just give you the highlights to explain my bloggy absence and to confess that I've known what this little baby is since Friday.

*gasp* I know, scandalous!

And yet, this STILL turned into a long hullabaloo of a post!

Allow me to explain.

Wednesday: Started getting a cold and feeling rather crabby.

Okay, okay, I was REALLY grouchy.

Thursday: Dawned with the cold hitting full force, complete with a killer headache, and when I wandered into the bathroom and saw myself in the mirror, I about screamed.

My hair was sticking up in ways that would put Alayna to shame and my eyes were red and bloodshot. I looked like I had just walked out of a Twilight movie.

Only with better make-up.

Friday: 2:30am I was in such intense pain (from something totally unrelated to the cold) that I woke my husband up when I started sobbing.

I shall withhold the what's and the where's of this intense pain as I am female and some things are just too awkward to talk about on a public blog where a guy or two will stop by and read on occasion.

The pain was so extreme that we went in to see the doctor who didn't seem to have much to say but went ahead and prescribed an anti-biotic.

Good thing too. Cause by Friday night the aches and chills that always seem to accompany an infection started coming on.

Saturday was full force misery. I could barely get out of bed and any movement of any kind only served to cause very intense pain. I would only venture to get out of bed on occasion when the Tylenol seems to create a lull in the extremely uncomfortable and sometimes painful aches and chills, as well as the stabbing and searing pain of the infection.

Sunday I was feeling better but the infected area almost seemed worse.

Today though I am feeling loads better, I am still in some pain and very tired, but definitely better.

And now I can safely say, this was WAY worse than my kidney infections.

Good times... good times....

And Luke was so, so great! Poor guy had to take care of me and the kids all weekend by himself, and he was fabulous! Truly he was!

He kept the house clean, even went to far as to do several loads of dishes, cooked from a recipe, *super gasp* and handled the kids in all their glory. He was magnificent!

And I just have to laugh about this.

I take comfort in knowing that this is hardly all the laundry that needs to be done.

Wait...


But, let's face it. All that gibberish isn't the REAL reason you came by today. You want to know about the baby!

When we went in to see the doctor on Friday, he said that while we were there, we might as well do the ultrasound, so we did!

My husband was feeling pretty confident that it was one thing. And  most others whom I asked were in agreement with him.

Which made him, them, and the ten of you who voted so WRONG!!!

Bring on the incrimination photos, cause it's a....

GIRL!!

I'm pretty sure you can't get much of a better picture than this one. Right between the legs!

Yes, now the girls have taken over. Watch out boys, better not mess with the estrogen now!

If you guessed a girl, congrats! You get to go out and buy yourself some chocolate!

If you guessed a boy, congrats! You get to go out and buy ME some chocolate!

Just kidding... maybe....

See the way her legs are over her head? That stands for... Girl Power!

Just so know.

It's hairy, but it's awesome.

This is probably my favorite part of the whole morning.

Not everyone gets to see such a masterpiece.

It's almost like looking in the mirror. 

We could be twins first thing in the morning.

Seriously.

My ONE and ONLY New Years Resolution

Ah, the New Year.  A time of reflection, of goal setting, of resolution making and resolution breaking.

See, I know myself better than to make certain resolutions, especially those entailing things like giving up or cutting back on sugar or something.

There are just too many dadgum treats left over from the holidays lurking about in the dark corners of the house (where I hid them of course) to know that I would never keep such a goal. I have to wait a couple weeks and make sure I've eaten them all up before embarking on such a journey.

You know, get rid of the temptation and all that.

That's why I ate the four Cadbury chocolate bars my sis and bro-in-law sent me for Christmas in just two days. Had to get rid of temptation!

Don't worry, Luke had a piece, or two.

Don't get me wrong, I've made several new goals and such, but I've only made ONE New Years resolution, because I just don't like to consider them the same thing.

It all started when I remembered an incident that happened a few months back. A new friend of mine, Gina, who had also been reading my blog, stopped by the house one day to discover me clad in jeans that had ripped in one of the knees and a nice, comfy, frumpy sweater.

She jokingly remarked that it was nice to know that I wasn't perfect all the time since my blog made me appear so well put together.

Well, I was down-right horrified! Horrified people!!

Me? Appear to be so well put-together?

Come let us all laugh together. HAHAHAHAHA..... ahahaha... ha.. ha.. ahhhhh.................

Surely you know by the evidence posted here of all the delightful messes, mounds of laundry, exploding basement, and all that to know that I am anything but!

Sure I don't write about ALL the times I have won the worst mommy of the year award, but I need to maintain some small sense of dignity, right?

Anyway, Luke and I were discussing how it was time to give our children chores. I mean, they always help clean up on a daily bases and all that, but little things that they need to personally be responsible for.

Like making their beds everyday. Sounds simple enough, right?

One small problem.

This is generally what MY bed looks like most days.

(Head and foot board cost $150 cause it's actually broken in several places, but you'd never know, right? And the bedspread I bought on clearance somewhere a while back. So don't go thinking we're all fancy and such nonsense)

Uh huh! Nothing "well put together" about that now is there?

This is where my New Years Resolution comes in.

I hear by resolve, to make my bed everyday! Err... most days, until the baby comes! Then I make no such promises.

I know how to be realistic with myself.

Besides, if I'm going to have my kids make their beds everyday, I ought to teach by example, right?

See? Occasionally I know how to be a good parent.