because I really can't get enough of myself

a house? what? maybe?

2012-01-27T18:00:00.000-07:00

I keep getting emails from realtors for some reason. But Husband and I haven't really discussed the idea of buying a house for months. Mostly because the houses here are all tiny, ancient, and expensive, so why bother? Except a couple nights ago, instead of sending another realty email in the trash, I OPENED IT.

And then I saw a bunch of tiny, ancient, and expensive houses.

But then I kept looking.

I did one of those searches where you put in only the areas that you're considering and I accidentally put in the wrong area without realizing it. And then...

THEN....

I FOUND i t .

"It" being a really inexpensive house with the right amount of space and yard and garage and potential. And even though it's not in the area that Husband likes, it's not really that far away at all. As in, it will take him 15 minutes to drive to work instead of 7.

So I got all crazy obsessed with it and checked everything out about the house and the neighborhood online, and then I texted my friend who sells real estate and made her find out more about it. And then my friend, my husband, and I went and looked at it.

IT WAS SO SCARY INSIDE.

We took our kids with us, but had to lock them in the car for fear of their safety. The listing online had said that the house "only needed flooring and paint". NO. It needs much much much more than that. The floors were littered with mouse poop and mud and dog pee, and really gross unidentifiable stuff. The walls had layers and layers of grody nastiness (and lots of sharpie) on them. Doors and windows were broken throughout the house. There was something resembling a blood stain coming out of the bottom of the fridge door and floor around it. The bathrooms......ugh, the bathrooms.

Basically, it is 157% unliveable.

BUT

I super love it. Not the nastiness, of course, but the house. The structure and yard and floorplan and neighborhood and price are amazing. In my daydreams I'm hiring a hazmat crew to go in and rip out all cabinets, appliances, bathrooms, lighting fixtures, doors, etc. and then SUPER MEGA CLEAN everything. And then my daydreams evolve into me picking out all the flooring and paint and kitchen and all the other STUFF and getting exactly what I want and then living in it and being happy.

And you want to know a secret? My daydreams might actually come true because we put an offer in on it last night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (<--those would be overly excited exclamation points.)

And now here's the part where I ask you all to tell everyone you know (literally, EVERYONE) to buy stuff from Green Jello with Carrots, and my etsy shop, or my digital scrapbook designs at MyMemories. Because we need to pull off some kind of humongous miracle and get a downpayment saved. (It only has to be a small downpayment - but when you're talking house, even a "small" amount is insanely a lot.)

When I'm in my new house (you know, once it's liveable) I'm totally having a party and you're all invited!

late at night

2012-01-19T12:33:00.000-07:00

My brain has decided that it will only sleep between the hours of 4AM and noon. And it doesn't matter how much my tired body complains, or how early I am required to get out of bed in the morning, my brain simply refuses to let sleep happen.

I think I've stayed up late working one too many nights and now my brain is just hardwired for the no sleeping thing.

Plus, Husband's snoring has been reeeeeally bad lately. You know how some people call snoring "sawing logs"? He's singlehandedly taking down a giant Redwood forest. And how am I supposed to sleep in the same bed as a huge mutant chainsaw? Especially when he's facing my side of the bed. Because then, not only is he loud, but he also BREATHES on me. I really can't handle it when people breathe on me.

The other night I was super exhausted but it was only midnight, so the plan was to read until I got tired. And I had a free self-published chick lit novel all cued up on my ipad, so that's what I read. I didn't have really high hopes for it, because, you know, it was free self-published chick lit, but the synopsis said it had ghosts in it and you know how I can never refuse ghosts.

IT WAS THE DUMBEST STORY EVER.

The main character was every stereotype rolled into one person. She was an independent, strong willed push over, who was self-rightesouly shallow and intelligently naive. Also, she was the optimal height, skinny, bronzed and amply chested. And of course she was above things like makeup, but deemed a local beauty.

Like most chick lit, she was on the verge of social flat line when suddenly she had to choose between two equally gorgeous and emotionally similar men. Except that one of these men was A GHOST. Which would have made an semi-interesting plot line, if the author had thought to develop the plot at all.

It went like this:

She moves into a cottage on the seaside. A ghost forms in front of her. He's shirtless. She goes, "Woah, you're a ghost." He says, "Yes, I hang out here a lot." They have a few awkward conversations that involve in no way how dumb it is that she's talking to a ghost about deeply personal topics that had no prelude whatsoever. One night the ghost realizes he can touch her. In a matter of half a sentence everyone jumps to the wild assumption that this means he coming back to life. She freaks out and runs away. The ghost disappears forever.

Her other love interest was a wealthy business tycoon that had broad shoulders, icy blue eyes and chiseled abs. Of course he had a undeniable reputation of being a horrific womanizer, which he denied constantly. He forces her on a date, then man handles her, then yells at her, then shoves her into the ocean after she tells him it's her biggest fear, then forces her to stay in his mansion. But she loves him anyway because he has a secret albino daughter, and once he bought her an expensive dress, and because his chiseled abs are just too hard to refuse. And then they get married. The end.

I read the whole book in one insomnia-liscious night. And it really wasn't worth it.

I wish I could just sleep.

Also, I want to write my paranormal romance mock-novel more than ever now.

bathroom mirrors

2012-01-17T13:24:00.002-07:00

You know how in scary movies there's always that bathroom scene where someone is getting ready for bed, and they open their vanity mirror to grab their toothbrush or antipsychotic medication or whatever, and then when they swing the vanity mirror closed there's a ghost or an axe murderer or a giant insect behind them? I can't even tell you how many times I think about that on a daily basis.

It's because my bathroom mirror looks like this:

Except we made our landlord replace the mirror with something less GRUNGING SINCE IN 1930. So for two weeks it actually looked like this:

Which temporarily helped me with my seeing-a-ghost/axe murderer/giant insect-behind-me-every-time-I-close-the-mirror phobia. However it was a humongous pain in the butt every time we wanted to actually see our reflections.

So anyways, I'm kind of tired of being freaked out every time I need to open and close that thing. Except the lack in storage space in that bathroom is way more scary than the thought of seeing a ghost/axe murderer/giant insect so I still use it. Plus also, I heard that if you have your toothbrush sitting out within 4 feet of a toilet, every time you flush you're basically giving your mouth a feces shower. And our bathroom is only about 5 inches big, so I HAVE to keep my toothbrush behind the mirror with a bunch of other stuff I use on a daily basis. Which means I have to open and close that thing like 15 times a day.

If I ever actually see a ghost/axe murderer/giant insect one of these days I will probably faint.

And since our bathroom is only 5 inches big there's really nowhere to fall without smacking your head on something.

So, most likely, I will die of head trauma and blood loss if I faint.

And if I die, I think I'm going to haunt people by showing up in their bathroom mirrors, because how much fun would that be?!

Loads of fun, I tell you. LOADS.

where to begin...

2012-01-12T14:35:00.001-07:00

So much has happened since I last blogged that I feel like I should back track and write 50 posts about it or something. Except that I don't really want to. And you probably don't want to hear most of it anyway, so I'll just give you bullet points of the biggish stuff:

• I worked a lot in November/December. And that's all I'm saying about that boring subject.

• Two Bits was in a Christmas ballet, and she was pretty amazing. And gorgeous, as usual, see:

Except this picture was taken during the dress rehearsal when she put on her own lipstick. IT WAS ALL OVER THE PLACE. Eight year olds and red lipstick - it's just funny.

• I got a kidney stone. Another one. And I went to the dr this time so I could get drugs. And they made me pee in a cup. And if you're my facebook friend, you'll probably remember that I mentioned the color of my pee. So, yeah, that was exciting.

• I celebrated my 10 year anniversary. And we actually did something for a change. We drove to Midway Utah, and watched tv in a condo for 2 days. And I worked a little while we were there. And we went to a store called "All That Stuff in the Barn". And then my kidney hurt. It was a MAGICAL celebration, I tell you.

• Christmas happened. All the kids were pleased with their crap. And my husband gave me a really awesome high-definition camcorder thingy. It's about the size of my iphone, except that it records awesome videos (unlike my iphone). And I love it. And also I got a toaster with FOUR slots. I KNOW. It was a pretty good Christmas.

• I passed my kidney stone. AND it only took me 2.7 weeks this time instead of the full month last time. AND I have extra pain killers left. Which is pretty much the coolest.

• I got a hair cut. It is now slightly shorter than it was. And the lady who cut it was crrraaazzzy.

• I went to a wedding. My brother-in-law got married. Look, I have a picture:

What, did you think the picture would be of my brother-in-law? (You're weird.) This was taken at the END of the day, and boy were my kids CRANKY.

• New Years happened. whoopie.

• I had a birthday. And I celebrated by being lazy ALLLLL DAY. Except that was also the day they decided to cut down the enormous tree in our front yard. So I pretty much spent the day fearing for our lives when they kept dropping huge branches on our roof. But it was ok because I distracted myself with Hulu and Netflix and the 4000 K'nex I bought "for the family" for Christmas. The kids were like, "Make a giraffe Mom!" So I did:

It pretty much took the entire afternoon/evening, but it was basically AWESOME. Don't believe me? Here's more pictures:

See how it's taller than my first born child? YEAH. awesome. And I didn't even have a pattern or instructions or anything - I just used my amazing brain and it's impressive understanding of children's toys.

• All this week I've had the stomach flu. And everyone was like, "What if you're pregnant?!" And then google told me horrible stories about women getting pregnant with an IUD. And then I threw up some more. But today I'm starting to feel better. So, you know, PHEW.

And that's pretty much all I've done since I last blogged. My life was just one thrilling and action packed event after another. I'm surprised someone didn't hire a camera crew to follow me around just to document it all. That would have made for some exciting reality tv (especially that part about the color of my pee).

2011-12-28T23:34:00.000-07:00

Dearest Blogworldland,

I didn't mean to ignore you. I've just been busy. I still like you, I promise. Really. Cross my heart and hope to fart (is that how it goes, or is it "hope to die"? Because I really don't plan on dying anytime soon. Farting though? Who knows when that will happen, it could be anytime now.)

Once life gets back to normal, like say, January sometime-ish, I will return to the land of bloggingdomville, and rejoice greatly in it's awesome splendor.

Probably.

Sincerely & with deepest adoration,
moi

good news, and then bad news, and then some more good news

2011-12-07T20:29:00.001-07:00

Christmas disaster averted. It seems like angels won't be plunging down from heaven after all. Because you know that Leapfrog LeapPad I wanted to get so bad? Well, it has a rival: the Vtech Kids Innotab.

And I ordered one yesterday.

It went like this: I checked websites for Toys R Us, Walmart, Target and Vtech Kids all at the same time. (Literally, the same time. Because I'm a phenomenal shopping multitasker like that.) Target didn't have any Innotabs, but the other sites did. Which was a pretty huge miracle already.

But I had to make sure I was getting the best deal possible so I clicked around for about 4 minutes looking for coupon codes and such. And then I decided to buy through Toys R Us, and in the amount of time that it took to click "put this item in your cart" the Vtech Kids website updated saying they were sold out.

And then once I made it through "confirm your payment" they were also sold out at Walmart.

And it wasn't long before Toys R Us was out of them too.

Except I totally DON'T CARE now. Because there's a pink Innotab safely on it's way to our house in a shining cardboard box of joyful Christmas glee. Fa la la la la, la la la la!

And to think, there are still scrambling parents paying double for them on ebay - SUCKERS.

So anyways, that's the good news.

The bad news is that I've begun a new holiday tradition that involves dental work.

If you recall last December, when my front tooth broke and left me with a "huge cavernous hole that could rival the canyon in Twin Falls that Evel Knievel tried to jump over on his 'skycycle' in 1974"? Yeah, that was fun.

Well this year, today, early evening to be exact, one of the fillings I got as a teenager decided it would be awesome to crack, and hurt, and threaten to fall out, because, apparently, old fillings like to do that. Except that it hasn't fallen out yet because I'm holding it in with sheer will power. (And sometimes I push on it with my tongue.)

But I have until 2:00 tomorrow afternoon to freak out about it. And you know how well I can freak out about things. (Like, what if it falls out during the night, and I accidentally swallow it, and it has jagged edges so it scratches my whole throat as it goes down including my voice box and I'll never be able to speak again, EVER?)

Except, good news, we have dental insurance this year. Except, bad news, that means I can't ignore the other 50 billion things I need to have done to my mouth anymore. Except, good news, I found a dentist that can use sedation! (why dentists haven't used sedation ALL ALONG, I don't know. I mean really, who wants to be awake while they drill holes in your teeth?) Except, bad news, sedation isn't covered by insurance. Except, good news, I don't care, I just want to be unconscious and they can do whatever they want to my mouth.

And that just leaves me with one more piece of good news:

I'm hosting giveaways on my Green Jello with Carrots blog right now, and you have until tomorrow (thursday Dec 8th) at 11:59 PM to enter. And when is it ever NOT good news to hear about winning free crap?

a disaster, I tell you

2011-12-05T16:02:00.001-07:00

Apparently I've turned into one of those parents that scrambles and searches and tries everything possible to get the season's hottest toy for their kid. Because I decided that Number Four NEEEEEEEEEEDS to have a Leapfrog LeapPad for Christmas.

Except they're all sold out.

EVERYWHERE.

Except for Ebay, where you can bid against all the other parents that are scrambling and searching and trying everything possible to get one. During the past month I've bid on about 20 different Leapster LeapPads. But all the auctions are ending at DOUBLE the cost, and it's not like it's a cheap toy to begin with.

And now I'm really starting to stress out. Because what if I can't actually get Number Four a Leapfrog LeapPad?! I'm almost certain the world will stop revolving. And Christmas will be ruined. And probably angels will start plunging down from heaven because their wings will just suddenly disappear. It will be a DISASTER, I tell you!

So.

If any of you happen to have an extra Leapfrog LeapPad in your hand, that you don't want, I will buy it from you. For not double the cost. Because I am not quite that level of crazy yet (give me a couple more days).

deja vu toilets UFO starship enterprise

2011-11-29T12:45:00.001-07:00

Have you ever had deja vu, where in the middle of it you remember that in midst of the deja vu you were thinking, "I'm having deja vu" so then during the actual moment of actual deja vu you think, "I'm having deja vu about having deja vu"?

IT'S TOTALLY CONFUSING.

In other news, I ate Thanksgiving dinner last week. I know - ORIGINAL.

But then after dinner my sister came out of my mom's bathroom and was like, "Ummm, your toilet is tipping....like sideways." And then everyone discovered that the toilet was in fact attempting to fall through the floor.

So basically our Thanksgiving day turned into a Thanksgiving weekend in which Husband and my stepdad got to rip out a rotting bathroom floor and build a new one. And my kids got to annoy my mom with their constant whining, "I'm bored. I'm hungry. Do you have any other toys?" all while destroying the rest of her house with their pent up energy.

Also, we got to see a Christmas light parade on the beautiful main street of Spanish Fork, Utah. (Those of you who have been to Spanish Fork can laugh at that statement with me. HA HA HA.) And during the middle of the parade I saw a UFO. For reals. My sister saw it too, so you can check with her on the validity of actual UFO-ness, if you want.

And also, during my unexpected weekend away, I got to hang out with my grandparents while Monkey and Number Four ate all of their cookies and giggled like crazy in their kitchen. Which was probably my favorite part of the weekend. Because I really like my grandparents. Plus, while I was there my grandma threatened to hunt someone down and kill them, and I about died of AWESOME. Because she's a very petite old woman but that has never stopped her from spitting fire, and when she says stuff like that I'm reminded why I'm so happy to have her genes.

And also, while I was at my mom's house all weekend, I got to play with her big box of Classic K'nex, and I built the Starship Enterprise, and then flew it around the dining room a little bit while humming the opening song to the original Star Trek, which made my mom curse my father for passing on his love of geeky sci-fi shows.

Overall, it was a pretty good weekend. You know, except for that whole toilet-falling-through-the-floor thing.

did you know that I have an accordion?

2011-11-22T09:13:00.001-07:00

Dear Veronica, I don't know if you actually read my blog because we're those kind of friends who actually don't read each other's blogs, but in case you're reading this - this one's for you.

Once upon a time I was a senior in high school. If you'd like to get a mental picture of me being a senior in high school just remember: it was the era of ultra baggy jeans. And also my hair was really curly back then. And also I hardly ever got zits (which makes no sense because I get them all the time now).

Alright, moving on.

For Thanksgiving that year my family went to my aunt's cabin in California. We played a lot of Phase 10, which I hated, because I always lose when playing Phase 10. But I guess that's ok, because while I was there I received the coolest musical instrument EVER: an accordian.

My uncle lent me his old accordion (I say "lent" but really I've never returned it) because he knew that I was in an AP music class and also because I kind of kicked butt at playing the piano back then (even though you wouldn't be able to tell if you heard me play now) and he was excited at the prospect of his beloved accordion being played once again.

The accordion is really heavy and also it is ivory and gold, ie. MAJORLY POSH. (Sometimes I still pull it out to entertain the kids, or when my friends want me to serenade them on road trips.)

So, I learned how to play my new accordion. Except that I was sort of busy back then (I actually had a social life - I KNOW, you didn't even think it was possible because of the severe lack in social life I've had for the past 10 years), and also I've always been a big fan of "only learn what you HAVE to know" so I mostly could only play stuff like Jingle Bells and the Jurassic Park theme song.

But that didn't stop me from showing off.

For Christmas, I volunteered to accompany my friends while they sang religious carols. Away in a Manger has never sounded more spiritual than it did on my ivory and gold accordion. (I think I also wore my plaid pants that day - I have vivid memories of those plaid pants because they were tight, so basically they were my only pants that didn't fall off due to overly baggishness, and also my butt looked really good in them.)

Also, my accordion came in really handy in my AP music class. Because everyone else in the class was way smarter than me, and could play multiple instruments with precision and ease. So when we had assignments to create our own original compositions, I would always feel like a tremendous loser because I could only play the piano, and sometimes the kazoo.

BUT THEN I got the accordion.

So for the next assignment, while all of my musically talented friends were composing elaborate pieces on their violins and harps, I wrote a song for my accordion. And on the day that we performed, I played with vigor and passion - - on that day I gave life to that accordion.

Ok, not really. But I did actually compose the song, and I did actually perform it for my entire AP music genius class. And it even though it was pretty lame, it was immensely rewarding. Because on that day, I made my AP music teacher smile AND chuckle.

I'm pretty sure my AP music teacher hated all high school kids. He was the teacher that was rarely seen in the halls, and when he did venture out of his classroom everyone would flatten against the walls to clear a path for him and his "I hate all teenagers" scowl. And you never wanted to disrespect him or get in trouble in class, because he probably could shoot death rays from his eye sockets.

I guess he wasn't always like that though. Because my mom was in his elite choir group when she was in high school and he was all young and fresh, and she said that he was "a lot of fun". But then he got older and life had dealt him a whole lot of crap. And really, even in the midst of his scowling, he was a pretty amazing guy (there was an article about him and trials he had gone through with his family in the Ensign once, because he's that amazing). Plus if I had spent over 20 years teaching high school kids I'm pretty sure I'd get pretty scowly too.

BUT ON THAT DAY - the day I performed my non-award winning accordion piece - I MADE HIM SMILE. And then he chuckled. And then I passed the class and the big AP music test that gave me college credit.

So basically, my accordion is awesome.

The End.

this is about the time I ate at the best restaurant in Provo

2011-11-21T22:48:00.001-07:00

I was making myself a salad for lunch today, and all we had was that gross bag salad with the little carrot slivers in them. So then I was scrounging around in our fridge looking for ANYTHING that would make it taste better. (Because bag salad with little carrot slivers is ultra grody.) But we didn't have anything to add to it except for an almost rotten tomato and some generic croutons.

It was not a good salad.

So then I had to just pretend that I was eating this:

"This" being one of the amazing and tantalizingly yummiscious things I ate at La Jolla Groves the other day. Do you so those white things? Under the green leaves? On top of the tomatoes? THAT'S CHEESE. And it was super yum. I like cheese.

And then I ate even more cheese when I had some of this:

And then I ate lots and lots more really good food. And guess what? It was all HEALTHY. Seriously. I didn't even feel guilty as I was stuffing my face with all that deliciousness.

So basically, La Jolla Groves (which is a restaurant in Provo) pretty much spoiled me for ever and ever, and now when I have to gag down bag salad with little carrot slivers in it my taste buds feel majorly jipped. Because I've had a taste of real live food, cooked by a real live executive chef, who wears a real live chef hat.

See?

That's an executive chef hat. (And under the hat is an executive chef. And he's really nice. And his food tastes like the clouds parted and then angels threw food of perfection from heaven that lands on plates with gorgeously arranged accuracy. His food is seriously really GOOD. And you can only get it at La Jolla Groves in Provo. SO GO GET SOME, RIGHT NOW.)

And you can have this for dessert:

If that doesn't look like food thrown from heaven by an angel, I don't know what does.

La Jolla Groves compensated me for writing this with free lunch from heaven, and also they treated me like I was really important, which has never happened at a restaurant before, and I LIKED IT. All the amazing photos were provided by Bryce Olsen Photography.

P.S. I promise to write a normal blog post eventually someday. I've been sort of busy freaking out about not having Christmas presents. But I PROMISE to not write sponsored posts for the rest of existence.

toy store heaven (also known as Blickenstaff's)

2011-11-17T18:00:00.000-07:00

Does it seem like Christmas is coming really really fast this year? (As apposed to previous years where it only came really fast, and not really really fast?) Usually by this time of year I've cemented and possibly purchased the toys Santa will leave under our tree, but this year has been slightly stumping.

Which is one of the reasons why I really liked spending time at Blickenstaff's last saturday. Because Blickenstaff's is toy heaven. And I turn into a great big kid when confronted with toy heaven. Because toys are really fun.

If you don't already know, Blickenstaff's is a Utah toy store that has cool vintage toys and candy and modern toys and did I mention candy? (THEY HAVE A WALL OF CANDY.) And the staff there will tell you all about the toys and then they'll let you touch everything and even play with the toys, if you want to. And it's really hard to fight the urge to play when the place looks like this:

So basically, I got lots of Christmas toy ideas while I was there. (And also I bought some slap watches for my Two Bits and Opie - shhhh, don't tell them.) And also I won the game Banagrams, which was super awesome. And I also ate some of their candy. Which was also awesome.

But what I really REEEEEEEALLY want to get is the big ride on toy (it's big, it has pedals, I died of awesome when I saw it) that Blickenstaff's is giving away during the Lighting of the Riverwoods event tomorrow evening.

I'm obligated to tell you to come to The Shops at Riverwoods in Provo, tomorrow, November 18th, from 6-9 PM for their Christmas lighting event - BUT IF YOU SHOW UP AND WIN THE BIG RIDING TOY FROM BLICKENSTAFF'S INSTEAD OF ME, I WI LL HUNT YOU DOWN AND BEAT YOU UNTIL YOU GIVE THE TOY TO ME, AND ALSO YOU'LL HAVE TO PAY ME $500 JUST BECAUSE.

So now that we're clear on that, check out these cute monsters:

They're adorable, right?

And just because I feel like you're not really believing me about this whole "wall of candy" thing, LOOK:

See, I'm no liar.

And just because I want to end this post on a Christmas-y note, check out these thick candy canes (I love them):

Blickenstaff's compensated me for writing this with free candy and awesomeness, and also I got smell their giant gingerbread house. All the amazing photos were provided by Bryce Olsen Photography.

the saga of the portable heater

2011-11-14T22:01:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, or more specifically, tonight, I pulled out a small portable heater for the children's room. Because it's in the basement and basements get cold.

And I said, "Children, don't touch this heater, and don't get near this heater, and don't put your toys or papers or anything by this heater."

But when the children hear "don't touch this" they automatically think, "sweet, I'm going to go touch that". So I had to instill the proper amount of fear in them so that the heater wouldn't be played with (which is called "good parenting" in some cultures, possibly).

And I said, "If you touch this heater, or put things in it or near it, it will start a fire and burn down our house. Or you will get burned and it will hurt. A lot."

Except that Opie took my much too seriously. Which tends to happen. Frequently. And Opie is very very talented in the way of freaking out. Like, the other day, he had a fingernail that needed trimmed. And usually we don't have to trim his nails because he chews them. Because he's a person of the nervous sort, and chewing fingernails kind of falls into that category sometimes. But this particular fingernail was on his broken pinky finger, so it was wrapped up for a month and didn't get chewed off. Hence, the needed trimming. But Opie was afraid that we'd accidentally chop off his finger or something, even though we were only using baby nail scissors. And he wouldn't let us get near his finger. So then Husband had to grab him and put him in a headlock. And then I had to trap his legs so he couldn't kick out of it. And then we had to pin his arms so that they couldn't move. And THEN we were able to trim his pinky fingernail. And you would not believe the amount of screaming and time that involved. Because Opie is VERY VERY talented in the way of freaking out.

So when Opie heard, "You will burn the house down", he started thinking about his toys going up in an inferno, and then he started freaking out about it. Loudly. So we checked the smoke detector to show him that we would know if there was a fire and be able to save his toys. But when the smoke detector did it's "we're checking you" beep Opie decided that it was phenomenally scary.

And since Opie was screaming and crying and carrying on, that made Monkey start screaming and crying and carrying on. And then Number Four started screaming and crying and carrying on. And there was a lot of screaming and crying and carrying on.

So Husband and I stayed downstairs trying to descarify the children for about 15 minutes. But when we turned the light off and came up stairs, guess what?

SCREAMING AND CRYING AND CARRYING ON. And it just wouldn't stop.

So then I had to go back down the stairs. And I had to turn on the light. And I had to have all the children get out of bed to check out the "scary" portable heater and look inside of it, and touch the "scary" lights on the top of it, and also I had to go into great detail on how it worked and why it would not in fact burn the house down.

And then, Monkey tried to put his finger in it. Where the fan was. So then I had to go into great detail about how we never put our fingers in a fan. Then Monkey says, "But I can put my face in it and talk funny." And then I had have an in depth conversation about never putting our tongues in a fan. Or our toes. Or our hair. Or our toys. Or our bums. (You never know what Monkey will decide to stick in a fan, so we covered pretty much everything.)

Then, FINALLY, I made the children get back in their beds and I attempted to turn off the light.

BUT THEN

The children were horribly afraid of the smoke detector going off. Because IT BEEPS and it's SCARY. So I showed them how I could stand underneath it, and it wouldn't beep. And then I showed them how if I walked past it over and over it wouldn't beep. And then I showed them that I could jump under it and wouldn't beep. And it wouldn't beep if I waved my arms, or yelled at it, or put a toy by it, or looked at it, or thought about it from across the room.

And then I turned the light off.

But Number Four was still not convinced. And I was out of ideas. So I rocked her like a baby in the rocking chair. For about 5 minutes. Except that Monkey thinks he is Number Four's twin, so if she gets rocked like a baby, then so does he. So I rocked him for about 5 minutes.

And just when it was looking like everyone had FINALLY calmed down and was going to sleep, Opie says, "If my favorite toy got burned up in a fire, I would be really sad."

AND ALL OF THAT WORK WAS UNDONE. All the rocking and the jumping and the explaining and the 45 minutes of effort - WORTHLESS.

Until I outsmarted them all and brought up Santa. And then they were all so excited to tell me what toys they wanted for Christmas I was able to slip out of there in no time. Which really makes me wish I would have thought about bringing up Santa in the first place.

And who cares that I sort of promised them a pony and 3 puppies on Christmas day - THEY'RE ASLEEP NOW, and that's all that matters.

The End.

you have to pop your head up here. POP

2011-11-10T22:03:00.001-07:00

I just sat my husband down, and looked at him as seriously as possible, and said, "I want lots of money. So you need to figure out how to supply me with cash, RIGHT NOW."

AND HE LAUGHED.

Except that I wasn't even joking. At all.

I should have married a brain surgeon. They make lots of money.

Wait. Scratch that. Brain surgeons have to go through lots of expensive medical school, and they also have to, like, work. And stuff.

I should have married someone independently wealthy that inherited his billions of dollars from the death of an obscure relative.

If only I had a time machine.

Or access to an alternate realty.

Or just lots of money of my own.

IN OTHER NEWS....

Last spring, when we first got our ipad, my kids kept secretly recording videos of themselves. And while I think multiple movie clips of sustained farting noises are as hilarious as the next fully grown adult female (which basically means they're not really that funny) I had to delete most of the videos. But there was one that we all find to be particularly hilarious.

Probably because there are no farting noises at all in this one. And the angle is great, because they just sat the ipad on a chair so the camera was pointed up their noses the whole time. And also, do you see how my old house had vaulted ceilings? (I still miss my old house.....sniff.)

So, yeah, here you go - a video of my children's secret recording session:

the time that Johnny Depp showered at my house

2011-11-05T20:37:00.000-06:00

I never told you guys something awesome that I did. Well, sort of awesome.....ish.

It's no secret that my fear of psycho-stalker-rapist-killers hiding behind a shower curtain runs deep in my veins. I don't like my shower curtain to be closed EVER. (Unless someone is coming over and I haven't cleaned my tub and I don't want them to see my mildew or whatever, and then I'll pull it closed to hide the tub, and then I'll open it back up the second they're gone, and while someone is over and it's closed and I have to use the bathroom I absolutely have to check behind the shower curtain before using the toilet, and in fact, I will check behind someone else's shower curtain before I use the bathroom if I'm at their house and their shower curtain is closed.)

Husband thinks this is lunacy.

Except that it's NOT. I'm sure psycho-stalker-rapist-killers hide behind shower curtains ALL THE TIME.

So, to prove my point on how scary it would be to find a psycho-stalker-rapist-killer in the bathroom behind the shower curtain, one night I took my life size Johnny Depp/Captain Jack Sparrow cardboard cut out and put him in the tub. And I positioned him so that when Husband woke up the next morning, and he went to turn on the water, he would first see the sword wielding pirate and hopefully pee himself. And after Johnny Depp/Captain Jack Sparrow was positioned perfectly I, of course, closed the shower curtain so that he was hiding sufficiently until morning.

It looked like this (actually it looked like this BEFORE I closed the curtain):

(sorry, grainy iphone picture. also, this was back in like April, before my husband was gone for two months and before we moved and before I was all boring and surgery-ish.)

So, the next morning, I expected Husband to scream like a little girl and stuff, right? I was all sorts of excited about it. But when the time came, Husband didn't even make a noise. And he just took Johnny Depp/Captain Jack Sparrow out of the tub and took his shower.

It was totally a buzz kill.

But he never actually told me if he peed himself. Probably because he was too embarrassed for being that scared of something behind a shower curtain.

KIDS (this one's for you, mom)

2011-11-03T22:56:00.000-06:00

I can tell that Monkey is my son.

He looks mucho a lot-o like his dad. Except for his ears, we're not really sure where they came from,or his lack in booty. Because if it's one thing we do well here, it's growing big booties. All of us except for Monkey. He's practically booty-less. So his pants fall down constantly, and he doesn't care so much to pull them back up.

BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT.

I know that Monkey is my son because the other day I wanted him to run downstairs and get something. Downstairs is the kids' room, and they have a big tv down there that's not really hooked up to anything, so they only frequently watch movies on it. But it's there, nonetheless.

And when I said, "Yo Monkey, go downstairs and get that thing."

Monkey said, "NOOOOOOOO!"

So then I said, "Why not? Just run. Go. Do it now."

And he said, "I don't want to. It's scary."

And I said, "Why is it scary?"

And he said, "If I go down there, the tv will turn on all by itself and scare me."

And then I led an inquisition into who told my precious 4 year old that the tv would turn on by itself. And then I found out that no one had told him, he was just afraid that it might happen, JUST BECAUSE.

And that's how I know he's MY son.

I can't even walk past a tv without thinking about that girl from The Ring.

Also, while we're on the topic of my Monkey son; I was working on the computer today and he came into the room with a crayon and coloring book.

And then he said, "I brought you this picture to color!"

And I said, "Oh really?"

And he said, "Yeah! You color this picture while I play games on the 'puter!!"

And I said, "You just want me to get off the computer so you can play games."

And he said, "See?! You can color like this! On your own picture!!"

And I said, "So I color, and you play games?"

And then he got all big and grinny and said, "Yup!"

So then I let him play the computer. That kid LOVES his computer games. Except that I never colored in his book, which is ok, because he colored that page later anyway.

And now I will unceremoniously end this post with a bunch of random pictures from my memory card that I politely labelled so no one would get confused as to their content:

THE END.

pfffft-lloween

2011-10-31T14:19:00.000-06:00

Oh, Halloween. You're so.......not as much fun this year.

The proof:

1) I didn't even hang our decorations this year. Because, you know, meh.

2) Nobody gets a new costume. Usually everyone gets a new one. This year we're doing repeats.

3) We have craptastic candy. Because Husband picked it this year instead of me. Usually I at least get those big cheap bags with tootsie roll stuff in them. Actually, I didn't know there was anything cheaper than those big bags with tootsie roll stuff. Apparently there is. And that's what we're handing out this year.

4) No church trunk-or-treat. Which means we have to actually walk door to door and do regular trick-or-treating if we want candy. Which is a pain. I LIKE TO BE LAZY.

5) The weather can't decide if it's cold or warm. Make up your mind, weather. I need to know how many layers to throw on my kids so we can NOT be lazy and walk door to door.

6) I think Halloween is amplifying the evil spirits that dwell inside of me. And I don't even need a witch costume to be mean and cackle-y. And don't even cross me, because I will so Avada Kadavra your butt.

7) MEH. pffffft.

don't even say the word "cantaloupe" unless you want me to start bawling right now

2011-10-25T14:05:00.000-06:00

Every once in awhile my stone cold heart betrays me. Usually I can keep a pretty steady demeanor of unaffected "whatever"ness when it comes to things like crying and.....ok, pretty much just crying.

Because crying is evil and I hate doing it.

Then I'll suddenly have a day when my extra womanly hormones kick in, or my "not enough sleep" meter fills up, or the evil fairies of crying torture find me and then EVERYTHING makes me tear up. And it's super obnoxious.

This morning I was trying to answer emails, and Monkey wanted to play this game he created where every time I say "slugger monkey" he jumps on his hands and knees around the room. Except he could only jump once for each time I said it. And saying "slugger monkey" every half second while trying to type emails got old pretty fast so I put on my super excited face and said, "Let's listen to music and you can dance!" So then I turned on pandora and the third song was Child of Mine by Guns n Roses, which reminded me of this video. So then we had to watch the video a couple times, and I almost started bawling because Monkey is so freakin' adorable.

And then a puppy was born somewhere in the world and it made me want to cry some more.

And then I had to put a new roll of toilet paper on the toilet paper hangy thingy and I had to use some to wipe my nose from the quiet crying it caused.

And then I heard a unicorn fart and I could hardly contain my sobbing.

It's so obnoxious.

robots, zombies, and hint of aliens on the side

2011-10-23T00:39:00.000-06:00

I've been watching a lot of sci-fi during the past week and a half. (Basically, my ipad and netflix have been my constant companions.) And there's just one thing that I really have to ask: Why are we building robots?!

(I'm looking at you, Japan.)

I think it's pretty clear by now that if humans are ever going to be overthrown as the dominate power on this planet it's going to happen at the hands of ROBOTS.

Sure, they start as simple machines. But then we have to make them look more like people, and then we give them personalities, and then eventually along the robotic evolutionary path they start becoming self-aware, and then the next thing you know they realize that they are stronger, smarter and just plain more awesome than human beings, and THERE GOES THE HUMAN RACE.

It's all so obvious. Otherwise they wouldn't have so many shows about it. Plus also, it just makes sense. So stop making robots (Japan), because I like being the dominate power on this planet.

ALSO

My husband came home raving about some show "the guys at work" have been talking about. And what do you know - it's on netflix too. You might have heard of it: The Walking Dead.

Apparently lots of people like it. And it's about zombies.

I'm a pretty big fan of scary stuff. Ghosts, OF COURSE. Aliens, you bet. Witches, werewolves and vampires, sure, if nothing else is on. But zombies? I HATE ZOMBIES.

I really really really hate zombies.

I didn't understand my deep loathing of zombies until I started watching that show either. I mean, I always try to avoid zombies whenever possible. But I thought it was because I actually just thought they were stupid. NOPE. They are, in fact, super super scary. SUPER SCARY, I TELL YOU.

I could only watch the first 2 episodes, and then I had to go back in my room and watch some more sci-fi on my ipad.

Because I find aliens to be extremely calming after being subjected to zombies.

But even 3 episodes of Stargate Atlantis couldn't wipe my mind of all those horrible zombie thoughts. So when it was time for bed I couldn't actually fall asleep. And I just laid there. (On my back, all uncomfortable-like, since I still can't sleep on my side.)

And then, of course, it was the night that all the kids decided to wake up 50 times for various reasons. Except they don't come right into our room, or wake up screaming like they used to. Oh no, they have to walk slowly through the kitchen and then creep down the hall, scuffling their little feet, making as many ZOMBIE NOISES as possible.

So our night pretty much went like this:

kids: scuffle, scuffle, "nnnngnnnnnn."

me: punch, "Wake up, there's a zombie in the kitchen."

husband: "OW, it's probably just one of the kids."

me: "No, it's a ZOMBIE. Go smash it's brains."

husband: "I don't appreciate being woken up every half hour for the same thing. There are NO zombies, it's just one of the kids."

me: "Shut up, it's only been 5 minutes. Go smash the zombie's brains now."

I hardly got any sleep because of this. Stupid zombies.

the post-surgery post

2011-10-22T02:08:00.000-06:00

You know when you can't laugh, because you know it will cause excruciating pain, but then something hilarious happens and you keep telling yourself, "don't laugh, don't laugh, GAH, DON'T LAUGH", until your body betrays you and you let out one really huge guffaw, and then you die in excrutiating pain?

I HATE THAT.

So, I survived surgery.

Before the actual surgery the dr was all, "oh, THAT little hernia that has been causing you large quantities of pain for over 3 years? So not a big deal, the surgery is a piece of cake." (And this was after he killed me, as explained previously by way of cartoons.)

Then, after the surgery, the dr was all, "yeah, you had the most painful lapriscopic surgery possible, which requires 9 incisions and a 6x6 inch piece of mesh, so, like I said before, piece of cake."

AND

He knew all along that I would be having "the most painful lapriscopic surgery", from the very beginning. But did he warn me? OH NO HE DID NOT.

Why do drs do that anyway? My eye dr was like that too. He was all, "you can probably be out driving and acting normal the very next day!" And then I suffered from vampire-glass-shard-blind-eyeball for 3 weeks after each surgery.

Stupid lying drs anyway.

Also, I've come to the realization that my tolerance for pain isn't as high as I thought it was. Except that I blame it all on my last ten years of hurtful agony. I swear, the second I became an official adult it's just been one painful thing after another.

Is that normal?

Probably.

In any case, just thought you should know, I survived surgery but I still die a little every time I sneeze, cough, or chuckle.

Oh, and I still can't sleep on my side, which is annoying.

And also, the painkillers weren't even fun this time.

And now that's all.

I think.

The end.

the pre-surgery post

2011-10-10T15:32:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow, at noon, I will be carved like a turkey.

Ok, FINE, it's just laparoscopic surgery, BUT STILL.

I'm not really excited for it to happen. Not because the idea of surgery really scares me. This will be the 11th surgery I've had - at this point, surgery is just kind of annoying. (Well, at least THIS surgery is. My eyeball surgeries were really painful, so yeah, those were moved beyond annoying and into NEVER AGAIN.)

The most annoying thing about having surgery is stuff like being forced to wear a hospital gown and not being allowed a bra. Because I guess it's easier to resuscitate someone during surgery when their boobs are all flopping around. Or something.

And they tell you not to wear stuff like mascara or deodorant. Which is really lame. They won't be anywhere near my eyelashes or armpits on this one, so I'm totally wearing both. And I might even have on eyeliner. And chapstick. Because I'm a huge chapstick wearing rebel. And what are they going to do? Like they're going to say, "I'm sorry, we cannot perform your surgery because your deodorant is preventing the lovely BO aroma we like to have in the operating room at all times."? I seriously doubt it. (Except when I had my eyeball surgeries they did actually tell me they'd turn me away if I was wearing makeup, and I pretty much believed them, because they were kind of mean.)

My sister asked me on saturday if I was "excited for surgery". And I said, "No, but I am excited for the pain killers I'll get after the surgery." And then she looked at me like I was either crazy or that I lead a sad sad life where the only things I get to look forward to are pain killers after surgery. And she's pretty much right. On both accounts.

On a far less depressing subject - I think Cereal (our pet praying mantis) is THIS CLOSE to death.

IT'S ABOUT TIME.

He keeps trying to climb the walls of his bug habitat but he can't seem to manage it so instead he just keeps clawing at it making really high pitched scraping noises. Kind of like miniature fingernails on a chalkboard. It's majorly obnoxious, and no matter how many times I glare at him he won't stop.

Except that now we think that Cereal has been a girl the entire time. Because his/her/it's butt has gotten MASSIVE. So either, she's going to lay eggs before she croaks, or he ate waaaaaay too many crickets and is dying from morbid obesity.

Whatever the cause, I'm rehearsing for when the actual event takes place by singing, "Ding Dong Cereal is dead" and dancing around in a Munchkin-like fashion. I just can't decide if I want to be in the Lollipop Gang or that fluffy girly group that I can't remember the name of....

Um, I'm just going to keep typing stuff now.

Opie keeps telling me about this boy at school that he likes to hang out with. And he tells me that this boy's name is Santoskitten. One word. And yes, they call him Santoskitten. Or so Opie says. So either Opie has been calling this kid something that is obviously not a real name, or Santoskitten is imaginary.

And Monkey just informed me that if I really loved him, like I say I do, I would let him do whatever he wanted. Like play computer games all day. So I guess I'll stop typing now and let him play the computer.

mostly about eyes, kind of

2011-10-06T11:23:00.000-06:00

I think about worms a lot. When I was in jr high we had a parasitical worm section and my biology teacher was slightly, um, memorable. (He was a total weirdo.) And he told us all about how everyone has worms because they're so easy to get. And how he's seen doctors remove little kids eyeballs because they thought they saw a tumor in there, but it turned out just to be a worm.

It was majorly creepy. So now I'm constantly worried that I have worms. And everytime I have an eyebooger I'm like, "aaaaah, is it a worm?!" But I'm hoping that with as often as doctors look at my eyeballs they'd be able to tell if there was a worm in there by now. (And I'm just going to ignore the other 500 places in a human body that a worm can hide, so don't even mention it ok?)

switching gears now

You know what I think is annoying? (Besides the obvious things like claw bangs and Bob Saget.) On tv or movies when someone is trying to be really covert by signaling to someone else and they do some kind of facial expression or eye movements or something but really they're being totally obvious. And yet NO ONE else notices except for that someone else that is being "covertly" signaled.

Or when on tv or in movies some people are having a secret meeting in public or sneaking around or whatever, and they're trying to "blend in" yet they act like completely huge paranoid freaks. Except, once again, NO ONE notices.

It's just lame.

ok, switching gears again

I've combined forces with Caroline to take over the world via craft tutorials and printables. So you'll have to check out, love, follow and read our blog often. Because we're going to need everyone's full cooperation to meet our 6 month world domination goal.

And also because I posted a tutorial on this today:

It has eyeballs on it! And they're not even infested with worms.....just spiders.

the cranky recluse

2011-10-04T09:19:00.000-06:00

I have hermit-ish tendencies. Or more aptly put, I NEVER LEAVE MY HOUSE.

At first it was my kids' fault. Because for years I had little tiny kids that were a major pain in the butt to take anywhere. Just the thought of getting in the car was enough of a deterrent. I always had to plan an extra 7-12 minutes for each time I had to buckle all of them in their carseats. And how often is it that you just need to go one place when you're out? NEVER. So there would be the whole, buckle, unbuckle, buckle, unbuckle, buckle, unbuckle routine until I was so tired of seatbelts I never wanted to get in a car again.

I used to be able to leave in the evenings though. And run away for awhile to exotic places like the library or Shopko. And I only had to worry about buckling myself in. And I could play really loud hard rock in the car without having to worry about damaging baby psychies or eardrums. And it sort of kept me from being so much of a hermit that my neighbors forgot what I looked like.

And then my eyes broke. And going anywhere past dusk was out of the question. I mean, I COULD go out. But I'm not really a fan of near death experiences on the freeway and stuff. So you know, I just wouldn't go out. And leaving the house during the day meant the whole, buckling unbuckling thing still. Plus my kids had reached the stage of "Buy me that! Why aren't we going to McDonalds? I want to run freely through the aisles!! WHEEEEEE!" so it's not like they were a load of good times outside of the house.

But then glorious school happened. And for a couple hours during the day I would only have half or NONE of the kids home. So leaving the house became so much easier. Except that I realized I didn't really have anywhere to go besides the grocery store. But still, I had the OPTION of going out. If I felt like it.

And then we moved here. And Husband's car died. And so he takes mine to work every day. And I only get it when I have to go get tortured at doctor's offices. And besides, even if I had a car I would just get lost in it. Because I do that. Frequently. And it's gotten to the point where even walking out of our door is like, "AAAAAAAH, SUNLIGHT! I'm melting......"

I think this is why I'm so cranky all the time.

cartoons of me dying by the hands of Dr. Satan

2011-09-28T23:44:00.000-06:00

I am writing from my deathbed, also known as my couch.

I went to a dr today, and he pretty much, sort of, really, kind of, KILLED ME. (With excruciating pain and torment. I think he might be Satan.)

So, to backtrack, I've been ignoring something for about, oh, 3 1/2 years. Partly because before Husband got his new job we had the worst health insurance EVER. And partly because I had to fix my eyes first. And partly because I was hoping that if I ignored it long enough, it would just GO AWAY. Like magic. Or a stray dog.

But no.

Pretty much it's just gotten worse. And worse. And really super worse. And basically my whole abdominal region is thoroughly messed up. Probably I'm the champion at messed up abdominals. I should really get a medal or trophy or something. Instead, all I've gotten is pain, sickness, pain, more sickness, pain, pain and mostly a whole lot of pain.

And the past few-ish months it's gotten to the point where life pretty much sucks the big rocks. And I don't even like to move my body. Or think about moving my body. Or think about thinking about moving my body. And then, when I actually have to move my body (which happens on most days) I find myself in super mega pain, and want to murder puppies and strangle unicorns and then die. And stuff.

So I saw a surgeon today, because most of the pain is being caused by a hugely ginormous hernia right in the middle of my stomach that has a wad of unprotected intestines protruding from it in a massively vulnerable state (medical TMI, I know). So the surgeon needs to fix that, so I can go on fixing other crap that needs fixing until one day I'm a normal human being again.

AND NOW I've drawn helpful illustrations to chronicle the rest of my day (because while on my deathbed I was perusing hyperbole and a half, which I haven't done in awhile, which is sad because it's hilarious, and also which always inspires me to draw my own pictures).

First the doctor wanted to make sure he had the right spot.

He may or may not have been using his elbow, sprouted horns and/or called up hellfire. I'm not really sure because first I was blacking out from the pain and then my natural "fight or flight" instincts started kicking in.

Except, in real life, the pain was just too much. I couldn't even get my sword out, or kick him, or anything, because I was too busy doing this:

And then I had to crawl ALL THE WAY back to my car (which was really far because I couldn't find any parking spaces anywhere remotely close to the building).

And then when I got home I put on my comfy pants (which are actually the pants I wear all the time, unless I have to leave my house, since leaving my house requires real pants). And the rest of the day I've been on my deathbed (couch) doing this:

And this:

And, you know, perusing Hyperbole and a Half and then drawing pictures on my ipad. But mostly, I've just been dying.

ALSO, it's really comforting to know that Dr. Satan will be cutting open my innards in two weeks. I'll probably wake up impregnated with devlish spawn embryos that, upon returning home, will burst out of my chest like in the movie Aliens.

doors, pinkies, shards of glass

2011-09-27T15:46:00.000-06:00

I've often wished I could have a mechanical pocket door that slides closed when I push a button. Actually a few of those doors. That way I can put them on my kids's bedrooms (someday when we don't live in this house and they actually have bedrooms anyway) so that I can stand all scary looking outside the door and say something authoritative like, "you will clean this room" or "you're grounded" and then push the button, and the door will slide closed while I'm still looking all scary. And maybe I'll do an evil laugh or make my eyes glow or something. And then, of course, the doors would automatically lock upon closing so my kids would HAVE to do what I tell them before they can get out. Because I would be the only one with the door opening codes. And then all their crap would be cleaned up. And it would be great.

We signed Opie up for flag football. And then I forgot about orientation until it was already over. (In my defense I was all fire-throat-y that day, so my brain shouldn't have to be required to remember things at the same time it's thinking, "ouch, ouch, ouch, need to swallow, ouch".) And since his first game is tomorrow we thought it would be a good idea for him to learn the rules of flag football. So Husband took him into the back yard saturday evening and taught him.

And then THIS happened:

THIS would be a broken pinky finger (and a safety pop in his mouth). We found out today that he'll need it splinted for 3 weeks and buddy-wrapped for another week. FOUR WEEKS. To heal a broken pinky finger.

Honestly, it's a little bit lame that the first broken bone I have to deal with as a parent is a pinky finger. I mean, not that I would rather he have random broken bones protruding from his body or anything. Just that a broken pinky is......annoying. You know? But in four weeks, he should be ship shape and fracture free. And he did get that safety pop out of the deal, so you know, there's a plus.

Right before I took Opie's picture something really horribly terrible happened - I dropped my iphone on the concrete and the screen shattered. And now when I try to use it, shards of glass (is it really glass?) jab into my fingers. So I'm thinking that talking on the phone is now O-U-T. Which is ok, since I'm not a big phone talker anyway, but I really want to play with my apps! I MISS THEM.

There's my Pinterest app that I use at every available moment. And I'm not done breeding my Pocket Frogs. And I can't even browse Ebay or Craigslist on a whim. And I just expanded an establishment in my latest app procurement, Pet Hotel, so now how am I even supposed to collect coins from all the animals? Not to mention, I can no longer write emails from the bathroom (Caroline, I added this one for you, because I know how much you love it when people communicate from the toilet).

So anyways, long story short, we're doing super fabulous here. You know, if you consider a lack in self-closing doors and broken bones and shattered screens to be fabulous.

boop boop, bleep, whirrrrrr, ding

2011-09-22T11:16:00.000-06:00

I think life would be easier if I were a robot. But not like one of those ugly metal things with a monotone digital voice. I think I would still want to look human but with perfect robot abs and perfect robot hair and perfect perky robot boobs and other perfect robot parts (like elbows). That still look human.

And I would have to be programmed to blink, because things look really creepy when they don't blink, and I would want to CHOOSE when to look creepy, not have it be constant. You know?

If I were a robot, I would never get sore throats. That would have been appreciated this week, let me tell you. Sore throats are horrible, because I can't even yell at my kids or make sound effects or anything. And robots are excellent at sound effects, plus also, I would have a volume control so I could yell loud enough to shake the neighbor's windows.

And the volume control would come in really handy when my kids are doing their own yelling. If you look back in my archives I used to call Opie "Screamer" because he is so very good at screaming. Number Four also has many screaming talents. All of my kids are good at it, really. But Opie and Number Four PRACTICE screaming.

You think I'm kidding, don't you?

I'm not kidding, Opie and Number Four will get into (daily) screaming tantrums and change the pitch and tone of their scream to find the absolutely most annoying sound possible. Because the point of their (daily) screaming tantrums is to get whatever they want when I say no to things like more than 5 marshmallows or making them put their own socks away or enforcing the "no kicking your sister in the teeth" rule. They really hate it when I move on with life instead of giving in. So they scream. Then the practicing starts up. And then they find that perfect annoying combination of pitch, tone and volume. And then my head explodes.

If I were a robot, my head would never explode. Because I would just turn down the volume on my ears and then my kids could scream their little lungs out over things like marshmallows and socks, and I could make dinner in peace.

I would invent a second robot to do all the laundry, if I were a robot. Because robots are smart, and they know how to make other robots. And my laundry robot would be THE BEST. And I would even make it starch Husbands jeans, because I hear that good laundry robots do that. And maybe the laundry robot would clean the bathrooms when it wasn't busy with the laundry.

Except that the laundry robot would be the ugly metal kind because I wouldn't want it to steal away my husband with it's promises of starched jeans and clean toilets.

If I were a robot, I wouldn't have to sleep. Sure I'd have to plug myself in sometimes. But only like every other thursday or something. For about 2 hours. And can you imagine all the crap I could get done with all my free time? I could put my plans of world domination into effect AND watch all the Netflix I wanted.

I think I would like to be a robot kind of like Inspector Gadget. Not the part where he's really stupid, just all the gadgets. Like when the lawn needs mowed, I would just stick out my arm and it would turn into a lawnmower and I would use my super speed to cut all the grass in under 15 seconds.

Or when my kids need to go to school, I wouldn't even need a car because I could just have a propeller come out of the top of my head and a basket lower from my butt and the kids would hop in and I would fly them wherever they needed to be.

And also, I think I would want to have an internal replicator so that if we needed something I would just think about it, and then I would push on my belly button and my stomach would pop open like a microwave door and the thing we needed would be sitting in my hollow innards. Except, if the thing we needed was like a car or something, I wouldn't want to replicate it because that would make me look really fat, walking around with a Porsche in my gut. And if I were a robot, I would never ever look fat. Ever.

If I were a robot, I would be programmed with the right emotional responses. So if someone told a joke, I would laugh automatically, and everyone would want to be my friend because apparently people like to have their jokes laughed at.

And if a kitten sneezed, I would automatically say, "awwwww," and think it was adorable.

And if someone made me mad I would automatically punch them, and then I'd say, "I'm sorry, that is my automated response, consider this your warning."

But I wouldn't have any sad emotions programmed in. And I wouldn't even own tear ducts, because they would probably destroy my positronic matrix or something.

There are so many more good things about being a robot. Stuff like having extra eyeballs or an infallible memory of every stupid thing other people say. But, sadly, I am not a robot, so I have to do my own laundry and lock myself in the bathroom when my kids scream and waste my time sleeping. So I think I'm going to go cry about it now, since I don't even have a positronic anything to mess up.