Shiner Circus

the closest we'll get to famous. we've already achieved infamous.

2012-05-01T22:53:00.000-06:00

So, my husband has some nice little perks with his job, one of them being that we got tickets to the AM Sunday session of General Conference on the lowest level of the Conference Center. Pretty cool. Huge step up from the highest seats in the balcony.

We took my daughter and her friend who of course needed drinks and to expel wiggles halfway through and I elected to uh, sacrifice some listening time to take them. We wandered around for half an hour. Apparently that's when the photographers are out in full force.

Go check pg. 78 of your Ensigns.

Yes, that would be my baby.

How awesome is that? So the lesson that we learned is to cut out of listening to talks and wander around the massive lobby and go up and down the stairs and make sure our socks are pulled up all the way (so we don't look like one of those old ladies whose nylon holder uppers aren't working) or that we do have leggings that go with our outfit of we would but dig in our drawer or our pregnant brain dead mother would remember we own any.

I guess there are some high times to having kids.

They don't last long enough though.

Like today with my two youngest.

We've been considering spending a few thousand dollars to have fencing and gates installed to keep the Rocker in and hopefully some of the lazier full-of-crap-they-feel-the-need-to-deposit-in-anyone's-yard-but-their-own cats out, but I think we should save our money. They did a repeat of last summer. Popped the screens out of the front living room windows and climbed from the couch to the bench on the porch and ran off, taking the screens with them. (Who does that? My weirdo kids, that's who.)

Yeah and the screens are damaged.

Boys destroy everything.

It's not always worth saving gas.

2012-04-12T23:11:00.000-06:00

That can be taken two ways.

But this time I'm referring to the kind we pay through the nose for in our vehicular transports.

My children have no concept of the other kind. Well, at least the holding it in when it'd be better not to release part.

Remember how I have problems at Costco? After tonight, I'm never taking my children there again.

Let me back up.

The plan for today:

Take all four kids to Salt Lake, pick up the husband from work on the way to doctor appointment where he drops me off, I see the how fat I've gotten, the midwife measures the always-moving-yet-another-boy baby. Then my dad picks me up and I take him to the airport. To save gas and an extra trip to Bountiful, I stop at Costco on the way home. In the meantime, the husband has taken the children home so they can eat normal food dinner and do homework.

What really happened:

Take all four kids to Salt Lake. Luckily grab shoes for the Rocker who has bedhead and is in holey sweats. Should have grabbed a jacket for the S-man who thought he could wear shorts and a t-shirt even though the temperature is over twenty degrees cooler than yesterday and it's raining. At least I get him to wear rain boots that cover most of his exposed legs. Don't take the diaper bag despite looking at it twice thinking of taking it just in case.

We're running late.

Surprise.

It's raining hard so people are going 60 in the fast lane and visibility is crap.

I call my husband at the usual time to tell him to leave his office and get to the pick up spot. No answer. Get to the spot, and no husband. Wait ten minutes calling his office and getting his voicemail. Actually try calling home but no way did he go there right? Finally get a call from home. Now almost fifteen minutes late for my appointment, which is also the last for the day and people want to go home. By now, the kids are restless and I'm, let's say, disgruntled.

"Guess what I forgot?"

"You're a dead man."

"Where are you?" Actually sounding incredulous.

Slightly hysterically screeching and ripping out of the pull out, "In front of your office!"

Can't remember much of what else I said but I was ticked. Meanwhile husband calls my dad (who is already in SL) to apprise him of the new turn of events.

Not happy with husband.

I almost gave up going to the appointment, but after making the effort to get to Salt Lake, I went anyway. With all four kids. Thank heavens for strollers to keep the sprinting escapee Rocker in check.

As soon as we get out of the car. All the kids instantly have to go to the bathroom immediately. Well, don't know about Rock, but he was taken care of. There's dancing and parts holding to boot.

We race in, and I hurry them to the bathrooms in the back that I'm sure are not oft frequented my minions with sketchy aim. Luckily the toilet bowls there are enormous. Have high blood pressure (you think?!). Make it through appointment with relatively good behavior because of two kid books in the room, yet the fetus is kicking the midwife the whole time and Mr Destructo lets the Rocker out of the stroller. I start eagerly anticipating the battle to get the freakishly strong R back in. Towards the end while I'm talking to her, Dad calls, says he'll go home to get the husband (whose car is at the shop), and Mr Destructo announces he's done and walks out of the exam room. S-man and the Rocker follow and Lex follows to try and get them back. We adults go too, but by the time we get the waiting room, they're gone except Lex who tells me they went downstairs. All while I'm stupidly still on the phone with my dad working out getting him to the airport and trying to listen to my midwife about when to come in next. (And my husband just asked me if I made an appointment for next time. Do you think that even warrants an answer? Or just a look of utter disdain? This coming from the man who had to hunt down the boys the last time we went to the doctor's/midwife's/whatever.) Lovely. Children loose in a building connected to the most confusing hospital ever, who think they're right at home because they've been there before on their own. I take no responsibility for the last time.

Go to car to dump useless empty stroller with my one good child and go back and luckily find my momma's boy Rock right away. He's still holding a book from the exam room. Guess it's the new library. Hello staff infection. Again. (That's another story).

Wrestle him into his seat with the promise of french fries because by now it's dinnertime and they're not at home being fed by their father. Still on and off the phone with husband and dad about the airport trip. My poor dad is en route back north to get my husband to then turn around and go back to airport. Go back into building with exam room library book--thank goodness Lex is old enough to be left in the car with the little man--see boys, but only get the S-man. Mr Destructo is possessed of the imp devil and stays too far ahead of me for me to grab him and takes off again while I put the book on the receptionists desk.

Take S-man to car.

Try to call husband to tell him not to go to the neighbor's to beg a ride to the car place to get his car because my dad is coming and might just want to catch his plane tonight. Wait a bit to see if Mr Destructo will come back. Curse having boy children with fearless exploration tendencies.

Go back in and fetch him finally.

Cursing husband.

Thinking this story is way too damn long--and the worst is yet to come.

Decide to hit Costco on the way home. Remember--saving gas.

Hit McDonald's first to buy some top rate pink slime to feed my kids, but decide to pass for myself since mybutt is as big as my baby belly, but fail to find a Subway with a drive thru on the way to the devil warehouse store. (The place my sister calls the wallet whore. Because you were dying to know.)

Fight people who forget how to drive in parking lots but do get a good space.

Let them eat in car while I return moldy strawberries.

Go back to check the situation, decide it might be safe to take them into the store. Put baby in cart and wrap his blanket around him because he's cold waiting upteen minutes for everyone else to gather their trash and put their shoes on and finally mosey on out. Sawyer won't wear his blanket in, says he went into the doctor's office without it, even though it's a longer walk now.

Get to the back of the store. Mr Destructo gets a pancake sample and of course fills his entire plate with raspberry syrup and wants to eat it. Lex wants one, but is too chicken to get it herself. We wait around forever for her to go fight all the greedy adults and get one. Destructo finally helps her and S-man announces his need for the bathroom again. When asked if he can hold it because I only need a few more things, he says no, he can't hold his poop. Glad everyone getting pancake/syrup samples was crowding around for that announcement. Herd everyone to the front. Stay with Rocker and cart, while sending Lex with S-man and Destructo goes too, despite his instructions to stay with me. I know S-man takes a minute for #2, so I run back and grab the two other things I want, get halfway to the front and go back for the thing I forgot that's behind the damn pancake people.

Husband calls and we plan to meet at my parents' after I get out and call him back so he can drop my dad's car there since I don't trust my kids not to do something to it at our house.

Go back to my wait spot, wait a bit and leave the Rocker and my purse with oh-so-much money in it to see if I can see the kids. (Why can't Costco have stinking bathrooms at the back of the store too?!) Two kids are out and come to tell me S-man had an accident. I think it's pee. It's diarrhea. On the floor, his legs, his socks, his undies, his shorts, all over the toilet. Hardly any is actually in it. I nearly gag and vomit. Poor S-man. Oh yeah--we're in the men's room. I try to clean up but sacrifice the undies and socks to the trash. Sorry to the employee cleaning those toilets and emptying garbages tonight. Try to rinse his shorts. No luck. No paper towels. No diaper bag to resort to. A man comes in. I say sorry, we had an accident, he says it's okay and then stands at the urinal but doesn't go, so I hurry pantsless S-man out to the ladies side so we don't cause another accident. There I try to wipe more junk off his legs and bottom with only a little luck and finally decide to trash the shorts, even though there's just a four-inch diameter smudge of poop on the back of them.

Rush out to cart to retrieve Rocker's blanket.

Snag my one cute cardigan on a stupid employee locker and rip big holes at the pocket. Drop F-bomb.

Get blanket and go back to wrap S-man in it.

Finally get everyone together and in line, only hold it up for a few minutes (kids start getting restless) because the cashier messes up one of my cards, and while he's calling a supervisor and fixing it, Mr D is pushing the cart away ignoring my no longer quiet entreaties to stop and come back. Lex goes to get him, pulls it back a little while he's still pulling and they start to mess around and laugh. Luckily the guy bagging has a son with similar habits and retrieves my cart and baby but by then I am beyond frazzled and just plain mad.

Might threaten Mr D with his life because nothing seems to get through to him and stride to customer service to save $8 on fertilizer. Yeah, I know I should have admitted defeat by then. Poor S-man tries to keep up with his blanket wrap skirt but he's starting to show some serious leg.

Find out my fertilizer isn't on the coupon and return it since I'm trying to save the $8 on the bag at home. Kids start messing around again and of course a line has formed behind us to watch it and the idiot wants me to lift the bag onto the counter. He walks away for a bit and I might mutter out loud that I'll just heft it with my big fat (seven month) pregnant belly. I pull a Hulk, jerk it out, smack it down, give the receipt to the one responsible child who's still fully clothed and get the hell out of there. As fast as I can with the S-man again trying to keep up and losing his wrapping.

By now I hate the husband and is memory and his unexpected leisure time at home all this while. I might blow up at him when he calls just as I've loaded everyone and everything and grounded Mr Destructo from everything (which he thinks includes drinks of water and food--I'll let him keep thinking that to see if I finally have his attention). I might just drive home at 90 mph because I've had it. I might explode at Mr D who has already thrown dirt at his sister earlier (yes from inside the car--I bet he was stockpiling it) and tried to blame it on the innocent S-man, but who decides to throw something else at her but at an unfortunate moment when I'm looking in the rear view and when accused actually smiles mischievously, the little devil. He's grounded from everything and is still pulling crap and teasing and laughing about it. He just doesn't get it, that he's in trouble and I've had more than enough.

In the middle of it, my dad did say it would be a story to laugh at. I hope someone laughed somewhere.

Needless to say when we finally meet their father and drop Grandpa's car and then go get his at the repair place, I take my purse, say good-bye, and take off. And do what damage I can at Ulta, and try it at Homegoods and Gardman's though nothing is tempting enough there.

I think the husband and his sketchy memory that he claims is so good but apparently fails him when he's super busy at work has earned him the right to dealing with the children for the rest of the evening. Washing poor diarrhea boy and putting the rest to bed and tackling homework by himself. Not really a huge threat though when he's better at it than I am and even does a more efficient job of putting kids to bed when I'm NOT there. But I did find it interesting that while I'm out wrestling kids and ruining clothes and dealing with feces, he didn't clean anything up in the kitchen but in fact added to the mess--which in his defense, he doesn't usually do.

Joy.

Maybe I should eat something now--is it too late for dinner?

I think I'll disappear tomorrow night too.

Who's game?

money the necessary evil

2011-03-10T13:31:00.005-07:00

Our tax returns came today, and in a few swift clicks, were gone. Some idiot might have put a little too much money on the credit card last fall. Gee, I wonder who in this family cannot curb their spending. Who might just chafe against spending so much money on Huggies and rebels by buying, say, a camera when the old one refuses to turn on. And who thinks that going to the antique store is more important than the groceries.

My children can follow the Crazy Baby's example and eat their books. Mr Destructo and I found a board book with a perfect bite mark taken right out of the binding's middle. Good fiber that.

Me thinks I better not visit the wallet-thief Costco for awhile. It's risky business sending the husband there, too because I find mysterious purchases like M&M's on the receipt. I guess I can't grudge it to him when those are $10 and I think I went hog wild once and bought 4 boxes of ModBod shirts. You can guess that total.

I want to try a no spend month. I think if I have a goal I can do it, but every time I tell the husband we have to spend no money and just save it, I end up going out and buying lots of stuff. Mostly food, but whatever. I'm pretty sure when all my boys are teenagers we might as well live in a walk-in refrigerator because we'll pretty much be buying food all the time. I'd rather live on a farm but I don't do manure. Or animals. Or living off the land, because I usually waste all the produce from my garden. My pioneer ancestors just rolled over in their graves. Oh the scandal that is me.

Anyway, the no spending. Think I can do it? Anyone else think they can do it? Even though March is half over, we just got paid (like how I say "we" like I was the one working my tail off?) and it's as good a time to start as any. Maybe we'll actually eat enough of a dent out of our food storage to allow us to move it without a flatbed.

hooked on this house

2011-03-09T13:55:00.006-07:00

Want to see a cool house? Go here.

I wonder if any old post offices are for sale around here. We saw a burned out church in Morgan, but I think someone else already owns it and has similar ideas.

hello

2011-03-09T11:42:00.005-07:00

Feeling sassy today. Remember when I used to ramble on? Brace yourselves. Oh yeah and I'm not complaining--just stating the facts for your pure entertainment--if you can call it that.

I do have to disclaim--I think one of the reasons I slowed way down on blogging? Pictures. Takes too long. Then blogger did it's funky trick where you can't move them around as easily or download as many. Then our harddrive turned into a turtle of proportionally large slowness.

Cry me a river right? Oh wait, Rocker is taking care of that for me today. I suppose in his defense he's been sick. All four are coming off the flu which Mr Destructo brought home again. His first gift of influenza was right before Christmas--like four days before. wa-hoo. Except with Mr D it's a literal wa-hoo because he. doesn't. move. and I pull out a little less hair.

Guess who's a a Mr Destructo junior? Rocker. No worries, with this go-round I knew what was coming--before he was born when the prenatal moving never ceased. Anyway, the funny thing with him is finding where he stashes stuff. I don't remember precisely why I was digging around in a few of my vents, but I came up with a lot of missing silverware. A remote went missing and I didn't find it until I saw him trying to get it out of the VCR. And I just found a wooden spoon in the piano. I have dubbed him Crazy Baby.

I do love that he's still little enough that I can close a door and he cannot open it. Yes I shut doors and emit evil laughs in the face of his despair. Mwa-ha-ha. Like today, he got really ticked after he went to all the trouble to dig batteries out of the garbage and I pried them out of his little fists and closed the laundry room door--blocking access to the garbage and his beloved broom. And mop and swiffer duster and iron and the sponge he's been filching from my painting stuff and wiping the walls with. I think he either wants to be a janitor or butler/housekeeper when he grows up. I should have named him Alice.

I just ran out of steam and simultaneously my brain short-circuited. Since that's like double writer's block I think I'll go lock my kids in the dungeon. Oh wait, we don't have one--think they'll settle for the crawl space?

Gruesome Sights

2011-01-13T15:33:00.003-07:00

I just saw something terrifying.

On Target's website.

I thought they were above this--it's more what I'd expect from Whitetrash-Mart (where I send my husband when I need something from there. ha).

The item: Hello. Kitty. rain boots.

For women.

Grown women.

Who are shopping at Target so we assume they have some class, right?

Yikes.

People, if you see me wearing said boots, shoot me in the foot. You have to completely ruin the boots.

They're almost as frightening as the double snotsicles I saw hanging from my nose when I got in the car after church. After I'd talked to a lot of people. Thinking I looked okay for public viewing. Nice. Time to trim the nose hairs and stop having horrific daydreams about Hello Kitty rain boots. You know what else I hate finding? Zits in my nose. TMI you say? I just have to say this, it's bad enough I'm almost 30 and still suffering the zits. It's kind of bad to have them all over, nothing is sacred, they're in the nose and my greatest dread is one day I'll wake up and have some huge zit on the bottom of my nose that touches a snotsicle coming from the top. Picking zits and trimming nose hairs should belong to completely separate age groups. You shouldn't have to be a victim of both right?

Anyway, I'm gross.

And have successfully, without wanting to succeed, drawn a lot of unwanted attention to my nose innards.

But I didn't I do a good job killing your image of grown women in Hello Kitty rain boots?

You're welcome.

It's beginning to smell less like Christmas

2010-12-16T14:54:00.004-07:00

You know it's time to mop the kitchen floor when...

sweeping no longer makes much of a difference...

and the dustpan was full...

and the baby's eating homemade Nutella bread croutons...

and mysteriously colored goldfish.

Okay, the fish were still gold--I'm not that bad.

Almost.

Oh, I highly recommend checking your air ducts occasionally:

I've been finding spoons petrified coatings in mine.

Boys.

Have I mentioned my house won't ever be clean again?

Just a warning for when you come over.

I'm going to go try and cover our odor with fudge smell.

Real fudge.

Tomorrow a realtor is coming over to see for how much he thinks our house would sell.

Think we can get away with asking more for mysterious smell?

Kidding.

Sewing and Burlap

2010-10-26T11:16:00.003-06:00

I pulled out the sewing machine yesterday to be creative. Everyone's ears were burning from that endeavor--but I did refrain from detonating French bombs.

My kids also got creative. With toilet paper and Scotch tape. There is no end to the creativity that abounds around here. I like to find new words to replace my usual choice phrases. They like to discover bigger let's-make-the-hugest-mess-ever potential.

So, the sewing. My goal was new curtains. Until I realized (after cutting the panel) I had to hem around all four sides, not just the top and bottom. That project came to a screeching halt. Enter half-finished project #43. Then, I decided to iron my wrinkled burlap--the fragments that are left from the eight yards I bought last summer. You read that right. Relax, I had a coupon. It was for a surprise anniversary party we did for my parents that was kind of a bust because it rained and all our plans centered around being in their backyard. I made those jar lantern thingies and had buckets of sand for candles to keep bugs away and everything and we had to retreat to the church that doesn't allow open flame. At least those were finished projects. Yeah. So the burlap was to cover the church tables we were using. My big plan was to disguise that they were church tables, as if the narrow, oblong-ness of them weren't dead giveaways.

Anyway, a child spilled on the burlap, so instead of just washing out that part by hand, I put the whole 8 yards into my washer (yeah it's messy) and air-dried it all on the trampoline--folded over a couple of times. Oh yeah, I was kind of pregnant last year--envision a big burlap-hairy belly. Did I just ruin your appetite?

Now, when you wash burlap, it wrinkles. No worries, you can iron it. You just need to pretty much soak it. Joy. My husband discovered this when I charged him with ironing the whole length and he came up with an ironed section and an empty water sprayer (because our iron is ghetto and doesn't spray it's own water anymore. Because you wanted to know).

So, I had some cut out stocking pieces and some squares from a Relief Society dinner centerpieces I came up with (yeah I used wrinkled fabric for the dinner, love me) and I put them in the washer to rinse and drain them. Which frayed the edges big time. Which automatically shrunk the size of our stockings before I'd even sewn them together. But now they'll be easier to work with and wrinkle-free. Too bad I didn't free the wrinkles before I cut them out because they're all skewampus anyway. I better be happy with these stinking stockings when they're finally finished. If they get done (unfinished project #47. A few snuck in). Maybe by then, I'll be able to post pictures again, but rearranging all our computer crap in unfinished project #33.

There Are No More Babies

2010-10-18T14:43:00.004-06:00

At our house.

The Rocker turned one.

And is still a baby. Hopefully THE baby. Ha.

Can I say what a delight this little surprise-third-boy is? He's been smiley from the beginning.

He's been laughing almost since he was born (he'd laugh in his sleep when a couple of weeks old).

He's a ham. He likes to go around the house with funky things sticking out of his mouth.

He has perfected the half-crab crawl.

He's not a bit interested in walking. When we put him on the floor, he puts his legs up to sit (like the S-man did).

He likes to sleep with his face flat on the mattress, or with a blanket pulled over his face. Sometimes the face is covered and the little crossed ankles are sticking out the bottom.

The stinker has already figured out how to open the fridge.

He said 'mama' once, but now prefers to say 'dada', and even more prefers to say 'stop' and 'don't' and 'no'. Mostly to Mr Destructo. Complete with a flat-handed shove.

He likes to sit on the floor and spin himself.

He has an obsession with buckles and snaps.

He likes to eat the bottom of flip-flops. Before I can get to him.

He screams like a banshee. Hello future hearing aids for mom.

He pumps his fat little legs as fast as he can when we're holding him--like he's practising his sprint. Once he did it in his baby float and propelled himself around the pool.

He's showing promise as a dancer.

He's too smart for his own britches.

He's got us all wrapped around his little fingers.

We love you, Rocker-man. Happy birthday.

(Sorry I have no pictures. We have a new hard drive and haven't put any programs on it and I don't know how to download pictures to it yet. Wait for that in the distant future.)

C.H.O.A.S.

2010-10-14T00:00:00.003-06:00

So, who's familiar with Flylady's little Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome thingymasystem about keeping your house clean so you aren't too embarrassed to have people over? Well, it doesn't work for me.

I was thinking about it yesterday when half the kids were at school and I was mopping the dirtiest non-dirt floor on earth lamenting that no one but I would enjoy--or even see--it. Not even my husband (who wonders what I do all day. Yeah, me too--other than damage control) because it got sullied as soon as Mr Destructo got home and the S-man tried to pop himself some popcorn that of course doesn't stay in the bowl as you eat it.

Anyway.

Inevitably, when things are at their worst over here at the circus (which said name should denote lack of perfect cleanliness nor good fumigation), people come over. And when I clean it? No visitors. In my defense, sometimes it isn't picked up and put in order until ten at night and the rascals around here are very adept at un-ordering it before 7 of the AM. When only the crazies are awake and perky.

Oh and the bathrooms? When they are hairless for a party, no one uses them. When they're at the most filthy? Everyone suddenly has to pee or rid themselves of their Dr. Oz S-shaped you-know-what. Which, by the way, at our house we close the lid after going. Mostly because I have a paranoia about things falling in the toilet that don't belong there and I may want to use again, like my last non-ouchless rubberband (because the ouchless ones leave much to be desired in effective hair-holding). And I don't like looking in the toilet all day. Plus, it's a bonus seat. But since I watched Oprah yesterday and Dr. Oz said that when you emit you S-shapes and flush them it sends up a cloud of fecal matter bacteria-whatever-he-said-it-was and it gets all over your toothbrushes, so if you're using my nasty, hairy, things are growing out of the drain bathroom, please close the lid before you flush because we like to keep things clean. Ha. At least I do. I don't think anyone else around here cares. Plus, it would be devastating if that last hoarded non-ouchless rubberband was lost forever, like the good sense of Goody.

So if you come over and the house looks like the toy bomb went off and hurricane Mr Destructo passed over and tornado S-man cruised through and the Rocker tropical storm left a path of mayhem in his wake (yes he crawls and is fast and figured out how to open the fridge today [?!]) don't be offended. That's how we welcome you. With utter CHAOS. I should rename it. CHAOSWAD. Oh that's charming. It stands for Can't Have Anyone Over Without A Disclaimer. Because I can't afford to pay your lawsuits if you fall on a toy and break your neck. Or ankle. I'm not picky.

Costco

2010-07-19T23:30:00.000-06:00

So. We finally did the dirty earlier this year and bought a membership to Costco. I'm pretty sure they're in league with the devil--or the government--to break us financially. It has nothing to do with me and my finely-honed money-spending self-control. Ha. Today I went there and dropped a mere $200. I think I hold the record amongst my friends for spending $410 one day and still managing to come away without furniture. I blame it on the coupons. On that trip, it should have been a sign I was spending too much when I had to have my husband fetch a second cart and both were overflowing a little. And if the Rocker--who is almost always content and happy--is screaming before you get to the checkout, you know you've spent too much time at Costco. Or maybe he likes to get his cries out in bulk. I'm thinking my kids will hate me when they find that their inheritance is gone and they've been wearing it on their buttomauses.

Here's the scary thing: our house isn't so very large. The storage space is 90% less large. We will soon have bulk toilet paper/paper towel/Ziplock bag sculptures in the front yard. Because we must advertise to the world our Costco addiction. There's no hiding it in the back. Plus, Mr Destructo would climb on it to reach the sagging telephone lines whose connection is falling off the back roof that we cannot put any money into to fix because Costco has claimed it.

So far, my favorite thing sold in bulk at Costco? Trojans. And on the other side of the store, you'd probably find medicine cabinets big enough to hold them. Unless you have to hide them like we do. Can you picture that disaster? My kids would think I was one of those balloon-shape-making people holding out on them.

Last month I spent over $600 (see--you spend in bulk). I do not know how it fit in my storage closets (yeah--we don't have any storage rooms just taken-over linen closets) nor how I came away without a two-year supply of food for my whole family nor an entire new set of furniture for everyone. Then, on our trip to Albuquerque, my mom grounded me from following my cousins to Costco. What? We'd eaten an entire Costco-sized bag of Swedish fish, and two half bags of regular and peanut M & M's on the way down and had to replenish our supplies. The horrors of running out of necessities with Costco near at hand.

Now, reading through this post, I realize I've written "Costco" in bulk. Time to stop. Except for a challenge: anyone I know is is sort of poor like me but forgets it when they go to you-know-where and thinks that their ship has sailed in in bulk, I dare you to only spend $50 a trip for the next month. (That can be every week.) You can do it. Except maybe when the strawberries look good. And they have raspberries. And the blueberries look juicy. And you're sure you can eat that entire box of Spring Mix single-handedly in the next week. And they if they have Anne of Greene Gables or the new Emma on DVD you better grab those too before they're gone next time so maybe that shouldn't count on your $50. Oh, and buy yourself a bunch of flowers for being so good at not spending, and then go ahead and get some more Swedish Fish and both kinds of M & M's--they're only 10 bucks each.

Well done.

breaking news

2010-06-03T09:44:00.002-06:00

After fourish months of sometimes mediocre efforts toward exercise, I've lost the baby weight from Rocker. Thank-you, Jillian. Except I've been working out a lot more than 30 days and am still not shredded. However my arms are begginning to slightly resemble Jillian's. Thanks to hauling a 23-lound baby. Now just have to lose the S-man weight. Off to keep shredding.

cool

2010-05-07T15:16:00.002-06:00

I love driving past apartments and seeing their dishes on tripods.

Now that is commitment to your tv.

He Made It

2010-05-07T14:57:00.005-06:00

Contrary to frequent maternal prediction, Mr Destructo has lived to see the ripe old age of 5. And miracles never cease: he has survived unstitched and unbroken so far. (Crossing fingers and knocking on wood.)

Let's talk a little about him.

He is our family's original booger-smear-on-the-wall artist.

He still sucks his fingers upside-down. I believe I'll be hearing about this from his Kindergarten teacher.

He likes to use the awning on the top of our swing set as a hammock.

I have no grey hairs yet.

He is fearless. And climbs on everything. The scissors on top of the cabinets and the child lock on the knife drawer are basically for show. We have to look like we're at least trying.

He'd eat a whole 32-oz. tub of yogurt in one sitting if I'd let him. Or cottage cheese. Or a pack of cold hot dogs. And he still looks like a skin-covered skeleton with biceps. And he loves ice cream--forget the cake.

He loves cars and trains and Legos (thanks Grandma) and his baby brother.

He won't let me throw away his Lightning McQueen crocs, even though the toe holes get bigger and bigger as pieces fall off.

When I pick him up from school, he's always wet or covered in dirt.

Sometimes he eats the dirt. Or the sandbox sand.

He's also my original gutter water drinker. Sprinkler run-off or rain-water, he's not particular.

He gives me kisses at just the right moment--he knows it earns him an extra ten minutes of life.

He's the first grandbaby that preferred Grandpa over Grandma--on both sides.

He's a good helper and rather obedient, believe it or not.

He's always asking me, "why?"

He likes to torment his siblings, then give me an innocent face and say he's doing "nuffing" and then grin.

He has the biggest smile and is happy and cheerful almost all the time and is eager to do anything.

He's my little way-too-busy-and-full-of-too-much-energy sweet heart.

Happy Birthday, Mr D.

Mom loves you.

P.S. Today I caught him wiping his greasy popcorn-butter fingers on his shirt and told him to stop. He started cleaning them on his shorts. When I nixed that, he opted for rubbing them on his head. I'll take what I can get.

High Rollin'

2010-04-14T16:31:00.003-06:00

Big news everyone: at the ripe old age of 6 months, the Rocker has finally mastered rolling from his tummy to his back. Let us all rejoice. Next comes crawling. We all know what that means.

huh

2010-04-09T16:22:00.004-06:00

You know when you have a filthy, disgusting house with things growing from your bathroom shower walls, and the aftermath of a toy bomb in every crevice and you opt to clean the windows? Correction: one window. I have to spy on my neighbors. ha.

I better go clean something before the 20-lb. wiggly 6-month-old decides he needs re-feeding.

3

2010-03-21T00:43:00.002-06:00

S-man recently hit the big 0-3.He was a pretty serious little man when he was born.

Now, he's kind of a ham. He shows off more than Mr. D.

Still loves to suck the thumb and rub the faux-hawk.

He's the only one in the family who actually comes and asks to have his hair done. He's been loved to death since he was born.

He's still so laid-back. And doesn't mess with nap-time.
He likes to have his nails painted and carry his sister's purses and dolls around, but we won't hold it against him in front of too many future girlfriends.
However, he loves cars, buses, trains, planes, helicopters, and tractors (the word he uses for any construction machine too).
Last summer, we passed a lot of construction on the freeway and S-man loved it. He'd say, "Loo Mom, tra-tors!" Or gasp and say, "Tra-tors!" (That's tractor, not traitor.)
One time when the front door was open and I was trying to herd kids inside, he was pushing his way outside to "see da airpwane" flying overhead.
I love when we drive next to a train on the freeway--S-man does the best train noises around. More than a simple "choo-choo."
I love it when S-man sings. The words don't always come out right, but the melody is dead on. I would think he was still asleep then suddenly hear him belt, "Eieioh!"
The latest song is Frosty the Snowman and Frere Jacques that comes out "Ferah ga-ga" but he's got the "sone le matina" and "Ding dang DONG" parts down, complete with bravado.
He loves his red crocks. I love that he puts them on backwards.
He tries his best to keep up with his brother and sister.

And puts up a good fight when he has to. (Mr D. has the bite marks to prove it.) He's the king of holding the Rocker for 2 seconds or 10 minutes--but not much in between.

He gives good kisses and hugs.
And is a good dancer.
To the sweetest, cutest little man around, Happy Birthday.
You were well-worth the extra wait.
I love you.

2010-02-12T14:45:00.002-07:00

I'm going to be totally random today. Which is normal for me, right? So I guess announcing it is redundant. And now everyone is bored stiff, especially me.

So I forgot to mention that for Rocker's RSV snot build-up, we got to rent a BBG machine. It is basically a nose vacuum. It's kind of awesome, though the Rocker doesn't really think so. Here's the good part if I'd ever get around to it: BBG stands for--literally--Baby Booger Grabber. My dad would call it the Baby Brain Grabber since he calls bulb syringes brain suckers. My siblings and I are relatively normal.

Last night was one of those out of the Twilight Zone where dinner was eaten at 7:30 and the dad at our house didn't come home from work until almost 9 and in the meantime, amidst the chaos called Mom's-in-charge-but-not-really-in-charge, the boys colored on the TV with crayon. Now there's something I really want to know: what is so hysterically funny about waxy artwork superimposed over the show you're watching I would like to know because they didn't let me in on the joke. Have I mentioned I'm glad I have at least one daughter? She cleaned it off for me. And did a good job, too. I can't believe that before I had her, I was hoping she'd be a boy. SO glad THAT didn't happen.

Just ran of random thoughts.

Oh--Mr Destructo had the letter 'U' for show and tell today. Not wanting to be boring and send the expected umbrella, I sent him with underwear. Am I terrible? I think it was awesome.

Big Sickies

2010-02-10T14:59:00.002-07:00

Well, so much for my resolution to blog every day. Ha. Actually, I have kept up with at least one. Ironically, the exercising. Biggest Loser DVD. Can I say something probably thousands before me have already figured out? I don't like Jillian. She's hard.

Anyway.

My jeans are a smidgen looser but that might also be because I've been wearing them for four (or five?) days and they might be just a little stretched out. Not to mention not too fresh smelling. See, I don't have much luck with clean pants. The last time I put them on, the Rocker's diaper leaked on them. Because I procrastinate that chore big time.

And do you think I changed the pants? No. I was determined to wear them the whole day, poop stain and all. And I did. To the doctor's office. To discover the Rocker had an ear infection, which was really just a tasty side dish to RSV.

Yes, when your baby has a yucky cough for four days it might just be more than a simple cold. The tricky thing was, I would never have guessed he has RSV because he has still been eating, sleeping, smiling and laughing like normal--in between the coughing spells.

Poor kid.

Many thanks to Mr Destructo who got everyone sick. Including me, who is part-psycho and got sick on purpose to give the Rocker my antibodies because I'm so tired of him getting everyone else's runny noses.

And the clincher? He started coughing the day after I took him in for his well-baby check. That's not a slap in the face. Any guesses to how much he weighs? Here's a clue: he's above the 95%-ile. The person who guesses gets to come carry him around for a day. Kidding.

Maybe I should let Jillian have at him.

Crescent

2010-01-18T21:13:00.000-07:00

I have a bad case of the it-was-on-sale-itis. Who buys ten cans of crescent roll dough? If you didn't know before, you know now.

We don't even eat these very often (we will now). Maybe because every time I need them for a recipe they cost a lot, so this is my big vindictive revenge on the grocery store. And yet I can't freeze them. (I wonder what would happen if I did. Maybe that's one of those things best left undiscovered.) I hope I'm not the only ones who keeps these past their sell by dates. ha.

I never claimed ownership to great wisdom.

That chocolate milk was not on sale.

Clearly I had persuasive shopping companions.

Boys

2010-01-16T10:54:00.005-07:00

Mr Destructo informed me the other day that bread is made out of paper, toilet paper and steam.

I wouldn't be surprised if Wonder is making it. Puts a whole new outlook on getting your daily fiber from bread.

Last night at dinner he cut out the middle man and was eating a Puffs with Lotion tissue.

Yeah. Tearing off big chunks at a time.

So, would that be a biscuit? And the lotion is the butter?

Boys.

After a while, his dad made him spit out what he was chewing and me in my eternal wisdom informed Mr D that the little wet chunks were spit wads.

I'm sure my neighbors and his preschool teacher thank me. This is their advanced warning.

The other day the S-man dumped baby powder all over his room while he was supposed to be taking a nap.

I took pictures. They'll come later.

He left no part untouched.

He's going back into his crib.

Also, the Rocker is kind of a stinker.

He absolutely refuses to stay a baby. When we lay him down, the little man lifts his head, trying to sit up! And he's a stander--I think he's bulking up for his all-too-near running days. (Lolly propped him up.)

In fact, I'm about to fire Lolly and her father as official helpers for encouraging the Rocker to walk. As in, they hold his 3 1/2 month old hands and "walk" him across the room. I don't want a walking 6-month-old.

(Think he looks worried?)

My mom recommends we buy a house with an unfinished basement and line the walls with pads and wrestling mats. I'm all over that one.

Oh, and the Rocker is wearing 6-12 months pants because anything smaller cannot be induced to get past his thighs unless I grease them with butter.

Or Puffs with Lotion.

Antibacterial Soap

2010-01-05T00:10:00.005-07:00

I just saw a gnat in my dishwashing soap.

Does that mean the whole thing is contaminated?

I have no idea how long it's been there.

Not that I'd want to dispel anyone's ideas of my stellar housekeeping skills.

Or really make it appealing to come to our house for dinner. No worries--I always use the dishwasher's sanitize feature.

Think I should just fish the bug out?

Or, change the whole bottle of soap?

Just so you know, I'll probably leave it there until the soap's almost gone or the carcass drifts out.

We eat at 6.

Come on over.

Blow the Snow Away

2009-12-31T12:33:00.010-07:00

Anyone else sick of snow yet?

And winter's just barely begun.

At least the days are getting longer.

I want to put away my Christmas stuff before any more of it gets broken, but am not eager to strap on my snowshoes and shovel my way to the shed to get out my frozen Rubbermaids. And I feel bad that I always make the husband do it. He's such a good sport.

Have I mentioned the sheds are approximately 2 feet from our carport? Boy, am I a baby. But it's cold!

I have a friend moving up from St. George this week. Yes, she's crazy.

So, amidst all this frigidness, I was wondering: do onions cause gas? Because for a little while I was afflicted with an unnaturally malodorous variety and really hadn't changed my diet much--other than a lot of Clementines and a trip to Cafe Rio.

Because you were absolutely dying to know all that.

My husband calls it good birth control.

Well, YEAH.

I think I'm eating onions, or whatever I ate (I'm so scientific), for at least the next year. Or more. Maybe 20.

Even though it's near to impossible to resist these:

Thanks for your condolences for our family everyone. I appreciated it a lot.

And Happy New Year!

May you all enjoy a little crazy fun.

Or fun craziness.

Whichever you prefer.

Grandpa

2009-12-29T22:03:00.007-07:00

Yesterday my grandpa died. He had a good run--living to 94--and we knew it was coming, but it's still sad. The last few years he's suffered from dementia that progressively got worse, but he still retained a little of his own personality. A couple of months ago when my parents and sister were visiting, her little girl asked him what his favorite food was and he said, "Whatever's put in front of me, I suppose."

He was always shy, sweet, kind, and patient. He never complained, not when we were watching TV on his television when he wanted to watch football, and not even when my dad made him a peanut butter sandwich for lunch once (which he didn't like because it what he ate every day growing up during the Depression). He patiently manned the boat while we all learned to water ski--even though the less athletically-inclined of us (me) took three full days of trying to finally stay up.

Grandma has always said he grew the best tomatoes and they certainly were good. He kept a meticulous lawn--and passed that skill on to my dad. He flew a plane over Japan during WWII. He travelled with my Grandma after he retired and had an adventurous spirit--snorkeling for the first time at 80, liking it, and saying he thought he'd do better the next time.

He was so quiet and reserved all the time, that I almost feel like I didn't know him really well, but his passing will leave a void in our family and we'll miss him a lot.

Grandpa with all the great-grandbabies. (S-man is on his lap--look how little he was!)

A Little Cleanliness Please

2009-12-27T22:00:00.001-07:00

Everyone please remember to wash your hands.

Perched on the counter.

In your skivvies.

(P.S. Does anyone know if something is wrong with Blogger? It won't let me drag my pictures where I want them without doing it a little section at a time. Which really cramps my style. Is it happening to everyone, or just me?)