Potty Talk

I'm so behind on everything it seems. 

Or at least not finding the time to do everything  that I want to. 

Like post on my blog.

I think my new calling sucks all the creativity I have.

I've always been afraid of this calling.

That "Primary Chorister" calling.

But as it turns out, I haven't died.

Who knew?

The kids haven't thrown rotten tomatoes at me or requested that I please stop singing.

Hooray!

But still, my normal blogging time is being spent searching the right hemisphere of my brain
(and the internet)
for ways to frighten teach the kids.

And when I am not traumatizing other people's kids,

my own are traumatizing me.

Potty training.

Ugh.

Isn't there a summer camp for that?
I'm pretty sure that I am not the only one who would happily write the check for that one.  (Sarah?)

This boy definitely has not made it easy on me.

Just look at that face,

taunting me...

He is almost there though.

Which is a really good thing, because I am was getting desperate.

And a desperate mother is capable of doing absurd things.

Like paying her 7 year old to try and potty train the baby over Christmas vacation because she was just sure that at the rate we were going, the baby would be potty trained before the 3 year old.

10 bucks, she would have made.
And I would have paid more.
Much more.
Wouldn't that have been beautiful?
Too bad it didn't work...
Maybe summer vacation??!!
Brooklyn will have all kinds of time to be tethered to the toilet,
read stories, serve up juice, and just generally rot away in the bathroom.
That should free me up for all kinds of projects.  :)

Holiday Lessons: Part 1

Well, hello there.  I've almost recovered from a wild and fun holiday season. 

Every Christmas season that passes, this mother-of-four gleans a few valuable lessons.  I would like to chronicle these lessons in hope that I may keep you from learning a few things the hard way and/or make you feel better that you aren't the only one....  (I am not the only one....right?)

Ahem.

Sugar Cookies.

Delightful little piles of not-good-for-you but Oh so good stuff. 

Lots of frosting topped with Red Hots is my favorite.

Just in case you wanted to bring me some next year.

Here's how this activity went down at our house.

The Mother (that's me) ran out of time (surprise) and had to cheat and just buy the Pillsbury sugar cookie dough.  

And do you know what?

I'm glad I did.

Because most of these little people lasted only 10 minutes.

So there. 

The eldest child was a champion froster.  She did plenty of finger licking, but she was in it for the long haul which I appreciated because I had no need to frost 4 dozen cookies alone.

Jack could not keep that knife off of his tongue. 

I told him before and plenty times during this process NOT to LICK the KNIFE. 

But really, can you blame him?

It is quite tempting.

Bradley would ONLY use the yellow frosting. 

And for him, just a dab will do. 

He was also awarded the prize for the most consecutive dips in the frosting

with the top of the sprinkles container.

Hold it a little higher there, buddy.

I've just got two words for Aubrey.

HAIR. NET.

Forget the bib, this child needs something to contain that mane.

She did a fine job consuming all that we would allow,

and definitely should not have been standing up in her high chair.

As for the Father - he kept making that furrowed brow/disgusted face.

He was watching those kids and cookies very closely.

As if to memorize who frosted which cookie.

I guess he doesn't like kiddie germs/slobber on his cookies.

As a final piece of advice:
(you'll want to pay attention here)
Be careful where you decide to store your newly frosted cookies.

The oven sounded like a good idea.
Until I preheated it for something else.
At least Bradley didn't find them though!

Greetings from Visalia

Whew - what a month.

Basically, moving is e.x.h.a.u.s.t.i.n.g!

And sometimes (in retrospect) funny.

I mean, I suppose now that it is over,

having baby cockroaches crawl out of my oven when I turned it on was pretty hilarious.

Oh wait, no it actually wasn't.

Pretty much, it was just gross and creepy.

I was going to put a picture on here to give the full effect,

but they all made me squirm,

so you'll just have to imagine those little antennas...

BUT, the bank did have to buy me a new one because of it, so all is well.

And I am certainly not bitter. 

(Even though we only had a microwave to cook with for a month....but I'm not bitter, remember?)

Besides that, I'm spending lots of time painting the house.

Which it seems I shouldn't do.

Why?

Oy.

That would be my laundry room floor.

And in all honesty, I can't even blame that on anyone but myself - and maybe my ladder.

But for the record, cleaning paint out from under a washer and dryer

 is about as much fun as jabbing a pencil in your eye. 

What is fun though, is turning yourself into a human paintbrush.

Really, what are the chances that he could be running, trip,

 and just happen to fall right into my 5 gallon bucket of paint?

For the love, child.

Really though, I think I might blow this one up because it seriously makes me laugh.

This picture really is worth a thousand words. 

Or at least makes you wonder a few things.

Like why do neither of these boys have pants on?!

I'm still wondering about that one...

And where is their mother?

I was painting, of course -

and taking pictures of my paint-up-to-his-shoulder-pants-less-boy.

And his very guilty looking brother...

All Dave said when he saw both of these pictures is,

"I told you not to paint when the kids are around."

He may have a point.

The good, the bad, and the ugly

Guys -  I haven't died.

But I feel like it some days.

Things have certainly been wild lately, but I've missed all my blogee's.

Is that what you would call your blogging buddies?

And to think, all you've had to remember me by is a very blurry picture at the top of my blog.

I promise I'll fix that someday.

Because seriously, it's bugging me.

Which means it's probably bugging you too.

Here's a quick recap.

The Good

We finally found a house to buy.

It was a very long and gruelling (and frustrating!) process.

I think I was about to just sit in a corner somewhere with a bag of Cheetos or something.

But I didn't.

I chose Reese's Pieces instead.

But now that it's all over (almost) I am super excited.

We've been working and saving for a long time for this.

Just ask Brooklyn, we've been wiping with spinach leaves for months.

Uh, was that too much information?

The Bad

I found mouse poop under my bed.

Gross.

I've been obsessive about finding that little varmint.

Dave tells me not to worry about it, that the little guy has probably moved out.

But I'm just sure that he sits and stares at me at night.

Laughing his evil little mouse laugh.

The Ugly

Moving a family of 6 plus a year supply of food takes alot of work and alot of boxes.

Good grief.

When did we get so much stuff?

The poor Elder's Quorum.

They are seriously going to wonder why they are moving 3 zillion boxes marked

"Food Storage."

But it's good because since we just spent our savings on a down payment,

we'll be spending some time knawing on wheat and rice.

And because no post is complete without a picture,

here are my dirty kids tormenting our pig dog.

Next post will be brought to you from the happy land of Visalia.

Disclaimer:  We have not been wiping with spinach leaves (Leslie?!) ...because we've got our year supply of TP...which we will have to move. 

Jog-A-Thon

I know it's the beginning of the school year -

because the school is holding a bazillion fund raisers.

And now that I have two kids in school...

Dave may have to get a second job.

But, for my small donation, I was thoroughly entertained today.

The annual Jog-A-Thon basically consists of 60 kids (by grade level)

running around barriers in a field. 

They have to run for an allotted amount of time

and each time they pass "GO,"  they collect a Popsicle stick from their teacher.

At the end they count up the sticks and the parents fork out the cash

based on the number of laps the child completes.

Sounds simple enough, right?

You know, like simply non-competitive?

Well, uh, someone forgot to inform Jack.

Was that supposed to be my job?

Here's a recap in pictures.

Jack walks out of his classroom beaming. 

He's seriously bouncing around like a little jumping bean. 

Then just before the race, he flashes me a wink. 

You know, the wink that secretly communicates,

"I've got this race in the bag!"

They line up at the finish line and say "Go!"

And, as I predicted, my slightly competitive son darts out in front of the pack.

This is around the first bend.

As I was watching him I thought to myself,

"Self:  you probably couldn't keep up that pace for 10 minutes."

Maybe I should work on that...

After the race he came strutting over to me saying what else but,

"Mom, I won!" 

"I was the fastest kid!" 

"And I got 9 Popsicle sticks!"

"And nobody got 10!"

And believe it or not, he's been repeating those phrases all day.

I was very proud of him for his hard work, and it was so fun to watch him,

but I'm trying to figure out how to tame that ego.

Even though I am sure the teachers love him bragging about his sweet skills.

You know, the sweet skills that he obviously got from his mother.

Speaking of his mother, here's a strangely crooked shot of his sister running in her own Jog-A-Thon.

She's being all sweet and lovely and non-competitive.

Just like her mother.

A Kid: Week ?

Oh man, this kid makes me smile.

The Falconer

Aubrey is definitely a special child.

She's positively adorable, sweet, funny, love able, and LOUD.

At first I found this loudness problem to be a bit irritating.

I mean, I know we all love a very high and loud shrill to accompany our dinner,

but one can only take so much.

But as it turns out, I think her "skill" may turn out to work wonders for our self reliance.

We were at a friends house a couple of months back and our friend says,

"Wow - she sounds like a real life falconer!"

I have thought a lot about that comment over the last couple of months and thought to myself,

"I think he's right!  Let's test it!"

Lucky for me, I just happened to have a pile of mice guts

and a pair of bird handling gloves just lying around.

Who doesn't?

I took Aubrey out in the front yard, slipped on a glove, handed her some mice guts

(and of course told her not to eat them) and watched her waddle a few steps away.

She immediately lifted her left arm, belted out one of her annoying impressive shrieks

and wouldn't you know it...

a massive falcon swooped in for a landing, nibbled away on the mouse entrails

and then stopped to pose for a picture.

Which I thought was nice of him -

not just any one-year-old can manage to call in a carnivorous bird.

A mother must document such a milestone.

We'll never starve, I tell you.

Aubrey will call one in and we'll roast it up.

In the meantime, I hope all you mothers out there with your own falconer's

can handle the hours of "bird calling practice."

It just might pay off someday.

*Parts of this story may or may not be fictional.