Monday, March 31, 2008

MoMo Drama

Mo: Mom, are there really bad guys?

Me: (after carefully weighing the options, knowing that I don't want her to think that everyone is good and have her get kidnapped because of it) Sure, honey, there are some bad guys.

Mo: (already crying about there being bad guys. It took 1.5 seconds.) THERE ARE? WHY? WHY DID JESUS MAKE BAD GUYS? WHAT IF THEY KILL US?

Me: Listen, the bad guys are all in jail. Uncle Dewey catches them and puts them in jail so that we won't get hurt.

Mo: Are they ALL in jail.

Me: Weeeelllll, not ALL of them, but the other ones are far away. In the city. Just don't talk to people you don't unless one of us is with you. I have no idea what to say to you right now. I'm a failure as your mother and somehow I've made you terrified and paranoid, please, please, tell me how to fix it so that you will stop crying and I will stop saying the wrong things that makes you cry more. Daddy drinks because you cry.

Just kidding, daddy doesn't drink, but he did ask me to get that knife the other day, remember that? See, daddy is the bad guy here, not mommy.

FHE False Doctorine

KiKi: Next question: What did the Israelites eat that came from heaven?

Me: Manna!

Kai: What's manna?

Dad: It's a rare fruit that's only found in certain parts of the world. It's a cross between a mango and a banana.

VeeVee's Favorite Game

video

Dear Dude on the Cover of My Body for Life Book


Please stop looking at me that way.




I know that frying up a package of chicken drumsticks is not in our diet. I know that. I also know that they were the cheapest meat at Winco and my son will not vomit them back onto his plate...possibly. These two factors overrode my desire to not negate my run this morning.




My priorities have to change for awhile. It's not you, it's me. I still love you, I'm just not IN love with you. I need to look for someone who offers a cheaper weight loss option. I'm considering the completely free method of dieting, it's called just not eating, or eating and then throwing it up into a bag and keeping it all in the closet like that one girl on Intervention.




Please Mr. Bookcover man, don't confuse this with the other times I left you, those times when Chris left the house and then hours later came home to find me with a 2 lb bag of M&M's tied to my face like what farmers do to mules, although I think they use oats.




This is different. Not like the time I got mad at you because you wouldn't let me go to Big Chiney for a 'snack' and I told you that I didn't need you and that I had found a new diet, A BLACK ONE. That was just to hurt you. I know that your insecure about the manliness of your diet and a new big black diet would make you crazy with the thoughts running through your head of me and my new diet together in the kitchen, in our room, in our car, at every fast food drive thru in town. How many times do I have to say I am sorry about that?




Hopefully the finances will turn around soon and I won't have to choose between you and money any longer. Until then, I'm going to have to move you to the cabinet. You can no longer sit beside my stove and make me feel guilty. I won't live like this.

Baby Steps Toward Recovering From Codependency

Momo asked if she and I could do the grocery shopping alone. I told her I needed daddy, too, but she said that she sees him ALOT and needs some alone time with me. I can't say no to that, so we went together. Next time I will easily be able to say no.

Maybe Safeway would be ok, but not Winco. It took 2 hours without manly man there to bag everything while I unloaded the cart. Much harder by myself.

So much for baby steps toward recovery. This is a total set back.

About that Cottage Cheese

What's worse is looking at the french doors for the cottage cheese mess and realizing that you can't tell what, exactly, is the cottage cheese and what was already there.

Man Thought Monday from Chris

I found out today that you shouldn't sneeze with cottage cheese in your mouth. Maybe I should clean the french doors now.

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Two More Things

It wasn't constipation. It's gone, though, whatever it was. Secretly I think it really was muscle pain from carrying Superturd around, but I don't want to admit that, because I'm embarrassed that I called the nurse about a pain caused by carrying a huge child on my hip. I stopped carrying him yesterday and it went away by last night. I wonder why the internet searches for what I was possibly dying from didn't diagnose THAT for me.

Also, I do believe that the Cheat Day post is the longest post of all time. I'm so proud. It's like when I gave birth to Superturd. Really huge and beautiful. It makes me want to make more.

New Cheat Day Name

He won't let me change the name to "Gypsy Cheat Day" he says it would remind people of cabbage. I have no idea what that means. Gypsy is one of his two favorite words in the world. Ninja is the other. Maybe he'd go for "Ninja cheat day" that has a ring to it.



He has tried HARD to name every one of our children Gypsy Lee. Boy or girl. He's serious. They so owe me.

Let Me Explain

When I blog I'm basically carrying on a phone conversation in my head with my sisters, which Chris likes a lot better than actual phone conversations with my sisters. Even as I typed that, Chris shook his head, muttered something, and walked away. I forget that some of you don't have a clue what imaginary conversation you're listening to and I'm sure you usually don't care, but I did get an email about what cheat day is, or actually, what a non-cheat day is so, for those who care, read on.





We loosely follow the Body for Life Diet. My friends/Visiting teachers gave me the cookbook for my birthday a while back. Almost two years ago, I think. We've used it to loose baby weight a few times now.





Sunday through Thursday (supposedly) exercise first thing in the morning. Before anything else. NO, first we drink a big glass of water to rehydrate, then we go on our uphill walk.



We eat every few hours. Always a protein and a carb. Nothing too high in fat or calories, but lowish carbs are definitely our main focus. We cut out white carbs (white potatoes, bread, rice)
long ago. We use these tortillas we can only find at Walmart that only have 50 calories each and they taste...not EXACTLY like poop. You get used to them. Red potatoes, if any. Brown rice. I hate brown rice.



Every single morning we have a half cup of light yogurt with a half cup of fat free cottage cheese. I imagine in my head that I'm having those Dippin' Dots at the mall. I've never actually HAD Dippin Dots, which probably helps the fantasy. Snack is maybe a string cheese (protein) and an apple (carb). Or some almonds and a 1 pound bag of M&Ms. Dinner is almost always a meat and steamed veggie something and salad (with really light dressing, Berensteins makes this super yummy garlic cheese Italian one that's only 20 calories per serving) Wednesday nights we have pancakes with peanut butter (only adam's all natural or something with ONLY peanuts. no sugar or garbage) and sugar free syrup. Again, you get used to it. I swear.



OH, and nothing to eat after dinner. Just water. Lots of water all day. And supposedly no caffeine. I don't count the sips I take of handsome partner's diet cherry Pepsi. I never, ever pour one for myself. For reals, I don't. Obviously no real soda or juice or sugary beverages.



After a dreadfully long week we make it until Thursday before we start having BAD cravings. What gets us through, every time, is knowing that Saturday, blessed beautiful Saturday, we get to eat anything we want. ANYTHING. This is why we do our shopping on Friday. I can't have the cheat stuff in my house, or as you may have noticed, I eat it all. All at once.



On Saturday (or whatever day we picked, we just chose Saturday) we eat cinnamon rolls for breakfast, i eat candy all day, fries with ranch for lunch, then we get sick. By dinner time. We usually pull through by bed time and top it off by splitting a gallon of ice cream. It's glorious. Not so much later that night, when your in serious gastrointestinal pain and can't sleep. That never stops me.



What's really cool is the weeks when we don't diet at all but still fully embrace cheat day. It would feel wrong not to. It's not cheat day's fault that we didn't diet that week. Why punish it? Plus, we don't get as sick those Saturdays because our bodies are more accustomed to all the crap. So that's a nice little bonus.



When we're on top of it we loose a pound or two every week. We weigh every day. Sunday morning we're always back up, but you figure out after a while that those cheat day gains always come back off before Tuesday. The Body for Life dude says that your metabolism needs to get that cheat day or it will try to compensate or something bad like that.



Beck has tried the plan, but she's so not able to embrace cheat day. She's a wussy. She would just eat the cinnamon roll and call it good. For the WHOLE day. Lame. Never cheat with her. Cheat with me, it's way better while it's happening. Not so much later, but who cares about later? Wait a minute, is that like one of those metaphor things about my life? Never mind.



That's the cheat day deal. Any questions?

In Case Anything Suspicious Happens to Me

I just ate a Whopper that was under a mountain of papers on my desk. When did I even HAVE Whoppers? I could go back through my cheat day posts and figure it out. Instead, I request that all of you make a mental note that if I end up ill you must remind me of this Whopper, so that I don't go to the ER and get my stomach pumped.

Oh, and it was a Whopper malted milk ball. Not a Whopper hamburger. How gross do you think I am?

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Baby Dentures?

I was starting to worry (fake your surprise, ok) that VeeVee was never going to get more than four teeth. She's been a bear lately, just nasty grouchy, and we kept looking for those next teeth coming in to give her an excuse. Today, during a screaming fit on daddy's lap, he noticed that she DOES have two more teeth, but they're molars.

No canines, or whatever those second ones are called, either, just molars. I hope she's going to get those other ones, too, cause dentures are, oh, EXPENSIVE, I bet baby dentures are, oh, REALLY EXPENSIVE.

Here's a picture of the happy child being held down and tortured to get a digital record of her big accomplishment.
Here's a picture of her crazy, I mean sensitive sister crying because she thought we were being mean to the baby. The baby is really just crying now because daddy dressed her in that outfit.

What you can't see is daddy's face as they're are both full on scream crying in his ears. At this moment he is asking me to get a knife and kill him now, he can't take one more minute, this is the worst moment of his life. He said all those words. In front of the sensi child. Guess how MoMo took that? Oh, real well. She was on my lap sobbing forever asking why daddy wants mommy to kill him with a knife.

We really need to be more careful around that one. Bologna foot is all heart.

Hypochondria

I called the ask-a-nurse thingy and "linda" thought that I should just watch it for a few days. She said if the side pain continues for three days I should go to the doctor. Or if my fever goes over 100.5, right now it's just 99.5. So, I believe I might live. The only thing she seemed concerned about was my kidneys and/or possible UTI. I tried to convince her that I know when I have a UTI and it's NOT that. Kidneys, though, could be it, she talked about kidney stones. That doesn't sound fun.

She said they often see these symptoms in people who THINK they're getting Krispy Kreme, but do not in fact RECEIVE any Krispy Kreme.

Hopefully it's just constipation, but I haven't even GONE on a vacation, so that would be unusual.

I'm Just Saying

Who would go to Krispy Kreme and come home with nothing but donut breath and an empty box? Who does that?

Recipes

Thanks Lauriann & Gina Lee for the recipes!

I already made Lar's Taco Soup last night and we loved it, plus I was able to freeze some for later.

GinaLee's Black Bean and Corn Soup looks right up our alley AND I happen to have all of the ingredients already, so guess what's for dinner! Wait a minute, today's cheat day, so guess it's for dinner tomorrow, I'll be too sick to eat dinner tonight after binging on candy today.

So, how is it that none of my sisters and/or cousins forgot to help me out? I'm sure they're working on it as we speak.

I love blogging extra much today.

Friday, March 28, 2008

Record?

Wow, seven posts from me today. Is that a record for me? I think it might be a record. Should I go back and count each day's posts? I do have a lot of words saved in my head from being left without another adult to talk to all day, I could probably post some more. Maybe I could get to ten posts today. I bet I could. Here's whats happening right this minute:

Chris and Kiki are watching Lord of the Rings in the other room and I'm preparing my lesson for the kiddos on Sunday. I can hear that it's the Gollum part, which makes me think of Leanna, which makes me laugh, laugh and cringe, because I don't want her to think that anyone actually thinks she looks like Gollum. She totally doesn't, except in a few select childhood photos.

So I hear Gollum go off on his rant about My precious, come to me, my precious Then I hear Chris say to Kiki I bet that's what goes through Momo's head every time she sees Superturd playing with anything and that's why she feels she must take it from him.

That's funny to me.

Top Ten Tuesday Assignment

Whoops, I missed this again. And I promised Beck I'd post it by 9 tonight. I'm a liar.

Drum roll please....

Ten Hottest Hotties. Not counting your husband. Or my husband, you can't count him either.

So, start thinking and narrowing down that list you keep in your head for times when you need to picture someone else. You know who I'm talking to, you fantasizer. The rest of you just think up ten cute men.

Unless you feel this is being somehow unfaithful, then don't play. But we'll all make fun of you for not conforming.

I Need a Fix, Where's My Dealer?

Chris was gone for seven hours today. IN A ROW. At one point I was just trying to decide which child to start slapping first, but I probably shouldn't put that in print.

This codependency stuff is not going to be easy to quit.

Will I now have to call myself a "recovering codependent" for the rest of my life?
Some birthday advice for my son:

When I ask you to help me place the freshly rolled and adorable snail cookies on the baking sheet, please do not misinterpret this request as me asking you to grab the previously adorable snails and, cock you arm back in a pitching stance, to hurl the cookies at the sheet. I don't want them to take you away after I punch you in the adorable face.

When it is snowing or hailing or raining heavily, please refrain from running around on the back deck, in full view of the street, with nothing on but underwear. Unless you want a new family when they take you away from me for neglect.

When Mommy is on the phone, I would advise you not to scream at the top of your lungs, just like a baby girl pig, right into the phone. This may someday result in the phone accidentally hitting you sharply on the head. Then they might take you away.

When we are driving down the freeway, please keep your seat belt buckled. Police officers frown on 3 year olds walking around in moving vehicles and I wouldn't want to get pulled over and have them take you away.

When you take a bath with the baby, please stop holding her down. This could result in a number of scenarios, all of them horrible.

My last piece of advise is this: Dinner is not a swear word. Hearing this word should not result in you throwing your body to the ground and screaming like you're on fire. When we do get you to the table please do not fling you plate and yell DISGUSTING. It hurts my feelings. If you starve, they will take you away from me, and I don't want that to happen.

Please note that all of this advice is from a place of love. I only want to ensure that you will never be given to another family.

Recipes Needed

Calling all moms:

I NEED some recipes for the cheapest meals you have in your repertoire. Please comment me that you have something and then post it on your blog. I'll just go there to print them. The more the better. I'm suddenly poor and need as much help making money stretch as I can get. Any cheapo tips are great, too. HELP ME!

Don't worry, we're not starving! I just need to "budget" and I've never "done that". Don't judge me.

Whenever I was broke in the past I just moved back with mom and dad. That's not going to fly this time.

THANK YOU, ALL YOU BETTER MOMS THAN ME!!!

No Thanks, I'm Good

Frequently Asked Questions to which the answer is always No:



Should we grab some boxes of Mac n Cheese for the kids, it's cheap?


Do you want me to get some olives out to put on that salad?

Should I mix the noodles and spaghetti sauce all up together in one bowl? (BLAH!)

Don't you want mayo on that?

Would you like to invite my friends (or anyone not related to you) over for dinner?

Would you like to go out with some people you don't know?

Do you need to use this public restroom while we're here?

Don't you have enough clothes?

Isn't that a lot of money to get your hair done?

Can't we just watch TV all day?

Doesn't McDonald's sound good?

Friday Flashback - Superturd's Birthday Edition

















Dear Son -


I think three is going to be a good year for me and you. You are excited to be able to talk and be understood. Your energy and curiosity is getting more fun and less painful now that you can do so many things independently. You would still prefer to spend all of your time outside, but you no longer hate me for hours when I make you come in. My favorite thing right now is telling you to say I love you so much. It's so adorable because it's not in your nature to be so verbally affectionate and because it comes out sounding like this I wub you show mush.

You love the number three. It is the first number that you have understood. Something about figuring out what three is was so exciting for you. If you see groups of three things you scream Look mom, three, there's THREE! Then you hold your little man hand up and show me three fingers. Trust me, it's way cuter than I can describe. One of the cutest things ever.
We still love each other to a point that makes daddy uncomfortable. That should probably change soon. I don't REALLY want you to take me to the prom. Maybe a little, but I know it's messed up, so I'll work on that.
You're such a big boy, now. You go potty by yourself. You stay in bed all night (knock on wood). You love going to church and seeing your friends. You love your nursery teacher. You love anything involving a ball or punching. You often ask me to play "punch you mom". This involves you hitting me repeatedly and me crying in mock pain and terror. It's lovely, really.
I love you and I can't wait to see how you grow and change this year!
Love, Mom

Thursday, March 27, 2008

I may have made a horrible mistake

I went to the dry pack cannery with some church ladies tonight. It was awesome. I got some stuff for long term storage and it was a fun time. ANYWAYS, I said something about blogging and a friend asked if I had one and asked for the address. So, I thought that was nice and I warned her about my fecal fascination, so she's ok with that. But, I got home and told Kiki that I gave my blog out to this friend and she's mortified and I'm like, dooood, what is your problem And she's like Mom, I'd be so embarrassed if I were you. You have naughty stuff on there. I wouldn't let MY friends read it! And I'm all I have naughty stuff on there? like what? Nooners, MOM, you said NOONERS! and I didn't know what it was so you told me and that is SO WRONG.

So, according to kiki I may now be kicked out of our church for saying that I'm horny. I'm thinking that we Mormons probably wouldn't have so many kids if I was the only horny one out there. That's what I think anyway.

Now I really Feel Like I'm in Utah

Now it's all sunny and warm and stuff. Weird.

The Adventures of Superturd

Son, where's your sister?



In the bathroom.



My bathroom?



Yup. I lock her in. She likes it.



SHE DOESN'T LIKE IT! (which is a total lie, she totally loves it. She has her toothbrush and easy access to water to dip it in and suck the water off, over and over again. Toilet water.)



SHE LIKES IT! SHE LIKES IT! NO LET HER OUT MOM!



At this point he ran up the stairs and threw his body in front of my bathroom door. He really really didn't want me to let her out. He won briefly, since he had locked it before he shut her in, so I had to find a key to rescue her from the toilet water guzzling binge.



I don't think I'll call Poison Control this time. They'll just tell me to watch her. That's what they always say.



I wonder how long it's been since we put a bleach tab in that toilet. By the looks of it it's been awhile. So that's good news.

I'm Pretty Sure it's the End of March. And I don't live in Utah

video

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Best 12 Hours Ever

I usually TRY to wait until the kids are in bed to blog/blog stalk. Last night didn't quite work out that way.

We put the kids to bed at eight. The littlest two were crying, so I flopped on the bed to wait them out and make sure they didn't really need us. Chris sat down in his office/foot of our bed. I don't know what happened exactly, but next thing I remember is Kiki's voice coming through my fog and she's all, ummm, should we go to bed or what? And I'm all, Yeah, be sure all the doors are locked, what time is it? Nine? whoops...well, goodnight.

I can honestly say we've never gone to bed before 11. I think I might go to bed at eight every night for the rest of my life. It was glorious. Chris says it was almost as good as what he was hoping would happen. He was lying, it was totally better.

Fresh Brown Eggs (more poop stories for Sambo)

Husband: Look, that sign says Fresh Brown Eggs

Semi-Hot Wife (she just woke up, they're on their way home from the codependent morning drive to the school, other wise she'd be Hot Wife): I'm feeling the need to make "Fresh Brown Eggs" right about now.

Husband: OH MY GOSH, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Semi-Hot Wife: What?

Husband: Your cousin is so right about you. You ARE obsessed with poop.

Semi-Hot Wife: I'm not obsessed, I just need to go. And it's not my fault, I get it from hanging around you 24 hours a day. If we weren't together at all times I wouldn't be like this. I blame you. You're gross.

Husband: Don't try to stick this one on me, Poopfoot.

Here I Go Again

If only I had stopped and looked for my cell phone, then I would have found it and I would have seen that my license was sitting on the counter next to it. Then I wouldn't have driven all the way to the passport office for the second day in a row, only to leave empty handed, after getting Kiki out of school to go get her passport. Since I didn't have my wallet I couldn't even stop and buy her some lunch and we were gone through her lunch hour. So, I get to head back across town after school today and I get to talk to people I'm not related to. That should be AWESOME.

Heed, pants, now!



Macrocephaly is diagnosed when the circumference of the head is more than two standard deviations above average for the child's age, sex, race, and period of gestation.


Usually there are other family members with large heads, and the condition is considered a family trait. These children do not have an underlying condition and usually do not have any additional complications.


But, hey, her face is clean! And she's wearing clothes, not just pajamas! And for any of you thinking "its not that big, what's she talking about?", just stare at it for 30 seconds. See? Huge.








Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Small Miracles

They are ALL playing in the drive way together. Without me. Without fighting. No injuries. No tears. I think I'll watch Jon & Kate.

Life is good.

Top Ten Tuesday - Greatest Albums Edition

This list will clearly show my love of the late 80's. And I'm ok with that. I think.

1. Bon Jovi - New Jersey. Duh.
2. Def Leppard - Hysteria. It's close between this and Scorpions.
3. George Michael - Faith. I love every song.
4. John Denver - An Evening with John Denver. Love it so much I could cry or get naked.
5. James Taylor - Greatest Hits. I know I said no greatest hits. I'm a liar and a cheat.
6. Neil Diamond - Glory Road. Or any of his million albums. I do love this one most, though.
7. Joshua Kadison - Painted Desert Serenade. Love it all!
8. Guns n Roses - Appetite for Destruction. Too great memories.
9. Kenny Chesney -Be as You Are (Songs From an Old Blue Chair), can't beat Please Come to Boston!
10. Depeche Mode -Black Celebration. Again, every song is great.
11. My really real favorite if I could only have one: Trisha Yearwood - Thinkin' about you. The best! I laugh, I cry, I think I'm in love with her.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Best Birthday Present Ever

videoHe couldn't even wait until morning to try out his big boy t-ball set from grandpa grandma and gg.

More Easter/Birthday Pictures







Quote o' the Day

"Sometimes as parents we feel we have failed when our children make mistakes or stray. Parents are never failures when they do their best to love, teach, pray, and care for their children. Their faith, prayers, and efforts will be consecrated to the good of their children. . . . No family has reached perfection. All families are subject to the conditions of mortality. All of us are given the gift of agency--to choose for ourselves and to learn from the consequences of our choices."

Robert D. Hales

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Some Pictures with Papa's Flowers











Easter 2008


To My Sisters...In case your Easter isn't as entertaining as you might hope




I just wanted you to know that last night I...






a) Sent my handsome partner in codependence to Walgreens at 9:50 (and they close at 10) because we realized how lame our attempt at the grab and dash for Easter baskets had been






b) Went to get our hand sewn by Aunt Becky Easter baskets out of the garage and could only find one, so I resorted to writing their names on white lunch sacks. Hey, I wrote them in pastel colors for Easter! And I cut the top of the bags off with squiggely scissors to make them extra special!




Those lucky little suckers! No jokes about five kids, Jenny!

Saturday, March 22, 2008

TAG, YOUR IT!

"Tag" from M&M


A) FOUR PLACES I GO OVER AND OVER: LaGrande, Beach, Walmart, Church

B) FOUR PEOPLE WHO E-MAIL ME REGULARLY: Jenny, Lyle & Linda, FlyLady, Chris

C) FOUR OF MY FAVORITE PLACES TO EAT: Big Chiney Buffet, Red Robin, Olive Garden, Panda Express

D) FOUR PLACES I WOULD RATHER BE RIGHT NOW: Arizona, Las Vegas, Disneyland, anywhere sunny

E) FOUR PEOPLE I THINK WILL RESPOND: Becky, Jenny, Leanna, Sambo

F) FOUR TV SHOWS I WATCH OVER AND OVER: Arrested Development, Eli Stone (if it doesn't get canceled), Survivor, Breaking Bad

NOW GO DO THIS SURVEY AND POST IT, SUCKERS!

Dueling Cupcakes..

Sooo KaiBear asked me if we could make cupcakes to take to school for the celebration of her birth. This was on Thursday after school, while we were attempting to get the house decent for her friends to come over. It became clear pretty quickly that we didn't have time to do both before it was time for her to go spend the night at her other house. So, being the amazing and nurturing mom that I am, I promised to make them that night and have them ready when she got home in the morning.



I did as I said I would, including me and my partner in codependency going to Walmart at 9pm to get a few things. We found a recipe on the internets that was some famous vanilla cupcake thing from New York that was featured on Martha Stewart. We were up until 1am, but they were delicious and we ate a lot of batter to keep us awake, so I know they were delicious.



I was up bright and early Friday morning frosting those pups. Not frosting them, really, because I had promised her I'd let her do that part. But I was getting the frosting ready so that she wouldn't be late for all of us to pile in the car and drive her to school, this time with the perfectly legitimate excuse that one of us needed to help her in with all those cupcakes. So, there I am making frosting, and in walks our little birthday angel girl, holding two pans of frosted cupcakes.
She's all, Hey, look what we did last night! isn't that great? Now I'll have enough for everyone to have two cupcakes! We got this cake mix that was cherry chip! Doesn't that sound sooo good? I can't believe we have so many! This is so cool.

The thing they don't teach you about co-parenting is that you have to learn the breathing techniques. The breathing techniques are alot like Lamaze, except in Lamaze you're working toward delivering a healthy baby and in CoParenting breathing you're attempting to raise a relatively unscrewed up child into an emotionally stable adult. The challenging thing is that the child cannot be aware of the breathing changes or she will sense the anger, tension, discomfort, bitterness, sadness, and/or rage. That would be bad. The child should not be exposed to the difficulties of co-parenting in all it's glory.

So, I started my breathing and going to my happy place in my head (a place where we don't share any of our children, and I am the only cupcake baker). I mumbled something about how FANTASTIC that was and look at all those LOVELY cupcakes, oh how GLORIOUS. Then Daddy comes downstairs and she's all Hey, dad, look what we made last night! Isn't this great? Do you want to try one? Do you? They're sooo good! Try one, try one, try one! And he's got that terrified look on his face that tells me that he knows how overjoyed I must be to have stayed up so late and gone to all this trouble and please don't kill anyone today, come on, it's her birthday, not today of all days, maybe tomorrow, but not today. He tells her that he's quite full from our delicious cupcakes and No, thank you, I'll pass, save them for your friends. When she went up to get ready for school he did his best to sooth my irritation. The other thing about co-parenting is this, when my spouse is understanding and we laugh stuff off and we do our deep breathing together it's not too bad.

And, since I'm not sure that any of you (well, maybe one of you) have done this balancing act of raising a child with others involved, let me try to explain. It still won't be the same, but I'll try. Imagine, if you will, that polygamy is alive and well and out in the open. Like, if there was a law passed saying that anyone can marry anyone they want to, that love is love, something like that. So, you have your husband and you love each other, but your husband has two homes and you HAVE to stay and you HAVE to love everyone and you HAVE to share your husband. He spends some nights at his other house and the rest of the nights with you, so you learn to ignore that there even is another house, and just focus on the life that you live together. After awhile you would realize that the anger and hate and stuff isn't helping anyone, so while you'll never WANT to share, you might as well make the most of it. Sort of like that, but different. And it's not like the love is different than for your other children. Maybe if you combine families when they're older, but if you've done bottles and diapers and potty training and cribs, and if you choose the child before you choose the husband, then it's the same love, just one more of your kids. So it's not like the way that you share your nieces and nephews with your siblings. It's not like that. Really, sharing your spouse is the only thing I can compare it too. It sucks, but it's the only way to do it, so you just get on with it. At least we all get along fine, that helps a TON. The anger and stuff isn't really directed at anyone, since nobody did anything wrong, it's just there. Does any of this make any sense?

So, ANYWAY, I put on my happy co-parenting face and she helped me frost them and put green sprinkles on, since green is her favorite, then we put pastel M&Ms on them, so they looked like little Easter nests. So cute. Then we figured out how to get all 48 cupcakes into the car with all of us and got her to school on time.

Here was my favorite part of the whole morning: Daddy took all those cupcakes in to her classroom and her (very adorable, ex pro-football player) teacher says, "Hey, those cupcakes are two different kinds." Chris says "yeah, we've got dueling moms." and teacher laughs and he's like, "Gotcha. Well, tell me which ones I like better." So Chris points out the clearly superior cupcakes and the teacher goes on about how delicious and wonderful THOSE cupcakes look. Yeah, I know they do, cause I stayed up half the night making that amazingness and they are delicious and wonderful.

Co-parenting tragedy averted.

Sometimes it reminds me of my kids. Like when the oldest one had an ipod and the younger one wanted one, but the older one freaked out because she didn't want the younger one to have one. I tried to explain to her that her sister having one didn't TAKE AWAY from her having one, she still had one, too. She didn't get it. But I think I do. I still made those amazing cupcakes. There was still just as much love baked in to each glorious one. Just because she had other cupcakes and other love, from other people, doesn't diminish my love or tarnish it. I can't be the only one, that's not an option I'm given (without going to prison for murder) so I can still be the best one I can be not let it get to me or be possessive and stuff. So, that's my therapy session for the day. I just saved a hundred bucks. Thanks for your help.

Mmmm, Cheat Day

MoMo needed me to cut up her Saturday morning cinnamon roll for her, which I did, and I took a bite. She asked me why I always do that. Why I always take a bite of her food when I cut it. I followed the ancient tradition of great mothers and told her that I just wanted to make sure it wasn't poison. She said if it was poison then I would have died, so why would I do that? I told her that, of course, if one of us was going to die I'd rather it be me. This was a mistake. See, what happens is, I forget that MoMo is the most sensitive, emotional, high strung child ever to walk this beautiful earth. Her level of sensitivity is like if you took all the rest of our family's feelings and combined them. If we had just lost a loved one. And we were PMSing. And we needed medication.

Having neglected to take this in to consideration, I made MoMo cry. She said that if I died from her food then she would eat it too, so that we would die of the poison food together. Now I had to do my constant damage control, telling her that the food isn't poison. It will never be poison. I'm just teasing and I really just wanted a bite and mommy's a liar and she sucks.

Now, where is that one pound bag of M&Ms when I need them?

Friday, March 21, 2008

How Many Birthday Parties Can You Fit Into One Weekend?

I can answer that...3. Tonight was her Blazer Game with her two BFFs and Daddy. Judging from the level of wired that she had achieved when they got home, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say they had fun.Here are the little ladies with their bobble heads and their signage.
Chris explaining this one: Oh, this is so funny. This was right before we left to get snacks and Blaze came and sat in our seats while we were gone and was on the jumbo tron and everything and we missed it. Anyways, you should have seen the people around us laughing about this. I had QUITE an audience tonight.

Hot wife:You had a fricken' audience at the game?

Chris: Oh, yeah, they were loving me. The people around us were like flies on sh**, they loved me!

Hot Wife: You realize that you are the sh** in this scenario, right?


I didn't know they were having garlic fries. I guess I should have been the driver after all.




video

and it only took me two years...

Check out the most expensive stars ever purchased. Why couldn't I have waited until they were more popular and available? Why did I have to buy them in Vegas and then try to figure out how to ship them home. I think it took us a year to get them back here, didn't it? Or maybe it was like six months? Anyway, it was RIDICULOUS, like many of my spontaneous purchases, but I don't want any of you trying to deny that this is THE cutest room ever, ever, ever decorated. You should see my little manly man in his big boy cowboy bed. What a little angel boy, he's such a little cutey pie, my little handsome...just kidding, trying to be obnoxious. ANYWAY, the stars are finally up, thanks for going to all that trouble to get them here, Beckaroo (get it, cowboy room, buckaroo, becky, BECKaroo, get it?).
Is there something on my lens? Those white smudgy things are NOT on his beautiful bead board. It's perfect and gorgeous just like my little man, lover boy, handsome gentleman, pookey bear, chubby buns, prom date.

A VIDEO! A VIDEO! I'M POSTING A VIDEO!

Here's my little fruit cups. I think they're dancing. Look at that Buddha belly on Miss VeeVee. I have no explanation for MoMo or Superturd's moves at the very end. I blame their father. Or maybe their older sister, KaiKai. She's a hiphop soldier, that one. video

Too much information. SHOCKING, isn't it?

It's health week in our fifth grader's class. Videos about puberty, a goody bag with feminine hygiene products and deodorant, and lots of pre-teen giggling.

After school on Tuesday I asked her what they learned that day...

Her: We learned about HIV and AIDS. That stuff is SOOO scary! There were pictures of people with HIV and they're so sick! They can die really easily and they have to take a whole bunch of pills everyday.

Me: It is scary, but did they tell you what to do to not get HIV?

Her: Yeah, they did.

Me: Did they tell you that condoms aren't 100%, that to be 100% safe you need to be abstinent?

Her: Wellll...they told us to be careful if someone gets cut or their blood is around, you shouldn't touch it, you should get help or wear gloves or something, even if it's, like, your BFF, cause you never know who might be exposed to it and stuff.

Me: Ummm...were they just talking about getting it from people's blood and stuff? They didn't talk about sex at all.

Her: Sex is next year.

Me: Ooops.

Her: Yeah.


Her: What are condoms?

Me: Ummm, well, they're (blah, blah, balloon, blah, blah, penis, blah, blah, protection, blah, kill me now, blah). But just waiting till you're married is way better and safer and better and stuff.

Her: Awwwkwarrrd mooomennnt!

Me: YEAH, I KNOW!

Seperated at Birth




What you do today is important because you are exchanging a day of your life for it. Make it a good one!

The Wonderful World of Winco


For all the things Winco lacks it rocks my socks in the bulk food arena. Like BonJovi in 89 type rocking, sore neck the next day and all that.


If you have a Winco within four hours of your home, do not buy spices or baking type necessities anywhere but Winco. It's worth the drive, the bagging it yourself, and the clientele.


Here's what I picked up today:


Baking Cocoa 1.05 lb vs Safeway 7.00lb


Cream of Tartar .48oz vs 6.00oz


WhootWhoot!!!

Friday Flashback - KaiKai Edition!!!



















Thursday, March 20, 2008

Note to Self

Mayonnaise will not go through a funnel.

Quote

" ...we can live and work with others, respecting their beliefs and admiring their virtues, joining hands in opposition to the sophistries, the quarrels, the hatred--those perils which have been with man from the beginning."

Gordon B. Hinckley

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Do I Need to Tell the Bishop About This?

I feel sleezier than after three days without a shower! YUCKY! I just wanted to post a picture of Ozzy from Survivor and let everyone know of my deep love for him. THAT'S ALL I WANTED TO DO!!! I didn't know that googling his name on google images would expose me to FULL FRONTAL NUDITY!! And I checked, we do have the "safesearch" thingy turned on, so it's totally not my fault. This is ridiculous! What's more ridiculous is that Ozzy had nude pics on there because he was in PORN! Yeah, for real porn for Playboy Channel. Ewwwww! My love is dead. I hope he gets voted off and his peen falls off, too. What a disappointment. I am SO not calling Chris "Ozzy" later on tonight!

Crazy Little Thing Called...Codependency

For the first time in several years, Chris may have an offer worth considering going to work for someone other than himself. This could mean not working from his office/bedroom upstairs. It could mean actually leaving my side for several hours a day. Several days a week, probably all in a row.

I'm pretty sure I'm not having a for real heart attack. Probably just a panic attack. We're what you might call dysfunctional. We both load all five kids in the van to take one of them to school. All of us, together, every day. Not for any reason, just because we are used to being together every minute of everyday.

If he were to get a normal type job...well I don't really want to think about it. Who would go grocery shopping with me? I can't bag them and watch Superturd at the same time. Who would come downstairs and watch them so I can take my occasional shower and reapply my magic deodorant? Sure, I like to bring the raunch, but I can only take it so far. Would I be expected to keep the children happy AND make dinner? What about nooners, how do you have a nooner with a real live job? I wouldn't be able to have the cable guy come, or who knows what might happen. I have needs. Who would make me lunch?

Would this necessitate things like "meetings" and "alarm clocks"? He doesn't do alarm clocks. When we met he didn't even have his plugged in. Start time is optional in his world. He's not into "bosses" and "answering to someone else". Would we need to have a realistic bedtime? What about all the TV we need to watch at night? How would that fit in?

What if I need to run an errand or go to book club or check the post office box? With three kids in car seats? Are you kidding me? I might even have to talk to OTHER PEOPLE. I don't need mail or books THAT bad.

They need to change the laws about leaving kids in the car. We always waited in the car for my mom. She did the whole big grocery shopping trip and never carted us in with her. We loved it. We played 'kidnapper' and hid under the seats from strangers. Come on, I would LOCK the car. Maybe even turn on the alarm. They'd be WAY safer than we were. Besides, we have so many kids, who's going to try to take all of them?

AND my husband has this need for what he refers to as "an audience". Currently I am that audience. I don't like someone else being the audience. I KNOW ITS CRAZY. He's what we call a "yellow"(color code personality book. LOVE IT.) We don't call him yellow to his face or he punches us in the face (color code personality book. HE DOESN'T LOVE IT.) As a yellow, he needs someone to listen to him all the time, and laugh at the appropriate times and show outrage at the appropriate times. If he goes to an outside job he'll get a new audience. I don't like that. He needs to take me with him, to be his audience. I don't foresee him wanting to do that. Then again, he didn't think he'd like working from home and now we love with our codependency, so maybe he'll see the benefit of putting the three little kids in daycare and having me follow him around an office all day. I think this could work.

Videos

I'm trying to post some videos and it's not WORKING! That's why you see blank posts. Also, my keyboard has gone back to it's old trick. It won't type double letters at all. I can't even backspace without waiting 3 seconds between each letter. And I'm a terrible typist, so I realy utilize that backspace key. So, my blogging world is in crisis.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Top Ten Tuesday - Songs that make me want to punch myself in the face for loving them. Yo.

1. Ice Ice Baby - Vanilla Ice. It makes me want to dance just like him. And get lines shaved in the sides of my hair. Again.

2. Blame it on the Rain - Milli Vanilli or whoever really sang it.

3. Buttermilk Biscuits - Sir Mix a Lot. Way better than Baby got Back. Yeah. It is.

4. High School Musical soundtrack - I really really love this. If it was a boy I'd marry it and have cute little babies that walk around singing everything instead of talking and look like Zach.

5. Barbie Sings - The princess collection. Chris and I both know all the words. I catch him humming the tunes while doing manly duties.

6. Lose Yourself - Eminem. This one really speaks to the soul of my inner rap goddess.

7. Forever you Girl - Paula Abdul. Great song.

8. Every little Step - Bobby Brown. Also a great song, and a great album, maybe I'll dig out my cassette.

9. Children's Story - Slick Rick. This one is really embarrassing. And I'm not easily embarrassed, so I think I get extra credit for this one and this next one...

9.Life is...too $hort - Too $hort. I can't help it. I must sing along and probably put my seat back really low and lean to the side and drive with one hand real gangsta like on the steering wheel.

10. Like a Cholo - Down. Number one most embarrassing. Not because of the song itself, more because of my deep love for it. I would marry this one and have mexican babies with it. Not the sketchy ones that stood outside of 7-11 and made sexy sounds at us growing up. The hot hot hot ones with the perfect tan and beautiful accents. Those kind of mexican babies. Love it.

This week was way more hard for me because of all the songs that I should be embarrassed about but I'm just not. Neil Diamond, John Denver, any 80s hair band, my secret rap stash. ok, that last part does embarrass me, as you can tell be my list. Yo.

Thanks for playing, ladies!

Monday, March 17, 2008

The Origin of Superturd

Sambo-

Superturd's nickname is just what it sounds like. He is the biggest turd we've had. So big that it required a nickname signifying the bigness of it. Thus, he became Superturd. We have become aware that a great deal of his turdness is tied directly to his possession of a penis. We've never dealt with these type children before and the penis related aggression and destruction came as a big surprise to us. No, surprise isn't true, since I cried at the ultrasound, out of fear and well, fear. So, not surprise, just lack of previous experience and preparation. We are learning how awesome he is in lots of penis ways. Like, the gun noises that he wasn't taught but does, like, really well or the standing on top of the highest point he can climb to and jumping so that he can practice his screaming tuck and roll and then jump up and do some karate moves. Yeah, that stuffs TOTALLY ROCKS. He's really grown on me, that Superturd. In lots of fun ways he rocks really alot. I love him with a freaky passion which hopefully will not contribute to him NOT loving women with passion.

Hope that clears it up!

Note to Self

In the future, please remember that it is advisable to clear the breakfast dishes BEFORE mopping the floor under the table. If there isn't a big bowl of what was earlier cheerios and milk but is now a brown goo on the table, then the baby can't grab it and drop it on the floor. Then you won't have brown goo spread from one side of the room to the other to re mop.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

The Frickin' Passion of the MoJo

Mojo is, regrettably, outgrowing a super cute stage. A stage, during which, every one of her prayers caused painful attempts to hold in really REALLY hard laughter. She is very in love with our Savior, Jesus Christ. She cries because she misses Him and wants to see Him again. Just today she asked me if He was with her all the time and asked me how she can be sure she's ready for His return and informed me that nobody except Him and Heavenly Father know when He's coming. Very sweet, very spiritual kid.

Here's the prayer thing, though. Her prayers are one really long list of thank yous for our blessings. Except, she always says "thank you for we can..." and it comes out in Mojo talk, which at least one aunt has described as "in desperate need of speech therapy" talk. So "for we can" sounds, every single time, just like "fricken". It's like "fer-wi-kin" but really fast. So, each prayer sounded like this, "thank you fricken go to church today, thank you fricken go to school tomorrow....and lots more frickens." While the rest of us choked our laughter down as best we could. I don't think she ever knew we laughed. I know she didn't or she would have frickin freaked out at us for laughing at her. Chris made me secretly video tape it the other night, which made me very uncomfortable. Something about filming some one's prayer felt irreverent and wrong.
I'm over it though. Now I'm so glad he had me do that because the last two days there have been no "fricken" prayers, just this new thing where she sees how long she can make her "please bless so and so" list. She starts to run out of people and gets desperate, so she sticks in a "please bless you" for Jesus, which I'm sure He doesn't need, but it can't hurt anyone to get prayed for, right?

Journal of the Week


VeeVee still has only four teeth. All of our other kids had eight by their first birthdays and she is now 15 months old. She's really taken her time on everything. The other girls all got pig tails by their first birthdays. Not Vee, she just got her first spike pony this week.

I have determined that it doesn't matter how many waffles I make, they will always finish the whole pile. Kiki is a big factor in this. She likes to announce what number she's on every time she takes another one. "This is my FIFTH waffle" etc. She can get that number pretty high.
MoMo announced with great enthusiasm that she had learned how to "climb" a tree. This was cute, but not as cute as her tights, pink boots, plaid shorts, and striped shirt. She's awesome. I love five.
videoI learned that if you drop your phone in the toilet it will start behaving strangely. Chris let me stay home and cook dinner while he drove Kai to spend the night at her other house. While I was cooking dinner, in a house all alone, tv off, perfectly silent, the phone started dialing its self. It was behind me on the counter and the worst chill went up my spine. I'm a tad paranoid as it is, so I thought all of my frequent, irrational fears were coming true and someone was standing right behind me holding the phone so that I couldn't call 911 in one hand and a huge knife in the other. Once I got ahold of myself I turned around and figured out that it was the toilet phone and there was a short or something. It did keep dialing itself for hours. Always just 4's. I wonder if it's a message from the toilet people. The same toilet people that I believed were going to come up and grab my bare behind when I was a child sitting on the toilet.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Pillow Talk

Set Scene:
The extremely attractive, relatively young, couple with super model like bodies enter their bedroom to retire for the night. They have just successfully put a young child back to bed and are anxious to enter the land of memory foam mattress toppers from Costco and $5 pillows from ikea, to dream with great longing of those days when they could watch rented movies all night and sleep until noon.

As they turn off the lights and settle in with all the hope of a five year old the night before Christmas, their greatest wish is that Santa will give them a night of uninterrupted, dream filled, blissful slumber.

Silence ensues and the husband starts that gentle high pitched wheeze that confirms his escape from the world of the wakeful. The very same wheeze that frequently wakes the wife in a panic, sure that what she just heard was the sound of a young toddler alone in the woods behind their house, screaming for it's mother, lost and afraid and screaming. That's what the wheeze sounds like, a terrified child screaming, but from a distance, not like, right down the hall or anything, but out in the dark dark forest alone.

Since she is still awake, she is aware that it is just a wheeze and is not prompted to run to the window and throw it open looking for the lost child. She is, however, prompted to wake him with a very important question.

Wife: Honey, what's Bourbon?

Husband: Well, I think it's a type of Whiskey. Or maybe Whiskey is a type of Bourbon. Yeah, I think that's right. Whiskey and Scotch are just different types of Bourbon. Like, maybe, Whiskey is single malt bourbon and Scotch is double malt bourbon and bourbon is just bourbon.

Wife: So they're all forms of the same type of alcohol or something?

Husband: Right. But they all taste like if you poured water through a butthole and drank it. Except if it wasn't water, it was gasoline.

Wife: So, like if you gave yourself a gasoline enema and then drank it?

Husband: EXACTLY! It's pretty much like going up to a bar and giving the guy money for him to drink gasoline and then squat over a tiny glass and shart in it for you to drink and then you like it so much that you give him a tip and ask for another.

Wife: Sounds like fun.

Husband: Yup.

Husband: Ummm, honey, why are you asking about bourbon?

Wife: Because that guy in that movie was drinking bourbon out of a bag in that parking lot at that hospital, and I just wondered why he wasn't drinking something commonly heard of like whiskey or beer or something.

Husband: Actually, he was drinking Rum. He definitely said rum.

Wife: So he was a pirate?

In unison: Yeah, Arrrggh.

And they drifted off to a blissful sleep with the wife hoping the husband will fall asleep soon so that she could sneek off to blog. Their sleep was only interrupted three times by a screaming real live baby (not an imaginary in the woods baby). Not that they left their bed at any point, because they happily subscribe to the Dr Ferber method of letting them "cry it out". Very happily.

Quote of the Day

All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Friday, March 14, 2008

For the Record

The Friday Flashback photo without a head is, in fact, me wearing my husband's clothing. He has never been THAT fat. I have.

How did they get those cameras in my home and why do we have British accents?

Friday Flashback - Gollum Edition

Leanna, here's some of the many worst pictures I found of me. There's just so many to choose from that I had a very hard time narrowing it down. I have the "poodle" look, when I was refered to as "bubbles".











The always popular, very long lasting, but probably much over used, boy phase. There's just so MUCH in this area, it's hard to resist. I'm pretty sure that I'm not wearing any pants in this one---->


Then there is any picture taken after an unfortunate hair coloring and/or cutting episode. Or taken in a swimming pool. Either way, it's not going to be pretty.




Now, for my husband's fav of the week...ANOTHER GLAMOUR SHOTS!!! That's right, I went back and did it all again, because heavens knows that the first round was just so HOT that who wouldn't spend more of their hard earned single mom can't pay for laundry soap, but can pay for skank nails cause I need to hook a new baby-daddy, money on this hottness right here. I will also admit that this was a Valentine day gift for a potential new baby-daddy. It totally wasn't MY idea, it was Susan, the vault teller at the bank I worked for. I blame her for this whoredness:
Then there's the always lovely pictures of me during my pregnancies, childbirth, or for at least one year following, maybe longer. Upon peeing on that blessed little stick and seeing those blessed little pink lines appear my body blows up to twice it's normal size. Like RIGHT THAT MINUTE. There's no gradual weight gain spread out nicely over 9 months. I don't get that lovely first trimester with it's big boobs, but no belly. I just go ahead jump into the 200 range and get it over with. I don't mess around. If I hadn't spent so much of the last six years pregnant, it wouldn't be quite as BIG of a problem. I now share the glory of my bountiful splendor:



Lastly, let us finally include Chris in all of our fun. Here you go, no explanation necessary: