The Life I Lead

I was just thinking

2012-01-30T13:28:00.000-06:00

...how much nicer Mondays are with spots.

That is all.

Merry, Merry

2011-12-26T10:43:00.002-06:00

Christmas!

Holes!

2011-12-05T10:20:00.001-06:00

Holes were cut in the family room this morning. Yipes. Also, E took advantage of the scaffolding to install a new ceiling fan this weekend. Let's all take a moment to admire his electrical handiness.

And speaking of fans, who designs these things? It's like making a decision between moderately ugly and extremely ugly. I have yet to see a really attractive fan/light combo. We nearly chucked out the idea of a fan at all in favor of installing a cool chandelier. Sadly, practicality won.

Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas to us.

2011-12-01T16:31:00.001-06:00

Last week we took delivery of our new roof shingles and other sundry roofing supplies plus a few skylights to boot. A truck load of shingles lifted on to the peaks of our ugly, curling roof making me feel all merry and bright. Not the funnest way to blow roughly a bajillion dollars, but as the roofers have worked through the week, it is shaping up to be a fantastic face lift for the home we love so much. And if this year's Chicago winter is to be as dreadful as currently predicted, I say bring it on. Or don't. Whatevs. My shingles won't be blowing away after all. And with a few skylights added to the family room, I plan on soaking up any sunlight that trickles down between the dreariness.

Ironically, all the banging and pounding has the kiddos unnerved. Ironic because the three of them combined can out-bang, out-pound, out-thump and generally out-din any roofing crew, I'm convinced. So tomorrow things will begin wrapping up, with the final slopes shingled and two enormous holes cut into my family room. Wish us luck.

Pumpkin Patch, and little spooks

2011-11-01T10:24:00.000-05:00

Our trip to the pumpkin patch earlier this month was very successful, with plenty of pumpkins and DOZENS of cider doughnuts, because really, it was all about the doughnuts. They were plentiful, fresh, warm and good and we made sure to bring a batch home to enjoy the next day. The day was beautiful and we returned home with about a thousand pounds of pumpkins, gourds and butternut squash.

We finished up costume construction in the nick of time for a Saturday party and Monday's trick-or-treating. The enthusiasm was palpable. Seriously. Bubs went missing while the others were suiting up. I found him a block away with a half full treat bag. "What are you doing Bubs?" I asked when I finally found him. "Twick-or-Tweating!!!" he hollered mid-stride as he ran full-tilt to the next house in line.

One might think that after spending a couple of hours in the urgent clinic Sunday morning getting his head stitched up (for the 2nd time in his brief five years!!) after a collision with a nightstand, he might have slowed down just a smidge.

Nope.

Boots

2011-10-19T13:43:00.001-05:00

I love shoes. I really love heels. But I really, really, really love boots. E got these for me. I thought they were worth mentioning in contrast to last week's Bitter Woman Beer. Beer one week, suede boots the next. Life is never dull around here.

Let it be known, the boy is FIVE (and where did the time go?)

2011-10-19T13:36:00.001-05:00

He's five. I can't get over it. And he won't let me get over it, because he makes sure he tells every single human being we come in contact with. "I'm Finn and I'm five" (flash five fingers). I'm clearly having trouble reconciling the independent five year old with the feisty little bundle I think of him as (still).

Goodies from Wis-can-sen

2011-10-11T11:29:00.000-05:00

E traveled recently to a regional office in Madison, so naturally when he asked if I wanted him to bring something home, I replied "cheese curds". He came through and tossed in a few surprises to boot. Locally made cinnamon roasted almonds and chocolate covered cranberries, as well as a bottle of Bitter Woman beer. The latter puzzled me a little as I am neither a beer drinker...nor bitter. He thought it was hilariously funny.

She Turned Seven (um, like 2 months ago)

2011-09-14T13:51:00.000-05:00

So in July, with some of her favorite girls for company, she ate her fill of nutella croissants, pain au chocolat, baguettes with fromage, fruits, and Orangina, of course. She played silly games, posed for silly pictures and all around had a great day. Oh, and Wonderboy was our waiter. Naturally.

We stretched out the birthday fun with a visit to the pediatrician for ear piercing, which she had begged for for some time. She's quite proud of her bejeweled lobes.

Nauvoo

2011-09-14T13:17:00.000-05:00

Grandpa and Grandma J came to visit a few weeks ago and since they had never seen Nauvoo, we took a little road trip with them. With lots of tours and wagon rides, we learned so much about early Nauvoo.

4th grade, 2nd grade. Ready, set, go!

2011-08-22T11:41:00.003-05:00

Just when I was fully adjusted to having the kids home all day, and enjoying the slow pace of summer, school starts. Wonderboy is enthusiastic about two things. First, 4th grade comes with a move to the upper floor of the school. All those cool 4th and 5th graders too cool to mingle with the commoners (K-3rd), enjoying their mezzanine level classrooms. Second, entering 4th graders' school supplies include a flashdrive. He doesn't know what a flashdrive does, but whatever it is, he's sure it must be cool.

My girl is thrilled to be headed to 2nd grade. Just because. She's the happiest, easiest-going girl I know. It's good to have one of those. She just can't wait to see what I've put in her lunch bag. Love this girl.

Quote of the Day

2011-07-12T18:05:00.002-05:00

"Oooh! My shoes smell like jellybeans!"

(Author's note: His shoes most definitely do NOT smell like jellybeans.)

Little Ballet Dancer

2011-06-07T19:16:00.005-05:00

Miss S's dance yearly dance recital was a couple of weeks ago. And while she begins to loathe dance class about 3/4 of the way through the year - it is so boring...so passe, after all - the promise of the formal performance helps her abide the drudgery. She must be quite unlike me in some ways after all, as I'm sure she loves center stage as much as it terrifies me. She takes the performance very seriously and knows her part, as well as those of the other girls in her class most thoroughly.

Just Because

2011-05-05T08:57:00.004-05:00

She lost a tooth on top and has a subtle (and very cute) lisp now. Also, I found her in her room, hunched over her gold and silver sandals, going three rounds of eeny-meeny-miney-mo to choose between them. And I think that's super adorable. Gold won.

And, for the record, Bubs would like it to be known that he didn't do anything.

Old Friend

2011-04-28T10:12:00.003-05:00

We had to say goodbye to Luna yesterday. At a spry 14 years old, I think we expected she'd keep surprising us a bit longer, and then maybe one day just not wake up. We weren't so fortunate, but I'm thankful our veterinarian was able to care for her so quickly and help with difficult decisions.

Luna was part of our family before our family was more than just E and me. She came to us as Forbes Jessica, a five year old retired racer from Florida, scared of stairs, and terrified of nail clipping. She was perhaps the gentlest, sweetest animal I've ever known. And so quiet, except when she was impersonating Chewbacca, which was just plain weird.

She took retirement seriously, but I like to think her spirit shrugged free of her old body yesterday and now she's running in a vast green meadow, her gangley legs strong again, with all the ear scritches and back rubs she can stand.

Happy Easter

2011-04-24T22:00:00.001-05:00

Taking full advantage of our library's resources

2011-04-20T18:04:00.002-05:00

That would be a tiny pencil shoved up his right nostril. I should have been horrified, but instead I laughed and pulled out my phone for a photo. This boy keeps things lively. Which is mostly awesome.

one more project

2011-03-18T09:17:00.004-05:00

A skirt for me, with pockets (yay!). And I haven't sewn something for me to wear pretty much since the prom dress I made senior year of high school. Sad.

And just so you know, pattern sizes have absolutely nothing to do with standard U.S. clothing sizes. Just saying. I had to talk myself down after I realized, based on my measurements, that the size I would need to cut out of the pattern was about 12 sizes larger than my regular clothing size.

Green

2011-03-14T21:11:00.009-05:00

So we don't really do St. Patricks day, which sort of seems like an opportunity for people to lay claim to Irish heritage as an excuse for drinking themselves into a stupor, right? Right? But, for the sake of the little people I may allow for a few leprechaun shenanigans if I must. (Side note, it's that time of year when I will ever more be reminded of Wonderboy's summary last year of his lesson in church, "We learned about how Jesus healed ten leprechauns, but only one came back to say thanks")

Anyway, in the spirit of all things festive and green (and decidedly not stuporific {What? That is definitely a word.}) here's a play by play of our daily indulgence. We've gone GREEN.

For this version, we popped open a young Thai coconut:

E whacks the coconut in half using his manly muscles. And a hammer:

I scoop out the...meat? Or is it fruit?

And then here's the exciting part...we chuck in an assortment of sundry green leaves. You like kale? Spinach? Beet greens, mustard greens, arugula, chicory, parsley? Add it baby!
Then we add some fruit. This time it's a banana and some pineapple.

And then my charming assistant wearing the dead muppet fires up the blender:

Oh yeah.

I dare someone to try to pinch us.

Projects

2011-03-13T17:22:00.005-05:00

Yawn. I'm so boring lately. But I have been a busy girl. I actually survived planning and pulling off the Blue and Gold cub scout shin dig for about 70-ish people. Just think of someone who's a big-time supporter of Boy Scouts, all about the badges, the salutes, and all that ... boy stuff. And that would be the opposite of me. And don't even get me started on how malnourished I look in beige.

But then I've had a few fun projects. First a baby quilt for Miss Julie's baby on the way:

I do enjoy choosing and ordering fabric. There's so much amazing fabric available and then with the quilt all done, I'm left with lots of cheerful looking remnants folded on my supply shelf. But I've got to figure out how to make my walking foot feed the fabric a little more evenly. Since that's the whole point of a walking foot. Grrr.

And then a dress for the girl:

LOVE this fabric. I just used it for the skirt since I felt it was too busy for the bodice, but it's one of the prettiest bird prints I've seen - looks like hand painted fabric. The girl likes it too, which is helpful since if she didn't, she wouldn't wear it.

It's a Sickness

2011-02-17T11:23:00.002-06:00

This arrived Monday:

A pretty great Valentine's Day for someone who is mildly obsessive with floor cleanliness. Oh, there were other more conventional Valentine's surprises, but I do love me a good vacuum.

This was last Mother's day:

I could write a whole post devoted to Roxy Roomba. Our love is deep and true.

Progress

2011-02-16T21:11:00.002-06:00

We had a brief scare wondering if he might have a detached retina as a result of what we shall always look back on fondly as "the bungee cord incident", but an urgent trip to the opthalmologist calmed our fears.

Tangent: The opthalmologist's name was Bienvenidos Castillo, II. Would have bet my firstborn's last good eye we were expecting an appointment with a man of Hispanic heritage. So you'll understand why I stifled a "wha??" when in walked a man of Asian descent, complete with an Asian accent. And he was definitely Dr. Castillo. I've wracked my brain, and still I've got nothing. Just. Don't. Get. It.

Anyway, despite seeing "seeweed" in that eye, he has mended just the same. And we've been so, so grateful that a black eye was the extent of it.

See, when they call it bungee cord jumping...

2011-02-05T14:16:00.005-06:00

they don't mean repelling down the slide of your play set with a hardware store bungee cord. Lesson learned.

It's 11:13 a.m. What have you accomplished?

2011-01-28T12:30:00.004-06:00

E is teleworking. This means sleeping in until 7:00, wearing his favorite awesome (insert sarcasm) sweatshirt and leaving the shower and shave until later. Much later. (I have pictures. I'll hold on to those for leverage.)

But never fear, he has applied himself with fervor to one particular task this morning.

Imbibing a 2 liter bottle in it's entirety.

While he convalesces...

2011-01-18T09:09:00.004-06:00

The day after surgery Wonderboy and E had this email exchange:

Dear Dad,

I just ate a chicken noodle smoothie. Here's how. I figured if I blended up chicken noodle soup and made it into a chicken noodle smoothie, I could have actual energy running through my body without getting stuff in the spaces where my tonsils were taken out.

Love,

Kai

Dear Kai,

I'm glad you were able to find a way to obtain actual energy, instead of eating thousands of popsicles.

Love,

Dad

He's recuperating nicely, but tired of squishy food.

In other news, I performed the Heimlich (or whatever it's called these days) on my 4 year old yesterday. We heard him making a strange crackling, choking sound and realized he had something lodged in his windpipe, but we saw he wasn't able to take air in or cough. He stood there turning very red, but then he completely stopped making any sound and his fingers were digging at his neck so I grabbed him around the middle and picked him up, flipped him parallel to the ground and locked my hands together at his belly and gave a quick thrust up under his ribs. A mint fell out, and then he stood there taking great gulps of air, telling me how that mint was very stuck. Some days I think E and I won't survive this boy, and then other days I think the reverse might be our real concern.

Evidence both boys are alive and well, playing Mario Kart:

Farewell tonsils, Adieu adenoids

2011-01-13T14:08:00.003-06:00

He was literally bounding down the stairs at 6:15 this morning, ready for his trip to the hospital, giddy with the promise of endless popsicles, soda and ice cream.

I think he feels duped.

Merry, Merry

2010-12-26T17:22:00.009-06:00

Christmas was good to us. Soft new snow, listening to Christmas music and eating our body weight in sugary sweets. Here are a few shots of our Christmas day:

The girl was thrilled to open her new horse stable. Her current grouping of equines were seriously neglected, so she's relieved to have a suitable shelter for them complete with mucking-out equipment as well as a new mare and foal to house there.

My youngster is frequently opposed to having his photo taken, which creates the appearance of general dissatisfaction with his new firehouse. He is, in fact, super excited about it. As a matter of fact, we're not surprised that he reported to his teacher today in church that we had suffered a serious house fire and he saved the day by notifying the fire department. His teacher approached E to inquire about our misfortune.

Wonderboy's new laser tag set led to a lot of running in the house, which I'm generally opposed to, but in the spirit of Christmas, I let . it . go. Yay me. A certain exuberant player (E) gouged the white door frame pictured here. I didn't freak out. Again, yay me.

E amazed us all by employing his recently developed wood working skills to build gifts for the kids. He built this doll bed for Miss S's American Girl doll. I made up some bedding and it's pretty stinking cute, truth be told.

He built Bubs a toy box deserving of its own zip code.

And for Wonderboy an adjustable set of stilts, which he is already quite adept at tottering around on.

I stupidly gave E a RC gyro helicopter. I haven't snapped any pictures of it, because when he's using it, I find myself fully occupied cringing and covering my head with my arms. Somehow, when I ordered it for him, the torment I would suffer didn't occur to me.

Lots of books, games, Legos, doll clothes, sweaters, a little jewelry here and there, grandma's thumbprint cookies delivered here and there, fudge, and plenty of Tabernacle Choir in the background. It was a very good day.

Merry Christmas!

Because, as he put it...

2010-12-21T09:41:00.003-06:00

You just don't see a pirate who has crocheted his own eye patch every day.

Maybe a review of Luke 2 is in order

2010-12-19T18:01:00.006-06:00

As church let out today, Bubs' teacher flagged me down. She explained that having brought a nativity set with the individual figures wrapped in paper, she asked the children to each choose and unwrap a figure and then explain what role the figure played in the birth of Jesus.

As Bubs unwrapped his nativity figure to reveal the wise man that happened to be depicted with darker skin than the others, his teacher asked who the man was.

Bubs shrugged and simply answered, "Obama".

. . .

And now (completely unrelated) for Grandpa and Grandma J, a photo of the girl in her new dress. It's good to have a grandma who has a fondness for Strasburg dresses.

Squeaky Clean

2010-11-15T09:25:00.002-06:00

Bath time and then a few minutes on the fluff cycle and he's ready for the day.

A (late) Halloween recap

2010-11-12T08:50:00.003-06:00

Even without trick-or-treating on Sunday, the kids brought home enough sugar to chart their haul in bar graphs. Daddy is so proud of his burgeoning economist.

Schools parties, church shin-digs, and candy handing-out kept us busy. We had masses of trick-or-treaters in our neighborhood, of which only about 5% were actually from our neighborhood, under the age of 14, and English-speaking. Very odd. And that's all I'm going to say about that. But while we managed the throngs (that began coming at 4:00!) we hunkered down and watched the first Harry Potter movie.

Mommy - Daughter Manis

2010-10-23T20:42:00.003-05:00

We had a little girly fun today.

It's my birt-day. And I like yours shess.

2010-10-15T22:16:00.004-05:00

Today is my sweet Bubs' birthday. He's four. And that's big, in case you're wondering.

Yesterday at preschool, he was excited to donate his favorite book (Goodnight Moon) to the classroom to celebrate his birthday. I was invited to spend the afternoon with him in class, something I've been really looking forward to. He carefully took me by the hand and guided me to his classroom where he busied himself with backpack hanging, hand washing, snack stashing among other arrival rituals.

Throughout the afternoon, he took such care to be sure I understood where to go, when to sit, and what to play with. He was a fine example as he picked up after himself, cleaned up his snack and treated the other children with kindness and respect. I couldn't have been prouder of him, and in my pride I began to imagine how admired I must be by his teachers. What a model of maternal success I represented.

We sat down for circle time. Miss H reminded the children of their previous discussions about compliments...what constitutes a compliment and how to respond when complimented. It was sweet Sahasra's turn to receive compliments. She sat in front of the other children in her pink skirt and white, sequined top as the children offered up their compliments in turn. Mrs. S. recorded the compliments on a page to be saved and sent home with the student. One child liked her shoes, another admired her hair. Thank you, thank you, she replied with Miss H's gentle prompts. Then Miss H turned to my birthday boy and asked for his compliment.

"I like yours shess," he said, quite simply.
"You like her dress, Finn?" Miss H questioned.
"No, I like hers shess." he corrected.
silence...
"You like her shirt?" I asked.
"I like her shess." he offered, a little more loudly, a subtle note of frustration in his voice this time.
"What is it Finn?" Miss H asked again, still not understanding.
"Oh, you like her sparkly top?" I asked, hoping, but fighting unsuccessfully against the heat I could feel rising.
"No! I like hers shess!!" He blurted out in frustration as he thrust up his shirt to his chin and pointed at his own chest, "THESE...I LIKE HERS SHESS!"

silence

"Well, I don't think we ought to write that down." Miss H whispered to Mrs. S.

* * *

Pumpkin Pickin'

2010-10-10T19:45:00.006-05:00

This was us last year picking pumpkins and eating cider doughnuts at Honey Hill Farm:

It was CHILLY. Loads of fun, but so freezy. See how I'm not really smiling, but mostly grimacing? My face was frozen.

Yesterday we went a pumpkin pickin' again. It was 89 degrees. This Midwest weather certainly keeps things interesting.

We rode the tractor wagon out to pick pumpkins and gourds with Max - a black lab. I think he pretty much spends the day riding the wagon back and forth. There was also Beau, the Bloodhound, but dang he was fast. Too fast for me and my camera.

We played a little in the hay bale maze, checked out all the farm critters, and ate our bellies full and distended of fresh cider doughnuts.

On our way back home Eric and the kids checked out a small military air museum. I didn't much see the point in paying 8 bucks per adult to see a dozen old planes, so I waited in the car. I'm cheap like that. Besides my view from the parking lot was just fine. But the kids loved seeing the planes, and miss Fia declared it to be the best day ever. (She does that a lot)

Daisy. 16.33 hours

2010-09-09T16:32:00.002-05:00

Status: Vigilant

For the last 45 minutes all I've seen of Daisy as I pass by E's office, is her fanny. I just investigated to discover her waiting, very still, for a fly to make his move with an intensity we don't often see from her.

I don't have the heart to tell her the fly is very much dead.

Firsts

2010-08-29T17:54:00.005-05:00

First day of first grade, and third grade...

first day of preschool (and he has been waiting for this FOR.EVER.)
(he picked out his backpack and it seems ever so apropos)

...first day of soccer for this girl, and we may have a soccer pro on our hands...

And First prize for most awesome swim trunks on a man of maturity ever. Spotted yesterday on another trip to the beach. Almost makes me think I'm reclining in Rio.

A Solution

2010-08-21T20:20:00.005-05:00

Miss Fia has a fuchsia recorder that she received from Santa - he must have had a momentary lapse in judgment. I can come up with no other reasonable explanation. Occasionally she is overcome with a powerful need to create 'music', and when this occurs, we do our best not to yell "Stop that racket right this instant, young lady!"

Yesterday she was exploring her musical artistry - quite loudly - when Wonderboy came downstairs looking like this:

I asked what was going on there. He replied, "She's playing her flute. So, well...you know." And I do know.

First Tooth

2010-08-16T15:35:00.003-05:00

She held up her tooth triumphantly and exclaimed, "I ate a jellybean, and my tooth fell out!"

We got a new range. We're getting fat.

2010-08-15T20:49:00.003-05:00

E has been at it again. Lovely. But all together not chocolaty enough.

Daisy, 16.00 hours

2010-08-13T17:22:00.002-05:00

Status: Too.too.tired.

Look what Eric made {pour moi}

2010-08-12T09:53:00.003-05:00

Chocolate raspberry cheesecake. Miss S declared it 'too chocolaty'. As if.

My American Girl

2010-08-05T09:33:00.005-05:00

I'm coming to the conclusion that Chicago pretty much has it all. (Except chiggers, which I'm TOTALLY down with.) And since it apparently has it all, I couldn't resist the chance to plan a girls' birthday celebration at the American Girl store - because I'm such a fantastic daughter, that I gave birth to a little girl ON my mother's birthday - ya, I'm that awesome. So we made our lunch reservations, and sent the boys off to Legoland, and off we went to Michigan Ave.

I'm going to be honest with you and admit that there may have been some coercion involved steering her toward the right doll. I mean, it's your choice Fia, but I'm sure you would prefer this adorable brunette doll with the braids, right? Right. And remember it's your choice. You're choosing this cute doll with braided pony tails, yes? She looks so much like you, I really think you'd love this doll. Is this the doll you choose?

And really, she's just thinking, if I pick a stupid doll, then I can move on to the stuffed animals - cause they're AWESOME. They need to move some of the dolls out of the way and make more room for the stuffed animals.

So we settled on the doll I really wanted her to have, and the basset hound she really wanted to have.

Lunch was quite a ladies-who-lunch sort of thing, with several courses and pink lemonade. Special seats are provided for your doll to sit at the table with you (and...AND, you have the option of 'borrowing' a doll to eat lunch with if you haven't brought your own!! - I totally could have saved myself some dinero, and just bought her the basset hound.)

It was a whole lot of girly-ness, and a whole lot of fun.

And then we went to Filene's. The end.

Funny

2010-07-22T15:06:00.003-05:00

I sent Wonderboy to time-out today, no warnings, just straight to time-out for shutting off the garage light when his sister was out there and then closing the door to effectively thrust her into outer darkness. It's a particular fear of hers, and he knew it. He shuffled straight to the bench without argument - because he knew he knew it. Are you with me?

Half way through his 8 minute time-out he asks if he's done yet. I say "No way buddy. Eight minutes. Just think, when you're 18 years old, you'll be sitting for 18 minutes. That's awesome."

He replies, "Man, I just wish you guys would rethink your policy on spanking."

Beach Therapy

2010-07-17T22:22:00.009-05:00

In a rare, and completely out of character, spontaneous moment, E and I decided late Friday night to rise early Saturday and load up the car with a bag (or five). It was beach or bust. We reached Lakeshore Drive, parked and like sherpas, carried 47 tons of beach gear and toys over the grassy knoll, when I think I may have heard a heavenly chorus. There before us stretched beach and endless water. And now, I think I'm regretting that we've lived here a year without considering spending a day like the one we've savored today. The trip cost us nothing but the gas and tolls to get us there, and yet I dare say it's hands down the kids' favorite Chicago activity thus far. They splashed and played, dug and built sandcastles, and looked for shells for a whole day, and were reluctant to leave. They were gloriously happy. And really, my own sadly tormented mind was unable to construct any reason to indulge my deep, dark secret fear of sharks in the water, so bonus! A beach where I can actually stick a toe in the water. Yes!

We came home, some of us a little too pink, all tired and content. As I hugged the kids goodnight, they said it was the best day. I love that.

Aunt Julie J came to visit

2010-07-17T20:55:00.009-05:00

There was just a little bit of enthusiasm as we looked forward to a visit from Julie last week. Of course as we arrived to pick her up at the airport, my children went mysteriously and instantaneously mute. It lasted about 12 seconds and then the din of deafening noise resumed as usual.

My boys courted Miss Julie quite aggressively. Uncle B may have cause for alarm. Wonderboy trailed her (into the bathroom a time or two I fear) obsessively, and peppered her with questions and detailed information about all his favorite Wii games. I mean, he was laying it on thick. I haven't seen his dimples so frequently in such a short period of time.

As for Bubs, when we made a visit to Shedd Aquarium, and were eating lunch overlooking the lakefront, the seagulls were too much to resist and he ran off in pursuit of them. Julie quickly caught up to him and he paused long enough to let her know "I is chasing birds. Ya want one?" That kind of generosity is rarely observed in my rough, tough number 3. I'm just saying.

And then there was Miss Fia, who was dazzled by Aunt Julie's flower-adorned attire for a family wedding, Aunt Julie's red satin stilettos, and well, by Aunt Julie. She wanted to sit next to Julie, play with Julie, and I think there may have been some interest in just crawling into Julie's pocket and remaining there, just to make things easier.

Speaking of Miss Fia, she took charge of the camera while at the aquarium. Following are some highlights from her debut as event photographer.

This next one wins the award for most inexplicable. I suspect she thought this family just looked so darn cute, ready for their photo, no use letting the oppotunity pass.

So to the happy family in front of the 10 1/2 foot fish statue, just in case your own photo didn't turn out, we've got your back.

Thanks for visiting Julie. Come back soon and maybe bring Uncle B. Wonderboy will challenge him to a duel. At sundown. On the Wii.

Unplugged

2010-06-25T21:24:00.013-05:00

But taking a quick break to post photos of all the hard work we're doing relaxing in the cool mountain air.

Case closed.

2010-06-17T21:35:00.004-05:00

So we're sitting around the other night, kids are slumbering away, and it's time to herd Daisy (because that's what's required) outside to take care of business, when she flops on her side as though she's fallen and can't get up. This is not unusual. What was unusual was the vastness of her belly as she lay prone. She's a girl with curves, to be sure, but she looked like I might need to roll her out the door like a giant snowball. My immediate concern was whether we might have a health issue to address, and as we've had handful of vet visits in the last couple of months, resulting in our having to sell off the children one by one (we're starting with Bubs in case anyone is interested), I was mildly concerned. But with enough coaxing and prodding she made her way outside.

Fast forward to this morning. I was frantically slapping together a packed lunch for Wonderboy, who was headed to scout camp, and thought it odd that Daisy wasn't underfoot begging for a slice of turkey. I peeked into the dining room and there she froze, mid-chomp, with half a dog biscuit hanging out of her mouth. She remained frozen, with the exception of the eyeball that fixed on me, until I left the room to retrieve the camera. I followed the trail of evidence, and her bloated condition was justified by the near-empty, Costco bulk pack of dog biscuits, overturned on the floor of the storage room. Almost fifteen pounds of dog biscuits polished off by Daisy. That's quite a feat, I think.

Dance recital

2010-06-06T17:06:00.017-05:00

Miss S's dance recital was held recently. Amid the whirlwind of busy acitivity that inevitably characterizes every May, we had photo calls, dress rehearsals, meetings and finally the recital. I was fortunate to be asked to 'room mom' for her class which allowed me to sit with the girls at the recital, lead them backstage, sit in the front row while they performed and then hang out with them until curtain call. So, so fun.

Her particular class was one of the smallest, at only 4 dancers, but I kid you not, 4 little girls waiting for their turn to dance (Number 22 in a program of 25 routines!)? Well, let's just say it was like leading four little butterflies around. A total crack up. By dance routine number 2, they were leaning over and whispering "How many more???", and then by dance number 4, "And now how many more??", and then again after dance number 5, and you get the picture...all the way to number 22. And then when it was time to leave the auditorium to be ready backstage, you would not believe how my little group agonized over whether their lipstick had smudged away, or if their hair was still just right. They were so sweet. And so serious about the whole affair.

E and the boys had seats elsewhere. And Wonderboy had my little point and shoot camera. Something tells me he got a little bored. Dance recitals can do that to ya. Here's a sampling of his artistry:

We have an 8 year old.

2010-05-30T21:42:00.005-05:00

Such a big birthday for my sweet boy. We celebrated at home, just our family. But last weekend was his baptism and confirmation, and my parents arrived the Thursday before to be here for the big event. I can't get over how nonchalant an eight year old can be about such a huge step. He was his usual goofy self. But he didn't insist on wearing swim goggles. Phew.

The speakers were amazing, grandpa being one of them as well as witnessing - and his primary teacher brought him a white towel embroidered with his name and CTR. He was thrilled with the new scriptures we gave him, that incidentally had been purchased and schlepped by grandma and grandpa J, because when I called to order them, a sweet and obviously older lady told me their computers were down and might be back up in a week or so, but if I'd like to give her my order, she'd write it down on a scrap of paper and try very hard not to lose it. A panicked email to the parents to call in backup forces meant all was not lost and the scriptures arrived in time for his baptism.

Such a great day for him, and for us.

Afterward, we went to lunch and the zoo. Because what goes better with baptism than a trip to the zoo, right? It made sense to me anyway, as I felt it was completely appropriate to reward Bubs, in particular, for not diving into the font. I know he totally wanted to, and lets be honest, it was really very much in the realm of possibility.

Daisy. 9.00 hours.

2010-05-13T10:56:00.002-05:00

Status: Hungry and lazy. Ha.

The Mother's Day Shiner.

2010-05-11T18:11:00.005-05:00

Bubs threw himself head first down the slide after a pleasant afternoon walk around the lake. And, really, if you know anything about my boy at all, you're not the least bit surprised.

A Conversation

2010-04-15T17:13:00.002-05:00

(Walking home from school)

Bubs: I too busy for walking. Pick me up.

Me: Too busy to walk?

Bubs: Yup. Pick me up.

Me: Fine. (I pick him him)

Bubs: Oh no! My toes falling off!!

(I put him down)

Me: You crack me up, Skip.

Bubs: Crack you up? Like eggs? Oh no. That not good.

Easter Duds

2010-03-29T20:46:00.005-05:00

With General Conference falling on Easter Sunday this year, (and our affection and overall gratitude for BYUtv on said weekend) we decided to let the kids wear their Easter duds yesterday. Miss Fia's little head was going to burst if she had to wait much longer anyway, and we can't have any bursting of heads, can we? I wanted to make her dress, but found the patterns available uninspiring generally. I finally settled on one that was slightly less uninspiring than all the others and then tweaked and modified it until I figured I could live with it. The girl was breathless with delight when I presented her with the finished frock (and pink shoes!) - and what more could I hope for? And, besides, Wonderboy was surprisingly enthusiastic about his new blazer and oxfords. Bubs wanted nothing to do with the whole affair. Shocking, right?

Our President's Day

2010-02-15T20:46:00.003-06:00

Our weekend has been a quiet one. Well, except for our annual visit from Croup, which would of course mean that things have been anything but quiet. But you know what I mean. I checked movie listings this morning on a whim and searched for The Fantastic Mr. Fox, which I've been wanting to see for weeks but haven't found showing in any theaters. We hoped to see it over the Christmas break, but it was replaced at the one nearby theater where it had been showing by A Prairie Home Companion and that old Mr. Kiellor's awful vocalizations. What?

So I discovered this morning that we could finally catch the movie at the dollar theater. (Except the dollar theaters are no longer a dollar - when did that happen? And when did I get old enough to remember the good ol' days when there was such a thing as dollar theaters??) We hoped with just the right dosage of candy, we'd quell the coughs long enough to sit through a movie, and it worked beautifully. For the record, Bubs consumed about 12 pounds of sugar, but he hardly coughed at all. And he thought the foxes eating like...well... foxes was fantastically funny. I thought everything about The Fantastic Mr. Fox was fantastic.

He's not my baby anymore.

2010-02-01T12:25:00.003-06:00

And I'm not o.k. with this.

A reveal.

2010-01-22T11:56:00.007-06:00

This was our half bath when we walked through the house before making an offer. What this photo doesn't show you was me gagging in revulsion. Notice the light fixture? It was an 'upgrade', and the only light source in the room. I don't know. Maybe the bathroom was originally lit by candles or something. Fetch me my night vision goggles! I'm going in!

And now ladies and gentlemen, behold my husband's dazzling fixer-upper skills...

Crown molding. In other words, E rocked the coping saw.

New 5" baseboard trim work, courtesy of E and his mad mitering and coping skills.

As you can see in the mirror reflection, I'm not done painting, but I recently developed a unfortunate obsession with the show "Lost" and all painting projects are postponed until further notice. So there.

Three sixty-watt bulbs, baby. My life is now complete.

This toilet lever was my contribution to the project, aside from painting. I thought it was noteworthy.

The end.

He's sick. And he needed to stay home from school.

2010-01-22T11:41:00.002-06:00

And the big finish:

My poor sick boy.

Chicago Christkindlesmarkt

2009-12-25T17:04:00.007-06:00

We took the train into the city Wednesday to catch the Christkindlesmarkt on one of its last days for this season. Not an easy undertaking with three kids since it's one gigantic DO-NOT-TOUCH kind of environment, but E and I visited the market in Nuremberg our first Christmas together, as well as the well-known ornament shop in Rothenberg ob der Tauber, and the few Christmas ornaments we brought back were pretty much our only souvenirs from our first European adventures since we were po'. Like big time po'. But we have a bajillion memories and enough photos to accompany them, so we're good. Right, so this market was awfully reminiscent of that Nuremberg market, even the smells...and the shop in Rothenburg? It had a giant walk-through stall here in Chicago. What? I can't get over it.

Riding the double decker train dad takes to work was a leetle bit exciting.

Just a tiny smattering of what was there - you get the idea?

Anyway. We were rained on all day. Or was it sleet? Whatever - cold wet stuff all day, but it was a good Christmas activity none-the-less.

This is how to smile for the camera in sleet.

And we also took in the Macy's display windows, which the kids loved. The line to see Santa in Macy's was ridiculous, so we told the kids Santa isn't real. Ha, ha. No, not really.

And look what I brought back to look at! I've wanted one of these forever. No, actually it came from Home Goods, but it's the real deal, and it cost about 25% of what they were at the market, so even more awesome, right?

Merry Christmas!

Battle Wounds

2009-12-22T20:59:00.003-06:00

With three new sleds in tow (early Christmas presents in celebration of a couple of inches of fresh fallen snow this morning), the kids and I raced for the single solitary hill in the area. As the first early birds on the hill we revelled in the snow, raced down the hill and made snow angels. It was great fun, until a couple of older kids joined us on the hill and one of them flew down the hill at just the moment Bubs had slid to a stop down there and was getting up. I watched helplessly from the top as she knocked him off his feet, and then ran/slid down as it registered that my three year old was a bloody mess. Those darn head wounds bleed like the dickens, they do. A large chunk of the girl's eye tooth was embedded in his forehead. Serves her right for messing with my boy. As she ran off squealing to her mother (who never got out of her car until the squealing began - seriously!) Bubs looked up and asked to go home.

He sports several stitches now and should be quite proud of the ruckus he's caused around here. Big brother and big sister are a bit in awe of his bravery getting stitched up. And as for him, he would prefer not to be strapped down to a papoose board ever again.

Let the Christmas bliss begin.

2009-12-18T18:43:00.005-06:00

Last week "gumpaw and gumpaw" came for a visit laden with an early shower of Christmas presents. The highlight for Bubs was discovering his very own Lightening McQueen big-boy-bike. All his hopes and dreams came to fruition as he tore away the wrapping paper to reveal a Lightening McQueen bike. I wondered if this new bike would be just the nudge he needed to finally learn to pedal in earnest. Or, would it worsen his apparent frustration in the mysteries of forward propulsion.

For a day or so he was content to push it in circles around the sofa. Of course, once gumpaw and gumpaw departed for the airport, he climbed atop and began to pedal with such speed and precise corning maneuvers that I've been forced to conclude he's particularly adept at closeting his mad skills until the perfect timing for maximum shock value is reached. (Perhaps he's perfectly capable of demonstrating potty-training...but waiting for just the right moment??) I bestowed just the right overload of motherly pleasure, with squeals of delight and lots of clapping. He gave me a look one reserves for the village idiot.

No day has been complete without several turns around the sofa. But today, TODAY, we took the bike outside for it's inaugural spin outdoors. He was beaming. The bike is a resounding success gumpaw and gumpaw - a resounding success!!

Halloween, late.

2009-11-09T13:14:00.004-06:00

We bid the flu farewell just in time to engage in some serious Halloween-ness. Wonderboy observed that it was "like one party after another without any break! And completely awesome!!" It was, too. But what mom takes a grand total of 4 photos on Halloween (one of those being of the dog)?? Me. So here they are. All four of them.

I had a train conductor, who tragically lost his conductor's hat, a garden fairy (minus her wings), and shark reprisal!

(The whole trick-or-treating posse)

And the aforementioned dog. Tortured cruelly in a lady bug costume.

What the CDC didn't tell us about h1n1

2009-10-25T19:24:00.005-05:00

That you will pity your poor, sick child so intensely, and want so desperately to cheer her up when she's feeling absolutely, horribly awful, you'll do something that at any other time would make you shudder with distaste. Would make you break out in a ferocious and unsightly rash. Would make your stomach roll with queasiness.

And what is this most horrible, horrible thing, you might ask? Well, I'll tell you. Brace yourself.

You will buy your sad, sad five year old a dreadful polyester sweater(?) constructed entirely out of a dead muppet, that you are surely allergic to, all because of her sad, drippy, feverish blue eyes. I am at once ashamed and confused, but there it is.

Let's hope she's fully recovered soon. I clearly cannot trust myself to act sanely right now. The upside of this is if I cannot finish her Halloween costume in between caring for sick kids, she can always go as Abby Cadabby.

Our fall tradition

2009-10-13T12:28:00.008-05:00

A trip to a pumpkin patch and/or orchard has been part of our autumn adventure line-up since Wonderboy was a wee little 5 month old. We love it. The kids LOVE it. So the pressure was on to find ourselves a new patch/orchard to visit here in Illinois, that would compare to our favorite Kansas haunts. We bundled up (winter has apparently arrived around here?), and found pumpkins, picked apples, discovered a cider mill (and filled our bellies with cider doughnuts!), and visited a handful of farm animals as well. The farm was under the vigilant care of a bloodhound named Beau, who didn't hold still enough for a photo, because bloodhounding, as it turns out, is a full-time job requiring a lot of running about and sniffing out doughnut crumbs.

Just itchin' to pick some pumpkins.

Some serious pumpkin-pickin'-strategizing going on in his head.

Official apple samper

Just the anticipation of a cider doughnut fills his little heart with glee.

He seems to be enjoying his doughnut quite a lot, no?

Ted.

Hissy & Fit

???

Three of the cutest pumpkins ever? Yup.

Daisy. 20.00 hours.

2009-10-08T10:52:00.001-05:00

Status: Useful

A Conversation

2009-10-01T16:53:00.002-05:00

After proving particularly courageous at the pediatrician's office this morning, having submitted, tear-free, to a vaccination in each leg, Bubs chose a cookie and drink at Whole Foods to reward himself. (And, well, I rewarded myself with a drink as well, Izze lime to be exact, for no particular reason, but that's neither here nor there.) After enjoying his own drink for a moment, he checked to see if I was watching and then veeerrrrryyyy slowly slid his little hand over to grasp my bottle and then whisked it to his mouth for a huge swig.

Me: I think maybe you're sneaky.

Bubs: Mommy, I not sneaky... I Finn.

daisy. 13.00 hours.

2009-09-04T12:56:00.001-05:00

status: sleepy.

Morning on the riverwalk

2009-09-03T13:37:00.007-05:00

When we had just two children, I smugly thought I'd figured out this business of parenting, at least parenting in the early years. But then number three came along. At 39 weeks pregnant, I found myself going into (false) labor on a daily basis, usually in the early morning hours, say, 2 or 3:00 a.m., only to feel contractions fade away after a couple of hours. After a week of false starts, and compounding exhaustion from the sleepless nights, I'd begun to imagine pleading conversations with my unborn baby where I begged him to end the nightmare that had become my frustrating and emotional wait. I walked around more than 5 cm dilated, for a week folks. Five centimeters! Some women labor for HOURS to reach that point. At the end of that week, after a four hour stretch of wishy-washy contractions that petered out at about five in the morning, I was so utterly exhausted and so emotionally drained I broke down in an ugly torrent of tears, at which point my mom (who was staying to help) wisely suggested calling my midwife. (Duh! Why didn't I think of that?) My midwife broke my water and in 27 seconds I was holding my third born.

Why am I giving the sordid particulars of his birth?? Well, because those final days of my pregnancy were warning bells. Clanging, shrill warning bells that were trying to send my sleep-deprived, addled brain a ward of caution: THIS STRONG-WILLED CHILD WILL TAKE ALL YOU THOUGHT YOU KNEW AND TURN IT ON IT'S HEAD - Just so you know.

I'm still figuring him out, almost three years later, but one thing I know for sure:

The boy loves to be outdoors. (cue booming, decisive voice here)

He's willful and mischievous, his mood swings are bewildering, and he will not be made to do anything he doesn't want to do, but it all changes outdoors. So, (I'm getting to the point now) I took him to the riverwalk this morning and he was in heaven, and, consequently, so was I. He led the way, and I spent the morning trying to keep up, while he called back to me "Coming, mommy?"

You know you're a good mom if...

2009-08-26T11:26:00.005-05:00

...your children can prepare their own nutritious breakfast,

...practice good hygiene, showering regularly,

...entertain themselves with safe, appropriate activities,

...and demonstrate a good, strong work ethic.

Now, let me see. Check, check, check and check.

Back to school

2009-08-22T21:06:00.005-05:00

Wonderboy officially became a second grader this week. I can't figure out how I happen to have a second grader. When did this happen? He was not at all excited about school because he "doesn't like homework". I have to think he's been anxious about starting a new school, knowing almost no one. Kind of breaks my heart. We briefly met his new teacher Monday, and my boy seemed to feel a little more optimistic since his teacher is male, and as he put it, "I just get so bored of all these girls, girls, girls." We have two days of school under our belts, and I've breathed a sigh of relief as he's told me about his awesome teacher and how great the book selection in his class is. He's just itching to get his hands on the Captain Underpants books E and I have thus far banned from our own bookshelves.

But my agony didn't end there. The next day I waved goodbye to my baby girl (she is my baby and nobody may convince me otherwise) at the door and she ventured off to all-day kindergarten with her piggy tails flipping. She loves every minute of it, and the best sight in the world was the two of them exiting the school at the end of the day hand in hand. Honestly, I was devastated to learn kindergarten is exclusively all-day here. I just didn't feel ready to lose her. But if she must go, it's a huge relief that she adores it. ADORES IT. So much so, that she was crestfallen to realize, when she woke up the next morning, that she had only an ordinary Saturday to look forward to. She pleaded with me to take her to school until I explained the school was quite empty. The weekend is awfully long to an eager kindergartner.

Oh, and her one request as she prepared for all-day kindergarten? A giant carrot in her Hello Kitty lunch bag. Because those baby carrots aren't right for big girls, and she is a big girl now, thank you very much.

When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie

2009-07-30T14:53:00.003-05:00

Spinach and mushroom Chicago style pizza. I'm pretty sure I heard my arteries say "Oy!".

The spinach is redeeming, no?

Feeling Thrifty

2009-07-28T15:11:00.003-05:00

I dropped off a bunch of junk at Goodwill today, because why not move long distance with your junk and then purge, right? Right. Our new kitchen is larger, but oddly enough seems to hold less. So I couldn't justify keeping all nine sets of mixing bowls, or the wok we haven't used in four years, or the components to an old food processor I threw out 3 years ago. You get the picture. E and both declared NO MORE KITCHEN CRAP. Moratorium on kitchen crap.

Anyway, while I was there dropping off the aforementioned junk, I thought I'd dash in for a look through the shelves. Now, I've only ever ventured in a Goodwill once before and it was slightly horrific - the smell alone was so off-putting I left promptly. But some time ago I read about Duralex French bistro glassware and the sad fate of the factory here and here, and became a smidge obsessed with finding some bistro glasses to go with my new white porcelain bistro dishes (thanks, mom) and, although a long shot, I thought Goodwill was worth a try.

And, do you know I think I squealed out loud right there in the middle of all the knick knacks and kitch -and I should add that place was hoppin' - but who cares?! I found a nice selection of Picardie glasses!

And a bunch of these cute little sundae dishes.

What? What moratorium?

Lovin' Chicagoland.

2009-07-27T21:18:00.006-05:00

We've been wondering when we'll come to realize we haven't relocated ourselves to Utopian Perfection, U.S.A. I suspect it will happen when winter hits and the wind chill is well into the negative double digits. Sigh. Maybe I'll love it since I'm always too hot anyway.

We drove into the city Saturday to visit the Shedd Aquarium. We bought the annual family pass (See? We're bracing for brutal winter. Bring it on!) and spent hours looking at the aquatic creatures. Pictures were tricky since flash was against the rules...

Perplexed by the stingray suctioned on the glass:

Is that a LEASH?? Am I a mother who puts my child on a leash? Like a dog? Why, yes, I am. Have you met my third born??

Fascinated by the dolphins:

Fuzzy pic of mamma beluga and baby:

Playing penguins:

Some of the jellies:

Enjoying the dolphin show:

Drumroll, please?

2009-07-01T11:30:00.002-05:00

I drew names. Not rigged - I really drew Andrea's name. So watch out lady, lap quilt from the land of misfits headed your way.

Just because I like to bury my head in the sand.

2009-06-25T13:31:00.003-05:00

When life gets crazy, I prefer to unearth the sewing machine. So I followed the tutorial at Presser Foot to make a little girl's dress out of one of daddy's dress shirts. He's got plenty. He won't miss it. And it turned out pretty cute. How come there are so many creative brains out there in blogland?

And I decided to try my hand at free motion machine quilting, so I pieced this strippy lap quilt and machine quilted it. Not so easy, it turns out. I mean this little quilt has 'issues'. But it's serviceable.

I'd love to get rid of it, so if someone wants to leave a comment that they want it I'll gladly pack it off and send it on it's way to you. And if TWO people want it, why then I'll have Bubs choose who to send it to. And if, say, three people want it, then we'll draw a name out of a hat. That's right folks! Free lap quilt with 'issues'! Just what you've always dreamed of.

And as bizarre and unbelievable as it truly is, I'm aware of a few readers in far off exotic lands - but I'd really prefer to pay U.S. postage, thank you kindly.

Where to begin?

2009-06-04T21:57:00.007-05:00

I've been especially lousy at this blogging nonsense lately. So there's no way to catch up, other than a choppy, yawn-inducing run down. Consider yourself warned. And feel free to bail.

Mostly, this has dominated our lives the last few months:

Cleaning, painting, staging, and then, when the phone rang, scrambling to load 3 kids and 2 dogs into the Ody to vacate, and fast. We quickly fell into a routine. Fia makes a mad window washer woman, and Wonderboy is your guy if you want to ensure that all toilets have been flushed (And if you have kids who don't really see much point in flushing, like mine, this would be something you'll want to double check before you leave for a showing. I can't imagine who needs to look down a toilet when considering buying a house, but I'm just saying. You wouldn't want to lose a potential buyer just because your kids are particularly phobic about flushing). Poor Bubs got strapped securely in his car seat at T minus 15 minutes because that was the only way to do the last minute shine up, without his especially efficient counter effects. But it's done, and we have been grateful that it only took about 2 weeks for our initial offer to come in. And with the contract signed, the wee people went happily back to lettin' it mellow, because that's what they do.

E did a preliminary house hunt alone while in Chicago for work. And then WE. ALL. WENT. TO. CHICAGO. And if you've never personally been stupid enough to house hunt with three young children in tow, you really should try it. It's delightful. I'm sure it was E's idea.

I guess it wasn't really that bad. Wait. Yes, it was. But the kids were crazy excited and they did pretty well, all things considered. If all the planets align just so, and the sellers decide not to continue their pattern of just-plain-loco-ness and burn the place down before closing, this will be our new home:But, really, I'll believe it when we actually have keys in hand. Besides, there's always Motel 6. I think they leave the light on there.

Oh, and one of the great trials of Miss Fia's young life has been sitting in a "BOY" car seat. Back when I purchased Wonderboy's car seat (a Britax Marathon) in 2002, I got one of the first ones to hit the shelves in D.C., and consequently had to settle for the only color available - a grey-blue sort of velveteen option. And then when Fia was ready to move out of the infant seat, I got all practical and conservative and decided the seats should match, so I bought another boring grey-blue Marathon. She feels quite strongly that she has been subjected to a sore trial indeed, sitting in a grey-blue BOY seat. Until our house-hunting trip, that is. When Southwest's baggage guys must have tied her seat to the end of a long rope and taken it for a joy ride across the tarmac. When we claimed our carseats, 2 of them looked like they'd been through a grizzly attack. Kudos to Southwest though. They reimbursed me for replacement, and now Miss Fia sighs with relief each day as she climbs into her new Mariposa Marathon "GIRLY" seat. Poor thing. The shame I've put her through.

Wishing for...

2009-05-13T14:06:00.002-05:00

This bike:

and I would add a bike basket to it, and scoot around with kids piled in the back. Perfect.

Next, The Boston Marathon.

2009-05-01T21:43:00.004-05:00

Wonderboy and I ran the Husky Hustle tonight. I know how completely impressive that sounds. But don't be intimidated by our achievement. We all can't be fleet of foot, right? Anyway, here we are with our official numbers, waiting for the call to the starting line.

And here we are coming in for our finish. (Okay, pretend finish. Because E was hanging out at the smoothie booth instead of watching for us at the finish. And so he requested a reenactment for a photo's sake so he wouldn't appear to have slipped in his support duties.) Just look at Wonderboy digging deep as he sprints to the finish line. He's fast, that one. And he was fast the first time we finished too.

Here's the fast guy with his medal:

I will TOTALLY run a mile if it means I can have a free massage when I finish.

I fully expect to be resented for this, years from now.

2009-04-26T14:06:00.004-05:00

But for now, he's two, and can't really do much about the way I dress him. Other than give me the hairy eyeball, which he's pretty good at already.

Meet "Daddy"

2009-04-09T20:06:00.004-05:00

About a week ago, as we were engaged in the whirlwind and chaos that characterize every weekday morning, while I play (quite convincingly) the role of "Sargent" in Get-To-School-On-Time boot camp, I overheard something perplexing, and perhaps even a little alarming. Wonderboy, Princess S and Bubs, all in collusion, discussed tucking "Daddy" in snug with a square of toilet paper, and then bid him farewell for the day. And every day since then, "Daddy" has been around, just lying on the floor or maybe kicked under the dining table. And when he's separated from his toilet tissue for very long, because maybe I've tossed it in the trash in a futile effort to keep at least the illusion of tidiness alive, it's eventually replaced by one of my three little people - though I never seem to catch him or her in the act, so I don't know who's most responsible for the general care of "Daddy". But aside from the kind offering of the toilet paper, he's pretty much ignored for the most part.

It does raise some questions, though, doesn't it? For instance, why the need for a surrogate Daddy? And why one so...I don't know...wooden? One with a smile permanently affixed? He's certainly a quiet fellow. And he doesn't seem to mind when the little people practice the 50 yard dash across our kitchen, living, and dining rooms. Goodness, he's a cheerful and tolerant little man. All 1.5 inches of him.

...Um...Love was in the air?

2009-03-17T21:10:00.007-05:00

With the promise of a beautiful spring day, we decided a family trip to the zoo was in order. And our first stop was the "Australia" exhibit.

Uh, hold on, what do we have here?

Hey kids, lets take this opportunity to learn a little something about life...

We saw a drowsy tiger. He wasn't being vulgar. Too bad I left my furminator home...

These antelope-thingers were also not being vulgar. They graze about peacefully under the ever watchful gaze of a pride of lions and the cheetahs. Both of which probably spend every waking moment daydreaming about the hunt. Which won't ever happen, what with all the electric fence between them. Some zoo architect has an especially sick sense of humor.

The giraffes were well-behaved.

This guy was kind enough not to eat my lens cap after I threw it at him, in a pathetic attempt at a good photo. A vigilant giraffe caretaker retrieved it for me.

And we took a little train ride...

...and avert your eyes once again.

This gang cracked me up. Like "Hey! Look at us! Who needs lions and giraffes when there are synchronized performing turtles around??"

Baby jail?

the end.

What did you do with your weekend?

2009-03-16T20:25:00.004-05:00

Me? I furminated my cat. And it was strangely gratifying.

Also, we realized amid the tumult of Life-With-Bubs last week, that the boy had come to the conclusion, most decisively, that after so much quality time in his crib, he would no longer be spending his nights there. And that was that. So we've moved the crib out, the toddler bed in, and I have become the night-shift baby-jailer. This, too, is strangely gratifying.

He has not (yet) found a way to bust out.

(Disclaimer: Do not be alarmed. Bubs has NOT developed a cocaine habit while in the slammer. He did, however, enjoy a powdered doughnut just before the above photo was taken. And then he launched another Tantrum of Monumental Proportions just because.)

A little goodwill... courtesy of a starlight mint

2009-03-13T12:15:00.004-05:00

This past week has been just a little bit horrific. Or should I say this past week, Bubs has been a little bit horrific? I jinxed the lovely state of harmony we had seemed to have settled into, when I remarked to E (in a pleasantly shocked sort of way) that I found myself liking our youngest offspring about 90% of the time lately. But, darn it, he WAS being charming and adorable and disgustingly sweet 90% of the time. So much so, that the 10% hardly seemed even a bleep of unpleasantness, really. It all came to a screeching end about a week ago when Bubs got a bad cold.

The other two trudge through colds with the customary whining, skulking about, and refusing to eat. Bubs, on the other hand, wakes up angry - no, ENRAGED - at the world, ready to lash out at anything, anywhere. The dude has spent A LOT of quality time sitting in his crib because we've found no other way to cope with the Tantrums-of-Monumental-Proportions, if you know what I mean.

We're beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, sort of, as his symptoms are starting to taper off. But he's really got a good firm grasp on, and pretty deep understanding of, the power of the Tantrum-of-Monumental-Proportions, and I think, to our complete horror, he may have decided to add it to the regular behavior repertoire.

So that brings us to today. This morning I returned to the gym, having taken a couple days off for the kids to stop oozing, and I'm not going to lie, it felt great to hand them over to the capable hands of Ms. Karla in the childcare room, and walk away saying a silent, pleading prayer that Bubs wouldn't have her tied and bound when I returned. Or at least if he did, let them not page me to return for my demon-child until my workout was over. I've never enjoyed sweating more. And I did return to find Ms. Karla in reasonably good shape. Phew.

So, you know, I just had to push my good luck and attempt a quick stop at Target for a few things. And there was a stinky diaper to contend with in the Target restroom. (I digress to mention this only because it was one of those instances where you come out feeling not entirely unscathed by the experience, because you can't figure out why the odor still lingers, but you know one or both of you is still contaminated in a way that will only be solved by a shower for one of you and bath for the other - know what I mean?) But things were otherwise fine until we passed the candy aisle, and I had to throw something in to appease the masses, and when I refused to allow Bubs to open it on the spot, the Tantrum-of-Monumental-Proportions began. It was in full force by the time I reached the paper goods aisle.

Maybe my memory is bad, but I truly don't recall offspring #1 or 2 ever pulling anything like that in a public place. Maybe a little unsavory behavior occasionally, but a complete and total meltdown? I don't think so. It was ugly. It was mortifying. And while I stood there next to the napkins and paper plates asking him to calm down, I realized I might be forced to abandon the whole thing and head to the car. I appreciated those few shoppers who passed by pretending not to notice the screeching demon-child wrestling with the sweaty lady in yoga pants. What I didn't appreciate was the (quite) elderly woman with a blue coif who didn't even come down the paper goods aisle, but stopped where she was passing by on her way down the main walkway to STARE at our exorcism-in-progress. Not just a brief pause and then resume shuffling, but stop, STARE and continue STARING for about 4 minutes. It took all my resolve and self-control not to turn and declare loudly, "NOTHING TO SEE HERE, Lady. Move on."

She did eventually continue on, but just when I was ready to abort the mission, here she came down the aisle, approaching me slowly. I braced myself to be told my child was being creepy (ya, I know) or that I should be spanking him and not plaguing the entire patronage of Target with his demonic screams. But she came closer with her hand outstretched clenching something, and asked, "Would this help?" I held out my hand and she dropped a single starlight mint in my palm. This stopped Bubs cold in his tracks. He looked at her. He looked at me. I looked at him. I looked at her, and with a bewildered "thanks" I opened the candy and he popped it in. I thanked her profusely in the lovely silence that followed and sighed an enormous breath of relief that I hadn't uttered the rude words that I had seriously considered earlier. She gave a little laugh and said she was sorry she had only one piece of candy, but isn't it funny how a little person can get so upset and sometimes we can't figure out why? Ya, funny, I thought. Freaking hilarious. And I didn't want to teach the kid that Tantrums-of-Monumental-Proportions will earn him treats from perfect strangers, but it was such a kind gesture, and had a truly magical "re-boot" effect.

I don't even like starlight mints, but I think whenever I see them now, I'll think of that sympathetic woman and her thoughtful gesture. We could use a few more kindly old ladies with starlight mints in his world. Restored my faith in human kind, it did.

Cheesy Ham Sandwich Gone Wrong

2009-02-27T08:36:00.003-06:00

That post title really draws you in, doesn't it?

Well last night was one of those leftover buffet nights. You know, when you clean out everything in the fridge left over from the last four dinners and you all pick and choose and graze like all those satisfied senior citizens who eat dinner at 4:30 at the local Hometown Buffet? So our leftover buffet consisted of bbq brisket, chicken and rice casserole, and Carl-Malone-love-cheesy-ham-sandwiches (some of you know what I'm talking about). And if that wasn't enough E pulled out the Super Duper T-fal Family Deep Fat Fryer (remember that?) to cook a bunch of frozen fries out of the freezer, you know, just so there was a vegetable in there somewhere. As you can see, this was a real humdinger of a health-conscious meal, but I digress...

As we sat down to eat, Wonderboy picked up his cheesy ham sandwich, which was admittedly a little sloppy having just come out of the oven, and with such a look of horror and disgust flung it aside with dramatic flourish.

Wonderboy: Oh DISGUSTING, it's SLIMY!!!! Ugh! Mom, you really need to be TEACHED something very important! I. AM. NOT. A. SLIMY. MAN! I do NOT eat slimy food! Harumph! I cannot eat like this. I QUIT.

Princess S:........... Hmm. Well, that was inappropriate.

Me: (speechless)

No worries. Just an ordinary mealtime in our household.

Valentine's Ravioli

2009-02-24T21:17:00.003-06:00

We didn't brave the madding crowds to go out on Valentine's Day. E was trying to recover from The Death Cold anyway, so we hunkered down and ate pasta. That's right, Valentine's pasta. See, all he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas was a cooking class at the Culinary Center - a cooking class taught by the pasta chef at Lydia Bastianich's very own restaurant to be precise. So we've been reaping the (good!) rewards of said cooking class with lots of fresh pasta and tasty sauces. And on Valentine's Day he gave his new ravioli attachment a trial run. Spinach & Cheese ravioli in marinara, if you please. Not a particularly romantic nor kid-free dinner, but it was pretty darn good. (And I spent an extra hour at the gym that morning to preemptively atone for it, thank you very much)

The meal was given the Kid Stamp of Approval. And the Wife Stamp of Approval, for that matter. Because I'm all for anything that keeps the man IN the kitchen and me OUT. And if what said man produces tastes good, why, even better. Now if I could just find him a class on how to wield a mop...

Would Sir like sumptin fancy?

2009-02-15T20:51:00.002-06:00

As E was perusing house listings recently (a hobby of his), Wonderboy caught a glimpse and declared the house Not Fancy Enough. "Because I'm a Fancy Man, and I shall need a Fancy House", he said.

Just your average Tuesday.

2009-02-03T21:36:00.004-06:00

Today while I was showering, The Princess took a good hard look at Bubby and came to the conclusion that his style was simply not edgy enough.

She took care of it. When I came downstairs to discover the little pile of hair, she quickly informed me the cat was going bald, and what I saw before me was only the evidence of that fact, and nothing more.

I don't know. Maybe it brings out his eyes.

On a brighter note. Look what I'm still eating! Why, yes, it's plain yogurt with fruit and a wee drizzle of honey. I've been eating it every day because it's so lovely. But, Janna, you ask, how can you possibly consume vast quantities of yogurt? Well, it's because I'm just making my own, if you must know. A very nice man from India, passing out the free samples at Costco, pulled me aside one day as though prepared to divulge The Super Duper Confidential Secrets of the CIA and explained the very simple process of making yogurt and incubating it inside a Thermos jug of warm water. And what do you know, it works! And so I'm sitting around eating giant bowl fulls of yogurt.

I must have the happiest little bacteria colonies in my digestive tract.

You da Man

2009-01-29T20:33:00.004-06:00

When our piece o' crud garage opener decided to go belly-up Monday, E attempted the necessary repairs. I don't know what he did out there, but I did hear the garage door succumb to the forces of gravity in such a shocking manner that I felt compelled to peek out to see if 911 should be called and fast. E conceded and called the repair company to come the next day and the man informed me the sprockets were sprung, the mother board circuitry gadget thingies were blown and there was gunk in the bushings and gaskets. Or something like that. Anyway, R.I.P. old Genie opener.

Now, I pass along the diagnosis and the quote for replacement to E, and he thinks for a minute and does a few quick calculations and decides against his better judgement to tackle the project himself. And dog-gone-it, you know what? He did it. And the best part is our new belt-driven Liftmaster DOESN'T sound like a freight train under Wonderboy's bedroom. A new garage opener has literally changed our lives, people. Do you hear me? Changed. Our. Lives.

And since I'm on the subject of men being manly and getting things done and all that, here is Wonderboy taking out the trash. In case my photography skills, the low light level, and overall size of the photo are not adequate to allow you to appreciate the finer details here, I'll tell you he is taking out the trash at 5:00 p.m. in a combination of Ratatouille and Cars Movie pajamas, a leather belt and cowboy boots. And this was only after we insisted he remove the Hanes briefs he had fashioned into a head wrap, and the assortment of extra clothes he had stuffed into the belly and bottom of the pajamas to creat a rather surprising Boobah likeness.

Derby Day

2009-01-25T14:25:00.004-06:00

Race day was yesterday. Our first race day, in fact. In preparation, E and Wonderboy gave the car several coats of laquer, installed tail lights and racing stripes. They lubed axels, checked wheels, and coached the driver (Star Wars' Anakin turned out to be the best qualified, since you're probably wondering).

There was a buzz of excitement as the boys looked over the cars and eyed each other's design choices.

Anakin took fifth place, which apparantly was a little disappointing...

...Until the realization set in that medals were awarded to the top five racers. Lucky for Anakin, too. Things were looking a bit tenuous for the little racer. Looked to me like he might have been out of a job.

Cue Hallelujah Chorus

2009-01-25T14:20:00.002-06:00

A new keyboard - and the all important "A" - and I'm one jubilant gal.

It's really the little things, isn't it?

In Honor of This History-Making Day

2009-01-20T22:04:00.003-06:00

Really. You have no idea how much I crack myself up.

Missionaries Coming for Dinner: A Prep Course

2009-01-19T13:01:00.003-06:00

We were 'feeding the missionaries' last night, and because I often lay awake at night dreading the things my children tend to say and do when other adults visit our home, I figured a little pop quiz was in order. Sort of a true/false quiz except the possible answers were appropriate/inappropriate. (My children will need years of therapy one day for my overuse of the word 'appropriate'.)

I began by suggesting scenarios like "eating with our fingers?" and "interrupting?" and they were quickly and easily distinguishing the appropriate behaviors from inappropriate. Things got interesting when they began suggesting scenarios of their own devising. It went something like this...

Wonderboy: I know! We should not talk about gross things like diapers and using the potty.
Me: Right.
Princess S: And we should keep our clothes on. Especially our pants.
Me: Precisely. Our usual policy of clothing: optional at dinner will not apply tonight.
Wonderboy: No loud burping. This will be REALLY hard for me because I burp a lot.
Me: Yes, suppress the burps, please.
Princess S: And we definitely should not toot.
Me: Uhuh.
Wonderboy: And it's most important that we try very, very hard not to pinch anyone, especially not our visitors.

There was more, but it truly made no difference. Most of the "inappropriate" behaviors made an appearance last night to our horror and chagrin. Best of all, Wonderboy made a point of telling our visitors "I really like to climb up to my tree house in the back yard, except the tree house doesn't have a floor...or a roof........or walls....and well, it's really just a tree, but if there was a tree house, that would be really cool."

Hello, gorgeous

2009-01-14T13:28:00.002-06:00

The thing is, ever since E and I got hitched, and then became young train-hopping transients in Europe, and ate the most lovely yogurt somewhere outside Prague, I cannot stomach yogurt available in the U.S. Sure it was likely made with full fat milk, but it wasn't loaded up with gelatins, artificial flavors and an astonishing amount of sugar. It was lovely. Did I already say that?

Oh, I buy yogurt, and then the kids eat it, or it sits in the refrigerator until we look at it suspiciously before throwing it out. But I almost never, ever, eat it. That is until I bought a virtual vat of plain "mountain-style" lowfat nothing-but-yogurt yogurt at Costco, topped it with fresh fruit and a wee drizzle of honey, and immediately fell in love of the truest kind. And I've since been wondering between mouthfuls, "Where have you been all my life you lovely, lovely perfection?"

Sunday Dinner

2009-01-11T17:08:00.004-06:00

Look at me do gourmet. A few old-fashioned ice cube trays and a colorful assorment of fruits, veggies and deli meat and these three are happy clams. And this way E won't have to tear himself from the book he's completely absorbed by in order to prepare the fancy pork loin dinner he had planned. And what's he reading you ask? Twilight. That's right folks, he's reading Twilight. Nobody's more surprised than me.

This weekend we had a little family outing to Science City. Just look at the enthusiam...
We explored the underground pipe system and realized perhaps the experience wasn't meant for adults as we tried to unwedge ourselves.

E bravely attempted the suspended bike. That was until it began to sway and he whimpered "mommy" and had to be coaxed back. No, not really, but that would have been funny anyway.

All systems GO

2009-01-04T20:30:00.011-06:00

We've come out the other end of December mostly in tact, and with a collective sigh of relief having survived all the festivities that make up the holidays. So here is a poorly presented recap of the goings-on around here lately...

Santa was given the particulars. Unfortunately, he was unable to stop fidgeting with the beard and muttering about his summer home in Connecticut. Good thing this Santa has a day job, because he was a pretty lousy jolly man. And as far as I know, Santa doesn't 'summer' in CT.

This guy was one of the first grade reps to compete in the primary spelling bee. He was pretty disgruntled about having to spell with an audience, but he was a brave fellow and even shot me a quick smile. He's pretty much a smarty-pants. And I'm not just saying that.

Fia had a couple of dancing gigs. She's not a huge fan of the weekly dance class, but if there's a stage and audience involved, she's your gal.

And here's what a 17 hour drive to Utah looks like. Some of us weather it better than others...

Snap shot of my side of the family - two versions. The second take is my personal favorite. We're a cheeky bunch.

A trip to the cabin for some serious sledding and snowmobiling. Later that night, Fia whispered "Mommy - those things we rode today? They ROCKED!"Uncle Tuffy. Our new snowmobiling super-hero. Adventurer extraordinaire. And all around good sport. Especially when our basset and greyhound decided they were simply not interested in running behind snowmobiles up to the cabin, thank you very much, and had to be held on Chris' lap and snowmobile-chauffeured up the mountain. Pansies.
And yes, the snow in Utah is, in fact, blue. Don't even blame it on my crummy photography and Photoshop skills. It's blue, I tell you.

If you ever want your very own Napoleon Dynamite boots, pre-weathered for your comfort, I can tell you that UT's very own D.I. might just have a pair for you at the bargain-basement price of $4.00. And seriously, why didn't anyone ever tell me how upscale D.I. really is? I would have spent longer if we weren't eager to hit the snow.

And that my friends, is as much as I can offer at this point. One of the Great Lessons of 2008 will be to never vacuum the laptop keyboard with the hose attachment, because the "A" might be sucked right off and irreparable. My left pinky finger is literally tender since every "A" I type requires about 47 tries on the little rubber bubble left behind.

nd if I didn't try to type tht letter (nd sve my poor pinky finger) my lredy blthering blog posts would be even more torturous to red. So relly tht letter, or the bscence of the letter, is the reson I've been neglectful of my blog. Tht's my story nywy. Hppy New Yer!

First snowfall, and an interesting conversation

2008-12-01T14:05:00.004-06:00

We had a 1/2" of snow this weekend, more of a dusting really, but you wouldn't know it from the kids' reactions. They had grand plans for all that snow, mostly a lot of sledding, but probably a few snow angels and a snow fort or two. E was so sure that any attempt at sledding would be a huge flop, that he told the kids to go right ahead and suit up for a trip behind the school to sled in the astounding snowfall, and then proceeded to toss on .... a pair of Crocs. Crocs!?! Like, Duh! But that's how I know he's a devoted dad. Because when it wasn't a complete flop, he stayed out there in Crocs (Duh!!) so they could experience the joy and wonder of the seasons first snowfall.

And now for a completely random and not at all related dialogue:

This morning Wonderboy wouldn't get out of bed for school - he said he had a tummy ache. But a few minutes later he shuffled into my bathroom and turned on the water in the shower.

Me: Wait - how's your tummy?

Him: It's fine mom. I think it was just trying extra hard to smoosh up food in there. And I think it was really having a hard time smooshing up that whole ice cube I swallowed last night. It was a big ice cube and I just gulped it down whole.....Oh, oh! Hey! I think that ice cube just melted because I need to go potty RIGHT NOW!

I've been tagged!! Tagged, I tell you!!

2008-11-29T19:09:00.003-06:00

8 Shows I watch:
Pushing Daisies (cancelled now: sniff, sniff)
The Office
The Mentalist
Divine Design
Kath & Kim
What Not to Wear
Project Runway
America's Test Kitchen

8 Restaurants I Like To Eat At:
Mi Ranchito
Five Guys
Jason's Deli
Lydia's
Hire's
Jaleo (*sigh* Jaleo, how I miss thee)

8 Things I Did Today:
Put up wreaths
Wandered through Ulta and picked out nail polish
Ate lunch at Five Guys
went to the library
watched Polar Express with kids
painted nails with previously mentioned polish (OPI's I only drink champagne)
cleaned the kitchen
listened to Christmas music on Pandora

8 Things I Am Looking Forward To:
Christmas
Spring
New Moon
my hair growing out (stupid impulse)
Bub's potty-training
lights on Temple Square
Getting the broken "a" on my laptop fixed (side note: Don't try vacuuming your keyboard with the hose attachment. It might not go well.)

8 Things On My Wish List:
A Volvo XC70. Silver, if you please.
Bubs to potty-train himself
A prime lens for my camera
Orla Kiely multi-stem tote bag
professional flat iron
my hair to grow out
for some genius, somewhere in the world, to conjure up a way to eliminate all laundry (Geniuses, where are you??)
a Christmas without any of us getting sick

8 People I Tag:
anyone who wants to participate...

Need some help with your Thanksgiving dinner?

2008-11-25T22:13:00.003-06:00

Wonderboy's teacher sent home a booklet entitled "How to cook a Thanksgiving Turkey". She included direct quotes from each child individually on their best advice for successfully preparing a turkey. I'm pretty sure it's the funniest thing I've ever read. And here is Wonderboy's best suggestion for a delicious turkey:

"Well, what you would do, is in the middle of the turkey put some lemon and stuff in it so it would taste good when it's time to eat it. When you are cooking it, you tie the legs up so all the stuff won't fall out. Right after that, you tuck the wings under, so when it cooks, the part on the other side of the wing where it doesn't show will get crispy and good too. If it doesn't, then no one will want to eat that part. You want to put some of that white stuff and the black stuff over it and that will make it good to eat on the top too. It will have some flavor AND be crispy from the salt and pepper!"

Got it? And that, my friends, is what hours of the food network will achieve for your six year old. Easy, peasy, lemon squeazy. He will totally be cooking our turkey.

This'll put a wiggle in it

2008-11-17T12:36:00.003-06:00

I dare you to turn this up and try not to bum dance.

Happy Monday.

Just One Reason Why I'm Glad I Don't Drink

2008-11-15T21:47:00.004-06:00

I have been laid up with what my sister referred to as THE DEATH COLD. Not those colds with a couple of days of sniffling and a headache. No, I'm talking about the cold variety where you pretty much need to crawl into bed and sleep for 4 days while your body alternates between feverish bouts of sheet-drenching sweats, and bone-jolting chills where you huddle under a down comforter and pray for death to come swiftly. The kind of cold where you lose track of how much Tylenol you've choked down, but figure Poison Control doesn't need to be notified since the bottle of 500 pills isn't empty yet. The kind of cold that makes you wish your kids would spontaneously and mysteriously lose their voices because EVERY SOUND they generate threatens to burst your eardrums.

Well, something tipped things over the edge the other night, and whether it was the Tylenol, Sudafed, Thera-Flu or the codeine cough suppressant I took before bed, or some combination of any of the above, I'm not sure. But I awoke about 3 a.m., sweating profusely and feeling a wee bit queasy. I got out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. After flipping on the light, I debated hanging out on my knees in front of the toilet...waiting, but I suppose I decided I could will it to pass and so I figured I'd, ahem, use the facilities while I was there. You know, just because I like to be efficient like that. And here's where the whole drinking thing comes in. E heard a huge thud in the bathroom, and I came to, lying on the cold floor...with my britches around my ankles. And in my stupor I actually thought to myself, Is this what it's like to be completely sloshed? and Hey, this cold floor feels really good on my face. I got myself on my feet and staggered out of the bathroom and I thought I collapsed back on my side of the bed, but later realized I fell crosswise at the foot of the bed, face down, with my legs dangling off. I think E was sitting upright in bed repeatedly asking me if I was okay. I think I moaned "noooo".

So there it is. If waking up on the floor, hoping not to puke on yourself, and wondering if you forgot your britches, is what it's like to imbibe, I'm glad I don't. I'm very, very glad I don't. And thanks to mom and dad for bringing me up right and teaching me to always pull up my britches.

A Token of Appreciation

2008-11-11T08:11:00.006-06:00

See, when you've reached the five-year mark at The Bank, you're not only fully vested in your 401k (plummeting in value, though it may be), but you ALSO receive a glossy brochure full of gadgets, jewelry, and sports equipment from which you may chose your very own gift! Sort of a 'Sure Do Appreciate Ya' memento. And I'll tell you, choices may not be a good thing for one such as our very own E. He doesn't handle choices well. Choices make him lose his train of thought and start walking in aimless circles, wringing his hands. I'm not kidding, just ask him. So the shiny brochure was perused and puzzled over. I think there may have even been an expiration date involved, as well as a gentle reminder nudge from a superior or two - like, We do value your service, really, we do! But for the love of all that's holy, make a choice, man!!

So now that the suspense is eating away at you, and you're biting your thumbnail wondering WHAT DID HE CHOOSE? What could he look at daily to remind him of his value in the workplace? What could possibly stand as a symbol of five years of dedicated service? Please, PLEASE, do tell!!

Well, since you're wondering, it would be the T-fal Family Pro DEEP . FAT . FRYER.

And I'm not joking around when I say I fear for the future of my family's health. Because apparently there's A LOT of foods that can be fried. Oh, the possibilities...I'm gagging at the thought.

Here he is, feeling all appreciated and enjoying his reward.

Everyone got in on a little doughnut action. We told the kids it was Family Home Frying Doughnuts Evening. And Wonderboy questioned what we could possibly learn about God by frying doughnuts. I told him I am quite certain God enjoys a warm doughnut now and then, when his schedule allows.

"Bread? Deep-fried? AND rolled in SUGAR?? Yes please!!"

This apparent loyalty has nothing to do with the boy, and everything to do with the doughnut.

Let's all hope that should he reach the 10-year mark, he will be offered a treadmill, a weight set, or a free echo cardiogram.