WARNING!: I had a bad day

So the following entry may be the sort Husband was referring to when he tried to discourage me from blogging those months ago. I apologize for the negativity. You maybe just want to skip on down a few to the funny ones.

Where everybody knows your name

You know how when you're in the kitchen baking a round of EXTREME CINNAMON ROLLS and you lose? and stick a knife through your hand (turns out I damaged a lot more than a finger) and then it all hits the fan because suddenly you can't do jack by yourself even though you would like to, and you feel like an absolute moron because- as far as injuries go- the ones resulting from EXTREME CINNAMON ROLLS afford you no bragging rights whatsoever- and then you find out who your REAL friends are? Yeah. That sucks.

So- no surprise that MyBeautiful jumped to my aid and actually came to my house to cook me and my family a fabulous meal the day of my surgery and called to check on me about a week after and has had me over for therapeutic hours of artistry and book discussion since then. Not the least bit surprising, though no less appreciated. Everyone should be so lucky. She's the kind of friend you might find once in your life. That's not the part that sucks. MyBeautiful lives two cities away and so I don't get to see her nearly as often as I'd like. She's the friend that no matter what happens or how much time passes, I love and admire her every bit as much.

The part that sucks are the rest of the people that I DO see on a regular basis. There are a handfull of people that I would have thought were good friends I could count on- friends who I would have bent over backwards to help if the situation had been reversed. Friends who it turns out- couldn't care less. Yep. They don't give a rat's hiney that I need help. They are not really even concerned about the fact that I got hurt. And THAT is what sucks. Finding out now. Like this.

This story has a bittersweet ending though. It turns out I do have a couple of friends that I was not even aware of. Friends who know my name and what's going on with me. Friends I can count on when life beats me at extreme kitchen sports. It's nice to know that somebody knows my name. And I didn't even have to get sloshed to meet them.

Second verse, same as the first

I got my stitches out. More importantly, I got out of that nasty splint. Into a slightly less nasty, marginally more comfortable, exceptionally more festive splint, which I will be sporting throughout the holiday season. Still can't change the diapers.

My father disappeared again. Wonder how long he'll be under the radar this time?

HUNT AND PECK: In Case You Were Wondering

If you ever have frozen cinnamon rolls and you're getting ready to bake them and they're stuck together and you think you'll just pry them apart with a sharp knife even though your mom always told you NOT to use knives that way- don't. Your mom was right. In case you were wondering.

On a related note- I will be taking a little hiatus from blogging until at least Nov. 3rd when the surgeon allows me to remove splint, bandages, and stitches. (Your mom was REALLY right.) (Also- I am really stupid.) Severed 2 tendons and a nerve. Will be having PT and OT for several months. Ever tried to change a diaper one-handed? Someday I will have something funny to say about that.

More in common than you think

Mr. Yuke(3): Gramma?

Motherinlaw: Yes?

Mr Yuke(3): Chuck-Gr-Ama has the same name as you.

Motherinlaw: ???

Mr. Yuke(3): You both have the same name. Of Gr-Amma.

Makes you hungry just thinking about it, doesn't it?

Better Off Dead

I haven't blogged for a while. Nothing was funny for a few days. That's called P.M.S.. Then my inlaws came. That's called A.C.C. (Aw Crap! Clean up, quick!). Then they left- but not before I got very sick. I even had to miss out on kid-trading-for-an-escape-day with TwinScrapper. And I haven't even talked to her about it yet. So now I'm on the mend and I have all kinds of stuff to chat about. For example, how Husband is four days behind me in this miserable illness I am emerging from. He was very cranky tonight. Like DON'T-look-at-me cranky. And I can't help but think about the fact that four days ago when I was hacking up my lungs, he was propositioning me. Interesting how perspectives change. And also- why is it that when I get sick the kids seem to think I'm on some wonderful feverish luxury vacation up there in my bed and that probably all the secretions coming out of every hole in my head are somehow a manifestation of my pure joy in relaxation from all the not lifting a finger I do when I am THAT SICK. This of course would lead any youngster to want to join in the vacation and also not lift a finger with me. And the house falls apart in the space of a few hours on the first day and I pray that nobody will call the cops about the state of affairs downstairs because I'm really sick and it's not usually like that and all I want is a little rest and TO STOP COUGHING LONG ENOUGH FOR THE MUSCLES AROUND MY ABS TO STOP HURTING AND IS THAT ASKING SO MUCH!!! So they all join me in not lifting a finger in spite of my piteous efforts to command them to DO THEIR WORK and then it takes weeks- if not longer- to get caught up again. I do not understand how they manage it, really. I don't think I could ransack a place that quickly and completely, even if there were some sort of official t-shirt and a cash prize at the end of it. That's my children. Talented. So, waaaaah. Poor me. Actually, it's not all bad. I actually caught myself thinking that I will have lost quite a lot by the time I go weigh in again.

Now that I've gotten all the crud off my chest, (if not totally OUT of it)- Let me tell you about the field trip to the Pumpkin Patch. The Pinkiest(5) and her class had a field trip to the pumpkin patch. They went with the afternoon kids and that meant she had lunch at like 9:45 am and she had to show up at school with a water bottle and tennis shoes and sunscreen (oops.) and NO BACKPACK. Not that I particularly cared about any of these directions but the No Backpack thing seemed to be a real big deal for the kindergarten teachers because they sent home four different notes about it. The Pinkiest(5) also needed $2.00. This was absolutely required and if they did not bring it they would not get a pumpkin and they would not get a treat and they would not get a visit from Santa Claus and they would not get to go to the pumpkin patch! Ok, ok, we'll send her stupid $2.00. Geez. So, a week and a half before the field trip she starts asking me for the money. About ten times a day. I say yes, don't worry. We'll get your two dollars. 5 days before the field trip The Pinkiest(5) is practically in meltdown mode. "I need my two dollars." "Where is my two dollars?" "Don't forget my two dollars!" "What about my two dollars?"
ME: YES!!! I'LL GET YOUR TWO DOLLARS. JUST WAIT!
So she waited that morning, only bringing it up about fifteen more times. We get in the car because she missed the bus and as I'm driving her to school I realize- CRAP!!! I forgot the two dollars. That's just great. I start thumbing through my wallet. All I have is a five. She of course notices me perusing the cash stash and pipes in, "I NEED my two dollars!" And all I can see in my mind's eye is an image of claymation fast food items dancing. (Someone please confirm that those were in that movie and I'm not just losing my mind on random rejected commercial ad campaign pitches.) So I toss the five at her while emphatically stating that I want ALL the change and that means three dollars and I want it all. "Yeah. Ok, mommy. Bye." I watched her walk away with a sinking feeling that I'd never see that three dollars again.
And a strange desire to get a paper route.

Fast forward to later that day, about 15 minutes after she got home from school. Crying she says, "I lost my money!!!"
ME: What money?.... You mean MY money? My three dollars?
The Pinkiest(5): No, it's five. The sub wouldn't take it.
You can imagine my exasperation at this point. Because just what kind of amateurs are they paying to sub down at that school who don't even take care of the important things like collecting money for a field trip they know nothing about that's five days away? Doesn't this woman know that Murphy's Law and The Forces of the Universe and the brain of a mother of 6 all state that these sorts of things can only be remembered ONCE and therefore she will surely not have that stupid two dollars turned in for the field trip no matter how hard I try to make sure she does? It's unnatural. Well, then The Pinkiest(5) goes on to explain that she had the money in her backpack and she took it out when she got home to play with it (because why not? She's been home for fifteen minutes.) and it got lost. (Funny how kids always put it like that- "IT got" lost. I really had very little to do with it.)

Luckily she found it that night and I confiscated it. The good news is that the day of her fieldtrip I happened to read over the gazillionth note from the teachers about the requirements (Water bottle. Check. Sunscreen. In a minute. Two dollars. Oh crap!-) and we were able to find exactly two dollars this time around. But in the hunt for "my two dollars" we forgot the sunscreen. I guess two dollars and skin cancer late in life are a small price to pay for a pumpkin from the real-life actual pumpkin patch. At least she had a jacket with her and has therefore, NOT gotten sick. (Mom logic.) John Cusak's got nothin' on me.

Amberzzz Alert

So tonight I was working away, putting together a one hour class on everything you ever needed to know about every facet of food storage. (Yeah. That's what I thought too.) Anyway, I was typing and concentrating real hard, in order to get done in time to take my four thousand handouts over to the church to make one hundred thousand copies. The kids all did their chores today (miracle of miracles!) and we didn't even have to dress up. The ones who are not currently on restriction were therefore free to roam the area between the next door neighbors' driveways and their bedrooms. These boundaries are part of The Rules. This apparently was too much square mileage because they decided to move all the crap they have for entertainment out of the house and into the driveway. No, mom. We can't play babies in the playroom. (What is she thinking?) They also couldn't leave the books in the book corner or the blankets on their beds. Or anything at all in the garage. I did venture away from the computer twice to check on the size of the pile on the sidewalk and to make sure it was not spilling out into the street. I do this because I care about the HOA imposed covenants. Tee Hee. And because Santa ain't replacing every dumb thing that gets run over because it was left halfway in the street by careless children. Also to do the 15 minute head count (it's 15 seconds when we're out in public), but that was mostly unnecessary due to their trips to get more crap every 5 minutes. So just when I'm finishing up printing out handout 3-thousand-99, Little Mommy(8) says to me that The Pinkiest(5) is missing. Now, I'm not alarmed mind you, because one, I figure Little Mommy (who is on restriction) is really reporting that The Pinkiest(5) has wandered beyond the driveway boundaries and Little Mommy(8) is desperately hoping to get her sister into trouble too. And two, because if The Pinkiest(5) truly has turned up missing, I can safely assume she is next door, or across the street, or at Sister Teacher's house, or at Old Sister Teacher's house, or at Old Sister Teacher's Neighbor's house- trying to get a sugar fix. (She's on detox until Halloween.) So I gather up my handouts, get the baby, head downstairs and find Little Mommy(8) in the yard, beside herself calling The Pinkiest(5). Bubba(6) is also calling her and is riding up and down the street looking for her. Now I think she is hiding from them because she doesn't want to come in and it is starting to get dark. So I start looking. I walk up and down the street calling her name. Very loudly. (I could be a stage singer if I could only act. My voice is THAT LOUD.) But she is nowhere. Not only that, but every neighbor I know says they haven't seen her for a while. Old Teacher's Husband says, "Check in that van. It's been parked there in front of nothing for an hour and we've never seen it before. We're pretty sure it doesn't belong here." Sadly, I live in a neighborhood that is both too expensive for us to purchase a home (mid-300's) and also the ghetto where every nasty-white trash-scary-person lives. I would not be at all surprised if any one of them or their scary friends kidnapped one of my kids. I actually looked in every one of those van windows while still hollering her name- in spite of the fact that the driver was sitting in it at the wheel. No The Pinkiest(5). Or any other person bound and gagged- so that's good news. I start having a panic attack. I am yelling her name so loudly now, that people are coming out of their houses, jumping in their cars, and driving around to help with the search. After 12 of us looked frantically for another 15 minutes, my friend DramaLady called the cops, gave the description, and they were sending an officer to take the missing persons report. (Meanwhile I was cursing my d#*&@ cell phone. Why don't they have some sort of beeper thing you can push for when you misplace those things?) Then I sent Bubba(6) into the house to check the book corner because my kids often fall asleep in there. It's a cozy little space all their own with puppets and books and pillows and cushions and a beanbag chair. I was hoping that she would be in there. But nope, she wasn't.

She was in her bed with the blanket pulled over her head in such a way that it looked like a pile of blanket with no one under it, so deeply asleep that she couldn't be roused and had no idea that everyone in This State That I Live In had just been shouting her name for the last 25 minutes. She had to walk right past me to get in there but I was so engrossed with the food storage stuff that I did not notice her go in- (probably for another load of whatever items might have slipped through the cracks and not ended up out in the swap meet on the driveway-) and never come out again. Sound the alarm. Stand down. Thank the neighbors. Curl up and die. So embarrassing.

The silver lining is that I got to hear all the other mom's stories about when the same exact thing happened to them. This didn't make me feel any less stupid, mind you- but a little less guilty for troubling them. Amish at Heart's son actually fell asleep playing hide-and-seek. He was a really good hider. Oh the trauma! And to think that Husband missed the whole thing. AND, come to think of it, so did The Pinkiest(5).

Back in the Saddle Again

So the other day it accidentally came out that I had quit blogging. Obviously Husband is one of my more devoted readers since this came as a huge surprise to him. Anyway- I told him everything I was feeling- from the alien invasion, to the reaction to Charlotte, to somewhereelseat.blogspot.com. He was surprisingly understanding about it and took it much better than I had given him credit for. Of course he then proceeded with the line of reasoning that this backed up his earlier blog theories but I didn't let that bother me. I was so pleased at how supportive and amiable he was about it I didn't mind. TwinScrapper and I had discussed it and we decided that the invasion was probably over anyway so I decided to take up blogging again. I'm glad too because you know- I've missed it.

So- on the homefront-

This week we've had:
-Teacher2 inform me that while Husband and I may have known Bubba(6) since his conception, after less-than-careful observation of him for four days she believes that our School-Psychologist-Recommended Disciplinary action against him is unnacceptable and that if we do not do what SHE says, she will PERSONALLY UNDO THE CONSEQUENCE HE HAS CHOSEN. But I suppose that is for another blog. Maybe somewhereelseat.blogspot.com is going to com in handy after all.
-2 dentist appointments WITH NO CAVITIES!!!! (I had to document it with the caps lock on and everthing because I believe it very likely this may be the only time in LittleMommy's(8) life that it happens.)
-A well baby check for Babyloo who has officially been given a nickname. Now and for however long it seems appropriate Babyloo will be known as Muhloo(-). Maybe you're saying to yourself "how is that any different?". Trust me. It is.
-A physical for AberJaber. Prognosis is good I guess. After extensive testing by a medical assistant they can conclude that I am alive and need to pay them $10. The good news is that for that price, the appointment also included a Tetanus-Pertussus booster cocktail. Can I just say that when the nurse tells you your arm will only be sore for about a day, that's a D*%$ lie. "Day" my *$$.
-a biting incident (also LittleMommy(8). I guess 1 out of 2 aint bad). Wow. Even typing "aint" makes my skin crawl.
-The mommy suggestion that Monster Truck(2) is NOT on the Dark Side and that He and Mr.Yuke(3) had better use their light sabers to fight Darth Vader (who is the couch) together. "Yeah. Let's go, Jedi! (whack, whack) Let's kill my Father! (whack, whack) Who is that couch. (whack, whack) That couch is my father! And this makes NO sense." (whack, whack).
-The Great Toilet Seat Debaucle of '07. It's this that I've chosen to blog about this evening.

As you know, Mr. Yuke(3) is at the most entertaining stage of all the Little People around here at this time. Kid cracks me up constantly. Well, I suppose the Great Toilet Seat Debaucle started with Monster Truck(2). Or maybe The Pinkiest(5). It happened like this. The Pinkiest(5) is a bit obsessive. Her current obsession is tutus. They are her uniform for life outside of school. And she only makes that concession because it's too cold to stand at the busstop with bare legs at THAT TIME of the day. Monster Truck(2) picked up on this obsession and found it amusing. Now, whether to emmulate her or to make fun of her, I can't be sure (but my money is on the second one-), he decided that he would wear a tutu too. Only his would be the Elmo toilet seat that fits onto the big potty which we recently bought him to start potty training on soon. Since we have not used the seat for its intended purpose, he has adapted it for a tutu in the interim. The Pinkiest(5) puts on her uniform and starts dancing around and he runs and puts that toilet seat on and dances behind her. Brothers. Anyway, I've tried to stop the toilet ballet a number of times because one- I don't want this particular use of the toilet seat to continue once we employ it in less tidy duties (or should I say doodies?) and two- it's a tight fit around his middle and I've worried that one of these times he is going to get stuck. Well, Mr. Yuke(3) beat him to it. Yesterday, Mr. Yuke(4) came to me and said, "Mom, can you help me?" He had put that toilet seat around his neck. I have no idea how he did this. If you had seen it you would agree with me that he must have the mutant power to shrink and re-enlarge his own head or else maybe he has retractable ears- because no one could have gotten that thing on him. Or OFF. I said yes, I'd help him, but first I'd have to take a few pictures. I found a camera and he happily showed off his newly acquired neck-gear. But then it had to come off. I couldn't get it. Then Husband tried and he couldn't get it either. Then THE SHRIEKING started. If you know Mr. Yuke(3), you know which sound I mean, although for once it didn't make me mad because I felt really bad for the Little Toilet Head. LittleMommy(8) brought Husband some lotion and they slicked up his ears. I left the room for a minute and by the time I got back they had it off. Poor kid has bruised, scraped temples today though. And now I have to grapple a little with the mommy guilt that in Mr. Yuke's(3) moment of crisis I was already planning out scrapbook pages. ("Back in the Saddle Again"- I could frame the shot with a toilet seat.... Hmm. I'll have to buy some Elmo stickers.... Where is that camera?...)

What a week. I tell ya. I don't know how I've held all this stuff in. Ahhhhhhh.... (Cathartic sigh of relief.) It's good to be blogging again.

The Highlight of My Trip

I went whitewater rafting with Cute Sister and her family this last week. I was on Mommy Vacation and it was awesome. I had an hour and a half of peaceful silence to study scriptures, pray, and contemplate life every morning. I wrote in my journal every night. I was spiritually rejuvenated (which is why I went on the trip).

There were a lot of great moments out there. When we hit that set of rapids exactly right and Brother was nearly looking straight down; when we watched the meteor shower and one shot halfway across the sky leaving a tail even after the meteor had burned out; when I got to take my nephew, Slugger Jr. (3), to the library and out to ice cream; when I went with Mom and Aunt to a double header of movies; when I got Brother engaged in a real life conversation-


BUT-


the highlight of the trip was far and away getting to witness/participate in the following conversation:



Slugger Jr.(3): "Dad, what do girls have?"
Brother: Oh crap! Is this going where I think it's going? "Uhhhhmmmmm..."
Slugger Jr.(3): "What do girls have?"
Brother: "Weeelll- what do boys have?"
Slugger Jr.(3): "Boys have a PENIS."
Brother: Damn. I knew it. Any chance I can die right here before having to say THAT word? Nope. Okay. "Girls have a vagina."
Slugger Jr.(3): "Right. Girls have a bagina."
Brother: "Yeah, except it's VUH-gina. With a VUH VUH "V". Like vvviolin."
Me: Oh, a chance to save him! Quick change the subject! "Hey Little Einsteins like violins!"
Slugger Jr.(3): "Yeah. Like Little Einsteins. Like dragons."
Brother: ???????
Slugger Jr.(3): "And like kites."
Brother and Me: ???????????
Slugger Jr.(3): "And kites and dragons. The Little Einsteins."
Brother: (Understanding dawning-) "Ohhh. Like China?!"
Slugger Jr.(3): "Yeah! Like Little Einsteins. Girls have a china."
Me: HYSTERICAL, SILENT LAUGHTER.
Brother: "China is a place where a whole bunch of people live."

Me: (Face turning red with more silent, hysterical laughter)- "Not this one." China. Hilarious. Wait a second- "Grandma's china is blue."
Brother and Me: more laughter
Slugger Jr.: (Seeing the swing not getting pushed due to adults who seem to be sharing their own private conversation.) "Hey. I like to get high."

You can't make this stuff up.

The Donzerlee Light

The other day I went to Weight Watchers. Little People stayed with Mother-In-Law. When I got home we went to the Visitor's Center at Temple Square in Salt Lake City. We went into a rotunda that has a beautiful statue of the Savior and the ceiling has stars and planets painted on it. Mr. Yuke sat still for 7 whole seconds and then said, "Can we go now?" I, knowing there would be a recorded narration in a few moments said, "No. We need to wait. There is going to be some talking in a minute."



PAUSE. Wheels turning. Light dawning. "Wait. Is this WAIT WATCHERS?'



"No."



"Oh. Because you said we have to wait so I thinked this was weight watchers."