Guess We Let the Cat Out of the Bag

Little Mommy(10) is playing soccer and I am so excited to do all the soccer-mom stuff I've been missing for the last couple of years. We went to the sporting goods store a few days ago and got her everything she is going to need. (Cleats, shin guards, socks, extra socks, ball, bag to carry her stuff, etc.) Then the other kids talked me into a bat, 3 baseballs, 1 rubber ball, and some other stuff. Husband knew we were getting shoes and shinguards but the rest was going to be a little bit of a tough sell once we got home. The kids and I have had a wonderful time playing through the last few days. I had asked LittleMommy(10) not to tell him about the extra stuff until I had the chance to tell him myself. Then I forgot so he got the news by seeing the stuff she had with her at Bubba's cubscout pack meeting last night. Oops. Guess the cat is out of the bag. He was only slightly annoyed with me so that was good.

Yesterday at Bubba's(8) cubscout Pack Meeting Little Mommy(10) found a kitty in a tree and she rescued it. This is great news outside of the fact that I am not only allergic to cats, but a dedicated hater of them as well. Husband joins me in my passionate dislike for all things feline. We just aren't cat people. When I saw LittleMommy(10) carrying that cat around I told her it was very cute but that she needed to put it down, go home, put her clothes straight into the washer, and take a shower so that I could go home eventually. She jumped up and started for home right away like the obedient child that she is. Oh- except for the part when she stuffed the cat into her brand-new soccer bag and smuggled it home with her. Once she reached home she realized the best thing to do would be to stow the kitty away in the garage so that she could love it and keep it and call it George or something. Under a plastic 5-gallon bucket. With a table set on top for good measure. (Wouldn't want the kitty to breathe or maybe grow opposable thumbs and then get away. It might starve in the event that the countryside runs out of mice or voles. And then what would we do? One less cat in the world.) Lucky for Skimbleshanks he mews VERY LOUDLY and Husband figured out what was going on about two minutes after the benevolent imprisonment commenced. Kitty was set free but not before he became permanently attached to the residence. This situation was not improved when ThePinkiest(6) got out one of my best dishes and gave the willing captive a drink on the porch. Mr.Buttons hung around for three or four more hours after that. I ended up having to leave the premises while my sweet babboo de-hair/de-dandered the house, kids, clothes, and brand-new soccer bag. Ahhhhh LittleMommy(10). Stinkin' Little Punk. : )

Literally. You smell like cat. : )

NOTICE: IF YOU ARE MISSING YOUR CUTE LITTLE FUZZY KITTY, WE DON'T KNOW NOTHING ABOUT THAT. OH- SORRY TOO.

Food From the 70's

Does anyone still actually eat sloppy joes? I remember when I was a kid living in a military brat location, my dad was gone for long periods of time. During these times we would spend most of our free moments with Mom's best friend and her kids. The kids were the same age as Brother and me and we had tons of fun together. During those long days of playing and fun, I remember three particular food items that we had fairly often. (Insert Mr. Burns-type shudder here.) They were: carrot and raisin coleslaw made with miracle whip, KFC from a KFC where they didn't understand how occasionally that oil in the fryers should be changed. I can still smell the air around that place. and (drumroll please) sloppy joes. (Insert second Mr. Burns-type shudder here.)



Brother and I never liked sloppy joes. I think it was about the time my father left us for good (when I was 5 or 6) that I put my foot down and informed my mother how we would not be eating them any more. Ever. (She must not have liked them either because we never ate them again. Not one single time in all the years I lived at home- no matter how tight the grocery budget got. I mean- there's just some things you DON'T DO.) I honestly grew up thinking that sloppy joes were one of those things like fruicake; it is generally accepted that nobody likes/wants them. So I was surprised to find them on the menu not once, but twice in the last two months of 2008 in varying circumstances.


The first time we were served them (in November), they caught my unsuspecting children by surprise. Because why would anyone actually on purpose serve something that tastes like/has the consistency of- sloppy joes? Hee hee. : ) Oh their faces! Priceless. I felt so bad for the sweet lady who was feeding us. She had volunteered to cook for our family as we were coming and going to/from the hospital. I am so grateful for her kind service and as we sat down to eat, I prayed that my children would be kind in their inevitable censure. She had cooked a pot of- what?- Slop? Sloppy?- large enough to feed a village in Africa for like- ten years, and she was expecting it all to go. Even if we were sloppy joe fans, I don't think we could have made a dent in the amount that was there. I started eating, feeling terrible for all the ways this sweet lady was about to get insulted. My children then surprised me by using the best manners possible. They politely tried to gag down some bites with almost no audible complaints. I was proud to be a momma that day. The lady was visibly distressed at the GALLONS- I am not making this up- of sloppy she had left over, but hey. I was picking my battles.


The second time sloppy joes graced our table, just a few short weeks later, the kids were wise to the situation. It was battlestations. The short people took their places around the table with set and determined faces and I was sure I must be reliving some scene that had played out between Brother, Mother, and me a few decades earlier. I took a deep breath, ready to begin fighting the onslought of complaints that was now so close it was palpably hanging in the air around us, when Mr. Yuke(5) straggled to the gathering. He took one look and the call to arms rang out of his mouth before he was even in his seat:


"Oh NO!!! NOT slobbery joes!!!!"



And there it was. The battle was over before it started. As we gagged down our few obligatory bites we all laughed hysterically and discussed how neither Husband or I had ever liked slobbery joes either. (Fortunately our benefactor for this second meal was not present for its consumption. Or lack thereof. Whatever.) It seems Mother-In-Law had stopped serving sloppy joes at Husband's house about the same time Mom did at ours.





So here's my question: Did your mother stop serving slobbery joes when Regan got elected too? Or did you actually have to eat them in the 80's as well? Was there some mass slop shortage that caused the disappearance of slobbery joes for three decades, only for them to reappear now? And how do we REPEAT that? I really want to know here people, so just throw up your answers on the poll in the sidebar (ha ha ha!!! That was an excellent but completely unintentional play on words. : ))

"Sloppy Joes and Cut Fruit" by Atardrac, found at Flickr.com

Where's My Alice? -In a Nutshell

Virginity and Death: Despereaux Rides Again

"When you have a family of eight, there necessarily needs be a system of rules to manage the inevitable chaos. Some of these rules are important. Some aren't."

Remember that? Remember when, a little less than a year ago I posted about Max and I gently poked fun at Husband's declaration that THERE IS NO EATING IN THE CAR?

Yes. I remember that.

"Max lost her virginity a long time ago. Max is my car." Recently Max has been defiled. I'll come back to that.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of meeting LindseyLonglegs, a blogger whom I read with some regularity and who, until very recently (when I sort of went under the radar with post-partum depression and then morning sickness), had a link to this site on her blog. (HINT HINT.) : ) Meeting Lindsey was really fun. Maybe some of you remember that a while back I offered a little prize to the first commentor on my 100th post. Well Lindsey was the lucky "alert reader" who won that distinction and in light of this post, I felt the only possible fitting prize would be one of every kind of cupcake from Flour Girls and Dough Boys because seriously? Can anything else compare? So I procured the cupcakes and drove the long way to meet her. The weather was gorgeous (it's about time!) and as long as you were in the sun it was "not even cold!" as ThePinkiest(5) put it. I was really excited, both to meet her and to present her with those beautiful cupcakes. I wish I had a picture of them but my phone got a VIRUS and I can no longer send pics. Very sad. I was going to steal the pics from Lindsey's blog but she can't find her cords to upload them. Let's just say that the cupcakes are a work of art and that nothing else I can say would do them justice. She was adequately impressed and said they received her highest recommendation yet. That place should really start putting me on their payroll. : ) (Just kidding, Carol! I DO wish you'd put a link to your menu on your blog though. It would make telling people about you SO much easier.)

Apparently, one of the benefits of living out in the country, is that when your kids leave the van door open for five minutes or so, you can have a mouse live in your car. So I get to the meeting place to find Lindsey, go to get the stroller out of the back of Max, and that is when I saw it. A cute, furry little butt scurrying its Hanta-virus-carrying self away from the stroller up to the front of the van- my beautiful, wonderful, just-completely-vacuumed-out-in-March van. THERE WAS A MOUSE. IN. MY. CAR. I did the only natural thing I could do: I screamed, threw the stroller on the ground to make sure the little vermin didn't have any friends, and slammed the car shut. I opened the stoller up (it was safe by the way), debated for a second, put the baby in it, and then opened the front door to see if I could locate the disgusting little creature. Nope. He was long gone. To his deluxe condo (which I pay over 5oo$ a month for) up under the dash. I decided there was not much I could do at that point and my kids were already heading off to see the sights without me so I just locked the car and tried to forget about it temporarily.

Ever try to forget there's something crawly pooping in your very own car? It doesn't really work. So although I enjoyed meeting Lindsey, my pregnancy brain was pretty much fixated on two things and I am sure I was not a sparkling conversationalist. (For example: Lindsey asked me what blogs I read. I couldn't think of any. I didn't even think to tell her about Pioneer Woman. I LOVE that blog. Nope. I had nothin'.) (Thanks for hanging out with me Linds, sorry I was not all there.) The two things I was fixating on were these- 1) Do we have Hanta virus in ThePlaceThatILive and 2) Is there a way to possibly take care of the whole entire mess without Husband actually finding out? The answer to #1 is sadly, yes. I confirmed that with the county health department today. Hopefully we won't all die in two weeks. The answer to #2 is HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! I have children! The rodent fumes must have been interfering with my ability to think clearly because not even pregnancy brain would bring on an idea THAT ludicrous. I figured it would be about .2 seconds after Husband pulled up to the house before the kids had run out to his car and were knocking on his car window to tell him the wonderfully exciting news: THERE IS A MOUSE IN OUR CAR!!!!!!!!! So there was only one thing to do. I had to call him and confess the entire situation to him, admitting my own partial guilt in the situation for disregarding his Rule that THERE IS NO EATING IN THE CAR, thus creating an environment which would entice any half-sane, olfactorily challenged mouse into setting up residence there. Husband is very good and did not even get angry or gloat. I wish I was that good. I'm going to be. Someday.

Remember that post about Max from last year that I mentioned earlier? You may remember that in that same post I also blogged about our tradition of reading aloud. The book we are almost finished reading right now is The Tale of Despereaux. It is the story of a brave little mouse who fights against all odds to save the Princess he loves. It's a pretty ok story. Definitely not my favorite but the kids have really seemed to enjoy it. There are a lot of annoying asides to the reader that say stupid things like, "Now dear reader, you know of course...". The whole "dear reader" thing makes me kind of want to puke. The nice thing about readalouds it that you can leave that part out and then it's not annoying to anyone but the person who actually sees the page. Well anyway, Despereaux is a favorite around here.

Last night as Husband and I were systematically removing all the items from the van with our nitrile gloves on so we could get to the mouse STUFF to spray it down, to clean it up, to take the car to get it steam cleaned/detailed (aren't rodents FUN?), Bubba(7), who by nature is a very sensitive child, realized what was imminent. "Do you have to KILL the mouse?"
Me: Yes, honey.
Bubba(7): Why can't you just let it go?
Husband: Because it would just come back. Or try to live in our garage. Or our house.
Me: The mouse HAS TO DIE. Honey.
Bubba(7) tearing up: But why do you have to kill it?
He cried the rest of the evening and was still in tears as he went to bed, knowing full well that his evil parents were going to send poor little Despereaux to his untimely grave. I really AM that cruel. (Now right off, any mom is going to tell you that my priorities are exactly right on target. Of course "no food in the car" is WAY more important than reading "Charlotte's Web" before watching it- let's just get that straight right now.) And of course killing Despereaux is WAY more important than allowing a child's literary character to maintain residence in the family automobile. I didn't let Charlotte and her disgusting little egg sac live in my doorway and I'm not affording Despereaux any such luxury either. Some kids would tell me I'm wrong. That's why we're the moms. And why there is a mouse trap with a dead mouse in the garbage can right now.

One Less Way to Die

Kids are dangerous. I think they should come with a warning label for their potential level of danger and mayhem. Maybe on the DEFCON scale or something. Some kids would just be at DEFCON-1. Those are the kids who may throw their bowl of applesauce off the high chair tray once or twice and maybe occasionally poop in the bathtub. (Yes, that happens.) I'm thinking of Valenzoo's children here, and you, Dharma. ThePinkiest(5) was once in this category but she was upgraded last year to DEFCON-4.

DEFCON-2 are your kids who don't get themselves into trouble but if left there, will continue to roll off the bed hoping that this time gravity will not exist, even though they have tested this theory 500 times to date and are old enough to retain the results of all their previous experiments. [LittleMommy(9)]

DEFCON-3 are the kids who think they are invincible or that they have super powers. I'm talking specifically about Mr.Yuke(4) here. Did I ever blog about the time he thought he actually WAS Superman? If I did, I apologize for repeating it here.

This is what happened. The boys all share a room. Bubba(7) has the top bunk, a twin. Mr.Yuke(4) has the bottom bunk, a double. Across the room a few feet is MonsterTruck's(3) bed, a toddler. Well, Mr.Yuke had on his new Superman jammies and he was sure that those pj's were all he needed to attain all the powers of Krypton. He decided the best way to test his power would be with flight. Specifically, he would fly from a standing position on MonsterTruck's(3) bed UP TO Bubba's(7) bed. Really, as far as SuperHero flight patterns go, this really was a small and easily attainable first attempt. Well, he made the leap, fell short of his goal (the top bunk), and SMACKED his head on the metal edge of the bottom bunk. Ever seen a headwound? Yeah, they're messy. So after slowing down the bleeding I ascertained that Mr.Yuke(4)-(then 3) was going to need several stitches. I took him to the emergency room- and here is the part where he warrants the DEFCON-3 rating as opposed to just the accident-prone DEFCON-2: As the doctor was stitching him up, asking him all those slightly insinuating/accusatory questions to make sure the parent didn't just make up a phony Superman story and actually bludgeon him with a blunt object, the doc says, "So you can't really fly, huh? (Then with confidence and somewhat in the tone of a gameshow host-) Well, you're not going to try that again are you?" Mr.Yuke's(4) answer? "Well, I fink it's because I didn't have my cape on. You need your cape to fly. I need to try it again WITH my cape." The doctor didn't even know what to say to that. He just gave me a look that said, "I pity you."

DEFCON-4: These are the kids who learn to open the child safety locks and pill bottles when they are 7 months old. They have advanced motor skills so many of them are also climbers and escape artists. MonsterTruck(3) falls into this category. I've mentioned before that we have called Poison Control more times for that kid than all the other kids put together. UPDATE: Since that post, we've called Poison Control four more times. He is just bent on killing himself, ok? DEFCON-4 kids are also the ones who are the evil genius masterminds behind all the naughtiness that takes place in a given household. This is where ThePinkiest(5) fits in. Last week when I posted the In A Word meme tag, it was because I needed a few days to find the humor in her latest scheme. It was still too fresh to be funny. Here is what happened.

I mentioned I'm clueless, right? Well, in spite of past experience, I left an open bag of flour in the kitchen overnight. [I guess that makes me a DEFCON-2 : )] ThePinkiest(5) and Mr.Yuke(4) discovered it the next day while I was upstairs laying down with Kryptonite(1). We were both just recovering from some sort of flu bug that was pretty nasty and we were plain dog tired. I heard the two of them downstairs laughing their maniacal laughter- and really, if I had been on top of my game instead of in a sick-induced stupor, I probably would have realized from the sound of that laughter that something insidious was taking place and would have put a stop to it before it escalated to where it did. But my pregnancy brain was not functioning at that Supermom level so I missed my cue for intervention. The first clue I got that something was not right was when MonsterTruck(3) came upstairs with white hair and said, "Mo-om. ThePinkiest(5) and Mr.Yuke(4) are pwaying wif duh fwower." I sent him to the shower and spent the next several minutes trying to work up the energy to go downstairs and see what the extent of the mess was. Now, the next part is unclear but from what I could gather it went like this: There had been a flour fight where handfulls of flour were thrown around (about 20 pounds worth, give or take). Then someone looked around and realized that they were going to be in BIG trouble so they decided they better clean it up. I think this must be the point when they added the water (about 2 gallons worth, all over the kitchen floor). At least I think they were using the water to clean it up with. I was a little too ballistic to gather accurate details at the time. You know what you get when you mix flour and water, right? Yep. They paper mache`d my entire kitchen floor. And then tried to sweep up the goo up with the broom. Oh- by the way, Lowe's has an excellent broom selection, just FYI. So I was exhausted, angry, still not feeling all that well, and was NOT under any circumstances going to get my pregnant self on my hands and knees to clean up that mess. I supplied the two of them with scrapers and later rags, and allowed them the joy of cleaning up their fun. ThePinkiest(5) actually said to me after about ten minutes of scraping, "It's NOT FAIR that WE have to clean up this mess." HA! MyBeautiful put it best when she said, "It's not fair. WE already spent FIFTEEN minutes making this mess. We shouldn't have to clean it up too." Things like this are why ThePinkiest(5) is permanently at DEFCON-4. That night I left the minute Husband came home and went to a movie with Smunchie and MyOtherMother. Husband is good like that. Sometimes it's necessary to leave your children for a short while in order to love them properly when you come back. We saw BabyMama. It was WAY better than the previews made it look.

DEFCON-5 is reserved for kids who bring drugs into the house and act violently against their family members. We don't have any of those. Knock on wood.

Kryptonite(1) has been a DEFCON-1 kid since she was born. I call that "the tender mercies of the Lord". She is easy and low-maintenance. She has only had two or three minor accidents in a year and she learned quickly from all of them. This week she learned two new things. She has expanded her vocabulary from "No" to "No" and "Hi!". And she learned to crawl down the stairs!!! (Insert angelic choir and applause here.) I am ecstatic. One less way to die. Now if I could just get her to stop playing in the potty every time someone forgets to close the bathroom door upon exiting the restroom, we'd be good. Because let's face it, the only thing worse than your baby drowning, is your baby drowning in pee-water from a toilet that was left unflushed by an older sibling. WHY can't they flush the toilet?! WHY? I just don't get it.

Family: Isn't It About... MINE?

Ever heard of the Toddler Rules of Acquisition? It's a paraody on (I cringe as I type this-) the Ferengi Rules of Acquisition. (Deep Space Nine. A moment of silence for my dignity.) Anyway, the Toddler Rules of Acquistion are as follows:

1. If I like it, it's mine.
2. If it's in my hand, it's mine.
3. If I can take it from you, it's mine.
4. If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.
5. If it's mine, it must NEVER appear to be yours in any way.
6. If I'm doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.
7. If it looks just like mine, it is mine.
8. If I saw it first, it's mine.
9. If you are playing with something and you put it down, it automatically becomes mine.
10. If it's broken, it's yours.

I've always liked that and found quite a lot of truth in it. I was reminded of The Rules recently when MonsterTruck(3) had his birthday. Husband asked him what he would like for a present and without hesitation he anwered, "A lightsaber that is MINE." Poor kid. In early childhood development they will tell you that the reason toddlers are so possessive is because their identity is tied to their belongings. Well, lucky for us he seems pretty well-adjusted because the boy has got nothin'. We have EVERY SINGLE TOY in that famous toy chain worth having at this house. This last Christmas there was nothing in that ENTIRE store that my kids wanted. We did three laps. I'm not kidding. But the problem is, the toys at our house all have owners. The children all share, of course, but when it comes down to it, at the end of the day, those toys belong to individuals. Of which MonsterTruck(3) is apparently not one.

We were more than happy to accomodate his wish for his own light saber. We threw in a Thomas train as well since those all belong to Bubba(7) and Mr.Yuke(4). MonsterTruck(3) was ECSTATIC. He has walked around with a light saber strapped to his underwear every day since then. (Don't ask me where his pants are. All I know is that I put them on him and then they are gone.) Incidentally, underwear doesn't really hold the weight of a light saber very efficiently....

So we got him presents. He was happy. Mr.Yuke(4) was not. Because trains are HIS, see? And so us giving one to MonsterTruck(3) is really quite unacceptable. And why doesn't MR.YUKE(3) have that particular engine? And it's not fair.

There are a lot of things in family life that belong to us. I have realized that although the idea that everything is mine starts in toddlerhood, it really stays with us our whole lives. There is the ever-so-trying period of life from 7-ish to I-don't-know-when that girls think everything in the house is part of their domain and therefore fair game. Like scissors and masking tape and lip gloss. (THOSE ARE MINE.) And computer paper. (HUSBAND'S) And brownie mixes. And....

It's not all possessiveness though. My children are sometimes very generous with their things. Like when I say clean up your room and they all say that those clothes on the floor belong to their beloved sister/brother who they share a room with. It is just really so kind they way they give up their stuff like that. Warms a mother's heart. Or temper- one of those. : )

They are also very generous with fault. Blame is something that is never anyone's "MINE". It is ALWAYS someone else's. The floor must truly bleed jelly. It is the only logical explanation.

We continue the compulsion to claim what is ours even into adulthood. Show me one woman in this country who has given birth who has not at some point or other felt compelled to tell all about their labor and delivery- in detail. I am telling you, she doesn't exist. We all want credit for what is OURS. Even if it's blood, sweat, and tears. Especially if.

We judge comments we hear from others based on our experience. "Yes, that's true with MINE." or "Not with MINE." I recently went to a class on holding effective Family Home Evenings where the teacher (whose lesson was great, by the way) made a comment to the effect of "Your kids idolize you. They want to be you. There is no one they admire more." Forgetting temporarily that her children are 2 and 7 months or something like that, all I could think was, "Are you INSANE? Not MINE." But she does not have a pre-pubescent daughter at the moment. She was teaching from HER perspective. And I was hearing from MINE.

Everywhere I go people are always asking me, "Are these all YOURS?" I have yet to come up with the perfect snarky comeback to that but really? If you had three or four kids, would you round up three MORE to do a little grocery shopping with? Yes. They are all mine- which brings me back to MonsterTruck(3).

A few days after his birthday, he was laying on my bed, looking up at the wall where all the family pictures are. He said, "There's Gwanny, and Gwamma, and Gwampa, and Daddy, and Mommy, and LittleMommy(9), and Bubba(7), and Mr. Yuke(4), and Kryptonite(1), and ThePinkiest(5), and MoneyBags, and Sumping.... Those is MY PEOPLE." Looks like he had something to identify himself with before the light saber after all.

Yeah. Those IS my people. That's who I am. And I'm so glad they're MINE.

Thicker Than Water

I told you one of the reasons I hadn't posted in a while. Morning sickness. Well I didn't tell you the other, much more dreaded, reason: "Spring" Break. That's right. I said "Spring". I put those quotation marks there because I meant them. This is NOT Spring. This is a gross, second-verse-same-as-the-first repeat of winter. Only with more days of snow. Like today for example. The thick wet stuff has taken the last shreds of patience not consumed by my children and frozen it. Maybe someone will find it in like 50 billion years.

"Spring" Break was not the much anticipated end to our cabin fever, but 4 and a half days of mother nature mocking my pain. With all six kids. We had wonderful plans. We were going to go up the canyon and have a fire and roast hot dogs for lunch one day. We were going on a picnic to a really cool park another day. We were going to get donuts and go walk around ThatUniversityThatISometimesGoTo another day. It was going to be great. Instead, we stayed home. Inside. And tried to stay warm. How do you stay warm during a snowy spring break, you ask? Watch movies, of course.

We watched a lot of movies. I didn't even hold my kids to the normal rules about television usage. Normally, we have a very efficient system where the kids have to budget their media time. This is how it works: At the beginning of the week, usually during Family Home Evening, we give each of the kids 6 blue tickets with the date written on them. Each of these tickets represents 20 minutes of t.v./wii/computer/internet time. They may use them when their chores and homework are finished and can use them all at once or spread them out over the week. If more than one kid is watching a movie, the one who chooses the movie pays the tickets. At the end of the week the tickets expire. They can't be used the next week. That means if they didn't do their chores/homework, they might not get any t.v. time that week. They also have the opportunity to be awarded white tickets at any time. White tickets are given for any good/kind behavior that Husband or I observe. The kindness has to be done for the sake of being kind, not trying to "earn" a ticket. These tickets never expire. That means they can stockpile them and have a 6 hour wii fest if they want to. The white tickets have the kids names on them and we put all the spent white tickets into a jar. When the jar gets filled up we are going to do something really special as a family (trip, amusement park, etc.) and whichever child has the most tickets in the jar will also receive a treat (dinner and a movie, tea party, horseback riding, etc.) It all sounds very complicated but it's really quite simple. What it boils down to is that my kids don't spend a whole lot of their time on brain-rotting, and occasionally they feel slightly more inclined to do their chores and homework.

This is not our only system. We also have allowances and Saturday Fun. Allowances are simple: they are paid on a daily basis for completing their chores. Each day they get everything done, they get paid. Saturday Fun is an incentive program. Every Saturday, everybody who got all their work/homework done by dinnertime every day of that week gets to go to a super activity: Saturday Fun. This can be anything from a picnic/slumber party in the living room floor to Disney on Ice to Monster Trucks. It sort of depends on the budget. The vague idea behind it is "the family that works together plays together". All the family members who did their part in the overall work get to play. We have had some really good times, especially on those weeks when everybody gets Saturday fun. The thing I like about these two systems is that if you have a day when you don't do what you're supposed to and you have to miss Saturday Fun, you still get paid for all those other days.

So anyway, during "Spring" Break, I didn't require the kids to pay tickets for their t.v. usage.
After their normal after-school chores there was not much else to do for the rest of the day and I was feeling too sick to try to mediate art supplies or cookie ingredients for that many people. We watched A LOT of movies. Over and over. And over. One of the movies we watched several times is Herbie Fully Loaded with Lindsay Lohan. It's about Maggie Peyton, a girl who has just graduated from college and is on the verge of starting a new life outside of the stockcar racing world, much to the happiness of her father. Her family is a racing dynasty and more than anything, Maggie wants to be the next great Peyton. "Racing is in [her] blood." I think watching "Kirby" (as MonsterTruck(2) calls it) sleeping, and riding my kids to get their chores done were the only things I did the entire week. Oh, and a book report for MyOwnPersonalDharma (see my very brief review here).

Well, as it turned out, ThePinkiest(5) did not get her chores done. At all. The entire week. Because she didn't want to. And because kids- like wolves- can smell weakness and know when their mother is not going to fight too hard or too long. (My first trimester is always a disaster.) I'm pretty sure ThePinkiest(5) was sneaking in to watch "Kirby" every single time I dozed off. Well, the kids know exactly what to expect when Saturday rolls around if their chores aren't done and because of this, ThePinkiest(5) knew she had less chance of Saturday Fun that week than we had of a warm, sunny afternoon.

Husband was getting the kids together who were leaving to go have dinner and ice cream sundaes at a restaurant when it started. The drama. Screaming/Whining/Crying/Begging, "Daddy, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaase let me have Saturday Fun! Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaase!!!!!!"

Husband: I'm sorry, but you didn't get your chores done. That was a decision you made. Maybe next time.
ThePinkiest(5): But Daddy!!!!! Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaase! I NEED Saturday Fun.
Husband: No, sorry. Come on guys, let's get ready to go.
ThePinkiest(5) throwing herself at his feet: Yes I do!!! I NEEEEED IT!
Husband removing his feet from under her: Not this time.
Me: No one NEEEEEDS Saturday Fun.
ThePinkiest(5): I. Need. to have. Saturday. Fun. "It's in my blood."
Me: Is she quoting "Herbie"?
Husband snickers: Yeah.
ThePinkiest(5) as Husband and some kids go out the door: Saturday. Fun. is in. my. blood.!!!

Papagaio

I have a bad habit. Ok, fine. I have more than one. But there is one that is particularly problematic. I say a few bad words. Not any of the ones that get a movie an R-rating, mind you; more the type that are on evening television. Nonetheless, they are bad. I think it is wrong to say them. They never sound bad coming out of my own mouth. It's always when they make a debut appearance on the tongue of one of my children that I cringe and kick myself for ever having uttered that word. Case in point: SUCKS. This word is everywhere. I use it frequently. It barely crosses my mind that it is inappropriate. That is, it didn't, until Bubba(7) also started using it frequently. Only then did I realize how ugly that particular word sounds to the listener. I have tried suggesting to him that it may not be the nicest word to use but well, the boy has heard it a few too many times for that to make a difference. As sad as Bubba's(7) use of the word "suck" is to me though, it is LittleMommy's(9) language that has always been a source of embarrassment to me.

The first time was in Nursery. (Nursery at our church is the class for 18month-3 year-olds. They sing songs, have a short lesson and a snack, play toys, color, and blow bubbles. Oh, and cry. Usually.) So there is LittleMommy(20m) in Nursery and the leaders start singing the clean-up song. LittleMommy(20m) turns to the other toddlers in the room and says, "We need to cwean up dis cwap." Fortunately, the Nursery leaders thought it was funny and didn't shame me for it- too much. I wanted to die. I went home and prayed that day that the other kids didn't learn a new word to take home and demonstrate for their parents.

The next time I remember was at Sunday dinner with the in-laws. Sunday dinner at the in-laws' house is a proper, formal affair, complete with china, crystal, cloth napkins, and napkin rings. LittleMommy(3) came to the table, climbed up on her knees in her chair and peered into the serving bowl in front of her. Motherinlaw had made Stroganoff as she had many times- (one of the best things she makes. Mmmmm)- and the bowl in front of LittleMommy(3) was filled with noodles. After looking at them for a moment while everyone else seated themselves, LittleMommy(3) asked, "What the hell are these noodles?". Motherinlaw registered a look of something like horror. Fatherinlaw nearly had an aneurism stifling his laughter into his napkin. Husband and I both tried to keep straight faces while Motherinlaw chided LittleMommy(3). I thought I would die.

A couple of weeks later at yet another Sunday dinner, partway through the meal, LittleMommy(3), using her best manners, said sweetly, "Pass the damn beans." That time Husband and I were both stifling laughter while simultaneously getting the stinkeye from Motherinlaw. Fatherinlaw was unusually quiet. I think he got in trouble the time before. Moneybags jumped in and told LittleMommy(3) not to talk that way. I think I did die.

And so it went. Every few years at inopportune times LittleMommy would insert new and colorful vocabulary into her dialogue, always to my shame and horror. Then last week, her Primary teacher (Sunday School for kids) posted this story on her blog:

"This past Sunday we were teaching our 9 & 10 year old primary class all about Abinidi and evil King Noah. [A story from the Book of Mormon. Don't be hatin', just keep reading.~Aberjaber] Brett was giving some background info on King Noah's dad, King Zeniff. He told them that King Zeniff had been a good King but that his son did not follow in his foot steps. The kids wanted to know why King Zeniff had allowed Noah to be the next king since he was so evil. One of our sweet primary kids offered this suggestion.
"He was probably a kiss ass to his dad." "

Now, I happen to know that this particular term has been a favorite around this household for a month or two, thanks to "Night at the Museum". (No, they don't learn all the bad words from me, thank you very much.) In spite of my t.v. woes, and the fact that my kids aren't even allowed to watch PG-13 movies until they are 13, they still manage to pick up the choice phrases in our video collection. I confronted PrimaryTeacherFriend and she would not admit whether it was LittleMommy(9) or not. I'm afraid though, with her colorful history, there can be little doubt. : )

I am working on breaking this bad habit. Hopefully I'll have kicked it by the time Kryptonite(1) goes to Nursery. It's the advantage of having big families. Eventually, you're bound to stop messing the kids up. I hope. : )



P.S.- Sorry it's been so long since I've posted. I bet you're SICK of checking back here and finding nothing. I've been SICK too. Morning sick, that is. Wish me luck this time around.

Just So There's No Confusion

I stole this from a friend who stole it from a friend who....
But honestly, I couldn't have put it any better myself. And I apologize if any/all of these photos are copyrighted. I got them at http://enjoyingthejourneytogether.blogspot.com/.


I have wondered how many people are confusing my church with the FLDS church plastered all over the news because of the raid in Texas.


Some Mormon women sing...




Some Mormon women dance...




Some Mormon women write scary stories...


Some Mormon women have a lot of money and really great hair...




I know hundreds of Mormon women. They do all kinds of different things and live all different kinds of lives.


This woman served as a leader in the Mormon church. She recently spoke to teenage girls worldwide. She encouraged them to stand up to peer pressure, strengthen their families and serve others. (Click here for more.)

None of the Mormon women I know look like this...



None of them are marrying off their teenage daughters and-- although some may joke about wanting a sister-wife (preferably one who is really fat & ugly, does bathrooms and changes diapers)--none of them really want to share their husband with anyone.Furthermore...






Some Mormon guys can throw a ball...

Some Mormon guys can make scary movies...

Some Mormon guys have a lot of money and really great hair...

I know hundreds of Mormon guys. They do all kinds of different things and live all kinds of different lives.

This is one of the leaders of the Mormon church. Last Sunday he spoke about honoring women, especially mothers, and gave advice to husbands and children about how to treat the women in their lives. (For the whole story, click here.)

None of the Mormon guys I know look like this...

The Mormon men I know are honest and hard-working. They don't cheat, smoke, drink or gamble. And TRUST ME....the last thing any of them want is another wife.

Guess What?

You're it!

If you are unfamiliar with this game it is because you are lucky enough not to have gone to Disneyland with my Brother and Slugger Jr. and a bunch of other family members year before last. While we were there, Brother and Cute Sister took one of my bunch to and from the parks in their car each day, (because everyone knows that the only thing better than Disneyland is NOT riding there with your mom). Well apparently on these drives, Brother taught them all a little game I like to call "Next-Time-I-See-Him-I'm-Going-To-Hurt-Him". (My kids call it "Guess What?".)



Essentially it goes like this:

The Pinkiest(5): Hey Mommy!

Me: What?

The Pinkiest(5): You're-It!!!



Saying the word "what" has been all but banned from our household for the last year and a half because no one wants to be the dreaded "IT". My main problem with this game is that once Husband or I am "It", we are bombarded with little wannabe "Its" ALL trying to make us be "It" again, because we have stopped the game. Yesterday The Pinkiest(5) declared Husband "Quintuple IT!!!!". (Does explaining the vocabulary words like "quadruple" and "quintuple" qualify this as an educational game? Because if so, I should be on the payroll for the Board of Education in This Place That I Live. I'm pretty sure it's more than Bubba's(7) teacher is doing. Good thing he is really smart.) Anyway, there are many irritating things about this game, but the hands-down worst part is that everyone- even Monster Truck(2)- participates in this NottheBradys pasttime. And it. is. annoying.



In spite of my daily attempts to forget the whole thing exists, I thought of it ("IT!") today because- you guessed it.
I'm "IT!"
I've been tagged by This Guy. You should go to his blog at least this once. I normally don't care for cutesy animal pictures, but his pets will make you laugh out loud. Just scroll down to the cute doggies.

So back to annoying games of tag. I'm "IT". I don't know why anyone bothers to fill these things out in the first place. Does anyone actually read them? All right, I admit it. I skim them. But only if I REALLY like the person. In general though, if I see a meme posted I just move on to the next blog in my bookmarks. Why do people pass them on? I will tell you why. Because they, like some of my family members, don't have an inherent spam filter in their brains. I know that brain-inherent-spam-filter-deficiency is a problem because I know someone who forwards sappy-Christian-chain-emails. You know the emails I am talking about. Well actually, I hope you don't. Let me describe. They are the emails which curse you to remain outside the pearly gates and be selfish and not care about kids with leukemia and hate animals and small children and the person who so obviously loves you that they sent it to you if you don't immediately forward it to 15 people. Also, you should forward it back to the person who sent it to you as if they didn't actually read it before forwarding it to you. (This is entirely possible, come to think of it, because I think if they DID read it they would've done the same thing as the rest of us and deleted it when they saw the title:
"Give this heart to everyone you don't want to lose in '08 including me if you care. Try to collect 12, it's not easy!"
(I swear to you I did not make that up.) I receive these type of emails so often that at times in the past I have actually had to enter my own family members into my SPAMblocker. True story. And there you have it.

Well, I will fill this out. I am going to do my part for the earth (thus filling my go-green quota for the year) by NOT tagging anyone else. But I will fill it out- if only because I feel honored to have been tagged. And I think I have just stumbled onto the answer to my own question. People fill these out because IT IS AN HONOR.
Hee hee.

Without Further Ado-

4 Things

4 Jobs I've Had
1. Poop Patrol... I worked as a CNA in a nursing home for a couple of years. Funny how some people find their callings early in life. Excuse me while I go change [another] diaper.
2. Begging For Money... I worked as a fund-raiser for That College I Sometimes Go To, calling Alumni and continuously asking for donations until they finally caved and pledged something.
3. Grocery Store Checker
4. Executive Assistant/Customer Service Training Course Developer... because of my excellent people skills.

4 Movies I Watch Over and Over
1. Tommy Boy... "We're family! We're going to be doing lots of dumb stuff together."
2. Multiplicity... "Hi Thsteve! Come on up! I'm thspittin' on bugs."
3. Fools Rush In... Don't ask me why. I don't have a good answer. Mostly because I don't have to "watch" it to watch it. I get a lot done with that one on.
4. Elf... "And now I'm here...singing a song...to my dad...but you didn't know that I was born...but I'm here now...and I love youIloveyouILOVEYOOOUUUUU!"
"Call security."

4 Places I Have Lived
1. This Place That I Live In
2. That Place With That College I Sometimes Go To
3. Arizona (It's the armpit of the country. Really. Smell IT.)
4. Oregon (Do you hear the Heavenly Choir singing?)

4 TV Shows I Watch
1. I don't have T.V. cuz I live in what Technogeeks refer to as a "shadow". That means it is a sucky vortex of all signals of any kind except for one-spanish channel-kind-of-fuzzy-and-that's-only-if-you-have-bunny-ears. Not even AM radio makes it here. I do watch The Office on DVD with Brother whenever I go home. Good times.

4 Places I Have Been
1. Hawaii. LOVE.IT.
2. British Columbia, Canada... toured there. It's beautiful. I liked the ferry rides. Buchardt Gardens is awesome, all tacky billboards to the contrary.
3. Tombstone, Arizona... If you like the movie, don't go there.
Mr. Yuke(4) just said: Guess what mom?
Me (like an idiot that hasn't just been sitting here blogging about this): What?
Mr Yuke(4): You're IT!!! Miss Preschool Teacher said it's April Fools and we have to go home and play a joke on our moms and dads and that's a good joke. Smug smile of satisfaction.
4. Stuck in an elevator in the Tacoma Sheraton for 3 hours after it had dropped about 50 floors

4 People Who Email Me Regularly
1. My Own Personal Dharma... okay, well maybe not regularly. But really, I'm more of a phone person.
2. Blogger [New Comment on...]
3. Previously Mentioned Family Member
4. Father-in-law

4 Favorite Things to Eat
1. Anything with lots of cheese and garlic. Olive Garden is very good for this.
2. Bruschetta from La Vigna- SO.GOOD. Get some.
3. Stir-fry anything that won't kill me
4. Soft, chewy cookies

4 Places I'd Rather Be
1. Getting a massage at a spa
2. Accepting my winnings from a drawing for a million dollars
3. That College I Sometimes Go To
4. The Bookstore

4 Things I Look Forward to This Year
1. Camping. Actually, WARM WEATHER. THAT STAYS. Then Camping.
2. Husband's family reunion. I always enjoy that. He has roughly 63thousand cousins, all of whose company I enjoy immensely.
3. Losing the baby-baby-baby-baby weight before getting pregnant again. (Hey, I can dream, can't I?)
4. Teaching Steve how to count to four.

4 People to Tag
1. Not
2. Gonna
3. Do
4. It

If you actually read the entire thing, consider yourself tagged by default. Just leave 'em in the comments or else put a link to your own post there.

Easter

Happy Easter! I hope you all enjoyed the day and remembered to remember the goodness and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ. He took our sins upon him, he suffered for us in the Garden of Gethsemane, he prayed to the Father in our behalf, he descended lower than anyone ever has, and then he allowed himself to be lifted up on the cross and was crucified. What a joyful blessing the knowledge of the Redeemer's love is to us. I know that through the grace of Jesus Christ all mankind may be saved after all that we can do. I hope you know this too.

We spent the last couple weeks talking with the children about the true meaning of Easter. Starting on Palm Sunday, we discussed what the Savior was doing for the days leading up to his resurrection. I am happy to say that some of it sunk in.

On Saturday before Easter, we had the opportunity to attend the baptism of a family member who lives about an hour away. It was a wonderful afternoon and it was so nice to see our family in happier circumstances.

When we arrived, they were still filling up the baptismal font and my younger children were very interested in this. The baptismal fonts in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints are very large, tiled, usually sunk into the ground, and have steps that lead down into them. The fixtures where the water comes out resemble bathtub fixtures. Maria (the girl being baptized), was glowing. My children were all dressed in their Sunday best and (wonder of wonders-) sitting quietly and reverently (MOSTLY) on the back row.

Maria's aunt gave a talk on baptism. She was saying something about following Jesus' example by entering the waters of baptism. I guess (also wonder of wonders) that Monster Truck(2) was trying to pay attention to what she was saying because he stood up on his chair and SHOUT-whispered to me (I was sitting next to him), "JESUS COME ALIVE IN THAT BAFFTUB!" (So good to know he got something out of our family home evening discussion about the resurrection.) I chuckled and tried to get him to quiet down. Then the aunt said something about a prophet in the Book of Mormon named Alma, who baptized a large group of people in the wilderness at a place called The Waters of Mormon. He jumped up again and said, "NO!, THE WATER'S IN BAFFTUB!!!"

We talked a little afterward about how Jesus was baptized to set the example of perfect obedience to the commandments for us, even though he never sinned. We talked again about how Jesus knelt in the garden, was betrayed by one of his closest friends, taken by the soldiers, was beaten, mocked, humilated, and crucified. And he was resurrected. He lives still. "There.", I thought. "Confusion cleared up."

So we got to church Easter Sunday morning, and as we're going inside, Monster Truck(2) is bounding through the door and he looks up at me with shining eyes and faith in his heart and says, "WE GOING TO SEE JESUS!!!!". He was so happy about it, it was a little heart-wrenching to have to tell him that yes, Jesus is alive, but no, he won't be putting in a LIVE appearance at church today. At least not that I know of.

I guess we should all be looking to the day with the eyes of a two year-old. He IS coming. And Monster Truck(2) can hardly wait. : )

Learning Through Repetition

Muhloo(11mo) learned her first word yesterday. She has of course been saying da-da when she's happy and ma-ma when she's upset for quite some time now. (Isn't that the way?) Yesterday however, Muhloo(11mo) said her first bona fide word.

Before I get to that though, I have to get something off my chest. Grocery shopping with a bunch of kids is a hideous experience. Each and every time. Even when my children are such sweethearts that they give the illusion of being proper and dignified little adults who always say please and thank you and help one another reach things on the high shelves, the snooty looks we receive from our fellow patrons are almost always somewhere in the withering-glare/disdain-for-the-scene-just-witnessed spectrum. After casting dispersions on me and my children either facially or vocally as if I'm not standing RIGHT THERE. NEXT TO THEM.- the inevitable comment from every single person I've ever encountered in public is, "You've got YOUR hands full." I am not kidding. EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON. I hear this so often that for a while I actually had "handsfull" as my password on the websites I frequent- as a rebellion against public condemnation. Where was I? Oh, right. Even when my children are little angels. And let's face it. No child is one of those at all times. Especially not if "all times" happens to occur in the grocery store.

Let me run you through a typical visit to the local grocery store for me.

Find a parking space in teensy-tiny stalls that would render it impossible to open car doors even if you were parked next to a Geo (DARE to dream!)- forget about the roughly 5000 Suburbans parked at this particular grocery store around the clock. Get everyone out of the car. (Usually at this point, though not this week- we cleaned the van out!- we then chase down whatever has unwantedly exited the car with us.) Find a cart. Try to keep an eye on The Pinkiest(7) at all times because you know what she does in situations like this. Put Muhloo's(11mo) carseat in the cart. Argue with Monster Truck(2) about whether or not he is also going to ride in it.
"I WALK." "No, you ride." "I WALK." "[Monster Truck(2)], please come here so I can get you in the cart." "NO. I WALKING." "If you walk YOU HAVE TO STAY BY MOMMY." "I stay by mommy." "All right, fine. Come here. Don't run in the parking lot! Guys! Stay by mom. HEY! CARS CAN'T SEE YOU!!!- Sorry!" (GLARE from disgruntled motorist.) Get into the store.
Little Mommy(9): Mom, can we get one of these carts?
"No."
The Pinkiest(5): Can we get one of these carts?
"I just said 'No'."
Bubba(7): Hey, mom? Can we get a car cart?
"NO!"
(Bubba: Geez. What's her problem?)
Enter the Produce section.
(Now, it's important to understand that one of THE RULES is:

The answer to any and all requests which take place in the grocery store is "NO." unless said request takes place in the Produce section.

-------------ADDENDUM 1-

Unless it is January and the request is for watermelon.

-------------ADDENDUM 2-

Or blueberries. Or raspberries. Or strawberries.

The Pinkiest(5): Hey guys! They have fruit roll-ups over here!

Curse the produce man for selling those things individually! As if I'm going to pay 65 cents per fruit roll-up. I just noticed these new-fangled keyboards don't have the cent sign. I must not have EVER typed that word before.
Everyone: Mom can we have fruit roll-ups?/I ha' fooot woe-wup!/Can I get one?/I want one!/Hey! That's the one I wanted! MO-OM! "No. Nobody is getting fruit roll-ups."

Little Mommy(9): But YOU SAID we could always have anything in the produce department!

Bubba(7): IT'S NOT FAIR.

------------ADDENDUM 3-

Does not include fruit roll-ups. Or any other "froot"-related item.

"HEY! Mr. Yuke(4)! Close the door to the donuts!"

The Pinkiest: Can we get donuts?

"No."

The Pinkiest: Why not?

"Because they're not good for you."

Little Mommy(9): Daddy lets us get donuts.

"No he doesn't."

Little Mommy(9): Well you have before.

"Not today."

Mr. Yuke(4): Pleeeeease.

"No."

Mr. Yuke(4): Why not?

"Because I said 'NO'."

Bubba(7): Hmmph! It's not. FAIR.!!!

Monster Truck(2) just catching on to the exchange that is taking place: I yike donuts! I yike donuts! I have donuts?

"No."

Little Mommy(9): Mommy, can we get some cheese breadsticks for dinner?

"No."

Bubba(7): You never let us have ANYTHING.

"Why don't you go pick out an apple or a pear?- [Monster Truck(2)]! [Monster Truck(2)]! COME. HERE. I told you to stay by mommy."

Bubba(7): I don't WANT pears.

Monster Truck(2), eyes wide: No! No! I don't want ride! I walk by mommy!

At this point we pass the bakery and head for the most unpredictable part of the trip. The meat department. "Guys, stay by mom please." "[Monster Truck(2)]- that's it. You're riding."

Monster Truck(2): NOOOO! NOOOO! I. DON'T. WANT. RIDE!!!!!!!!

"Sorry."
Little Mommy(9): Can we get steak?
"No."
Little Mommy(9): Why not?
"It's too expensive this week."
Little Mommy(9) whines: But I don't like chicken.
"Yes you do, and you know it."
Little Mommy(9): But I want. Steak.
The Pinkiest(5): Here, Mommy. I got some bacon for you.
"Oh. Thank you very much honey, but I don't need any bacon."
Bubba(7): Please can we get bacon?
"No."
Little Mommy(9): But WHHHYYYYYY?
"Because we already have bacon in the freezer and we only eat it like 6 times a year."
Little Mommy(9): Yeah. That's because you never buy it.
"[Monster Truck(2)]! Don't stick your fingers inside of the package of meat!" Ewwwwww. Gross.

And so it goes. "Can we have little cheeses?" "No." "Can we get that spiderman cake?" "No." "Can we buy a lifetime supply of nacho ingredients and ice cream and soda pop?" "No. No. No. No." "Will you give me $15.00 in quarters so I can try to get that Buzz Lightyear Doll out of the Claw machine?" "NO!" (Throw in the inevitable [but gentle] cart collision into an unsuspecting shopper perpetrated by any one of the family while I have turned slightly away from the cart for .2 seconds to reach for an item off the shelf, and you pretty much have our shopping experiences in a nutshell. Oh, and the sickening moment when the checker hits total. Feeding a crew like this is an undertaking and a half, I tell you. I don't know WHAT I will do when I have teenage boys in the house.)


So if you figure that Muhloo(11mo) has been on roughly 1 trip to the grocery store every week since she was 3 weeks old and has heard the word approximately 100 times on each and every one of these adventures into consumership, throw in the very rare occasion that I have to deny someone something unreasonable at home- (sorry, I think I just shot milk out my nose,) is it any wonder that Muhloo's first word is "No."?

She can pronounce it several ways. She experimented with her range on this particular word for an entire day. There's "No.", "NO.", "NO!", and "Newwwwwwwwwwwwwwww"- her personal favorite (and Husband's and mine too). Fortunately she has not (I think) assigned meaning to the word yet. As soon as she does, it will cease to be so cute that we have no power against her (I think I am renaming her Kryptonite(11mo) right here on the spot). At that point I will be thrown into yet another toddler phase that I have to wait out before the child starts saying adorably cute things again. SIGH. They grow up. : (

SIGH! They grow up!!! : )

Home Schoolin'

I recently had an epiphany in which I realized that I should be a librarian when I grow up. I was ecstatic. The long years I've spent narrowing down what I want to do with my life, finally at an end. Now, a path. That starting place, a jumping off point, a direction to a determinded destination. I called That College I Sometimes Go To, to inquire about which classes I could take online while I am waiting for Muhloo(10mo) to go to school. I discovered that Library Science is actually a Masters program. One which, incidentally, is not offered at Said College.

Deep breath. "Okay, well do you have any idea what sort of Undergraduate degree I should pursue with that Masters in mind?"

"Oh, pretty much anything. Of course something with English or Literature is always good, but really any field that interests you would work."

So much for narrowing down what I want to do with my life.

So I go in and meet with an Advisor. She tells me that I can choose between Comparative Literature ( YES!) which she is advising me against (NO!) and English, which she thinks would be my best bet. Why would English be better I ask? Well the Comparative Lit. degree doesn't have any major classes available online. English on the other hand has tons.

"Explain to me the difference between the two."

"Well, Comparative Literature would be studying and comparing literature (oh, really?), while (and this next part came in hushed and reverential tones-) English would be studying the intracacies of the English Language. (Enter the choir of heavenly angels now). Hmmm. I wonder which classes SHE teaches?

The intracacies of the English language. Hmmm. Semicolon 101? I don't think so. Thanks, but I get all the English Language learnin' I need reading the "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks. Ok, Comparative Lit it is. And actually I still have some G.E.'s to get out of the way so I can do those online while I wait for Muhloo(10mo) to grow.

Thinking about the general education I am soon to receive at home got me thinking about the general education I have already received there.

Since we're already on English, let's just start there:

Pronunciation of Consonants (PrCn160)-
Me: Wwwww-ipes
Monster Truck(2): Yyyyyyipes.
Me: Wwwwwipes
Monster Truck(2): Yyyyyyipes.
Me: Wwwwwwwww
Monster Truck(2): Wwwww
Me: Good! Do it again!
Monster Truck(2): Wwwwww!
Me: Now say, wwwwwipes.
Monster Truck(2): WwwwwwYipes.

Try to say that. It's really hard.
(Note: Monster Truck(2) graduated this week from wwwwYipes to Lipes. Also, I think speaking toddlerese 6 times earns me a Minor in Foreign Language.)

Zoology 100 (ZooL100)-
Little Mommy(9) informed me today that she is pretty sure she broke her toe at school because she dropped something heavy on it and then just kept "slumping around" all day.

Mr. Yuke(4) popped his knuckle night before last while wrestling with his dad.
Mr Yuke(4): OH NO! I broke my ANKLE BUTTON! It WASN'T WORTH IT!!!!
[I actually think I should get double credit for this one in Drama 120 (Dra120)]

Economics For Small Business (Econ160)-
Me: No one in this family is allowed to charge for breakfast or lunch at school under any circumstances whatsoever. Do you understand me? (Collective nodding of heads.) Charging is not a good practice to get into and we do not have the money for that. I have already talked with the lunch lady. Her computer says you guys can't charge. Okay? (Nodding again.) We have perfectly good food at home you can eat for breakfast and take for lunch. There is no reason ever to charge. Got it? (More nodding.)

-----

Me: What do you mean you owe $10.45 to the school and they're kicking you out in January if you haven't paid it yet?! What have you been doing with ALL THOSE LUNCHES you took to school?! ... Uh huh. ... I see. Well you are paying those charges with the money from your own piggy bank. ... Yes, it is fair. ... No, I provided you with food the first time around when you chose to throw it away. You owe money too?!!! How much do YOU owe? $6.80? How can you owe $6.80? Lunch prices don't even add up to that! (STUPID LUNCH LADY!) You TELL that lunch lady that I want an itemized receipt for that. ... It means a list of all the charges. ... Yes, she can. ... If you can't remember "itemized" then just say 'my mom wants a receipt.'. ...WHAT?!!!! YOU aren't even AT school for lunch time!!! HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY HAVE CHARGES AT SCHOOL?!!! ... Breakfast? You eat breakfast at home. ... I don't CARE if you like french toast better than cheerios, you're not allowed to eat at school without taking money!

I should get an honorary degree in Social Science for that one just on the grounds that no one got maimed. : )

Psychology 210 (Psy210)-
One of Husband's roommates was a Psych major. Not my favorite person come to think of it. The reason for that was that he was constantly doing/saying/encouraging things solely to elicit a reaction and then to analyze all the people involved. The world was his laboratory, the human race his lab rats. In honor of the roommate I'll call Dozen Roses, my psych experiment:

Monster Truck(2): You're taking a BAFF?!!! (Read: Have you LOST YOUR MIND?)
Me: Yep.
Monster Truck(2): Why aye you taking a baff?
Me: Because my back hurts (stupid cheap Walmart junk...).
Monster Truck(2): Because yo-ee back hurts? You takinga baff because yo-ee back hurts?
Me: Mmhm.
Monster Truck(2): Hmm. Nice and Yarm.


I'm also pretty sure I've already earned at least a minor in Children's Literature and probably Early Childhood Development as well. I can offhandedly quote Dr. Seuss, Shel Silverstein, e.e. cummings, and Mem Fox. Sad, but true.

I've learned how to fix baby beds, action figures, boo-boos and dinners. I've written journals and blogposts and permission slips and excuse notes. I've made costumes and messes and excuses and FHE lessons; done homework and housework and yardwork and God's work. I've made babies and a family. I've made a home.

I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to comtemplate what I wanted to do with my life. In taking the time to contemplate it, I did it.

Donuts Are Evil (And Other Things You Need To Know)

Thanks to the following link, I discovered that our solar system has 11, not 9, planets. I don't watch/listen to/read the news because I think it is controlled by a few people with a lot of money and also because I find it monumentally depressing. Because of this, I didn't know that they have discovered some new planets called Ceres and Eris. So there you go. I don't know where she got her info, but I thought you should know. (Or am I the only one who was unaware?)


Next thing: I feel that I somehow have not done a good enough job promoting the Twilight books to the world. Four people who voted on my last poll still didn't know what Twilight is. See? -> Twilight is a book. It has two sequels. It is on about the same reading level as Harry Potter but the subject matter is a little more adult. The books are complete brain candy but totally enjoyable and I highly recommend them. They are New York Times bestsellers and a big item in pop culture right now. Read them, you won't be sorry. Oh, two more things: 1) they are kind of chick books so I don't know if guys like them or not and 2)they have vampires. Don't let that put you off. I'm not a Buffy/Angel/whatever other shows/horror movies fan, but I really liked these books.



Next thing: A single crumb donut has 5 weight watchers points. A WHOLE MEAL. Stupid donuts. For perspective, that is the same as 1 egg and 1 egg white scrambled with 2 slices of canadian bacon, and a piece of toast. I don't know about you, but suddenly that evil donut doesn't look quite so good.



Next thing: Some of you already know, but don't separate frozen cinnamon rolls with a knife. You can accomplish separating them by whacking them on the counter. Apparently. Some of you may feel like I'm beating a dead cinnamon roll here with this but I just think don't think I can stress this enough.



Next thing: Just because your kids SAY they did their homework doesn't necessarily mean that it's true. Try to find out for sure BEFORE you go to parent/teacher conferences. It'll save you a lot of embarrassment.



Next thing: The aerobics step you can buy at WalMart that is "two height adjustable", made from plastic, and is called "STEP" is a total waste of money. Don't even bother. On a related note: most chiropracters do excellent work.


Last thing: If you ever decide that laundering your thumb drive is a good idea, don't worry. They still work if you let them dry out.

This I Know

I got my morning chuckle when I read a snide remark today about liberals blaming AIDS on a lack of federal funding. Outside of that one snark, I didn't find the site it was on enjoyable and I won't be returning. I did, however, get a kick out of that.

I bring up the subject of liberals, because it has come to my attention that I have not sufficiently explained my position on political "correctness" on this blog. It boils down to this: I don't think anyone in this country should be so easily offended that politically "incorrect" statements give rise to the behavior which they do. (Lobbying, protesting, whining, regulating, etc....) This came up because a cherished old friend of mine (who, after some deliberation about Anne Shirley and her bosom friend Dianna, I've decided instead to call My Own Personal Dharma) recently emailed me a book recommendation- a book she enjoyed and which, based on her memory of our history together, she thought I might also enjoy. With the description of the book was a note in which she expressed that she was hesitant to send the book, afraid it might offend me. She thought this (no thanks I'm sure to my review of that other book) because some of the reviews on Amazon.com said the book was received by some readers as feminist and anti-Christian. (It is important to note that the book is set in medieval times. A time period that was, by nature, anti-Christian. It was called the "dark ages" for a reason.) As far as the feminism goes, I am not afraid of feminists nor so easily offended. Do I think the world has a very distorted view of women's strengths, abilities, and roles? YES. Am I going to curl up in a ball and cry about it? No. For the same reason I spurn political "correctness" so vehemently- that people need to get a backbone and not let the fact that someone somewhere might be saying something out loud about God, bother them- I am not. (My Own Personal Dharma is one of those, my friends who stand far to the left of me and Dr. Laura and for some reason still seem to like me anyway. And I like her.) No, rather than getting fetal and letting the tears flow, I will instead, continue to stand for what is right without shame and I will not get offended if people don't believe me. I hope they will afford me the same courtesy.

To that end, I would like to tell you what it is that I believe, so there's not all this weirdness between us. I hope that when all of you know where I stand, we can go forward as friends and without fear.

I believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost. I believe that they live and that they are three separate and distinct beings. I believe that God hears and answers prayers if we have faith and are willing to hear his answers. Sometimes they are not the answers we want or expect. I believe that we are the literal and beloved spirit children of our Father in Heaven and that we lived with him before we came to this earth, and that we have both a divine nature and destiny. I believe our bodies are a sacred gift from God and that we should do all in our power to take care of them, from exercising and eating right to avoiding addictive substances. I don't drink or smoke. I believe people will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam's transgression. I believe that through the Atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved, by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel. I believe that we are saved through the grace of Christ after all that we can do. I believe God would not have gone to all the trouble to tell the prophets and apostles so much about how people should comport themselves if He did not care about it.

I believe that a man must be called of God, by prophecy, and by the laying on of hands by those in authority, to preach the gospel and administer the ordinances thereof.

I believe that marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God and that the family is central to the Creator's plan for the eternal destiny of His children. I believe that sacred ordinances and covenants available in holy temples enable family relationships to be perpetuated beyond the grave. I believe that gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose. I believe that sexual relations should be kept within the bounds of marriage between a husband and wife who have been legally and lawfully wedded. I believe in the sanctity of life and it's importance in God's plan. I am against abortion. I believe parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs, to teach them to love and serve one another, to observe the commandments of God and to be law-abiding citizens wherever they live. I believe that raising children in this way is the path to our greatest happiness and the most noble endeavor a couple can undertake. I also believe that husbands and wives will be held accountable before God for how they execute this greatest of responsibilities. I believe children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity. I believe successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities. I believe that with the sacred endowment of gender come certain responsibilities. Fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners. I realize many times circumstances arise when there is only one parent. I am not saying these people cannot be successful. I am saying that the responsibility has been divinely divided in this way, and that God has given each of us inherent gifts specific to our genders, to assist us in our respective stewardships. A single parent can do a wonderful job and raise wonderful children, but as a child from a broken home, I feel that I can say- that parent will have more difficulty doing so than two parents who love each other would together. I believe that the disintegration of the family will bring upon individuals, communities, and nations the calamities foretold by ancient and modern prophets.

I believe the Bible to be the word of God, as far as it is translated correctly. I also believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God. I believe there is a living prophet on the earth today and that the restoration of the priesthood and revelation foretold of in the scriptures has come. I believe we live in the last days and that Jesus Christ will come again.

I claim the privilege of worshipping Almighty God according to the dictates of my own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, worship how, when, or what they may. I believe in the freedom of speech, without which I could not be writing this blog. I also believe in being respectful to those around you and using freedom of speech in a manner that is considerate of others' rights to not hear what it is you might have to say. (As long as I'm on the respect issue- I believe that P.[ublic] D.[isplays of] A.[ffection] are rude and inconsiderate, no matter who they are between.) I believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, and in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law. I believe that any law-abiding person is welcome to come to this country and better their circumstances. I believe that a high percentage of illegal immigrants do not sustain the law. If they were law-abiding people they would not be here, they'd be waiting for their visas like everyone else. I believe that people have a sacred responsibility to vote if they live in a country where this right is afforded to them. I believe that voting for Hillary is wrong. (Ha Ha) I believe in upholding the Constitution of the United States and that, in spite of America's flaws, ours is still the best system of government in the world. I believe in our sovereignty as a nation and that we should stay away from the U.N..

I believe that we should all be honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and that we should be doing good to all men in whatever ways we can. I believe and try to follow the admonition of Paul- I believe all things, I hope all things, my people have endured many things and we hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report of praiseworthy, I strive to seek after these things.

I believe in love. I believe in chocolate and femininity and keeping a journal. I believe that the beauties of this earth are a testament of the Creator

and a gift from Him to help us remember just how much we are loved. I believe that God has given man the charge to take care of the earth and that wastefulness of any thing is always abhorrant, but also that the earth's resources are here for us to use. I love the seasons and bad weather and the opportunities they are to be reminded that storms pass and that the sun always shines again. (Some places more than others.)


I believe that every single person on this earth has something positive to offer it (and I try to remember that when I am dealing with them. : ) ) I believe that it's never too late to start over, that the adage "an old dog can't learn new tricks" is a lie, and that every single day is a gift which we can use to stand a little taller and do a little more. I believe we should all try to do so.


I realized as I was just reading over what I wrote up there, that I misspoke. I said these are the things I believe. I should have said these are the things I know, because I do know them. I realize there are going to be people- maybe lots of people- who don't agree with me. Some may even become angry at my conviction. They will accuse me of hating people who are different from me (which I do not), of being narrow-minded (which I am not) and of not thinking for myself (which is not now nor has it ever been the case- since I was eight months old). I do not pass judgement on people who disagree with me. I believe most of those people have not gained their own testimony of these things. I think most people in this world are just trying to do their best and be good people. That is what I would like to believe, anyway- that people do the best they can with the knowledge and emotional scars they have.

I love My Own Personal Dharma- I always have- and many others who stand with her, a little further to the left than I. This is who I am. I am not afraid of other opinions- I am not so easily offended. I hope none of you are either. I had a teacher once who said, "I've found that with people who are easily offended, it is almost always because they have too much pride." I don't know if this is universally true, but I do tend to believe it in the case of political "correctness".

Oh- one more thing. I believe that anyone can know the truthfulness of these things if they exercise enough faith to ask God, believing that they will receive an answer. I know the words of the prophets are true which said: "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him." (James 1:5)

"...and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, having real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things." (Mor. 10:4-5)

I Have A Dream

At the start of every new year, our family spends one of our family home evenings reviewing and making goals. We go over our family long term goals, assess how we did the previous year on our family short term goals, and set new short term family goals for the current year depending on what we need to work on. (e.g.- prepare for church on Saturday, etc. Have you ever tried to get six kids dressed and out the door? It takes at least 48 hours.) We put all of the long- and short-term goals on a poster that we put up on the dining room wall where everyone can see it. We then are able to review our progress every few weeks. Those of you who knew me from way back when- aren't you impressed? Who new I had a left half to my brain? Anyway, after discussing the family goals, each member of the family also chooses one personal goal to work on for the year. We hope that it will be something geared toward self-improvement (e.g.- The Pinkiest chose getting up on time in the morning for this year), but sometimes it is a skill we would like to acquire. (Potty-training, shoe-tying, etc.)

This year, Little Mommy(9) chose learning to ice skate as her personal goal which I felt was a stretch and I suspect is just a ploy to get some recreational time without having to earn it by getting her chores done. We let it go because we want to be supportive and not discourage the kids from setting goals for themselves- in spite of the nature of her choice.

We went down the line asking each child what their goal would be for this year. When we got to Mr. Yuke(4), he didn't have one in mind. Husband suggested learning to ride a bike without training wheels. Mr. Yuke(4) jumped up and said breathlessly and with reverence, "Ok. But when I grow up, I want to be-

a baker of chicken burritos."