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

Turtlenecks, PLEASE

We sat down to dinner on Sunday night and Husband asked everyone to share with the family one thing they had learned at church, just like we always do. When we got to Mr.Yuke(5), he said, "I don't know."
Me: You don't remember? Well how were your new teachers?
Mr.Yuke(5): I don't remember. BUT! GUESS!WHAT!?"
Husband: What?
Mr.Yuke(5): My teacher wears shirts that show her boobs!
Husband and me trying to frown disapprovingly at this possibility while not saying anything in response so as not to turn "boobs" into a hot dinner topic for the next fortnight.
Me: Hmm.
Mr.Yuke(5): It comes all the way down to here and they just stick right out.
(I will say in the woman's defense that she had a baby two days after I had T.Tiny(1m) and she is nursing so this was probably not her fault. I'm sure she is a very modest woman.)
Me looking at LittleMommy(10): And THAT is why we dress modestly. When you don't, people NOTICE.

In Loving Memory

My Father-in-law passed away Thursday morning, about 12:15 am. His funeral will be held next Thursday in that place where he lived. Thank you all for your prayers and kind words of support through these trying times. I'm really beginning to look forward to this baby (4 more weeks and counting!), if only to have some GOOD news to share for a change.

MAYHEM

I said I wouldn't blog about negative stuff but I'm not very good at finding the silver linings I guess so I have dropped off the face of the earth. Here is the laundry list. I keep thinking when I get a little distance/perspective I'm going to see so clearly how it was all for the best.

• FLOOD (AND OTHER VARIOUS LANDLORD PROBLEMS. I QUOTE, "Well how much water is there?" ME: About three inches right now but it's still coming in really fast. "Oh, so it's not SIX inches. You don't need to call a plumber." NOT JOKING.)
• FIRE (the vacuum)
• STOLEN IDENTITY (when they say, "Illegal immigrants just want a better life.", ask them whose.) THE GUY BOUGHT A HOUSE WITH HUSBAND'S SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER IN NOVEMBER
• GRANDAD HAS PANCREATIC AND PROSTATE CANCER
• DAD IS GETTING DIVORCED (NOT SURPRISING TO SOME OF YOU I KNOW BUT WHEN EVERYONE SAID HE'D CHANGED AND I SAID YEAH RIGHT, I REALLY WANTED TO BE WRONG.)
• I HAVE BRONCHITIS
• KIDS GOT FLU WHILE I WAS VISITING GRANDAD BEFORE MY OB PUTS THE BAN ON TRAVELING NEXT WEEK.

I'm hoping that things are going to settle down for a little while now and y'all will hear from me again.

Family Time and Lord of the Flies- It's All PG-13

Well it's been a crazy few weeks. We went to the every-other-year Brady family reunion at the end of June and had a great time. I always love hanging out with Husband's cousins and seeing the kids all hang out together. Altogether we're almost 100 people with half of those being kiddos. It's always really fun and somewhat exhausting.

HIGHLIGHTS:

Mr.Yuke(4) finding his BEST BUDDY Mr.J.T.(5) and spending every single minute together. Mr.J.T.(5) has a rule at his house that he can't visit friends/they can't visit him if his mom doesn't know their parents. He was shocked and then overjoyed to discover that I KNOW HIS MOM!!!!! so Mr.Yuke(4) can come over. !!!! I said, "Sure. SOMEtime. Not tomorrow. Not this year. But SOMEtime."
Mr.Yuke(4) didn't miss a beat: Yeah! I know! Like maybe when I'm PG-13 THEN I could go there!!!!!
They made plans to "be best buddies until [they] DIE. And after too."

CousinPA put together a funniest home videos night that had a special tribute to Husband's Grandma who you may remember left us the same week I lost the twins. It was really beautiful and had that "Let me go home" song on it that I love so much. Everyone was in tears. It was great. The woman lived a very full life. I told Husband later that I hope I live even half that full. (With this many kiddos that may be unavoidable. : ) )

They had a BIG GI-NORMOUS INFLATABLE WATERSLIDE on the first day. No, seriously. It was BIG.

We do a generations dinner one of the nights. I LOVE that. This year the grandparents all went out at 5:30 while us parents took our kids swimming in the hotel pool to get them tired, fed them fast food, and got them ready for bed so that the Grandparents could watch them at the hotel when they got back while we went out to dinner. We went to Chili's and had a great time. My favorite part of the evening was when SingerGirl told us an Emily Watts story. Essentially the story was about a trip Emily Watts took to Vegas and the intimidation she felt in hanging out in her bathing suit at the casino pool next to all the bronze hard-bodies. She ended up deciding that she would do them all the service of having someone to look better than in order for them to feel good about themselves. Charitable, no? Well at this point NotAFuddyDuddy says, "You know, I guess I always thought- it's not like people don't know what I look like. I'm not going to take off my clothes and they're going to go- 'OH MY GOSH!!! She's FAT!!!!! I had NO idea!' I thoroughly enjoyed that. Hopefully the humor wasn't just limited to her delivery of it.

The day after the reunion was over, we spent the day in one of our country's beautiful National Parks, just the eight of us. (Hee hee. That sounds funny.) Anyway, it was just us. It was really nice. We saw some beautiful scenery, hiked to a watertrickle, went to a museum, and drove THROUGH a mountain. MonsterTruck(3) got heat exhaustion and we didn't know the extent of it until that night as we were making the road trip back home when he started HALLUCINATING. I am not kidding. I'm talking FULL-ON acid-trip-style freak-out. Poor little kid. He just couldn't understand why we weren't DOING ANYTHING ABOUT THIS. (!!!!!!!!!!!) He screamed bloody murder for half an hour until we got home and got him in the shower. He never was convinced that what he was seeing was not there.

He had a fever the next day so I took him to the doctor. Turns out the heat exhaustion had combined with a virus we picked up at the reunion (The Pinkiest(5) got it too) and caused an extra-special side effect. Scary.

A couple days later I got said virus. Then I felt REALLY bad for the boy. It was HORR. I. BLE. It was some sort of infection of the spinal fluid that was localized in the neck and upper back. You know that feeling when water gets up your nose? Well it was like that only in your upper spine and the base of your head. It hurt A LOT and my arms got really weak like I couldn't lift them. Luckily the terrible pain and fever only lasted about a day and a half, but the recovery took almost a week of sleeping. The three of us slept a lot when we got back.

So I finally recovered from that fun (during which time the 4th of July came and went). [You know I was sick because the 4th is my MOST FAVORITEST holiday ever and I was so tired that all I was able to blog about it was the sentence I put down there about that stupid, terrible waste of $40 we spent at the movie theater that day. SO- happy 4th everyone! Freedom is a privilege that must be carefully guarded. : )] So anyway- I recovered. The next day I thought, oh good. I can finally get up and some stuff done. I got up. I showered. I put in a load of laundry. And I got a migraine. This pretty much only happens to me when I'm pregnant (migraines, that is). It was one of the really bad ones when you can't SEE. Sight is something that I depend on pretty heavily. Like toothpaste. And underwires. I NEED to see. I laid down in bed and sent the kids to every single neighbor within 5 houses in any direction in search of a caffeinated beverage. (That is DIVINE advice from my old OB.) Nobody had anything. I had no choice but to try to sleep it off, knowing full-well the Lord of the Flies scenario that would ensue. At one point during the day I vaguely remember hearing someone yell, "Kryptonite(1) ate the WHOLE jar of jelly!" I had visions of jelly stains on every surface of the first floor as I dozed. Fortune smiled on me in the form of the ProprietoroftheAllenCafe. She had loaned me a library book and she dropped by to get it so she could return it (hopefully before any overdue fines?). I'm a little hazy on the details but I know that upon seeing my children and the state they were in (I can only imagine, having spent my day gaining an appreciation for the blind,) she asked Little Mommy(9) if I was ok and did I need any help? LittleMommy(9) promptly replied that I had a migraine and what I needed was caffeine. TheProprietoroftheAllenCafe offered to get me something on her way back from the library and LittleMommy(9) sweetly informed her that it would need to be Dr. Pepper. (She's a good kid.) That angel of a woman brought me 2 liters of Dr. Pepper and took my jelly-slathered baby home with her. I picked Kryptonite(1) up about 4 hours later when the caffeine had kicked in and I could see again. I don't know what she looked like when she left but apparently it was bad enough to neccessitate a bath. THANK YOU ALLENCAFELADY!!! YOU ARE A LIFE-SAVER! (Unfortunately I think I probably mean that literally because who KNOWS what could have happened to her before Husband came home?)

Now I am trying to hang in there for a couple more weeks until FedEx brings my Twilight book. I re-re-read the three I have but there is still a couple weeks to go. Someone give me something to read, quick!!!

What's Really Important

So we sailed through the extreme cinnamon rolls without incident. We somehow coped when all the laundry in the entire house was dirty (until Husband valiantly saved the day and washed most of it). We got by when I was puking my face off. We survived pulling out of school early, throwing stuff in a backpack and driving ten minutes later to the other end of the state to see our Grandma on her deathbed. We hung on through the loss of our babies, the D&C, and Grandma's funeral. And then, I did it. The stupidest thing I could ever have done. I said- OUT LOUD- that the kids had handled everything remarkably well. And then I SHOULD HAVE called an exorcist, because ever since that day, they have been decompressing (read: posessed) to an extreme degree. I have been in tears more than once and have sat seething in anger a few times too. Seriously, it's been all I can do to remind myself that families are the most important thing on earth and that I love those kids more than anything else in this world. Mostly, I've just wanted to hang a cardboard sign around their necks and stick them out on the curb.
"FREE. TAKE ONE."

I guess I'm grateful for a perspective which helps me at times like this to remember what it is I love and what's really important.


Tonight, I took dinner to a friend who is sick. She's the sort of person who is CONSTANTLY helping other people but doesn't let anyone help her. I insisted on bringing the food in spite of her polite refusals because- who doesn't need homemade chicken noodle soup? I'm not even sick and I want some. Anyway, I made the soup, some homemade buttermilk biscuits (something that I am somehow very good at in spite of the baking-challenged environment I was raised in), homemade whipped honey butter, and my famous chocolate chip cookies. (Yes, they are famous. No, you can't have the recipe. It's my very own and I can count the number of people I've disclosed it to on one hand- and they've all been SWORN to secrecy. I developed the cookies because I was feeling competitive with my friend Piano Girl who was always bragging about how great her cookies are. Someday I'll have to make her some of them.) Anyway, my kids were totally excited about the cookies they just happened to notice baking in the kitchen. I told them that I was taking some to The Nicest Lady I Know and that they could have some later during Family Home Evening. I got the food all ready to go, pulled the hot biscuits out of the oven and arranged them on a tray, and carried everything to the car. Immediately, Monster Truck(2) started crying. He began potty training today so I thought maybe he was stressed about me leaving him to tend to his bathroom needs by himself for four minutes. Or maybe he wanted to come too, but I didn't have time to look for his shoes. ALWAYS the shoes. He has a little toddler crush on me right now so his big huge tears just melted my heart. He just loves me so much. It almost made all the psycho-children moments this week seem worth it because he so obviously wanted to be with me. I called up the stairs to Little Mommy(9) to watch the little boys while Bubba(7!) and I delivered the food to our friend a block and a half away. Then I quick-shut the door and locked the deadbolt with my key so Monster Truck(2) couldn't get out. We got into the car, started to back out of the driveway, and I see Monster Truck(2) standing in the open doorway, wailing out into the night, "MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY!" "Oh, poor [Monster Truck(2)]", I said to Bubba(7). We delivered the food as fast as we could and returned in 4 or 5 minutes. When I came home Little Mommy(9) was sweetly distracting Monster Truck(2) from my absence. I walked in and his little face lit up- "MOMMY!". I rushed to him and gave him a hug saying, "See? I came back. I wouldn't leave you." Then he looked up into my face with anger and resentment burning behind his eyes and said, "YOU TAKED THE TOOKIES buh-bye." The little booger never wanted ME at all! Like I said, I'm glad I know what I love and what's really important. And so does Monster Truck(2), apparently.
Score: Kids-3, Mom-0

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."

The Donzerlee Light

I love New Year. It is one of my favorite holidays. This is for two reasons:

1. I get to have a big party with lots of food which is not obligatory (read: Thanksgiving). Planning parties is my favorite.
2. It's a good chance to start out fresh. For example: I have said my morning prayer every day this entire year. Sounds encouraging, doesn't it? Try one.

Our party last night was so much fun. Brother, Cute Sister, and Slugger Jr.(3) sent us a movie kit for Christmas. It had a whole bunch of boxes of movie candy, mini microwave popcorn bags, tickets which read "admit one to [Aberjaber] family movie night", and the DVD of "Surf's Up". So last night we brought the t.v., dvd player, and the wii down from the playroom to the living room. We moved the furniture around and we watched the movie. After it was over, we ate a ton of other party food and played the wii for almost two hours. We had a great time. Mostly.

It used to be our policy that just the older kids got to stay up until midnight. We would send the younger kids to bed around 9:00 when they felt like they'd stayed up really late and were super tired anyway. This was a good plan. Unfortunately, nobody informed the little kids of the details. See, we'd send them to bed and they would get up. Every ten minutes. All night long. They would sneak ever so subtlely (like a stampeding herd of buffalo) to some vantage point where they could witness the goings on of the party until they were sent back to bed. Again. So this year, we decided to just extend them an official invitation to the party rather than deal with Bedtime Tourette's all night long. Mr. Yuke(4) was particularly thrilled about this. All day he kept talking about how he was going to stay up UNTIL TOMORROW!!! I kept telling him that it would still be dark and that he would have to go bed as soon as the party was over. He looked a little confused by this the seventeen times we had this conversation but he always agreed with me. At midnight we did crackers, toasted the new year, and exchanged hugs- then I promptly banished them all to bed so Husband and I could play some serious wii. The other children went right away, happy to have stayed up so late and have so much fun. Mr. Yuke(4), however, was LIVID.

Mr. Yuke(4): "YOU SAID I COULD STAY UP TIL TOMORROW!!! YOU SAID I COULD STAY UP ALL NIGHT!!! I WANT TO WATCH SUPERMAN!!!"

Me: "Honey, it is tomorrow. It's the new year. It's after midnight. Remember when I said it would still be dark?"

Mr. Yuke(4): "BUT IT IS NOT MORNING!!!"

Me: "You need to go to bed. I love you. Goodnight."

Husband: "Goodnight, [Mr. Yuke(4)]. I love you."

Mr. Yuke(4): LOUDLY under his breath- "This is NOT what I signed up for."

I don't know where he gets that stuff from. So funny! Anyway, in spite of Mr. Yuke(4) melting down as only he can, and Monster Truck(2) throwing up at about 10:30, we had a really good time. I hope you all rang in the new year as cheerfully. Good luck with your resolutions!

What The Grinch Stole, The Robbers Gave Back

On Sunday after church, while Bubba(6) was still in his suit and Mr. Yuke(4) was in a white shirt and his underwear ("Call me 'Captain Underpants!"), they went down to the forbidden zone and rummaged through the toys that are out of rotation. (We rotate the toys in the playroom every couple of weeks so that everything gets played with and cleaned on a regular basis. The toys not in the playroom are on shelves in the basement.) Somewhere down there they found swimming goggles. I do not know why we have these. We have never purchased goggles. Ever. Anyway, the obvious course of action when you are in a suit and goggles is to be a bank robber. I didn't know this. I saw them tiptoe-ing up the stairs and inquired what they were sneaking off to do. They turned around, fixed their goggle stares on me, and whispered, "We're robbers." I had a hard time keeping a straight face, not expecting two sets of goggles to be looking at me. When they were upstairs, Husband said, "I don't know what's wrong with this generation. When I was a kid" (doesn't he sound old?) "we always wanted to be the HERO." I answered, "Well they usually do too. But today they couldn't, OBVIOUSLY." Him- "Why not?" Me- "Because 'hey- goggles.'"

You know that I've been under the weather. Extreme Cinnamon Rolls, PT, Husband out of town, exhaustion and morning sickness that lasts all day long (that's the worst misnomer in the English language), kids with flu, threatening miscarriage of twins, etc. We didn't have Thanksgiving really and I just barely did the shopping for Christmas, and we probably aren't going to eat much on Christmas either. If I'm not in the middle of a miscarriage, I will still be sick as a dog and cooking food is the enemy.

We have not put up our tree yet. It's sad and I've missed it but I can only do so much. Right now, "so much" consists of waking up at some point in the a.m., changing diapers, fixing bottles, feeding children, drinking water, catching up on laundry, besides making sure all the kids have clean pajamas to wear to school for "Polar Express Day" and gifts to exchange for their school and church classes. I've got my wife to murder and Gilder to frame for it. I'm swamped. Oh wait- no. I don't have a wife. But I have had all that other stuff going on in addition to the normal December madness. Really, all things considered, I've been pretty okay with not having the tree up. This week was the first chance we've really had to get it out and now- what with being COMPLETELY distracted with worrying about the babies, I just don't feel like it is worth the energy (that I do not have anyway) to drag all that stuff out for just one week. I've pondered the possibility that Christmas is about the Savior anyway so maybe those nice, pretty reminders are not completely necessary and it might be nice to have an old fashioned, spartan Christmas. Well, yesterday someone informed me that not having a Christmas tree is bordering on CHILD ABUSE. I am not making this up. I pointed out that maybe if she thought about all those children who are regularly beaten by their parents, she would realize that not having a Christmas tree is a FAR CRY from that. She asked, "Well how would you feel if you were a kid without a Christmas tree?" I answered, "It came without ribbons, boxes, or bags.... It came. Somehow... it came just the same." (How the Grinch Stole Christmas- Dr. Seuss) No. In spite of the reference to her favorite Christmas book, she would not concede. ("It's IMPORTANT to them!") I told her that I honestly don't think they'll care. I'm pretty sure that all they care about is GETTING STUFF and that isn't going to be a problem. She answered loftily that it is a decision you're just going to have to make. Just like that, with the italics and everything. And now- even though I was fine with not having a tree before (because as I said, I can only do so much), now I feel like garbage.

I was wondering tonight how I am going to focus on The Greatest Gift/the Savior this coming week when every corner of my mind is completely consumed with worrying- and trying not to think about the twins. Then Husband started singing lullaby-hymns to Muhloo(8m). I thought of that little baby in his mother's arms; the one who made it possible for me to hold all my wonderful children in mine. The baby who made it a reality that I will know these children someday, whether in this life or the next. And suddenly, I knew.

All my preoccupation with the possibilities would not matter in the least if it were not for the baby born in Bethlehem.

Merry Christmas.

"goggles" by Julie K in Taiwan; "Golden Christmas" by krisdecurtis

Bedtime Tourette's and Music to My Ears

Every night when it's time to get ready for bed, we go through the same routine. At 7:00, everyone gets their p.j.'s on, brushes their teeth, the girls put their hair up so it doesn't get all tangled in the night, and everyone comes downstairs. They all (even Monster Truck(2)) write in their journals while we read aloud for half an hour. Currently we are reading The Tale of Despereaux. At the end of reading time, we sing a song, say a prayer together as a family, and everyone gets to choose a book to take to bed. They read in bed quietly for another half an hour. Then they say their own prayers, get tucked in, and it's lights out. And then I check to make sure the carbon monoxide detector is still working because clearly I am hallucinating. This is the routine that we all agreed to as a family and is posted on the dining room wall. It's the routine that is a thing of beauty once every new moon. The one which is nearly always the same that I referred to up there at the beginning is:

At 7:00 I say, "Okay, guys. Go get ready for bed." They all run (shrieking at the top of their lungs) up the stairs like a pack of howler monkeys and proceed to do any- and every- thing. Except get ready for bed. They laugh and I yell, "Get ready for bed." They fight and I say, "Get your p.j.'s on!" Someone gets hurt and I yell, "It wouldn't have happened if you weren't screwing around. Get ready for bed." (Fill in the blank) comes downstairs and says, "I can't find my toothbrush." After about ten minutes of intermittent reminders from me to "GET READY FOR BED!", I call everyone downstairs for journals, etc. and send whichever two children who are still wearing their jeans and t-shirts back upstairs to get their jammies on. For real this time. ("GET READY FOR BED!") The kids who are in p.j.'s get sent back upstairs to really brush their teeth this time. ("GET READY FOR BED!") The child whose toothbrush is lost and (if by some miracle there IS a child who did what was expected) the child who is ready for bed get out their journals and write or draw about their day depending on the age of the child. ("GET READY FOR BED!") If Mr. Yuke(4) is one of these children, there is a predictable conversation about how our journals are not regular art paper and he needs to just use one page each day and if he wants to do some artwork while we read he needs to get some different paper. When everyone finally comes downstairs truly ready for bed, we are out of time for reading, writing, or singing. The children who didn't get to journal have a hissy fit to which I answer that they chose to use up their time acting like pygmies upstairs. We have a prayer and I send them to bed. And then one or the other of them inevitably asks me with an angel face and puppy dog eyes to "Tuck them in? Please?" (music to my ears) and once again my heart melts and I tuck everyone in (because of course one or the other of us is going to do that every night). And I sit down and sigh at my sweet little people and how much I love them. And then Little Mommy(9) comes out and says that (random body part) hurts. EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. And it's never the same one either. And it's never hurts until it's time to go to sleep. And Mr. Yuke(4) needs a drink. And then The Pinkiest(5) needs one too because it's NOT FAIR if Mr. Yuke(4) gets one and she doesn't. And then Monster Truck(2) doesn't WANT to be in bed and Little Mommy(9) has some other random pain. And she wants to know what exactly is going to be done about it?! And then I tell them that the next person out of bed is going to be dead meat and I better not hear one more peep out of anyone. And then it's quiet.
And then Monster Truck(2) gets out of bed again. For the 27th time.

Last night Husband called during this period of chaos and I really miss him so I kept him on the phone and conversed softly with him while all this was going on. The result was that after a few minutes he said, "It sounds like you have 'Go to bed!' Tourette's. Because of this, I started playing some Christmas music on the piano in an effort to drown them out while I talked to him as the kids were (NOT) getting ready for bed. One of the songbooks I have is a hand-me-down from my mom called "A Peanuts Christmas" (Snoopy). She went through a Peanuts phase in the 70's which she does not remember. Anyway, the book is just basically a bunch of easy Christmas carol arrangements with pictures of Peanuts characters on the tops of the pages. Being the token ready-for-bed-child, The Pinkiest(5) was sitting on the piano bench next to me, listening to the music. I stopped playing after a couple songs and Little Mommy(9) came bolting down the stairs and said, "Mommy, will you please play more Peanuts Christmas Songs?" The Pinkiest(5) got a funny look on her face, pulled her fingers out of her mouth and said, "Penis Christmas Songs?"

"Twinkle, twinkle little star, do you know how loved you are?"

Those sweet, idyllic moments

You know the ones I'm talking about. The ones that make you very nearly forget that your children are the spawn of- well, anyway- Those rare, precious times when everyone is cooperating and playing together and using their very polite manners and making the kind of choices that help you to feel good about being a parent. Because you know that somehow, sometime, some of that good stuff you tried to teach them managed to ooze in (in spite of all the other things, such as the phrase "Holy crap!" and a penchant for eating brownies before 8:00am). Those times that you are filled with satisfaction and you get a teeny glimpse of what it means to have joy and rejoicing in your posterity. At such times, you gaze at your children (because they are not just "kids" right then) and visions of other scenes flicker through your mind. You see them how they smiled at you when they were babies. You imagine other happy children running to launch a kite, only you see it in slow motion. You see radio flyer wagons being dragged to the sandlot for a neighborhood baseball game and then there's the Ice Cream Man with his truck. You hear the music tinkling in the background- while for a moment in time, your family has been transformed into a Norman Rockwell painting. And it is good.

We had one such moment two Sundays ago. After church the children all decided to play a quiet game together. Bubba(6) was dressed in his suit so he was the Bishop. He sat at his desk (piano bench) and each of the other children came one by one to pay him their tithing and also to get a piece of candy. They conversed amongst themselves quietly in this fashion as I sat with my elevated injury and Husband prepared food for the family. It was one of those sweet, idyllic moments for Husband and me. We gazed lovingly at each other and I smiled a peaceful smile. I was somewhere near the Ice Cream Man part of the hallucination when our heads both jerk up in response to Mr. Yuke(3) saying, "NOW I'm going to KILL you, Bishop!!!"

Me: What?! Why is anyone killing the Bishop?!

Husband (able to explain because he was not hallucinating as vividly as me- maybe it was the percocet?...): Bubba(6) is the Bishop, they're paying their tithing, and Mr.Yuke(3) is the Jedi that has been sent to kill him. (duh.)

Me: The Jedis don't like the Church? Or is it just tithing they're opposed to?

Mr. Yuke(3): I was just trying to make their game more incher-resting....

SIGH. Well, I guess it was nice while it lasted.

A day in 1847- almost

My children just don't always like to do their chores. This is the sort of sentence that makes my friend Rebecca burst out laughing. She says that I am mistaken in my belief that there are kids out there somewhere in the world who do their chores and obey their parents without a fight. Well, whether or not that is true, our family has spent the month of July learning about the pioneers in an effort to gain an appreciation for hard work and also to illustrate in no uncertain terms the fact that my kids lead charmed lives in which they are required to lift only the tiniest little finger most days. Yesterday was Pioneer Day which meant a lot of parades and also that Weight Watchers was closed because there aren't fat people on Pioneer Day. My children and I spent the day as all pioneers would.

We started the day by doing all of our chores before breakfast. Nobody got to eat until all the work was done. This forced them to help each other for a change instead of fighting about who is making whose job harder. When the chores were finished we got dressed in our pioneer outfits. The Pinkiest(4) looked the best. She could have been taken from a painting. The rest of the kids tried hard. Little Mommy(8) had nothing but jeans to wear. Bubba(6) dressed in suit pants, a white button-down shirt, a suit vest, cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. He looked pretty cute. Maybe not too pioneer-ish but definitely like someone out for a fancy dinner in Nashville. Mr. Yuke(3) and Monster Truck(2) both wore random printed t-shirts, shorts, and suit vests, buttoned up. Mr. Yuke(3) had asked me what kind of pants pioneer boys wore. When I told him brown ones he decided that since he couldn't find his brown pants he had better change to his brownish camoflauge Jurrasic Park t-shirt with the suit vest that has pictures of firetrucks and dalmations on it. He put on his tevas and was convinced that he was the most authentic-looking member of the pioneer family. Then, in true pioneer fashion, we hopped into our Honda Odyssey minivan and drove down the valley to Krispy Kreme doughnuts where we went through the drive-thru and ordered our pioneer breakfast of doughnuts with sugar. (I could have made these from scratch from wheat, but I already did that once this month and we were in a hurry. Besides, you can't tell me that the pioneers would not have done exactly what I did if there was a Krispy Kreme next to the Great Salt Lake when they got there.) After eating our doughnuts in the cool air conditioned car, we went to the fabric store to buy some calico to make a pioneer skirt for Little Mommy(8). I chatted with Cute Sister on my cell phone as we stood in an interminably long line waiting to get our fabric cut. We stopped at the grocery store on the way home to buy bottled drinking water, prepackaged, boneless, skinless chicken breasts and a bottle of prepared marinade for our dinner at the neighborhood bring-your-own-meat barbeque. It was my intention to leave the car at the store and walk like pioneers the three miles home with the stroller and groceries. The kids found reprieve in the form of a massive thunder storm that hit just as we were paying for our purchase with a plastic debit card. We drove home where we ate beef jerky and a slice of bread for lunch. (Probably the most authentic thing we did all day, actually.) By this time the kids were getting very thirsty. I left Bubba(6) to guard the family while The Pinkiest(4) and I walked down to the "river" to fetch some water. (We took a plastic pitcher and three water bottles, walked in the rain to the end of the street, checked for imaginary animals upstream, and pretended to fill our pitcher from the imaginary river. (water bottles) ) Then I had The Pinkiest(4) carry the pitcher back to the house being careful not to spill because water is so precious. Once we got the pitcher home, everyone had a drink from a ladle. We microwaved some popcorn and took it up to the playroom where the kids watched a movie about the Mormon pioneers on their VCR and shook whipping cream in a jar to make butter while I sewed a skirt for Little Mommy(8) downstairs on my electric sewing machine. The Pinkiest(4) tended Babyloo and Little Mommy(8) started to cook Cornmeal Mush to take as our sidedish to the previously mentioned barbeque. The kids thought the fetching water/drinking from a ladle was so cool that they repeated the process about 4 times. I don't think they've been so well hydrated in weeks. I finished the skirt with some lace on the bottom hem, finished the cornmeal mush which had lost Little Mommy's interest, and we walked to the barbeque where they had cotton candy and ultimate frisbee. We grilled our chicken which was delicious (Use Lawry's Lemon Pepper marinade- it's SO GOOD!) and played with our friends. When it was almost dark we walked home and watched the neighbors set off fireworks.

The kids begged me to have another pioneer day this week. They thought it would be especially funny to see the looks on people's faces when we went out in public dressed like pioneers on some other day. I reminded them that they had to get all their work done before breakfast on Pioneer Days. (Read- I don't want to.) They all said, "YAYYYYYY!!!!!" Huh? I guess we should have come up with costumes for doing chores a long time ago.

So maybe we didn't do everything exactly like the pioneers did, but we tried. It still helped me to realize what a great many things in our day there are to be grateful for. And those pioneers were amazing people.