Clueless

When Husband read my post about our movie date, his first question was, "Why didn't you put a link to Indiana Jones?" I cannot believe I made such a blunderous oversight. : ) [Here is a link to Indiana Jones.] Then he proceeded to tell me all the details I had gotten wrong because I am, as I said, clueless. Here is a printed correction:

The hat from the original Raiders milliner is from Canada, not Brazil.
The leather jacket is from Brazil. (I knew that.)
The sucker with the picture of Indy on the wrapper was not purchased in Disneyland. It was actually procured in Switzerland. That is cooler I think.

So there you go. I'm a clueless wife. : ) I say at least I knew he had all that stuff.

My cluelessness is not limited to the collection of Indiana Jones paraphenalia which sits in my house. When I am pregnant I get a SEVERE case of pregnancy brain. The kiddos keep doing all these funny things and I think, "Oh, I'll have to blog about that." Then I sit down four hours later and cannot for the life of me remember anything funny they have ever done in their entire lives. Mr.Yuke(4) has not ceased his antics but I can't seem to retain any of it for longer than two seconds.

The funny stories are not the only thing my brain has a hard time with when I'm pregnant. Day before yesterday, I got a call from the anesthesiologist's billing office. Apparently, we owe the balance after what the insurance covered and they would like to get paid. That is all fine. I was unaware that the insurance didn't cover all of it. No problem. But the conversation went something like this:

Caller: Hi. Is this Aberjaber?
Me: Yes.
Caller: This is Caller from SomeplaceorOtherAnesthesia.
Me Huh. Have I ever had that? When did I ever have that? Then looking at my hand comprehension dawns: Yes?
Caller: We show you have a balance with us of SomeAmountorOther for Anesthesiology.
Me: I have insurance. Don't they cover (what's that word? Dang. I can't think of it.) Anes...thesio...lo...gia? Anesthesio...? Anes...?
Caller: Which company is your provider?
Me: Anesthesia! InsuranceCompanyX
Caller: Yes. It appears that they paid the part they cover and you are now responsible for the balance.
Me: Oh. Ok.

Yes. This sort of thing happens to me several times a day. I go from a working vocabulary of 20,000 words before I'm pregnant, to barely communicating through a series of grunts and pointing for nine months every time I conceive. It's a little funny. And a lot frustrating. Even this post is taking me forever to write because I keep having to delete words and put the correct ones in their place.

The pregnancy is going well. I am now in my 14th week and feel like I can sit back and celebrate the fact that I'm pregnant without worrying anymore. I hope that's not naiive.

The child of my youth has been gone to visit her grandparents on an extended vacation. LittleMommy(9) left a week before school got out and we won't see her until the family reunion at the end of this month. I'm really missing her. I hate letting my kids grow up. It stinks. : ) She is having a good time but she misses her siblings and has found out ThatPlaceThatWeUsedToLive is not ShangriLa after all. I think that she will appreciate us more when she gets back. At least that's what I'm hoping.

MonsterTruck(3) is finally pooping in the potty. I sort of- through a series of unfortunate events which were largely out of my control- didn't ever potty train him. PianoGirl believes that kids will potty train themselves when they are ready and that formal potty training doesn't really work. I have hoped this to be true since I have been unable to potty train him for the last eight months. Having done it both ways now, I can say that for me- the frustration of two intense weeks is far less than the frustration of eight months of unnecessary diaper/pullup changing. But that's just me. I am SO THANKFUL he has finally decided to get on the band wagon.

You know who else is clueless? I'll give you a hint. It is June. Until yesterday it was 55 degrees outside. I'm just sayin' is all. Thank goodness it is beginning to warm up. Summer vacation should feel summer-y. That's all I have to say about that.

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.

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

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

Cuts Above the Rest

Books this year that were a cut above the rest:

1. The OBVIOUS: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (although I thought the Epilogue was stupid.) Forgive me, but I thought the link unnecessary. Everyone in the free world (and probably quite a few in the unfree world too-) knows about the Harry Potter books.


2. The Twilight Series- Juvenille but so enjoyable


3. America the Beautiful- it's a picture book with the words of the song and beautiful watercolors throughout. The cover-art is terrible but don't let it put you off opening it if you ever get the chance.

Blogs this year that were a cut above the rest:

1. The Blog of Unnecessary Quotation Marks- totally funny if you have a fundamental working knowledge of punctuation.


2. The Pokemon Card Lady- I sent a lot of you the link to her post on ebay. Turns out she has a blog which is also pretty funny.

Movies this year that were a cut above the rest:

1. Hairspray- Loved it, can't say enough about it. Way better than the first one (which was ok).


2. Live Free or Die Hard- Surprised? A cut above all the other Die Hards and a very pleasant surprise. Incidentally, if you go to rent it, you will only find the "unrated" edition. This is ok because once you put it in you get to select whether you watch it rated PG-13 or the unrated way.


3. The Lake House- I really liked this one too but it's not one you can scrapbook to. It requires your undivided attention. Also, this is not a good one for watching over and over again.

Events this year that were a cut above the rest:

1. Amish Work Day


2. Husband's promotion


3. Monster Trucks


4. Family Reunion in Milltown

Hairdos this year that were cut above the rest:

(Hear the record scratch?)

Yep. You heard me right. Little Mommy(9) strikes again. In an effort to NOT clean her room, she did any- and every- thing else she could possibly think of instead. When she ran out of ideas she just got "sick of [The Pinkiest's(5) ] bangs hanging down in her eyes" so she HAD to cut them. (Incidentally, it may be relevant to know that The Pinkiest(5) has been growing out her bangs forever. Since the last time they were cut by a not professional.) It's sad really. Her hair was getting so long and pretty that people were starting to comment on it everywhere we went. So now, The Pinkiest(5) has bangs between 3/4 of an inch to one inch long- depending on where you're looking, which start just behind her ear on one side and go to above her temple on the other side. Plus that one other piece. It looks terrible. I'm afraid we're going to have to just cut off the lot of it and start over. At the very least she is going to need a bob. I'm guessing it'll be shorter than that.

My personal feelings about how to handle this situation are that Little Mommy(9) should have to get her hair cut in the same style as The Pinkiest(5). Considering that this is her fifth infraction with a pair of scissors and "hair" of some variety, I think it only fitting. I'm willing to give her the first three which happened between the ages of 2 and 4, but the most recent one was last year and well- to me, the fact that she is now 9 makes this pretty inexcuseable. (By the way, the reason "hair" is in quotation marks is because one incident involved several victims from Mother-in-Law's doll collection, most of which have yarn for hair. Or used to.) Now, last year when she cut her own hair to the scalp in a three inch square patch, I told her she was going to have to get it cut short like a boy while it was growing out. I would put mousse in it and make it curly and we could tie ribbons around her head and maybe it would still look really cute. The workers at the Beauty Shop however, all thought this was cruel and talked me out of it. I think now the time has come because I, like Gracie Lou Freebush, believe in harsher punishments for parole violators. What do you think?

The good news is that The Pinkiest's(5) hair won't be a total waste. *Shelbie needs a wig and I heard her family is collecting hair donations. Since The Pinkiest(5) and Shelbie are both blondies and The Pinkiest's(5) hair is so long, hopefully they will be able to use her hair to help. (See below for info on Shelbie.)

The only other cut I want to mention in this post is the one on my self. It has been put above the rest as well. Above the laundry, the cooking, the hair fixing, the bathroom cleaning. (DANG! Maybe I don't want to get better.... No, wait. I guess I do.) Anyway, this week, I got to cut down to having PT ONLY TWICE A WEEK!!!! This is very exciting news. I played some Clementi on Tuesday, and it was not horrible. And also, I am typing like a real person right this very minute.- Only it hurts more. So today I looked around and realized that it was time to stop putting my cut above the rest. I did a load of dishes (turns out- that is still pretty challenging. I can't grasp things very well.), cleaned a toilet, walked Mr. Yuke(4!) to preschool while pushing the stroller and everything, and then sat down to blog. Because let me tell you- when you've put your cut above the rest for a month and a half, there is a ton of crap to do and I have no idea where to even start- so I'd rather just blog about it instead. And there is no rest when there is a cut. I guess I'd prefer it this way though. I've had about enough of resting for a while.

*Shelbie is an amazing little girl who is 9 years old. A while back she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. They did a surgery where they went in through her eye and removed it. The biopsy came back as cancerous. Later they removed a second tumor. They thought she was in remission at that point. However, just recently they discovered a new tumor on her brainstem that is inoperable. Because of this, Shelbie has started an 18-month course of chemotherapy which I think is going to be either followed by or overlapped with radiation treatments.

Shelbie's lifelong dream is to be a cheerleader. Specifically, she wants to cheer with the 49'ers cheerleaders at one of their games. I wonder how many degrees of separation there are between me and someone who could make that happen?

Through everything, she has remained positive and sweet. All this is remarkable, but the real reason Shelbie is remarkable is that she has attended Church and Primary/Activity Days as often as possible for the last year without her parents. She gets rides with neighbors or the Primary presidency. She is an amazing example and a wonderful missionary. Visit her website. Sometimes there are pictures, although there aren't any right now.

Adventures in Home Maintenance: Toaster Edition

This is an adventure in home maintenance you just have to see to appreciate- life at my very tidy friend's house: as seen in the wake of a toddler. A Photo Essay. Take a look.

Now, on to the adventures on the homefront.

We have only had two toasters since Husband and I got married. The First was a wedding present which was oft-used and well-loved. (Husband is a gifted toast chef.) The First (toaster, not husband, try to keep up-) died some time ago. I had suspected it was on its last legs for a few months leading up there to the end. I could tell because of the burning smell that emanated from it whenever toast was being cooked, even after we had just emptied all the crumbs out of the bottom. That last day when I smelled the burning, it occurred to me that a few remaining crumbs should not make this kind of smell. I peered into the toaster, noticing that one of the little heat filament-y things was broken, bent, and touching the bread that was in there. "Look!", I said to Husband. "It's broken inside. No wonder it smells so bad." To me, this was the end of the subject. Husband, however, waited until the toaster was cooled off to do a little further investigation. What he found was (surprise, surprise) a broken filament-y thing. And a lot of crumbs. And a hand-painted wooden magnet from preschool. (!) It had not only burned up, but the magnet (which had once presumably been just stuck to the inside of the toaster), was melted to the toaster's innards. He couldn't even pry them apart. Clearly, the magnet had been in there for quite some time. Fortunately, I don't make toast all that often and the house therefore has not been burned to the ground.

Needless to say, we got a new toaster. Then, last week, The Pinkiest(6) needed an empty oatmeal can to make an Indian drum for her Thanksgiving pow-wow at school. (Please direct all political correctness complaints here.) And she needed it Right NOW. I don't know about the rest of you, but I just don't keep empty oatmeal boxes lying around, stored up for pow-wow emergencies such as this. I happened to have a nearly brand new oatmeal box filled with- you guessed it. Oatmeal. So after she politely requested that I give her a box NOW about fifty-seven times, I finally relented and dumped all the oatmeal into a bowl, directing her to "go put that in your backpack right now" (which she didn't) "so you don't forget it" (which she did. Three days in a row.). So there I was with a huge bowl of oats and no rubbermaid to put them in. I realized I could Food Save them- but that requires TWO hands so I'm going to have to wait until Husband has time to help me. My Extreme Kitchen Sports are running him a little ragged. Poor man. He works too hard. Anyway, I decided to leave the bowl of oats there on the counter until I could take care of them later. Apparently I am a slow learner. Enter Monster Truck(2) (we assume, based on catching him red-handed in subsequent attempts to repeat the following scenario): He sees that new shiny toaster up there and a bowl of wonder-mystery-stuff and he thinks- Hmmm. Holes. Interesting. We definitely need to do something about that. If only I had some sort of filler.... Ah-hah! Oatmeal! That is a perfect filler. (I guess he did not get the memo from Taco Bell.) I will take this wonder-mystery-stuff and fill those holes. Pure genius! How do I do that? It's like I was sent here at this very time, just to correct this problem.

Little Mommy(9!) came in later that day to make herself some toast. After pointing out that the toaster was filled to the brim with oatmeal, she actually tried to put a piece of bread in there with it. I am not making this up. How ironic would it have been to burn the house down NOW with the new, less dangerous toaster? We would get an honorable mention in the next annual Darwin Awards, at the very least.

This may not be the right time to state that Little Mommy(9!) is very smart. She is. I can't believe she is 9! It seems like just yesterday she was 5 pounds and fighting for her life in an incubator. It makes me realize that life is just like making toast. Time flies when you're doing it and it is only as good as what you put on it- or into it. (Make sure it's not oatmeal!) You just get it all ready and before you know it, it's gone. The message: Enjoy the adventure at every possible moment- even in the wake of a toddler or two. Be glad they're leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for you to remember later.

And see that they don't burn the house down.

Where everybody knows your name

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

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

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

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

Second verse, same as the first

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

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

HUNT AND PECK: In Case You Were Wondering

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

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