Saturday, December 31, 2011

Christmas 2011

It is a bummer that my kids are probably too young to remember this Christmas. It was a good one, minus standing in line for two hours at the mall to see Santa. I wore stupid shoes that day and by the time we were done I thought I was going to birth a baby right there in the Santa line. I was dissuaded by the fact that it is not time to have this baby yet, and how white trash can you get? Topped only by birthing at Wal-Mart.

What I am not above is going to the McDonald's play place for Christmas Eve (along with every other racially diverse single father in town). We had so much fun! I'm thinking about making it a tradition, white trash award or not. We were tired and it was perfectly low key after finally settled on opening presents Christmas Eve morning. This was finagled by our asking Santa the day before to come early. Santa on Saturday. Jesus on Sunday. We had our turkey dinner on Monday. Yeah, I don't know the rationale for that one, but it worked. (It might have something to do with a certain someone being stubborn about how long it actually takes a turkey to thaw, but, well, I'm just sayin'.)

I'm afraid we could only get away with our wonky scheduling and random activities because my kids are in a limbo stage when it comes to Christmas. Old enough to be excited and have fun (again, minus the Mall Santa part), but young enough to have no expectations whatsoever. As adults having no expectations can make you a loser and may land you at a dead-end job and married to a useless jerkwad, but as a kid, no expectations makes for the greatest Christmas ever! As long as you find a furry pink cat under the tree. Which she did. So I guess there were a few expectations.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Brain Drain

I can't stand to lose things. It makes me feel like I'm going nuts. And it makes me nuts at the same time.

That three weeks the strawberry piece on the meals puzzle was missing was a killer. I know because I regularly put all the puzzles away to make sure we have all the pieces. I notice if Mr. Potato's ear is gone. I have to bargain with myself that I will not count certain toys. Like the army men Santa put in the stockings. I just throw them in the container with the marbles. And I don't count them. They seem to multiply anyway. I think this might make me a freak, but no one hates it more than I do.

When something does go missing, I go bonkers. I obsess over it. Go ahead and Google what that means...dropped on my head as a child? starved for love and affection? control freak? Go with #3. When in doubt, always go with #3. I know, I know. I'm working on it.

This afternoon on the way to the park I realized we can't find Scrunch's pink puffy jacket. I have looked EVERYwhere. Did we leave it at school? And if we did leave it at school, did I remember to put her name in it? It didn't end up in the bin I took to Goodwill, did it?

I start feeling like my house is out of order. That I need to clean and organize. It is like nesting times a thousand. And add that I might be nesting and...Whoa Nellie! I'm twitching. I can't think. I definitely can't blog. The only reason I'm here right now is that I'm waiting for my steamer to heat up. 3 minutes. I can type fast.

Then I realized I can't find the funnel that fills the steamer. Oh, for the love!!!

And yes, I've checked the sandbox. For both of them. But I did find my vacuum piece.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

The To Do list is still longer than the Got Done list, but at this point I'm kind of "meh" over it all anyway. The I Did list isn't looking so shabby. And just when I started to feel guilty over having my kids eat three or four (or more) chocolates from their Advent calendars (we were totally hit and miss in the beginning. Then they caught on and Porkchop asked for his chocolate first thing in the morning.) So just as I start to think we're the lamest Christmas providing parents ever, I read this post my Aunt linked to. I laughed so hard I might have peed.

But back to the list.

It might have taken me a few days but I...

Hung the gallery wall in the dining room.
Took Porkchop to his pre-op
Stood in line for two hours to see Santa.
Grocery shopped.
Finished all the wrapping.
Unveiled the newly painted table not as a picnic table, but a train table.
Finished the dinosaur tails.
Picked up the batteries and tension rods for random gifts. Like the awesome puppet theater my sister made.
Signed, sealed, and almost had to hand deliver the Christmas cards. You should get yours by New Year's.
Decided we'd do the Santa thing early. Long story. Short more arguing over Santa vs. Jesus with my Husband and we get to spread the Holiday cheer over the entire weekend.
Baked Santa muffins.
Wrote him a letter.
Packed oats for the reindeer.
Read "Twas the Night Before Christmas" (Even though it really isn't. Shhh...We told the kids we asked Santa to stop by early on his way to Tokyo. Like they care.)

And tomorrow I might upload all the pictures that go with this post.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Oink, Baah, Moo

My vegetarian friends need look away.
Ugh, forget the picture. I'm far from being vegetarian and the picture kind of makes even me queasy.

The stars aligned and I scored amazing, like uh-may-zing!! deals on meat the same day Santa delivered my freezer. After two hours in the kitchen my freezer is now stocked with...

4 packages chicken drumsticks
1 package pre-seasoned chicken
2 pans Salsa Chicken
2 pans Sesame Ginger Chicken
3 Seasoned Boneless Beef Chuck Roast
1 package pork sausage
1 package chicken sausage
2 packages of Italian turkey sausage
1 17lb. turkey
12 packages of hotdogs (25 cents a piece!)
3 packages of lunchmeat
4 meatloaves
2 pans of Chicken Teriyaki
4 pans of Chicken Enchiladas
4 lbs of shredded chicken
1 7 lb. pork shoulder roast (currently in the crockpot)
1 package cubed pork for posole
1 3lb. pork shoulder roast

All for.....$115.00! No coupons necessary. Just be in the right place, at the right time, that one time.

I have plans for the next few days of freezer English Muffin Sandwiches, Breakfast Burritos, Rice and Bean Burritos, Chocolate Cranberry Oatmeal Cookies, Sugar Cookies, and Freezer Slaw. On husband's list is about eight loaves of bread so we can make a couple pans of French Toast bake, two loaves of PBJ to keep in the freezer, and two extra loaves to have on hand.

I am feeling like a calmer, saner, person.



Friday, December 16, 2011

Random Friday Stuff

I plead hormonal insanity, if that is a legal plea. If it is not, it should be.

Want to read something was my sister.

"So um... I know who marked "lame". It was me. But I didn't mean "what you wrote was lame." I meant that you have to go through the crap is lame. You know, that is lamesauce shit and I am really sorry you have to go through it. Next time I check a box I will be more clear. Oh, and please apologize to John for me. I am sure he got an earful over this... I know Jordan would have. :)"

At least now you know not to cross the Mayor. She'll get craaaaazy on you. But not so crazy as to be able to see Russia from here. That chick still has me beat.

Santa came early. He's a swell guy. He even bought me a laptop so I could work more hours from the comfort of my bed to help pay for it all. Just kidding. I love Santa. And the goodies.

I had this weird, outta body/deja vu experience where for a few minutes I became my mother and became extraordinarily giddy over a steam mop. It even makes me want to clean the garage floors tomorrow. If I can walk. I cleaned the garage today. It was disgusting.

Do we like my $5.00 Christmas mantle or what? Dollar Tree pine cones, ribbon from the dress up box, Dollar Tree Styrofoam, garland from forever ago, green glitter floral picks at 70% off, stockings out of all scraps including an old fuzzy pillow case, and jute twine from The Home Depot. OK, so maybe $7.50, but next year it will be free. It needs more, but Christmas is in seven days.

I got the Legos out for Porkchop for the first time today. He did not try to eat them. I was so proud. Then he ran himself over with the bicycle trailer with his sister in it. I could write an entire blog with daily entries of the kid's bumps and bruises.

I could write an entire blog about the things his sister says. Maybe I should. A few of this week's highlights include...

  • Shouting "Police! Police!" in the Post Office parking lot when I buckled her in her carseat. 
  • "Wait! Mom! Don't leave. I need to practice." "What do you need to practice?" "Hopping on one foot." "Why?" "What if I turn into a kangaroo?"
  • "Mom, I don't think robots have bums."
  • "When's my birthday?" "It's coming up soon." "What's the name of it?" "January 26th." "That's just like last year!!"
Tomorrow I'm going to address our Christmas cards.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

I make this up as I go along.

Someone (I don't know who) thought my last post was lame. I don't know what they thought was lame about it, but I have some ideas.

Lame because I should just shut up and enjoy every puking moment of the damndest most difficult job I've ever done? Oh, and I worked in a nursing home. Just so you know.

Lame because I should be grateful that I am pregnant at all? Yeah, cuz it's soooo easy to forget a failed adoption, five years of infertility, a parent to child sealing, and a homebirth to a baby with a little extra. Not saying I deserve this pregnancy, because God does not dole based on deserved-ness, but come on, like I could forget how I got here!

Lame because I am weaksauce and am tired with only 2.75 kids?

Lame because my grammar and spelling peaked in fourth grade?

Lame because I should be grateful for my own crap because there are plenty of others who would like to trade? Aware again. I'm BFFs with a chick who has the worst luck ever! My scrambled eggs in a new rug is her heart's great desire.

Maybe they were offended by my flippant comment about wanting to kill my toddler. Mandated reporter here folks. It was a joke! A little sarcasm helps the medicine of life go down.

Maybe they are overdue for an appearance at the opthamologist and mistakenly clicked it thinking it said 'love'.

Perhaps they would like to chastise me regarding the importance and health of child spacing? Fertility docs ain't got nothin' on God. And I did a internship developing family planning resources for the State Health Department. Preachin' to the choir sista! (Assuming it was sista only because I don't think many men read my blog. They have their own wives to listen to. Why would voluntarily listen to me? Don't they have a game tivo'd or something?)

I don't know. They didn't say.

Normally, I wouldn't give a monkey's uncle, but it rubbed me the wrong way. Because looking at me cross-eyed these days rubs me the wrong way, but still. I'm honest about the fact that I'm tired, overwhelmed and parenting is hard and sometimes I overthink it making it harder than it needs to be and you think that's lame? Forgive me if my first inclination is to respond with, "Well, I think you're lame!!" But that would demonstrate that maybe I didn't really pass the fourth grade or learn anything the last twenty-seven years on this planet.

Instead, I will impart to you something I've learned. When we desperately wanted kids, I thought that no trial was as bad as being lonely and living childless. I'd hear someone complain about what seemed a minor point of life and think, "But at least you have kids!" I was selfish and so inward focused that unless someone was experiencing the exact same trial I was, then it wasn't as bad or didn't count. Since then, time has passed. I've been on the other side, I've met people with way crappier lives than I pray I will ever have and I've seen that lumps and bumps come in different sizes and packages. Our trials will not be lined up next to eachother and compared. We will be compared against ourselves and how well we endured, responded, and what we did with them. Nine times out of ten my response is to get snarky, sarcastic, and then blog about it. Then I feel better. If you think that's lame well, "Your Mom!" "Bite me!" and "You're not invited to my birthday party!"

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Wise Words

No matter how unique, how individual, and how independent you'd like to be, really everyone just wants to feel normal.

Magnify this by a kajillion and everyone just wants to think they're kids are normal. That this "stage" is just a stage and it will pass. And with any luck the whole drama and worry and angst of it all will drop out of your head and you wont remember at all what it was like to be tired, and worried, and stressed.

You'll then become completely useless to other young moms only adding additional worry and stress to them when you run into them at the park, in the pre-school parking lot, and especially at church. Because your children always slept through the night, never had public melt downs, signed five hundred words, always say please and thank you, and most especially sat through an entire hour of Sacrament without screeching, pinching each other, or loudly commenting on where to find Jesus. They aren't entertained for three hours with three crayons and some lined paper? Sheesh.

With all this not-so-helpful advice from perfect parents raising perfectly behaved kids, it is easy to slip into a "Man, I suck at this" state of mind. This can quickly morph into a "Man, this sucks!" state of mind, when really it doesn't. It just is. And most of it is normal. And even if it does for a little while, it passes and you completely forget. Have you not ever gotten parenting advice from an empty nester? Their minds are wiped.

At some point, the zombie years end and you are slipped a magic brain wiping happy pill that only lets you remember sweet first words and chubby cheek kisses. Overnight they become "the best years of your life."

There are a few women who (blessedly) retain their honest, and realistic approach to parenting. It is one of these skillfully imparted and actually helpful!! bits of wisdom that I've been clinging to as I look on my near future and think, "How am I going to do this?".

"Having a toddler in the house is a perfect time to have a newborn. The newborn keeps your heart soft so you don't kill your toddler."


Monday, December 5, 2011

Can you hear me now?

I talked to God while I got ready for the day. I would drop off Scrunch at pre-school, then drop off her carseat at the friend's who'd be picking her up, then go home and bathe Porkchop, and take him to his follow up with Dr. Gere. Easy enough.

And as I got ready to head out I remembered how much I did not miss heading down to see Dr. Gere every week since Porkchop was 16 days old. I remembered pumping in the car. Good glory how I hated pumping. I scheduled him another follow up and an audiogram and was so relieved that this would just be a quick follow up. He would do a fitting of the appliance and maybe take a new impression and we would come home and pick up Scrunch. Man, I'm tired. Ugh, I hate appointments. Which reminds me, I need to schedule him a speech eval. I told God all of this in my bathroom and I cut a deal. Please, please, please can this next baby be boring? No court dates, home visits, drs. appts, or surgeries. Can next year be boring, boring, boring?

On the way home, we talked again in the car. My side of the conversations went like this...


And it was quiet. He heard me, but has other plans.

I had four milestones that needed to be met.

Scrunch's birthday.

And then I could have this baby.

Now, I will be adding my husband leaving the country and the biggest, baddest of them so far- surgery for Porkchop. Because who doesn't want to put their 18 month old in arm restraints and syringe feed them for two weeks just weeks before giving birth?

What would I do with boring anyway?

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Sunday Memories: Does Santa Deliver?

I remember wanting a troll doll sooo badly one year. I wasn't the kid with forty-three of them. I probably had a couple of them already, but I wanted a big one.

Santa delivered. And she had bright pink hair.

It is this memory that softens my disappointment over Scrunch's latest declaration.

I asked Scrunch what she wanted to tell Santa she would like for Christmas. Since I'm sleeping with Santa, I already told him and it is packed away with the other packages she didn't even know she wanted, waiting to be wrapped. Thinking I was doing myself a favor, I am almost done with all the Christmas shopping. Yesterday she saw Santa for the first time and she did NOT ask him for a crab. She asked him for a furry pink kitty. Call me a slacker mom, but that one was not on my radar.

I tried to talk (o.k. trick) her out of it.

"So....What did you ask Santa for?"

"A furry pink kitty."

"But I thought you wanted a crab?"

"No, I want a furry pink kitty."

"But you said you wanted a crab. Now what if Santa is confused?"

"No, no Mom. I've got to tell you something. He can't be confused. I only told him I wanted a furry pink kitty."

Damn. She's good. And right. She only told me she wanted a crab.

"But Scrunch you have a kitty. Remember? What about Marie?"

"No. She's white. I asked for a pink kitty."

"Marie has a pink bow."

"No, her skin and fur have to be pink. I will go get her and show you." She promptly returns with Marie.
"See?" picking her up by her fur. "It's white. This is not pink, Mom."

"But Scrunch, kitties aren't pink. Kitties come in lots of colors, but not pink."

"That's why I asked Santa for one."

I lamented this to my Husband in my It's the Holidays and I'm Seven Months Pregnant Hormonal Way. You have to love him because very matter of factly he came up with a solution. "She has a white cat right? I'll go buy a red towel and do the laundry."

Friday, December 2, 2011

C is for...

In Scrunch's pre-school class they rotate being assigned a letter and then taking something in to share that represents that letter. She was assigned the letter 'C'. (Yes, it's December and they are on C. They don't go in alphabetical order. Who knew there was a developmentally more efficient way to learn letters based on their shapes than just sequentially like traditionally is done? Not me. And that's why I pay them the big bucks.) 

Sharing at school is a big deal. At least in her little three-year-old world. We practice over and over what the letter is and what it is she is going to share. And then even though it was supposed to be 'C' she was hell-bent on taking her Mickey Mouse from Grami and Gramps in to share. I had three seconds of clarity that morning and we made it work. 

C is for Character. 

And then, because I am a Mormon woman and my mother's daughter, it's not done till it's overdone. 

C is for Characters riding in the Car to get their Christmas tree and Cider and then putting it up while they eat Churros. 

What is it about this time of year? Crazy? Not yet. Closer? Most definitely. Crunch time? Um, yes.  I'm not even going to try and play Catch-up. Thanks to my Aunt for posting the recent trip pics.

Sunday, November 27, 2011


We ate, drank, and were merry (most of the time).

We also took our first trip to Urgent Care. Met the new soon to be in-laws. Stayed up too late. Woke up too early. My faithful and die-hard blog reader finally met Scrunch and Porkchop in person and discovered that oh, yes she really does have that much personality. 

And the highlight of the trip? 

Scrunch finally got to meet her "Ez-zah-wa!" She likes him more than popcorn, more than Gwen, and sometimes more than Mommy. 

I will be gathering up the pictures over the next few days. In the mean time, this is my reminder. There's also a menu that went with each event. Oh, did we ever eat!

Tuesday- Travel Day
Wednesday- Kids's Pictures, Set up for Thursday
Thursday- Thanksgiving
Friday- Disneyland
Saturday- Ezra's Blessing
Sunday- Forgo the nap and came straight home.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

My Apologies

To Porkchop:

You really didn't stand a chance.

Your mother was a nerd. Now she's just a mom in purple glasses.

Your father is a nerd. He's an engineer at a company where they play speed chess in the cafeteria. No, really. I've seen it.

You have an older sister who likes pink with sparkles and asks mom to buy clothes with 'that pretty spots' (Cheetah print).

Don't expect to be voted Mr. Popular in High School or anything, but we really like you!

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

I love a list.

I am in the camp of those who feel that if you're already blasting Christmas music you need to get a hobby. Trust me, if you had more hobbies you would know that IT'S NOT TIME FOR CHRISTMAS! I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR IT TO BE TIME FOR CHRISTMAS! But then again I have an Elton John station on my Pandora list. What do I know?

Oh, I take that back. I could listen to a good rendition of 'Oh, Holy Night' just about any time of the year. These guys can even come sing it at my birthday party.

Try as I might, even I am not strong willed enough to resist the gravitational pull of the Christmas Craziness. So I've started my lists and I'm checking them twice...

To Do Before I Leave Town Next Week
Finish the computer armoire
Finish painting the end tables and hutch
Clean out the fridge so I can put the bulbs in
Make the Pilgrim, Indian, and Turkey hats for the kids
Wrap presents for the exchange

December 3rd Deadline
Sew up these stockings.
Tree up and lights on the windows
Mail out of town packages
Mail Christmas cards
Plant winter garden

Before Christmas
Caramel Apples
Make the tree ornaments
Finish the collage wall in dining room
Sew dining room curtains
Begin craft room overhaul

Kids' Christmas List
Finish the train table
Order the trains
Sew capes, masks, dino tails, and crowns
Order Scrunch's book
Buy Porkchop's jammies
Needle felt the frog
Knit the turtle
Come to grips with the fact that as much as I love handmade, natural toys, Scrunch really, really, REALLY wants Santa to bring her a pretty pink hermit crab with polka dots.
Cave and give Santa the go ahead on the cheap, made in China, plastic crab with itty-bitty pieces that I will loathe, but will keep the belief in Santa living in a child's heart forever.
Wrap it up and call it good.

Monday, November 14, 2011

A wise man passed along some words of wisdom through a friend.

"A woman has one of two problems in this life. She either has children, or she doesn't."

And Boy! Ain't that the truth!

In the same week that Porkchop had the stomach flu, an ear infection, and teething right into his cleft, I started working from home. Both a blessing and curse. I wanted to flip out. And blog. I could tell you a story or two about my vericose hooha veins and lack of sleep, but I also finished listening to The Dovekeepers that week and was reminded (as I folded my laundry while these women crossed the Dead Sea) that I could have it so much worse. That my life is easy.

I know I'm not the only mom among my friends who walks the line between "keeping it real" and constantly moaning and kavetching over the little realities of life. I am still baffled by the amount of my capacities that are consumed by cleaning up poop. Who knew there would be so much poop?!

Over the weekend I learned of the passing of two acquaintance's children, one at twenty weeks and the other four years old. I felt sick and wanted to cry. Both for their loss but also because I was a beast trying to get ready for church on Sunday morning to the extent that my sister reminded me it actually was a rarity for even tigers to eat their young. I cried for their loss, but also in guilt for my ingratitude.

As I sat in Relief Society I felt it hit home. The universal truth. This life is a preparatory state where we are called to endure trials at different times and of different magnitudes so that we may learn those things that will be essential to our salvation. Who knew that the summation of these trials as a woman would fall into one of two categories. You either have children, or you don't.  

Friday, November 11, 2011

I remember watching Barney as a kid. 

OK, I admit it. I watched part of it last week. 

And I still remember some of the songs!

"Sally, the camel, has two humps! And two chins!" "Sally, the camel, has two humps! And two chins!" "Sally, the camel, has two humps. And two chins!" "So ride, Sally. Ride. Boom, boom!"


Thursday, November 10, 2011


My prayers of late have been that my mind might be clear. That I might be able to focus.

(Yes, Annelle. I pray.)

The "no one is talking to me right now" "no one is crying" "no one is asking me why? or what will happen?" or "what's the guy in the check out lane's name?" moments are few. And when I get them I want to zone out and do something fun like Google Christmas present ideas and blog surf. Or do nothing.

Instead, I bargain with myself over my free time. If I work for an hour or read a chapter, then I can wishlist on Amazon. And I am very generous with myself. I even let myself eat too much Halloween candy for breakfast. Definitely too generous as I'm not as far along on my History class as I would like, but my Christmas shopping is almost done. It is easier (and more rewarding) to work and get paid for an hour than it is to write an essay on how Greek thought influenced our Puritan founders.

As the months get closer to my self-imposed deadlines, I am getting smarter. If it is quiet, get to work. This is how I learned my lesson...

As we drove to Church I thought I might write part of my essay in my head. Then Scrunch broke into my thoughts.

"Mom, are you pumping?"

"No. I'm not pumping."

"Why is it quiet then?"

"Mommy's thinking."

"How come you don't pump any more?"

"Uh. huh."

"Mom! Why don't you pump?"

"Porkchop doesn't need the milk from my body anymore."

"Oh. Cuz he drinks regular milk."

"Uh. huh."

"Yep. He drinks regular milk."

"Uh. huh."

"So, did the milk man's move out of your nipples?"

"Huh. What?"


And so, you see, without my prayers I haven't got a snowballs chance in Hell in writing an intelligible essay.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Out and About

Sometimes we get dressed in something besides our paint scrubs and go places. I don't know what the point was. At least the paint scrubs are comfy.

Occasionally, we kick it up a notch and put on tights. I would have done my hair, but I worked that day. I don't get fancy for the sickos. Hair and tights are reserved for Sundays.

Scrunch's favorite outing was to see Beauty and the Beast. The look on her face while watching was the reason I wanted kids. She was just so happy.

"What did you do today?"

"I played, and played, and played, and went to a play."

Monday, November 7, 2011

Butcher Block Dreams

This one time, someone listened to me. 

And it totally worked!


Hold that....

No. It not only worked, it looks awesome! 

A new dishwasher led to new countertops. New countertops to the backsplash (my idea), the new backsplash to painting the island. Ahem, my idea again. Painting the island to the butcherblock. What's that? Another one of my ideas? 

What I'm trying to figure out is why they are still giving me a hard time about re-hanging the wallpaper, finishing the living and dining room painting, and making two Craigslist pickups in a single weekend. Just because my version of simplifying my life includes working more hours, from home. I needed an office space. 

Sometimes, some of my half baked ideas work out. Obviously. I have a track record. There was that one time... butcher block was brilliant.

I don't have any pictures of my parent's update. But I liked it so well, it's what I'm hoping I get for my next birthday. That's why I suggested it. I wanted to see if it would work before I took a sledge hammer to my own kitchen island. My husband is very tolerant of my painting anything I want, but he is a little leery of me with a sledgehammer. And who can blame him, really?

Sunday, November 6, 2011


When my sister Erica got engaged last week, the text went out. "It's official. I've got a ring! And I texted you all at the same time."

Within two minutes I got a call from Jess. "Have you heard from Erica? She's not picking up."

"No. I just got her text. Have you talked to mom?"

"Yeah, but it's not her. I wonder where she is."

We chatted for a few minutes. "If you talk to her, call me."

"OK." and continued chatting.

"Oh, hey! I'ts Erica. I'll call you back."

So I called Mom.

Then I talked to Erica and got the story from her. She had been on the phone with Miqui.

Then I got the story again from Miqui, The Youngest.

The following morning I heard it again from Jess, just to make sure I'd talked to Erica.

And that's how we roll.

I hope Derrick knows what he's getting into.

Congratulations Aunt E and soon to be Uncle Possum!

You have some shoes to fill. My other brother in law lets me dress his son and Great Dane for Halloween.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

The Aftermath

I have a love/hate relationship with Halloween.

I love it because...well, it's Halloween. You can decorate with purple glitter.

I hate it because...well, let's just say no Mother invented Trick or Treating.

Still, it has it's benefits. The high fructose corn syrup and artificial food coloring has done wonders for Porkchop's vocabulary. In the last week he's picked up "Pleeeeeease!" and "Tank-ou!" consistently, "Treat," and "Cupcake."

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!

Heroes in a half shell. Turtle Power!

Monday, October 31, 2011

Happy Halloween!

Jack and Sally. 

These are not their costumes, just what they wore to school this morning. And Porkchop only to school and the store, but not since. Apparently there was a hidden piece of chocolate in the door. He found it. Ate most of it and then fell asleep on the rest of it.

Happy Halloween!

And may all your chocolate stains and Nerdy drool dribbles make it out of your laundry!

She's got spiders in her hair.

Sunday, October 30, 2011


The anxiety set in when a nurse at the surgery center asked me how old Porkchop was.

"Just shy of seventeen months."

"How much space will there be between him and your next one?"

"Twenty-one months."

And then it kind of donned on me. I have four months. Four months?!?!?! 

We have Halloween. Check.
Then Thanksgiving. 
Then Christmas.
Then Scrunch's Birthday. I have to make it to Scrunch's birthday!
Maybe, just maybe I will get to see David Garrett in concert and Valentine's Day. 
And then I will fall into the black hole of newborn-ness. 

Holy Crap! I only have four months!! 

All of sudden I got itchy and twitchy. 

We've got to get things done! I've got to get things done! 

I sat down with my husband and we talked about what we could realistically accomplish on the house. Starting with tearing out the last of the tomatoes. Yes, we still have tomatoes in October. I hate tomatoes. 

I am (so help me!) going to get my internship credits counted and the two classes I have left finished before this baby's head crowns. So help me! I will no longer be a BYU statistic. A woman who left college before completing her degree to have a family. Before I need a Minivan, I will have the piece of paper that qualifies me for ten dollar an hour jobs that are no-where to come by. You can see why it hasn't exactly been on my radar. But I'm going to do it. So help me! 

I have timelines and to-do lists. Christmas shopping and crafting is carefully plotted. I keep swearing that I am going to sit down and put my feet up. I am going to spend more time knitting while the kids color. And then I hear myself say, "Sure. No problem. I'll take care of it." Then I stay up until midnight watching NCIS with Miqui and John. It is always on and neither of them like House Hunters International. We're tying leaves to the eighty invitations I have just committed to drop off  by 8:00am on my way to work.  

Self-imposed madness. I am a professional.

I smarted off on Facebook that I did not understand people who did not want to live in California. I don't take it back. I can't picture ever regretting saying it. While the rest of the country is carving pumpkins in their turtlenecks, sipping cider, and stockpiling wood for the winter, all things that I love, this year I opted out. There is not a price tag on my sanity. Ask my husband. For a few hours last weekend we had the option of running away to the beach and pretending it was still Summer. I've still got all the time in the world.

Thursday, October 27, 2011


In my dream I was trying to line up Elvis' eyebrows on two stencils so I could paint them onto a tote for Relief Society. Yup. Not sunning on a beach with the King himself, but stenciling a tote bag? Pathetic excuse for a dream. I woke up when I heard Miqui announce, "Your son is wandering around the house."

I opened my eyes to find Porkchop at the side of my bed grinning. "Hi Guy!" he says.

You can gauge the likelihood of returning to sleep by Porkchop's vocabulary. "Mo milk, mama." means there's a chance I might finish stenciling the remainder of Elvis' features. "Hi Guy!" means we're going to be up for a while.

I would let him climb in bed next to me, but when he cuddles he places his forehead right above my belly and wraps his arms around me like a tree. This morning when I layed down with him for a nap he reached up, grabbed my nose and yelled, "Honk!" Oh, and the baby doesn't respond to anyone like she responds to Porkchop. If everyone and everything is a phase then I am in the "Please, don't anyone touch me!" phase and He is in the "Just hold me!" phase.

Last week I decided that Scrunch and Porkchop will share a room. Since Saturday they have both done really well. As far as I know. His only clue is the stash of multiplying spoons.

These pictures are mostly terrible, but please note that Scrunch picks her own books to proudly display. To the right of 'The Old Woman Who Swallowed a Shell' is her favorite Spanish/English dictionary, and to the left of 'The Puppy Book' you can barely make out her Mandarin one. She can now tell her brother to 'Keep Out!' in three different languages.

Blog Archive