Merry Christmas and a Happy Boxing Day!

I love Christmas. The whole hustle and bustle thing, the excitement of children when they see Santa at the mall (or on a forklift at Walmart), the emails that circulate with stories that remind us of the true meaning of the holiday (as well as the ones with cartoon pics of Rudolph measuring Santa's behind to see if it will fit down the chimney), and the fact that people in general are kinder to each other. They'll hold the door for you in the store, strangers say Merry Christmas to you, and they cut you off, honk at you, steal your parking spot, and show you that certain finger less. My family had a very nice Christmas this year. My kids only woke up at 6:00am, which could have been worse. They seemed to really like their presents, and the items of clothing that need to be returned because they didn't fit are only numbered on one hand. Though I love the season, Christmas day wears on me a little bit. We have to rush around to parents and grandparents houses (some that live an hour and a half away) so we don't get much time to sit and enjoy the day and each other. It's hard to remember the true meaning of the day when your mind is completely filled with schedules of when you have to be everywhere. I always feel bad that our kids are shuffled around so much that they don't get to sit and play with their gifts until later. That's why I've adopted Boxing Day as my favorite holiday. Let me just say that the Canadians were total geniuses for coming up with this "holiday." Boxing Day is the day after Christmas and was meant to be a day off for the household help. Maids, butlers, etc. spend Christmas making sure that their bosses have a nice day, so December 26 is their day to sit back, relax, and enjoy the holiday with their own families. For the last couple of years on the day after Christmas, my kids and I spend the entire day in our pajamas and do nothing except play with the new gifts. I put together all the toys, we try out all the games, and we watch a couple of the new movies the kids got. We don't pick up anything, put anything away, and we certainly don't clean (my kids say that there's absolutely no shopping, either). I love sitting back and enjoying a little of the Christmas cheer we missed out on in the hustle of the day before. You might be wondering why I feel entitled to celebrate this day. Aren't we all who are mothers and housewives just like maids? Don't we all feel like unappreciated servants at times? So there you go. Boxing Day applies to us to... and even if it doesn't, I'm sure the Canadians don't mind sharing. So if any of you are in need of a new tradition, or just a wonderful excuse to relax, you might want to try it out next year. I hope you all are enjoying the holidays and wish everyone a Happy New Year!







P.S. This last pic is what happens after running around so much on Christmas day. We got to grandma's, sat Maycie down on the couch, and less than two minutes later, she ended up like this. Hopefully there's some sugar plums dancing around somewhere...

Dumb Mom

You know you're in the running for the Mother of the Year award when your one and a half year old puts herself to bed. I'm sitting here at the computer wondering why I can't hear Maycie playing anymore, and I look at the clock and think, "Oh my heck! How did it get to be so late so fast? Where did that kid go?" I thought I told her a few minutes ago to go get me her blankie and I'd rock her, but I'm now realizing that it's been a little longer than I thought (okay, quite a bit longer). I stop tapping the computer keys for a minute to listen, and I think that I can hear breathing coming from somewhere. I look around but can't see her anywhere, so I think I must be imagining it. I start tapping away again, but stop when I think I hear a sigh. This time I actually stand up to go search for my mischievous little Maycie and my foot touches something soft. I look down under my feet and see the sweetest little angel (aren't they all angels when they're sleeping?) curled up on her blankie under the computer desk, fast asleep. Yes, I have no idea how she got there. Yes, I feel like a big fat louse for neglecting her. Yes, I must be stupid or something for admitting this when everyone already thinks I'm a few tacos shy of a combo. But what the heck- it's just too cute and I can't resist posting the pics, even if they could be viewed as incriminating evidence. So you better hurry up and cast your ballots now folks- I'm closing in fast on the lead for that award.

Quirky Quirks

Hello again, it's time for another tag! (Thanks Kath and Selina!) I'm gonna try to be brief here (yeah, right) and get through it quickly. Kathleen's tag is the 6 quirks tag, and Selina's is the 7 crazy quirks tag. Since they are about the same, I'll combine them and save myself from trying to think up 13 quirks- though for those of you who know me, I am mostly made up of quirks. There's probably only 6 or 7 normal things about me! The rules go as follows: You post a link to the person's blog who tagged you, list 6 (or 7) quirks including habits or unusual things about yourself, tag 6 (or 7) people, and leave a comment on their blog letting them know they've been tagged. So let's go.

http://trentandkathbeardall.blogspot.com
http://selinaandcameron.blogspot.com

1. I'm OCD. I've mentioned this before, so I'll just leave it at that. If anyone is really interested in the details of this, they can check out my previous tag posts.

2. I can't not finish a book or movie, even if I think it's really stupid. Once I start one, I just have to know how it ends. I'll suffer through the most boring stuff just to not leave the story unfinished. It's also impossible for me to fall asleep during a movie, no matter how dumb it is or how tired I am. My brain just won't let me.

3. I buy things I really want and then never get around to using them. It's not like compulsive buying- I think about things and decide carefully before I make a purchase, and I'm usually happy with the decision. I just don't get around to putting things together, setting things up, or if it's something to wear, I'll save it for nice occasions because I want to keep it looking perfect. I know- it's stupid.

4. If my house starts to get really messy, I get overwhelmed and can't stand it. I'll leave and go somewhere just so I don't have to look at it, but then it just gets worse and I feel worse. When I finally build up enough drive to dive in, I can't stop for anything until it's done- if my kids are hungry, they'll just have to fend for themselves. If my hubby needs something, he'll just have to wait. Okay, I will take a break to go get a Pepsi. Oh, yeah- if anyone shows up at my door while I'm in cleaning mode, I'll hide stuff in the oven.

5. I comment during TV shows and movies. I can't help it, my inner thoughts just slip out. I do try to limit it to when there's no dialogue going on, though. Let's just say I had a field day during the Twilight movie! (p.s. I'm a freak about Twilight, so if anyone knocks the movie or any of it's characters in any way, you'll have to answer to me!!)

6. I stay up late almost every night. It doesn't matter how many times I've told myself to go to bed earlier, I just can't. Even if I'm tired, I find my second wind and can't seem to settle down till long past midnight. Maybe it's because that's the only time I have to myself, when everyone is asleep and it's quiet. I catch up on reading, my favorite shows I've missed, and blogging (of course)!

7. I'm a freak about jeans right now. I would have to say it's my newest obsession. I've gotten into googling different styles and finding them on the Internet. The more detail on the pockets, the better! I've found some really good deals on some cute brands, and my favorites list is miles long with fun stores and cool styles.

Lastly, we get to the tagging other people part. I'm not sure who's already done this one, so feel free to ignore this if you have. Jami E., Haley E., Sheri G., Angie J., Candace A., Melissa T., and Melissa O.- have fun!!

Disaster Child

Okay, so I'm not your normal blogger. I probably should be more like all of you fellow bloggers out there and post more on birthdays, holidays, family happenings, etc. But I don't, and for a lot of reasons. First of all, I always get behind and I hate going back and posting on things that happened months (or even weeks) ago. I'd never catch up and I'd drive myself absolutely insane. So if any of you are waiting for a Fall or Halloween post, too bad- it's not gonna happen. My second reason for not conforming to normal blog standards is I like to post the stuff that makes me laugh- even if I can't laugh at some of it yet, I know I'll get a kick out of looking back at some of that crazy stuff later. If it's not things that makes me laugh, it's issues that I feel are worth trashing on. I don't know- maybe someday I'll regret not posting more journal-worthy things, but for now, I guess this is just my style. So where to begin? I have a lot of laugh-inducing material to document so I believe I'll start there. Then maybe I'll get to some heavier topics another day. Or maybe not. Anyways...

Any parent's greatest source of humor has to come from their kids, and that holds true for me as well. I'm not sure why, but it seems like the younger that kids are, the funnier they are. Scholars write books on understanding the opposite sex- Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus- that kind of crap. I think their time would be much better served trying to understand why kids do the things they do. My youngest Maycie monster is always a wealth of entertainment, and I honestly wish I could sneak a peek into the workings of her mind to see where she gets her inspiration. Though she is an absolutely delightful child, she is the epitome of the phrase chaos and destruction. I can't understand how she finds the energy to demolish room after room on a daily basis, and I have aged 10 years trying to keep up with her. I know all kids between the ages of 1-3 are known to get into everything, but my Maycie is special. She doesn't just get into any random cupboard and empty it, she tends to pick favorites. Right now she is specializing in the ones containing crayons, craft supplies including glass beads, and cleaning products (especially Windex). Tupperware is just too boring for her anymore. Even if I try to be clever and switch things around, she finds what she wants. As I recounted in a previous post, one of Maycies most favorite things to play with were tampons. Well, that is SO yesterday. She has discovered the joys of unwrapping Maxi Pads, peeling off the backings, and sticking them to things (usually herself). Whenever my doorbell rings, I have to take a minute to make sure there are no pads stuck to the stair railings, the TV, the furniture, or anything else in sight. Another very recent Maycie experience included calling poison control because she ate half a stick of deodorant. I'm not sure why this particular child revels in all things gross. Lets look back at her history, shall we? She started with emptying every garbage can she could get ahold of and playing with all the disgusting contents. Then she discovered that toilet caps come off and make fun toys. Moving on to tampons, maxi pads, and deodorant- I just don't want to think about what might be next. For those of you thinking, "why doesn't she put things up or strap that child in a highchair?" Here's your answer. This kid can climb. If she wants it, she'll find a way to get to it no matter where it's hidden or how high I put it. If something she wants is truly out of reach, then she'll just find something even worse to get into. As to restraining, we've tried everything. Maycie can get out of even the toughest strap systems. It doesn't matter how tightly they are done up, she'll wiggle free. For example, I bought a new counter chair that was recommended to me by a friend which has a five point harness system, but Maycie beat it. We even tried reinforcing it with en extra camera strap, but that didn't work either. I believe she'd even be able to find a way out of a straight jacket. If Houdini needs a new assistant in a few years, I'm sure he'll be wanting this minerature escape artist. The disasters are so frequent that I can't even get mad anymore. A couple of nights ago when my darling baby dumped a bottle of nail polish into my jetted master bathtub, exploding the entire bottle of bright neon blue everywhere, I couldn't even find any strength left in me to scold her. I just shrugged, rolled my eyes, and told my husband that we needed to get to work- it was going to be a long night. A couple of hours later when we were both exhausted and had headaches from all the fumes from paint thinner and nail polish remover, I looked at my angelic baby girl fast asleep in her bed and thought, "It's a good thing you're cute, kid, or you wouldn't have lasted this long." I'm getting smart in my old age and have been remembering to take pictures to document these incidents so I have proof that they really happened. I'm afraid that someday I'll look back and think there's no way any one kid was that much of a walking disaster. Time may dull memories, but pictures tell the true story. And on a side note, not every mess is a disaster. I still think it's cute when Maycie unloads every shoe in my closet then walks around the house in my heels (smart girl- they're her favorites). I just make my older kids clean up those kinds of messes while I sit back and smile. I tell them to chalk it up to good practice for someday when they have their own kids they have to constantly clean up after. Anyways, I have to take a break so I can go pick up the markers which my child just found and scrub the rainbow scribble off the kitchen floor. Thank goodness that this time these ones are washable. Next I have to put the toyboxes back together and clean up a pile of ripped-up magazines. Hopefully then I can get Maycie down for a blessed nap. Maybe I'll take a nap, too- honestly it'd be deserved, and I need to recharge my depleted batteries because who knows what kinds of shenanigans she'll get into when she wakes up?

What do you mean these aren't candy?



Yes, that is a Maxi Pad stuck to her leg.


Do you suppose the deodorant will make her poop smell better?




Hah! Another successful escape. What else you got?



What do you think- does this shade of blue go with my tub?


Hmm- which shoe? Does the black one make my thighs look big?


Doesn't that face just have mischief written all over it?



All right, I'm feeling guilty so here's a few pics of my kids from Fall/Halloween. It came, the kids had a blast at Cornbelly's, going goofy on Crazy Hair Day, dressing up for school and trick or treating, and it went. There- now no one can say I didn't do my blogging duty.

The Hunt

The title of this post sounds really exciting, doesn't it? My Husband would say the subject matter is in fact very exciting, but I'm not sure I really agree. This inhumane act of death is only being posted per request of my husband (and when I say request, I actually mean if I don't post it, he won't let me visit the mall any time soon). If it were up to me, the word "HUNT" would be added to the four letter word list and people's mouths' would get washed out with soap just for thinking it let alone actually doing it. I've never been a huge fan of hunting, probably because some great uncle of mine hung a decrepit old deer head up in our little family cabin. Every year we'd go, and my stinkin' brother would try to make me touch it's eyes or tell me it was going to come alive in the night and get me. So I guess it would be ironic that I'd marry a hunter. A month or so before we got married when my mind was not functioning properly due to the "potential wedded bliss erases all reason syndrome", my husband talked me into going dove hunting with him (this should have been a big sign, considering doves are the actual love birds of lore). He showed me how to shoot the shotgun, and I turned out to be a half-decent shot. I knocked one out of a tree, but when we found it at the base, it wasn't quite dead yet. My husband said I had to finish it off, but it looked at me with these sad, quivering, accusing eyes, and I just couldn't do it. I cried and went back to the car while Zane "put it out of it's suffering"- the suffering I had caused. So back to the point at hand. I never put up a fuss when Zane wants to go bird hunting, or worse, deer or elk hunting. I just pray that he doesn't hit anything so his soul will be saved from killing innocent animals and hope that the Man upstairs likes me better that day then Zane and his "please let me get that big one over there." So far my strategy has worked, but I forgot to factor in the fact that I now have two little boys that my husband is dying to turn into little hunters. Now I pitch a royal fit any time Zane talks about letting the boys touch a gun- if Dick Chaney can manage to shoot someone in the butt, imagine what damage little kids could do. So he just tells me he'll only let them walk along with him and watch. Yeah, right. Here's a picture of my son, Wyatt, with a huge pheasant that he shot himself last weekend. Zane was so proud he was practically dancing around the yard. When I got mad, he told me Wyatt shot it with a BB gun. Now I'm not stupid, a BB would have to hit a pheasant right between the eyes to kill it- he totally used Zane's shotgun. While I'm extremely proud that my son is such a great shot, I'm a little disappointed that he didn't seem to feel any sadness about killing that poor, defenseless bird. Probably because Zane was so darn excited for him. Don't worry, I've been trying to help the guilt along these past few days, so we'll see what happens. But little boys idolize their dads, so I'm not holding out much hope. Now I'm not trying to convince people that all hunting is bad. If we were ever starving, I'd have no problem shooting stuff to eat. But people who say they hunt because they like deer meat are totally lying, as well as people who say pheasants taste like chicken- they so DO NOT. Anyways, I'll stop my ranting now. If I've helped anyone out there to come into the light, I'll consider this post a success. And where these ARE pretty neat pics, I have to say to Wyatt- good job, son.

4-4-4

I must say I really kinda liked this tag- probably because it's different from the rest. Rules are simple- you post the 4th photo out of the 4th folder in your picture files, then tag 4 friends. My 4th folder happened to be Disneyland pics from a couple of years ago, and the 4th pic is of my father-in-law Jay sporting some groovy shades in the Bug's Life theatre. I have to tell you, I absolutely love my father-in-law. You rarely meet someone who would give up just about anything to help someone else out, and that's him. He's taken care of others his whole life, and if anyone has earned an awesome mansion in the next life, he most certainly has. Jay has the most interesting sense of humor, and if you ask anyone in the family they could undoubtedly quote a few choice jokes that he's dropped during Sunday dinner. I remember most vividly a certain Winnie the Pooh joke that he told for my benefit the first time I had Sunday dinner with Zane's family when we were dating. Thanks, Jay- I still laugh when I remember that one! Anyways, that was a fun trip down memory lane, so now for the tagging part. Kim, Lyndsey, Selina, and Shantelle M.- hope you guys have a good time with this one- I did!

Funny Business

It's been awhile since I've posted some of the random things my kids do that crack me up. So before I forget or get too far behind, I'll try to mention one or two about each of the little stinkers (in no particular order of favorites). I'll start with Jack because I haven't posted anything on him lately. He's the cutest little clown ever! He learned this dumb country song from his honky-tonk lovin' Dad and he sings it over and over. Sometimes he even graces us with his dance moves and an awesome guitar hero impersonation, and it can be quite entertaining to watch him. Even Maycie will dance along (which constitutes spinning in a circle) when Jack really gets into the groove. I can't adequately explain it, so I thought I'd better video it for a more accurate depiction. (Be sure to scroll down to the bottom of the page and pause the music player before you play the video!)


Next, to document something about my awesome older son, Wyatt. He's a bit of a sports nut lately, and his favorite sport changes with the season. He got a skim board surfer for his birthday, and for awhile he wanted to be a superstar surfer. Did I just say he's awesome? This just in... he's a little turd!! As I'm typing this, Zane's looking out the window watching Wyatt throw our new little puppy Lucy across the grass like a football. Just a minute while I go do some disciplining (aka kicking HIS butt across the grass!!). Anyways, where was I? Oh, yeah. Surfing. It was pretty funny watching Wyatt and the kids try out the skim board surfer. Pretty soon we had half the neighborhood kids here wanting to play on it, too. I'm sure they all thought it'd be easy; that they'd be able to ride it for more than a foot or two. Oh, no. After watching tumble after tumble, I finally got out the camera. Some of those wipe outs were pretty funny, and I wish I'd thought to video as well. Here's a few pics, though I'm bummed because most of the wipe out shots were blurry.





Now I'll talk about Alivia for a minute or two. She's growing up so fast, and I'm not sure I'd be able to make it some days without her help. She's like a second mother to Jack and Maycie, and an expert dog-walker, dish-doer, homework-helper, etc. But with the growing up comes learning more about how things REALLY work in life, like holidays and certain mythical characters, how babies are really born (they don't come out of belly buttons, if you catch my drift), and maturation. I'm not really sure I should be documenting this as it could be a bit embarrassing for Alivia, but as a mother, and taking in account the fact that this is MY journal of sorts, I'm gonna do it anyway so I can always look back and remember and smile. I took Alivia shopping the other day for new underwear. She was down to only a handful of pairs left (the washer and dryer must be eating them lately) so off to Target we went. I grabbed a couple of packages of the usual kind that I buy her, but she complained. Apparently girls her age don't wear the brief style anymore, and she wanted bikinis. Now Alivia is only ten and a half and I just couldn't deal with the thought of bikinis right now, even if they do have cutsie pictures on them. We settled on hipsters, which are lower cut than briefs but still bum-covering. Next we found a bra-like thing that she could wear and I had a hard time keeping the tears at bay. It's only like a thin sports bra with lingerie straps, but still- I could tell that she felt so grown up. It makes me excited for shopping trips in the future- how fun it will be when she's a teenager and we can do all sorts of fun girly stuff together. Thanks Alivia, for being such a great daughter and helper!


Last but not least, and maybe the funniest, Maycie has been a constant source of humor lately. She has never really been much for playing with regular kid toys, instead preferring to find things that are far more interesting. Her favorites have included car keys, phones- but only the real ones that work, and toilets. She moved on from playing with the caps (they cover the screws that bolt the toilets to the floor) to opening the lids and playing in the water. Now she likes to put things in the water, which as you can guess, isn't fun for Mom and Dad. Her latest favorite thing to do is to open all the cupboards and drawers she can get to and empty them. I'm constantly picking everything up and putting it away, just to turn around and she's done it again. Her favorite drawer happens to be in my bathroom, and is stocked with- IF YOU ARE A GUY, STOP READING NOW IF YOU WANT TO PROTECT YOUR MANHOOD-feminine products. If you are making a guess, then you're probably right- the things she likes to play with the most are tampons. Every day Zane comes home from work, walks into the bathroom and says, "Looks like she found your smokes again." Smokes is what he calls them because they look like white wrapped cigars, and it's against the rules in the manhood rule book for a guy to say the word tampon. Though moving them might be the easiest thing to do, I can't because they're within arms reach in case of an emergency. Lets just hope that this phase doesn't last too long, and maybe Maycie will move onto something new- and less embarrassing- soon.




Anyways, I love all my kids and am so grateful for all the funny things they do that make life so interesting. Every day is different, and they never cease to put a smile on my face or a giggle in my heart. If anyone ever thinks life is boring, have a kid or two and it never will be again. Or if having a kid isn't the best course of action for you, maybe I'll lend you a couple of mine for awhile!

The T Word Again

Alrighty then, so I need to do some more tags (thanks Selina and Candace) so prepare yourself for further insights into the wondrous workings of my psyche. Since I've done these ones in the past, I'll abbreviate and make them quick. First, for Candace: Tag of Eights. I did this one a few weeks ago, so scroll down aways to see my answers. But to expound upon that genius insight, I'm gonna copy Melissa and add another category.

Stuff That Drives Me Crazy (in other words, things that bug me):

1. Organized people that are so with it they have time to update their blogs daily, their scrapbooks are always caught up, and they can find their kids' homework because there's no clutter all over their counters (okay, yeah- if I better managed my time, then I could probably do all that too).
2. When I'm late for things, the Man upstairs decides that it's a good time to learn me patience and I hit all the stinking traffic lights red. When I'm not late for things (which is rare) the lights are miraculously all green. Weird, huh?
3. The fact that my husband can cook better than me 90% of the time.
4. When my husband knows more about something than I do (even if I know nothing about a particular subject, I'll try to fake it so he doesn't start believing that he's smarter than me), or in other words, when he's right and I'm wrong!
5. When I've just finished doing all the dishes and started the dishwasher only to walk in another room and find dishes that SOMEONE left for me to clean up. OR when I'm putting away the LAST load of freshly folded laundry in my kids' rooms only to sniff out a few smelly pairs of briefs that they've stuffed under their beds.
6. When my kids (and husband) junk their shoes, dirty clothes, etc. anywhere they want expecting that Maid- I mean Mom- will just clean it up as usual.
7. When my kids (and husband) leave empty food packages in the pantry or fridge instead of throwing them away. There's nothing that can grate the ole nerves more than when you're tired after a long afternoon of washing other peoples' dirty underwear, and you just want to sit down a relax with a few oreos, so you reach for that blue package that's supposed to be full of deliciously fattening goodness, only to find that it's empty. Where's my sledge hammer? I need to smash some stuff.
8. When you walk into the bathroom that you'd just finished cleaning into antibacterial perfection not an hour ago only to find that someone- probably one of your sons- (hopefully not your husband) missed. A sledge hammer's not gonna do it.

Anyways, there's probably many more choice annoyances that I could include, but these eight were fresh on the mind, so they'll have to do. The next tag is for Selina. Since I'm running low on time, see the April 7th tag post in my Archives. That's the same one, except for 5 favorite snacks, so I'll add that here:

1. Sour patch kids, bright crawlers, mini rainbow frogs, Swedish fish aqua life, etc.
2. Milk duds, sugar babies, bit-o-honeys, etc.- you see where I'm going with this.
3. Double stuff oreos, snicker doodles, and soft molasses cookies with milk.
4. Homemade caramel popcorn, or warm caramel covered apple slices from the fair.
5. Smores, doughnuts, hot chocolate, and hot spiced cider- all the cold weather, out-doorsy kinds of treats.

There's so many other treats that I love that it's hard to narrow it down to just a few favorites. Anyways, now I have to have covered just about every tag in the book, so I should be good for a while, or until someone thinks up a new one!

Dog Day From Heck

Now I know we all have those days sometimes where things happen that make us want to pick up a sledge hammer and smash stuff up. That would be my day today. As all good stories go, this one has a beginning, so I'll start there.
About a week or so ago, my family got a new puppy. She's the cutest little Cocker Spaniel you ever saw, and is pretty well-behaved, as far as puppies go. We got a male Cocker Spaniel a few years ago named Maximus Arelius, and have been wanting to breed him, so we needed to find him a girlfriend. Our new puppy's name is Lucilla (Caesar's sister off of Gladiator) but we call her Luci. Max and Luci sound so cute together (if not a little generic) don't they? Though when we brought Luci to meet Max, my first thought was "Gross! Stop sniffing her, you pedophile!!" It was seriously like Jacob and Renesmee, for all you Twilight fans. I guess it's a good thing she'll grow fast. Anyways, I was making Luci a vet appointment for her next set of shots, and I got to thinking that I better get Max current as well. Zane asked me to schedule an appointment for his chocolate Lab Molly while I was at it. Well, the big vet day was today. I brought Max in at 10:00 for grooming and shots and was supposed to pick him up at 3:00 when I brought Molly in for her shots. Everything went according to plan until I arrived at the farm to pick up Molly for her appointment. Now Molly is a big dog, probably about as big as me (you people know I'm not exaggerating). I couldn't get her into the crate in the back of my SUV. I sat there not knowing what to do until my father-in-law showed up and helped me lift her in. This should have been the first clue to the trouble to come. When I got to the vet's office, I opened the lift gate thinking Molly would jump right out. She wouldn't. I tried coaxing her, pulling on her, and I even tried tipping the crate so she'd fall out (on her nose, hopefully). All to no avail- she wouldn't budge. By this time I was late and frustrated. I sat there trying to formulate my next plan when some guy and his bulldog came out of the building. Molly instantly jumped out of her crate and ran to sniff her new friend's rear. What is it about dogs? Anyways, the man hurriedly drove off, and I was left to getting Molly into the building by myself. She came as far as the sidewalk in front of the doors, then stopped dead. It was at this time that I first realized Molly didn't have her collar on. I tried pushing, pulling, tugging on her ears, anything to get her through the doors. Again, she wasn't budging. Of course there wasn't anybody at the front desk to help me; that would be too easy. So I whipped out the cell phone to call Zane or my father-in-law for help, but OF COURSE, it picks right now to decide to be broken. At my limit, I spy some collars for sale hanging on a rack just inside the door. I ran in and grabbed one and ripped it open (I would have asked, but there was STILL nobody at the front desk). I ran back outside triumphantly, but stopped short. There was no Molly to be found. I called her stupid name for five minutes until I spied her running around across the street by the bowling alley. Finally she came back, and I snapped the stolen collar on her neck. Now that I had something to grip, I again tried to drag her through the doors. As I dragged, she pulled against me. I'm sure it would have been quite comical if anybody had been watching, and a video of my tug-of-war ordeal would have been a big hit on You Tube. But as it was, there was still nobody around to help me. I eventually gave up and sat down. With one hand gripping Molly's 'new' collar so she wouldn't run away again, I sat there and cried. Sobbed might be a better word. Finally, somebody came to the front desk and saw me sitting outside crying and came to my rescue. She found a leash I could borrow and I pulled on the leash while she pushed on Molly's haunches from behind. You might think that's the end of my story, but it isn't. Once inside, we got Molly onto a scale. She's a whopping 65 pounds, give or take (no wonder I couldn't move her sorry butt). Then I had to wait to see the vet, which meant about 10 minutes of sitting with a nervous dog's head in my lap. Molly was panting like she'd just run a marathon, and was drooling great drops of doggie slobber all over my new jeans. I tried to get her to move her head, but she wouldn't budge it from my lap. When the vet finally came in, it looked like I had wet my pants and dripped all the way down to my ankles. Even my shoes were wet. I'm not kidding here, people. After her exam, shots, and a clean bill of health, I had to get Molly back out to the SUV and in her crate. Of course, she wouldn't jump in, so I had to lift her in myself (the lady at the front desk had disappeared again, and there was no one else around to help). I probably gave myself a hernia, but somehow got her in. I then went back inside to retrieve Max and pay the bill, and yes, I had them charge me for the collar I took. Max was a piece of cake to get in his crate, and I was glad, because I didn't have any fight left in me. Back at the farm, both Max and Molly jumped right out of their crates and high-tailed it into their kennel to get a drink and settle down for a rest (after sniffing each other's rears). I headed on home to take a shower and try to get out all the doggie hair slivers that got embedded in my clothes and skin from Molly's coarse coat during our struggle. Then I had to call Zane to relate to him the day's events and make him feel guilty for not getting off work early to help me. Let's just say he owes me big time. Luci's vet appointment is the day after tomorrow, but that will be nothing compared to today. I will never again be dumb enough to take Molly to the vet by myself, and my husband will never again be dumb enough to ask me to. Lesson learned, end of story. I hope you all got a good laugh out of my ordeal, though I will probably need a few days (or weeks) before I can laugh with you. Hopefully by then I will have succeeded in removing the rest of those dang hair slivers.

These are pics of Luci. She's cute, isn't she! I'll have to take pics of Max and Molly and post them later, so you can put visuals with my story.

Tag should be a four letter word

So, I've been hit a couple of times this past few weeks with tags. All you bloggers know what I'm talking about- posts where people have to air out all their skeletons and share their dirty little secrets. You may think, "why do people do it? It's not like there's any obligation to share like that." Well, I'm here to tell ya that if you blog, then you are silently obligated to spill. If you don't, then something bad may happen like your computer getting a virus or other such bad luck. And since we've already discussed how bad my luck already is, I'm not about to make it worse. Now this first tag isn't so bad, courtesy of my new sis-in-law Selina. It's called
8 Things:

TV Shows- All CSIs, House, Grey's anatomy, The Hills, Y&R (yes, it's a soap; see what I mean about dirty little secrets?) Good Things Utah, Numbers, and Everybody Loves Raymond re-runs.

Restaurants- Olive Garden, P.F. Chang's, Tepanyaki's, Cheesecake Factory (thanks, Melissa!), Appleby's, Chile's, Los 4 Amigos, Los Hermanos, and Brick Oven (yes, I know that's nine).

Things I'm Doing Today- preschool carpool, exchanging a bra at Victoria Secret (this is just cruel) doing laundry, folding laundry- yes, this counts as two things because I don't always do them on the same day- cleaning toilets, chauffeuring kids to soccer, trying to figure out last Sunday's crossword puzzle without cheating, and trying to catch up on my emails and blog.

Things I'm Looking Forward To- soccer season being over, the Twilight Movie, the season premieres of all my favorite shows, finding another good book to read (anybody got one?), any concert my husband will ever take me to, going to Mexico in the Spring- I hope!- a Nursing degree someday, and for it to be Summer again!! (I absolutely HATE the cold.)

Things I love about my favorite season, Autumn!- I know, that's weird that I like it more than Summer, huh? Anyways, warm days with a bit of cool in the air, back-to-school, the mornings getting darker, decorating my house and porch for harvest, the State Fair with caramel apples and the big yellow slide, Halloween, my birthday, and pumpkins & hayrides & hot chocolate.

My Wish List- a new pair of Big Star jeans, a Canon Digital Rebel SLR camera and a photography class, a picture of the Sacred Grove, a Chi flat iron, a fireplace for my basement, a decent computer chair, a female Cocker Spaniel puppy, and a black Lincoln Navigator with all the cool features someday.

My Habits (mostly bad)- obsessing over stuff, sticking my foot in my mouth, always driving the same routes, staying up late every night (I can't help it), double checking the doors, windows, and kids every night before bed, as well as the light switches- they all have to be going the same way- spell and grammar checking everything I do, making piles of stuff (mostly junk) and saving EVERYTHING because I have a hard time throwing things away- like receipts, clothing tags, bits of hardware and broken stuff that I might get around to fixing, etc., and eating treats and candy in twos, one flavor at a time (saving my favorite flavor for last).

Lastly, My Indulgences- scrap booking, reading, watching movies, going to lunch or shopping with my friends, Pepsi, penny candy and Sour Patch Kids, blogging, and spending all day doing nothing except playing with my kids.

Wow- you thought that was long, well, we're only about half-way (thanks Kim). That tag was easy compared to this next one, which really stinks. I'm tempted to brave the computer virus...
This is a Reality Check tag- you must take pictures of things right now, absolutely no cleaning up first. If anybody laughs at my untidiness, somehow I'll find out and I'll sick my four little monsters on YOUR house! So here goes.

1. My Fridge (this one's not so bad, though I'm NOT taking a picture of the inside!)


2. My Closet (getting worse)


3. My kitchen sink (so not fair- I HATE doing dishes!)


4. My Laundry Room (okay, so I also HATE doing laundry)


5. My toilet (what weirdo put this one on the list?)

I'm including the open bowl picture to show that I'm not a total slob. I do like a fresh toilet, because there's just something about sitting on a clean throne...


6. My Favorite Room (the only room that stays sorta clean- it's my little sanctuary)


7. My Favorite Shoes (very comfortable, and pretty cute too!)


8. What My Kids Are Doing Right Now (Alivia's doing dishes because I was embarrassed by the picture, Maycie's wrecking the ones Alivia puts away, Jack's having a yogurt snack, and Wyatt's at the table building Star Wars Lego masterpieces.)


9. Me RIGHT NOW (crap- it's my breakout time of the month!!)


10. Where I'd Like To Go- I'll just say Hawaii, because I'm not smart enough yet to find a picture off the Internet and paste it on my page. But I'm sure you get the picture, right? Warm tropical breezes, white sandy beaches, beautiful blue water...

Anyways, I'm mentally drained right now. It's not easy baring yourself like that for all the world to read. But now we're at the end of one of my famously long posts, and we've gotten to the last but not least part. Who to choose, who to choose. In this game, I now get to pick someone to pass the buck to, hand off the proverbial baton, or in other words, make IT. So Sheri, I'm tagging you for the first one, 8 Things. Michelle, I'm tagging you for the second one, the Reality Check. I'm not sure why I want to torture myself by seeing your super-clean rooms, but heck- maybe it'll motivate me to be a little less lazy. Anyways, have fun... and don't be too mad at me please!!

Karma, Fate, Chance- What the Crap?

Sure, the title of this post's a real downer. But there's really no other way to title what I'm feeling right about now. For those of you who like posts with pictures, sorry to dissapoint. I just can't bear to look at the offending item, let alone take a picture of it. Anyways, I'd better explain. But first let me say that you know it's bad when I'm supposed to be packing for Bear Lake right now; in fact it's 12:30am and we're leaving in about nine hours, and I still have three loads of laundry to do plus pack the bags and load up the car. That's bad, even for me who just so happens to be the world's biggest procrastinator. For those who know me well, you know I do my best work and come up with my most creative ideas in the middle of the night. So what's the problem? I can't seem to focus my mind enough to get started because I'm so dang bummed out (if you have a weak stomach for mormon swearing, stop reading now, because it'll probably get worse). So back to the story. All my life I've had a tendency toward bad luck. I'm sure that might be a little over dramatic, because I really can't remember how young I was when it hit, so let's just say high school- or puberty, or whatever. Anyways, bad stinking, flipping luck. I'm really not making this stuff up, people, It's the truth. I've never won a darn thing except some stickers from KMA once, but of all the prizes they were giving away, those were the only thing I already had. I came close once when my name was drawn at my high school graduation party for a pair of tennis rackets, but I had left five minutes earlier, so the announcer decided to give them to someone else (thanks again for that, Mom, and stop rolling your eyes). Now, you'll find it quite interesting that my big, obnoxious brother is my anti. He's the yin and I'm the yang, or whichever one of them's the bad one. He's super lucky and wins every contest he enters practically. This magic has rubbed off on his wife who, being linked to him eternally, wins everything too. Need some examples? Okay. Once she won an all expense paid ski trip off of the radio. I was personally with her at a scrapbook overnighter when they were giving away an awesome scrapbook bag, and she called my brother on the phone for luck as they were doing the drawing. Yep, her name was called. Icing on the cake- last week they won a front loading washer and dryer pair from a shop-ko contest. That doesn't even count all the work drawings my brother has won, including a home theatre surround sound system. If it sounds like I'm jealous, that's because I am. But that's not the point, so back to my rotten (insert your own mormon swear word here) karma. Did you know that almost everything I buy or that's bought for me is defective? Not kidding here. It's almost funny now- okay, not really. I'll get the camera that doesn't work or the DVD/VCR combo where the DVD part will instantly stop working after just three months- the instant the in-store warranty is void. Redbox hates me, too. I always get the scratched DVDs, and there's no way to trade them for good ones. Sometimes fate is really mean, and it will trick me by letting me think the tide has turned. I'll find the perfect dress on a killer clearance sale, only two left in my size! Wow, how lucky was that? Then I'll get home and find a hole that I swear wasn't there when I examined it in the store. I'll race back to the store to switch it, but sure enough, the last one was just sold minutes before I arrived. And yes, I do hit almost every stop light red, except when my husband is tending all the kids and I want to get home slowly. Then they'll magically all be green. My good friend told me we could control our karma with positive thinking. She says "I'm going to get a front row parking space" and sure enough, she does. I tried that. It didn't work for me. I almost had karma fooled with that one when I started carrying a bottle of finger nail polish in the car. I would hold it in my hand, and if the light went red, I shrugged and painted a nail or two so as to not waste the time. Magically, the lights started turning green. I would snicker to myself as this was the actual goal, but karma didn't really know that. Until it figured it out. Then the lights were back to red. My nails would all get painted pretty quick, then I'd just be annoyed all over again by those red blasted delays. Smart karma, dumb me. These are actual stories, people, not made up or embellished in any way. But enough of that. By this time you're either very entertained at my misfortunes, or very bored. So on to my last straw. When people say bad luck comes in threes, I believe them. Here's my week- first, I lose a shop-ko gift card. The balance on it isn't super high, but I'm still bummed about it. Not only am I out a potential new pair of shop-ko/payless shoes (stop laughing- I like payless shoes) or a few economy sized packages of toilet paper, but I hate losing things period. It drives my OCD mind half crazy wondering what happened to the missing item, and I'll literally spend all day tearing apart my house searching. Second, the six-changer CD player goes out in my Expedition. Just before my trip to Bear Lake, where half the trip is out of range for radio, so CDs are all I can listen to. Not to mention that's not cheap to fix. Last but not least, the icing on this whole freaking cake of bad luck. My daughter's blessing dress. My beautiful little Maycie's beautiful, 100% silk blessing dress. It's been hanging from a cute flower hook on the wall in her room for the last many months, and it looks so pretty with the decor. I must say, Maycie's room is darling- straight out of a catalog darling. But just when I finally find the exact curtains I've been looking for to compliment the room, the last touch to make everything perfect, I get a hair-brained idea to take Maycie's dress to the cleaners to remove a microscopically small faint spot. I was nervous about it and asked the cleaner lady for reasurrance, even though the tag does say to dry clean it. She tells me they do wedding, blessing, and all sorts of special occasion dresses all the time, no problem. Well, I picked the dress up today. I can't even think of a humorous way to write this, so I'll simply say it's ruined. The white silk is now yellow. I'm really not exaggerating- it's not off-white or even cream, it's just yellow. I cried on my husband's shoulder for a half hour, and he told me we could buy another one exactly like it to save for Maycie someday. My Mom gave me my blessing dress, and I wanted to give each of my girls their blessing dresses, too. Even if I did replace it with an exact replica, it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be the dress she was blessed in. Let's stop here for just a second, now. If you weren't sympathetic with my whining earlier, I'm sure you must feel a little badly for me now. This just sucks. The problem is, it gets worse. How? Well, just read on. I bought Maycie's dress from a little shop in Kaysville. My Mother-in-law loved it and purchased one exactly like it to display in her blanket shop. Her dress has been sitting there under a plastic cover for the last year. If you're thinking, "Yay! Silver lining! She can just buy the one from her mother-in-law to save for Maycie" that's what I thought too. So after I finished crying, I called her. Fate hates me. She told me she sold the dress a couple of weeks ago. Not only that, but the shop the dresses came from went out of business a few months ago. I can't stand any more. I've had all I can take. We're taught that every person is given their own trials, and is tested to their limit. How do I let fate, karma, or whatever know that I've way passed my limit with this? They say the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, but I'd sure as heck trade my bad luck with a good case of gout, some stinking kidney stones, or an accident involving a nail gun and a few of my body parts. At least you eventually get over those. I must have been a royal pain-in-the-butt in our past life to have earned this, or maybe I was just really stupid when we picked out which trials to stand in line for. Either way, I just don't think you can chalk it all up to chance. Oh, well. I feel a little better now after getting this all off my chest, so if any of you actually finished reading this, thanks for listening. If you didn't, that's okay- just say that you did. Now I guess I can finally start packing for that Bear Lake trip; hopefully nothing else goes wrong there. On that note, if any of you have an in with karma, maybe you could put in a good word for me- I could sure use a little bit of a break right about now.

Oh, the things we do for beauty!

(Alysha, this one's for you!!)

I meant to do this post a couple of weeks ago, but time has gotten away from me again. Better late than never, so here goes. I had decided that I wanted to get Maycie all dolled up in patriotic attire, complete with flag shirt and tye-died leggings. I even made a big red flower headband to complete the outfit, but some lady told me it looked like a hat, so the one in the pictures is different. I fluffed up her hair and put on her new little white flip-flop sandalls, but something was still missing. Then it hit me! Her toes were not painted. I thought, "now wouldn't it be cute if I paint them in alternating hot pink and blue? One problem, though. Maycie was not in a cooperating mood and wouldn't hold her feet still. I sang every dumb song I could think of and tried in vain to distract and entertain her, but to no avail. Well, I was not about to let the one year old beat me, so I formulated a plan... This plan included a high chair, a couple of long ribbons, some treats and toys, and a CD player (I thought maybe my singing was bugging her). Anyways, I put Maycie in her high chair and tied her feet to the posts with the ribbons. Now I'm sure some of you are remembering a previous tying-up incident, but don't be calling Child Protective Services on me, because I swear this is the only other time I've ever done it and I wouldn't have done it had she cried. My plan worked, though, as her sweet little toes turned out so cute! It was all worth it in the end- her toes totally made the outfit, so I'd do it again if I had to! Now don't we all do some pretty crazy things for beauty? Waxing, tanning, plucking, botoxing, nips, tucks, lifts, shall I go on? Even if you haven't done all those things, I know you've thought about it a time or two! So what's a minor ankle restraining compared to all that? Don't we all love great toes!