First snowfall, and an interesting conversation

We had a 1/2" of snow this weekend, more of a dusting really, but you wouldn't know it from the kids' reactions. They had grand plans for all that snow, mostly a lot of sledding, but probably a few snow angels and a snow fort or two. E was so sure that any attempt at sledding would be a huge flop, that he told the kids to go right ahead and suit up for a trip behind the school to sled in the astounding snowfall, and then proceeded to toss on .... a pair of Crocs. Crocs!?! Like, Duh! But that's how I know he's a devoted dad. Because when it wasn't a complete flop, he stayed out there in Crocs (Duh!!) so they could experience the joy and wonder of the seasons first snowfall.

And now for a completely random and not at all related dialogue:

This morning Wonderboy wouldn't get out of bed for school - he said he had a tummy ache. But a few minutes later he shuffled into my bathroom and turned on the water in the shower.

Me: Wait - how's your tummy?

Him: It's fine mom. I think it was just trying extra hard to smoosh up food in there. And I think it was really having a hard time smooshing up that whole ice cube I swallowed last night. It was a big ice cube and I just gulped it down whole.....Oh, oh! Hey! I think that ice cube just melted because I need to go potty RIGHT NOW!

I've been tagged!! Tagged, I tell you!!

8 Shows I watch:
Pushing Daisies (cancelled now: sniff, sniff)
The Office
The Mentalist
Divine Design
Kath & Kim
What Not to Wear
Project Runway
America's Test Kitchen

8 Restaurants I Like To Eat At:
Mi Ranchito
Five Guys
Jason's Deli
Lydia's
Hire's
Jaleo (*sigh* Jaleo, how I miss thee)


8 Things I Did Today:
Put up wreaths
Wandered through Ulta and picked out nail polish
Ate lunch at Five Guys
went to the library
watched Polar Express with kids
painted nails with previously mentioned polish (OPI's I only drink champagne)
cleaned the kitchen
listened to Christmas music on Pandora

8 Things I Am Looking Forward To:
Christmas
Spring
New Moon
my hair growing out (stupid impulse)
Bub's potty-training
lights on Temple Square
Getting the broken "a" on my laptop fixed (side note: Don't try vacuuming your keyboard with the hose attachment. It might not go well.)

8 Things On My Wish List:
A Volvo XC70. Silver, if you please.
Bubs to potty-train himself
A prime lens for my camera
Orla Kiely multi-stem tote bag
professional flat iron
my hair to grow out
for some genius, somewhere in the world, to conjure up a way to eliminate all laundry (Geniuses, where are you??)
a Christmas without any of us getting sick

8 People I Tag:
anyone who wants to participate...

Need some help with your Thanksgiving dinner?

Wonderboy's teacher sent home a booklet entitled "How to cook a Thanksgiving Turkey". She included direct quotes from each child individually on their best advice for successfully preparing a turkey. I'm pretty sure it's the funniest thing I've ever read. And here is Wonderboy's best suggestion for a delicious turkey:

"Well, what you would do, is in the middle of the turkey put some lemon and stuff in it so it would taste good when it's time to eat it. When you are cooking it, you tie the legs up so all the stuff won't fall out. Right after that, you tuck the wings under, so when it cooks, the part on the other side of the wing where it doesn't show will get crispy and good too. If it doesn't, then no one will want to eat that part. You want to put some of that white stuff and the black stuff over it and that will make it good to eat on the top too. It will have some flavor AND be crispy from the salt and pepper!"

Got it? And that, my friends, is what hours of the food network will achieve for your six year old. Easy, peasy, lemon squeazy. He will totally be cooking our turkey.

This'll put a wiggle in it

I dare you to turn this up and try not to bum dance.

Happy Monday.

Just One Reason Why I'm Glad I Don't Drink

I have been laid up with what my sister referred to as THE DEATH COLD. Not those colds with a couple of days of sniffling and a headache. No, I'm talking about the cold variety where you pretty much need to crawl into bed and sleep for 4 days while your body alternates between feverish bouts of sheet-drenching sweats, and bone-jolting chills where you huddle under a down comforter and pray for death to come swiftly. The kind of cold where you lose track of how much Tylenol you've choked down, but figure Poison Control doesn't need to be notified since the bottle of 500 pills isn't empty yet. The kind of cold that makes you wish your kids would spontaneously and mysteriously lose their voices because EVERY SOUND they generate threatens to burst your eardrums.

Well, something tipped things over the edge the other night, and whether it was the Tylenol, Sudafed, Thera-Flu or the codeine cough suppressant I took before bed, or some combination of any of the above, I'm not sure. But I awoke about 3 a.m., sweating profusely and feeling a wee bit queasy. I got out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. After flipping on the light, I debated hanging out on my knees in front of the toilet...waiting, but I suppose I decided I could will it to pass and so I figured I'd, ahem, use the facilities while I was there. You know, just because I like to be efficient like that. And here's where the whole drinking thing comes in. E heard a huge thud in the bathroom, and I came to, lying on the cold floor...with my britches around my ankles. And in my stupor I actually thought to myself, Is this what it's like to be completely sloshed? and Hey, this cold floor feels really good on my face. I got myself on my feet and staggered out of the bathroom and I thought I collapsed back on my side of the bed, but later realized I fell crosswise at the foot of the bed, face down, with my legs dangling off. I think E was sitting upright in bed repeatedly asking me if I was okay. I think I moaned "noooo".

So there it is. If waking up on the floor, hoping not to puke on yourself, and wondering if you forgot your britches, is what it's like to imbibe, I'm glad I don't. I'm very, very glad I don't. And thanks to mom and dad for bringing me up right and teaching me to always pull up my britches.

A Token of Appreciation

See, when you've reached the five-year mark at The Bank, you're not only fully vested in your 401k (plummeting in value, though it may be), but you ALSO receive a glossy brochure full of gadgets, jewelry, and sports equipment from which you may chose your very own gift! Sort of a 'Sure Do Appreciate Ya' memento. And I'll tell you, choices may not be a good thing for one such as our very own E. He doesn't handle choices well. Choices make him lose his train of thought and start walking in aimless circles, wringing his hands. I'm not kidding, just ask him. So the shiny brochure was perused and puzzled over. I think there may have even been an expiration date involved, as well as a gentle reminder nudge from a superior or two - like, We do value your service, really, we do! But for the love of all that's holy, make a choice, man!!

So now that the suspense is eating away at you, and you're biting your thumbnail wondering WHAT DID HE CHOOSE? What could he look at daily to remind him of his value in the workplace? What could possibly stand as a symbol of five years of dedicated service? Please, PLEASE, do tell!!

Well, since you're wondering, it would be the T-fal Family Pro DEEP . FAT . FRYER.

And I'm not joking around when I say I fear for the future of my family's health. Because apparently there's A LOT of foods that can be fried. Oh, the possibilities...I'm gagging at the thought.

Here he is, feeling all appreciated and enjoying his reward.

Everyone got in on a little doughnut action. We told the kids it was Family Home Frying Doughnuts Evening. And Wonderboy questioned what we could possibly learn about God by frying doughnuts. I told him I am quite certain God enjoys a warm doughnut now and then, when his schedule allows.

"Bread? Deep-fried? AND rolled in SUGAR?? Yes please!!"

This apparent loyalty has nothing to do with the boy, and everything to do with the doughnut.

Let's all hope that should he reach the 10-year mark, he will be offered a treadmill, a weight set, or a free echo cardiogram.

We'll miss him

Allow me to be sappy and indulgent. Yesterday was Simon's last with us. We've seen him slowly diminish this past year without adequate explanation. It has been unexpectedly difficult to watch.

I'll choose to remember him at 20+ pounds with a belly waddle that threatened to take out innocent bystanders. I'll remember that he quacked instead of meowed. I'll remember that he often slept curled around the feet of my children when they were tiny babies. That he loved Fancy Feast. That he loved a vigorous brushing. That he slobbered when he purred too much. That his tail had a strange, crooked tip. And that we had to shut him up downstairs at night because otherwise he would bite my hair to wake me in the early morning hours.

Bubs is oblivious. Fia wonders when he'll be back. Tomorrow? Next week? Next year? And Wonderboy comprehends all too clearly that he won't be back. And you don't know pain until you watch your six-year-old break down in wracking sobs.

And so, although he was just a cat, there have been many tears shed today by all of us because he was part of our family. And he will be sorely missed.

Halloween. Done and done.

We've survived the week. And that, my friends, is a small miracle. Because when Bubs ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. What started as a cold, turned into a full-blown virus camp-out in Bub's throat that left him with blister-like lesions lining his esophagus, and a three day hunger strike. And when your throat hurts, you apparently don't want to swallow - at all - so you may decide that leaving your mouth agape and just letting that steady stream of drool fall where it may is about your only option. So we've been swimming in drool, and listening to his heart-breaking sobs and moans this week. All I'm saying is It . Has . Been . A . Week .

We've had some fun though. School parties and costume parades are just the thing for building excitement and giddy anticipation for the BIG NIGHT. Here's my handsome cowpoke, and sweet little cow-poke-ette parading about...

Last Halloween Fia declared she would be a cowgirl for this Halloween. But you know how us girls are, all wishy-washy and changing our minds all the time, right? So last month I asked her what she wanted to be and she rolled her eyes in exasperation and said "MOM, I ALREADY told you last year. I WANT TO BE A COWGIRL THIS TIME." Yes Ma'am! When I finished up her outfit, Wonderboy determined he would like to be a cowboy. So there you go. A cowgirl and a cowboy....and, er, a spider.

Bubs started to perk up yesterday morning and was 100 percent on board when he realized trick-or-treating was on the schedule. (He had some excellent practice at the church party.) In fact, he tried to get an early start as I was lighting the pumpkins on the porch last night. He noticed a woman walking by on the sidewalk, so he scooted across the lawn to her, hoisted his pumpkin treat bag at her, and when she told him she had no candy, he proceeded to make off with her cell phone.

And because I can't get enough of the crazy web-spinning go on around our yard I thought I'd show off the spooky web a kindly, obliging arachnid built up next to our front porch. Timely and in keeping with the holiday. I may have to reconsider my general attitude about creepy, crawlies.

Birthday Boy!!

Once upon a time a boy was born. He was not a particularly pleasant little fellow, it would appear.As time went on he got perkier. And cuter. Look! He's almost smiling.

Aw, come on. You know you went through a rough phase too. Those are some mighty big spectacles though. I enjoy the feathered hair. Do you think there is a large Goody comb in his back pocket?

Mmmhmmm. That's what I'm talkin' 'bout. I don't even like football.He's a world traveller. From Scandinavia to Africa, Mexico to Canada. Personal chef in residence. Handy-man in training. Gardener/landscaper (snort!), story-teller, whimper-soother, and soon to be proficient swimmer (just ask him!).



But best of all a devoted father, adored by three rugrats, and me too.


Happy Birthday, Love!

Never before seen photos...

...of the rare herbivorous 2-year old homo sapien. Most of his kind are believed to have life-threatening reactions to green vegetables. Scientists have been unable to find concrete evidence to disprove this theory. However, the lack of documentation of the 2-year old homo sapien consuming leafy, green vegetables would certainly lend credence to this idea. Perhaps the shift in the planet's climate has forced the species to adapt, to stretch beyond it's usual diet of all carbohydrates. Scientists wonder if birth order or environmental pollutants might play a role in this sudden, exciting discovery. Certainly this new evidence will warrant further study and observation of this very interesting and mysterious creature.

Public Service Announcement

Just so you know, if you get a stye you will probably look like this:


And your children might be slightly horrified, yet fascinated by your wonky eye.

Why I keep her

Today after I put Bubs to bed for his nap, I sat finishing lunch when Fia came pitter-pattering past, stopped and threw her arms around me and said, "You're lovely Mommy".

And I said, "You're welcome to live here forever." Then she skipped off to play.

Did you know Halloween is right around the corner?

We visited the pumpkin patch for our annual pumpkin-picking visit and pumpkins we did pick. Then we continued to our favorite little college town for breakfast. We played in the coolest toy store ever and found a new favorite -- The Dusty Bookshelf, a used bookstore with an impressive children's book section. I found a copy of Snow White and Rose Red that I remember reading as a kid and that one find seriously made me day.

But back to Halloween...here are some of my favorite new ideas I've come across online:

Whimsical Halloween pixie, found here

I've often thought Fia had a little pixie in her...

White pumpkins on pedestals found here, and banner letters from Martha Stewart.

Me + The Killers + the windows down in E's car = 90

Make sense? No? Well here's how it breaks down. First there's me, an upstanding, law-abiding citizen. Usually. Me, trying to bang out a few errands while Bubs napped. Now add The Killers, cranked. And I do mean cranked because when I'm alone in the car that's how I like it. Wanna make something of it? Add a lovely 75-ish sort of autumn day that just begs to be enjoyed with the windows open and what you've got there is Janna, cranking The Killers and driving 47 mph in a 35 mph limit with the windows open. And here is my certificate of achievement. And a $90 fine.

And it really is quite an accomplishment since I've never even earned myself a parking ticket. I'm going to hang this up in a gilt frame in my entryway. Ha ha! Joke's on you, officer! And here you thought you were going to ruin my day. Fess up. You just don't appreciate The Killers, do you?

Shiner

(The Shiner, Insider's Guide: There is no fantastic story behind this injury. He went down when Fia when up. And as it turns out, Fia's head is rather hard.)

See a resemblance?

What have we been up to? Why, creating an eco-friendly dollhouse, that's what.

I saw this tiny dollhouse idea on Angry Chicken and thought we'd give it a go. Fia loves the outcome, complete with sparkly wallpaper and carpets. And she's pretty proud to have done most of the painting. Wonderboy wants a house of his own too. I picked one up for him, but I'll try to steer him toward boyish colors, or E will probably have a cow. Anyway, it's perfect for anyone looking for a more environmentally friendly way of life for their dolls. I'm thinking with just one up and one down, the dolls will be forced to live a simpler life and in turn, leave a smaller carbon footprint.

An Ivory Tower of Intellectualism? Last Bastion of Witty Intellectual Banter? Oh yeah.

Leave it to Roblogger to find this site: Blog Readability Test

It ranks my blog as...

And that's because of that one time when I used the word "gigglefest", I'm pretty sure.

And I was all, Wahoo! Look at me writing at college-level, (which is good since I did graduate from college, to the best of my knowledge) until I looked at Scully's blog and Julie Tellin Tales, (not to mention a blog E started that is so lame with just one lousy entry, it's not even worth linking)...and got jealous. Really jealous:

And then the whole thing got me thinking about the other night when E was watching The First 48 and this teenage gang-member, under suspicion for murder, told the investigator he "was copacetic" about the whole thing. Copacetic? Are you freakin' kidding me?

And I'm pretty sure my status should be upgraded to "Some Graduate Level Reading" now given that I just included five hyperlinks in this post (and found a way to insert the word Copacetic!!), and dang it, that should be worth something.

Where's mah shotgun?

So, these mysterious tears began to appear in the cushions of our patio chairs this spring and I was really puzzled about the cause of the damage. And then word began to spread around the neighborhood of a crazy raccoon attacking unsuspecting folks in their yards and I wondered if that same raccoon was hanging out in my yard at night, and, well, sort of using an intimidation tactic on me by shredding the cushions in the middle of the night. It could happen, right? And then the cushions got worse and worse. And then we realized what was happening one day when fearless Daisy was yipping and twitching at the back door. And this is what we discovered:

And then I released my fierce Basset and she went into immediate attack mode, but then those ears got in the way and she was just a tumbling head-over-heals mess of stubby legs and waggly ears, and the squirrel got away. And now most of the fluffy contents of my chair cushions are somewhere high up in our trees where this guy's got a pretty cozy pad by now, I'd imagine.

That doggone, low-down, good-for-nuthin, dirty, rotten, stinkin' rodent...

When your number's up

Those three inch tall brownies? Well they nearly killed my daughter today. Twice.

First they fell off the top of the fridge when Fia threw open the freezer looking for Popsicles for dessert. The pan slammed into her face and overturned on the floor. E ran to the aid of the brownies, I ran to the aid of my 4 year old who had a nosebleed. When the tears were dried and we resumed dinner, Wonderboy revisited the idea of dessert. E grumbled, "Dessert's in the trash."

"Oh, you know Daddy's gonna eat that after you go to bed." I replied. I couldn't help myself.

And he did. Wonderboy, Fia and daddy enjoyed Floor Brownies with ice cream. I know what's been on that floor and how often that floor is cleaned. I did not eat the Floor Brownies.

Later at bed time, things quickly deteriorated, as they always do, and one of us had to intervene...as we always do. The fiesta was in full swing in Fia's room. Wonderboy had filled her footed, zipper pajamas with toys. I extracted all toys, and then zipped up her bellybutton in the zipper. Crying jag numero dos.

Turned out the lights and asked her to lay down and sleep, (please, please, please???) and then made my way down the stairs. By the time my fanny was settled back on the sofa, bloodcurdling screams erupted. I sprung back up, stairs two at a time, and discovered her wedged between the head of the bed and wall. She wailed between sobs, "I was trying to get cozy and I fell down!!" I pried her out and pleaded with her to do her very best to survive the night.

E was chortling as I explained. Turns out Daddy pulled the bed from the wall looking for books. And then I guess maybe he lost himself in thoughts of brownies and ice cream and forgot to move the bed back. Brownies strike again.

The brownie pan is in the sink. We're done with brownies around here. At least for now. But I'll be watching carefully to see what food item turns lethal tomorrow.

A little Sunday counting exercise

1 - The number of times I watched "Billy Elliot" after kids have gone to bed. One of my all time favorite movies. I would have absolutely no problem with either of my lads learning ballet (or ballee). And then they could go to the Royal Ballee School. And then I would sit in the audience and weep through Swan Lake.

And I have a fair amount of regret over the fact that I didn't name one of them Billy so I could yell "GO BILLY!!" at will.

2 - Boxes of brownies cooked in one giant pan. The result: three inch tall brownies. Evidence of E's shear genius? I think so.

3 - Number of juicy, resounding belches proudly released by Wonderboy during dinner.

4 - Glasses of pink bubbly drunk to fuel those juicy, resounding belches. Note to self: water is a suitable dinner beverage.

5 - Number of adult human beings invited for dinner, to enjoy an evening of Wonderboy's symphonic belching. We don't do this often. It is noteworthy.

6 - Twisty crayons lobbed forcefully, and with gleeful abandon, at the new family one row back in Sacrament meeting by Bubs. Hey-do! Welcome to the ward. Betchya didn't ever think a crayon could take an eye out, eh?

It has been raining for five days

...and we're B O R E D.

No, really. It's been raining, and raining, and raining,

and raining...