Word of the Day: IGNORITATED

As in "I'm ingnoritated at you Mommy!"

Revision: Bubby does not love Amoxicillan after all.

New love...Benadryl.

The magic of irrigation:

Say whaaa? Yes, irrigation. Grandma and Grandpa have used a canal to irrigate their lawns as long as I can remember, and I would guess much longer than that really. Grandpa opens up the lines from the canal located behind their home and the water begins to flow through large pipes onto the lawn and over the whole property until the grass lies beneath a couple inches of water. If you're completely heebie-jeebied out by the occasional worm floating past your bare piggies (which I often was as a kid) you might not like irrigation day. However, I have realized how extremely cool irrigation day really is since I was able to take the children there to experience for themselves while we were in UT. The kids loved it. The dogs loved it. I loved it. Grandpa exercised tremendous restraint and did not start a water fight. Bummer. It was practically the next best thing to a trip to the beach, really. And you get the added perk of a shared ice cream cone with Great-Grandpa!

I have great memories of my grandparents and their home. It always seemed magical to me in countless ways. I hope my children will have a few wonderful memories of their own of the fun we've had with their Great-Grandparents.

"I want to grow up to be a cowboy...

...and live in the mountains where I can YODEL all day long. I love to yodel. I will also catch bad guys when I'm a cowboy."

He cracks me up.

Daddy's coming home!!

This is one girl who doesn't like when Daddy must travel. She tells him on the phone, "I very miss you long time Daddy!" An old castoff cell phone has been firmly affixed to her ear quite a lot this week so she can give Daddy - who apparently has just spent the whole week hanging on the line - a moment by moment play by play of the goings on around here. Especially any goings on that involve her pesky older brother and the many offenses he has committed at her expense. How many times has she come to me whimpering about something Wonderboy did, and with those enormous blue eyes demanded that we call Daddy right now and TELL HIM TOO!? Well, too darn many. That's how many.

Come home Daddy! This one is a Daddy's girl for sure.

Sometimes a self-imposed time-out is just the thing...

...How cute is that???

So let's just suppose...

...that a certain 9 month old, who shall remain nameless, rudely poops in the bathtub. And let's also say that at the time of the incident, he is accompanied by a certain squeamish 3 year old and a 5 year old. Should one's response be:

a. Begin squealing at such a high pitch that neighborhood dogs begin to howl in despair. Scream repeatedly, "Poopy, poopy, POOOOOPYYYYY!!!!" while scrambling out of the bathtub, a look of utter disgust and horror on one's face. Stand there dripping with mouth agape while revolting event unfolds. Face registers distaste, but body is otherwise frozen in disbelief.

b. Act completely revolted, but laugh hysterically while perched on edge of bathtub, just out of reach of the now murky water. While giggling, shout "Gross ! Oohhhh that's disgusting! That's sooooo gross! Oh yuck! He's squishing it! OOOHHHH! Don't EAT it Finn!!!" Commit to tell every living, breathing human being you come into contact with over the next 72 hours every nasty little detail, and even embellish a bit to make the telling even more remarkably disgusting.

or...

c. Shuffle about in bewilderment. Helplessly grab a wet wipe as this may be the only weapon your poor, sleep-deprived brain can offer up to you as a possible solution to the current problem. Make mental note of the 68 bath toys you will need to soak in a Clorox bath when incident is somehow brought under control. Open tub drain and pray most 'bits' will clear the small drain openings. 'Bits' that don't clear are smeared about by the previously mentioned, useless wet wipe. Use the nearest vessel (the cat's water dish) to wash remaining debris down drain and refill bathtub in order to begin disinfecting the offending 9 month old. Grouchily try to coax the two remaining ship-jumpers (one is still giggling mercilessly, the other is still absolutely horrified) into the shower to begin their own disinfecting process.

In fact, all three responses happened simultaneously. I'll leave it to you to determine who was responsible for each reaction...

Disclaimer: The above photo was NOT taken at the time of the incident. The above photo is of a much happier and more sanitary bath shared at Grandma and Grandpa J's house.