SlushTurtle

Count Your Blessings

2011-02-08T13:34:00.002-07:00

True story: It took me approximately five minutes to remember how to log into blogger so I could post this. Wow. I'm pathetic and my memory is definitely not what it used to be. Of course, L's been telling me this for years. Years, I tell you!

I got this little poem in an email today and I liked it. As a person who really, really enjoys dwelling on the negatives when given a chance, I need to remember to, well, not do that. And I need a lot of reminders. I'm also thinking this will be some good copy work for my #1 student one of these days. Tee hee... And speaking of said student, he needs someone to get him back on track with his current copy work ("It is not a bad rip, but rips are not fun if you get wet. Don and Jill set up two cots in the tent.").

Count Your Blessings-Author Unknown

Count your blessings instead of your crosses;

Count your gains instead of your losses.

Count your joys instead of your woes;

Count your friends instead of your foes.

Count your smiles instead of your tears;

Count your courage instead of your fears.

Count your full years instead of your lean;

Count your kind deeds instead of your mean.

Count your health instead of your wealth;

Count on God instead of yourself.

In Which I Cannot Think Of An Interesting Title...

2010-01-26T14:15:00.003-07:00

Apparently, H2 heard me ask my Mom to bring her steam cleaner by yesterday evening. I know this, because he felt free to poop all over the floor in his room at some point during the night. Thanks for that, kid.

In other news, I'm in love with this lemonade I discovered in some hippie e-book I downloaded. We'll call it Hippie Lemonade. And if you are like me (i.e., in some long ago, pagan time, you would have pledged yourself to the temple of some sugary beverage and served for many a year with sugary devotion), you will love it. And it has like, no calories. Ok, maybe a few from the lemon juice, but I'm going with the few enough in a single serving to count method of figuring. Me and the FDA.

Hippie Lemonade
2 lemons
water
stevia

Juice the two lemons (you want fresh, not the bottle stuff), and pour in a 2 qt container. Fill the rest of the container with water. Add stevia and enjoy (well, maybe stir it first...) For my stevia and my tastebuds, I use about 1/2 teaspoon. You'll need to experiment with your brand of stevia, probably.

Oh, Bother...

2010-01-20T10:25:00.002-07:00

I'm not doing to well with my resolution, am I? If it makes you feel any better, my other resolution has gone to pot as well. Today was supposed to be my first time back to the gym in about 23 years. Alas, I stayed up too late with L watching the Millionaire Matchmaker last night, and the ensuing sleeping in threw my whole day off. Have seen her, by the way? She's so mean. It's like a train wreck I can't turn away from.

So, now I'm waiting for the nutjobs to finish their lunches, then we are off to WalMart, then to get my allergy shot (which I can no longer get between the hours of 11 and 1, and guess when I have always gone to get it...), then home for the little monster to nap whilst Hatchling and I finish school. We're a bit behind, having taken off Monday since Daddy was home and having taken off yesterday because Hatchling lost the ability to preform fundamental tasks, such as clean his room within the very strict 5 hour time limit. Never fear, though! Boy buckled down in my bathroom floor and did all three days worth of math while I got ready this morning, so we'll catch up on language arts (reading/writing for you non-homeschoolers) this afternoon. Our readings I don't worry about, since we are usually ahead on those anyway. My kids love to be read to! In fact, Hatchling will always choose to quit playing Wii a few minutes early if it means he gets bedtime stories (which are really just school masquerading as bedtime stories, bwa ha ha).

Welcome to January!

2010-01-07T09:46:00.003-07:00

Greetings, Earthlings! How is 2010 shaping up for you so far? My personal resolution this year, besides losing weight (like any good American), is to blog more. I'm not off to a bang up start, I know, but I'm doing the best I can, OK?

Today, I shall tell you all about my favorite Christmas present. It's timely, considering it is insanely cold here, and the cold makes me want to curl up into a ball and die a frozen death. Dear God, why was I not born in Hawaii? Are mild southern winters to be the thorn in my flesh? But I digress...

My lovely sister, who lives in that most frozen state of Colorado, got me the bestest socks ever. Ever, people. I mean, if you don't have these socks, you just aren't living up to your full potential. So without further ado, here they are!

These are some sort of snowboarding socks, or some such silly sport in which I would most likely incur a mortal wound from which I would never recover. That's the thing with mortal wounds, you know- you just don't get better. But about my socks! They are from Smartwool, and they are insanely expensive. Like, over twenty bucks a pair. BUT, oh so worth it.

True confession: since opening my socks on Christmas Eve, I've been wearing them something like 5 days a week, with a day or two off for washing. Isn't that disgusting? I can't help it, I love them so much. They keep me warm all the way to my knobby little knees, and they bring me all kinds of joy. You should go order yourself a pair, so you can have the joy, too. I should order myself another pair so I can have even more joy. Let's all order socks today, as we sit inside and freeze our little tushies off! It's retail therapy at its finest, no?

I really should order H2 some, for when he sees his coat in my hands, he starts crying and screaming, "Scary!" Apparently, little Guatemalans feel like I do about the cold. Perhaps even a bit more vehemently. No playing in the snow for that kid!

We're Ba-ack!

2009-09-22T19:07:00.008-06:00

We're back from a week at the happiest place on Earth. The place where your children will scream, cry, throw kicking tantrums in every imaginable public place, use abhorrent table manners, and in general, make you look like an awful parent. And as an added bonus- you get to pay out the nose for this treatment! But when you have these sweet vacation photos to look back on, you convince yourself it was all worth it!

Oh, I had so much fun with my Mom for a whole week. Even though she lives just a few minutes away, I don't get to see her nearly enough. I'm trying to get her to move into our spare room (I haven't told L that yet, but I'm certain he wouldn't mind). Thanks for putting up with us for a week, Mom!

On our way we down, we missed not one but TWO connections. So instead of getting to the parks by 2, we barely made our 5:40 dinner reservation at Chef Mickey's. We did make it though, which was good because it was the only character meal we had scheduled for the whole week.

H2 is not sure what to think...

Here we are in Animal Kingdom, in our matching Tilly hats. Aren't we cute? And can I just tell you, I could just eat L up when I watch him walk around all day in his Tilly hat. Between the hat and the dimple, I'm milk toast. Or at least, I think that's what I am- I'm not entirely sure what milk toast is. But I think it's what i am. And it's OK- we're married, so I can feel that way.

Ever wonder what trouble looks like?

Hatchling in his homemade poncho for Kali River Rapids. Once you've walked around for one afternoon in the Florida humidity, soaked to the skivvies, you'll think twice about doing it again.

The boys meet Pluto...

And Donald. See those backpacks? I got them for five bucks a piece, ironed on a little Disney patch, and wrote their names on them in fabric marker. Then, we had the characters sign them- instead of some cheesy autograph book that wouldn't last the month (boys are hard on things). Hatchling still has all the papers from his last autograph book, and likes to look at them, but I thought this was a little more fun (read: durable). It was a problem when Goofy got rained on whilst signing- the ink won't run after it dries, but it apparently will before it has time to dry. We got him to re-sign on a different day, and we're going to get Hatchling a second patch to cover up the goof(y).

I kid you not- I was close enough to hear, and Hatchling is whispering to Minnie that her dress is just beautiful. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Gigolo of the Year, 2022...

We also went to Playhouse Disney Live at Hollywood Studios. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is H2's 2nd favorite thing in the world (#1 being Thomas the Tank Engine, #3 being his family). Seeing all his favorite characters in the flesh (so to speak) was more than he could take in. He sat with his little mouth hanging open the entire time, and leaving the show induced a rather astonishing fit, even for the Angry Guatemalan. He would not be soothed. He wanted Mouse (I feel sure he would have said he wanted Mouse, dammit, if only he had the expansive vocabulary to do so. I wonder- if I teach my children to swear, will they be less likely to have breakdowns, or will they just have more colorful breakdowns? Kidding!).

My absolute favorite part of the week was the Mickey's Not So Scary Halloween Party. In case you don't know, this is where the Magic Kingdom closes down unless you have a special (read: extra cost) ticket that allows you to be there. Kids (and grown ups) are encouraged to dress up, there is a special parade and fireworks, and you get to trick or treat all over the park. As an added bonus, the park is pretty empty, so you can ride all the rides you want with virtually no lines. Also, it's cool, which was a rare experience during our sweltering, sweaty week.

We had with us a strikingly handsome Woody...

And this cute little LGM (he was a huge hit on the Buzz Lightyear ride).

Cute little buggers, aren't they?

I can't say enough about MNSSHP- if you ever have a chance, GO! I loved the parade. Somehow, L managed to not get pics of my two favorite parts of the parade, both from the Haunted Mansion part (I might fire him, if not for that Tilly hat). I loved the Haunted Mansion dancers and also the Grave Diggers, who occasionally scraped their shovels on the ground and made sparks. It was way cool, and the fact that it rained right till the start of the parade and was a little foggy only made it cooler. You can see last year's parade here- the Haunted Mansion sequence starts about 4:20

I even had to buy this , so the kids and I could have some great Halloween music to listen too.

Here, a Sea Serpent sneaks up on H2. They're both too cute for words, no?

Slush's favorite- MNSSHP
Slush's Mom's favorite- MNSSHP
Hatchling's favorite- Rides without any darkness
H2's favorite- I'm guessing Playhouse Disney
L's favorite- two evenings spent alone with me, walking around parks and doing nothing but enjoying one anther's company (This answer was given with no pause for thought and total sincerity- now, don't I feel bad about my answer!)

Hello, September!

2009-09-05T20:32:00.003-06:00

Did you know that September is my favorite month? And September 15th, it's my favorite day of the year. This is because it's smack dab in the middle of my favorite month. I like the symmetry. Symmetry soothes me. Asymmetry makes me feel cranky and crabby and alone in a vast wilderness. Also, L proposed to me on my favorite day in my favorite month, and he didn't even know about the lovefest I had with September. I quickly told him (and I said yes), and he thanked his lucky stars. Or, so I choose to believe.

I've been busy lately. Would you believe that I only downloaded (uploaded?) our pictures from Colorado yesterday? I have had something of a procrastination bug lately. Really, for the past 35 years or so, but who's counting? I'd show you some, but we took our smaller camera, and I just don't like the quality enough to post them. We will definitely be taking the Nikon to Disney World, and we leave a week from today. L, the boys, myself AND my Mom!!! Yippee skippy doo! I love the World. And I love packing. I think I have a sickness. Speaking of which, have you guys seen that PBS show Windsor Castle, A Royal Year? My favorite part is where the maids are packing for the Queen and they individually wrap all her clothes in fresh tissue paper, so it won't wrinkle. It is utterly awesome, and I'd really like to spend some time with those maids.

Other things I've been doing lately include canning copious amounts of tomatoes. I made a years worth of pizza sauce, and for days the house smelled very much like an Italian restaurant. I also made tomato sauce and Italian flavored diced tomatoes. I would like to make some more diced tomatoes, but alas, my little tomato man has run out of tomatoes. Can you imagine? I also canned salsa, peach salsa, peach jam, peach butter, and chicken stock. I am a domestic goddess. In the meantime, my stove is giving up the ghost. After spending hundreds of dollars to fix the self-cleaning oven (which, by the way, wasn't remotely fixed), my warming drawer, warming zone and favorite burner have broken. So a new range is on the horizon. Obviously, I've been trying to talk L into a Lacanche, but alas, I've been unsuccessful. The other day, I was telling him about my dream if we were to stay in this house, which is to knock out the dining room and extend the kitchen. I would double the refrigerator size to one of those ginormous commercial ones, double the pantry, build a giant appliance pantry where all my toys could live (and work plugged in without necessarily having to travel to some countertop somewhere) and, naturally, have a 6 burner Lacanche or La Cornue stove with a majorly powerful hood that was (gasp) actually vented to the outside. He laughed and rolled his eyes a little, but hey, it's my dream, and I can stock it with a 25k stove if I want to. So there. That's the great thing about dreams, no?

H1 started official homeschool kindergarten a few weeks ago. We've been going a little slow to start with, so that Hatchling and Mommy can both ease into things. So far, so good. We signed up for our local homeschool co-op on Thursday, where H1 will be taking some kindergarten thing, Spanish 1, Storytime Crafts (where H2 and I will be helpers), and Historical Heroes. Hatchling is very excited, and his new (to us) Buzz Lightyear backpack with attachable lunch box is the highlight of his recent life. You know, until we go to Disney World and he gets his light saber, which he's been saving for all summer. H1 has assured me that although school is not always fun, he never ever never wants to go to one of those "desk schools." I have no idea where he came up with this name, but that's what he calls them. While we do school, H2 alternates between watching Mouse (Mickey Mouse Clubhouse) and coloring and jabbering as if he is answering questions. And they both have to have a sticker at the end of school each day, or else. H1 likes math, but he doesn't like reading (he's doing really well, but concentration isn't so much his forte) and he hates writing (though he's made HUGE strides already, so I'm thinking this is going to get better for him soon). So there's our school update. And now I must leave you and do other things.

What I did this summer...

2009-08-03T15:19:00.004-06:00

Gracious, summer is kicking me in the rear!

The family of Slush loaded up in the car a couple of weeks ago and headed to that dreaded state of Colorado to see my squirrely little sister and her family. 12 hours, my friends. You know you really and truly love your family when you willingly spend 12 hours at a time in a small car with my boys. I've decided to tell you about my vacation in the form of letters. There are no pictures to accompany them because I've been suffering from jet lag from the 1 hour time change for the last week, and I haven't managed to budge the camera from it's spot on L's desk. It may be something other than jet lag. I'm sticking with jet lag though, even though we didn't actually fly. I'm zany that way. Jet lag. Just had to get that in one more time in this paragraph...

Dear Boulder,

Your farmer's market had me at hello. Oh the produce! The leafy greens, the raw cheeses, the fresh breads and even the kombucha! And the smells! Oh delicious, smells! You made me weak in the knees, and I was loathe to leave you. Do you think you could give L a job at your Google office so I could be one with you, for always? Pretty please?

Lovelorn back in Arkansas, Slush

Dear Cherry Creek Mall,

I knew as I passed the valet parking on my way to the solid granite changing table that this was not the mall for me. This was only solidified by the La Cornue stove in your Williams Sonoma. L is so lucky that the smallest one is too large for my 30" stove opening. Looking at you and caressing your beautiful surface made me feel a little like I was cheating on my husband. Only he was right there watching, so I guess that made me something of a swinger? It's all too convoluted to understand. I love you, but it's just not going to work out between us. Could you please tell the puppy mill store that I will miss them too? I love all those wiggly balls of fur, and I don't care where they came from. And if I had an extra $600 after I purchased my stove, I'd take one home.

Longingly, Slush

Dear King Soopers,

Why isn't it Super, or Supers? I'm really disturbed by your spelling choices, so please enlighten me. The spelling is the only thing I found wrong with your store. Oh, the incredible offerings you offer! Kombucha, Mexican Coke by the bottle, organic everything you could imagine, plus all the stuff a regular grocery store has to offer too! My brother in law mocked me when I said you were my favorite part of the trip, but I miss you King. Can I call you King? I feel like we're old friends, separated by a cruel twist of fate. My sister doesn't appreciate you. She doesn't love you like I do. Come to Arkansas, please? I promise we'll be best friends, forever and ever.

Crying about my available grocery choices,
Slush

Dear Kansas,

You are windswept and boring. There is a certain prettiness to you, and I love trying to guess what all those crops are and to pretend that the dry, scraggly ones are the GM crops, and the lush bountiful ones are organic. But frankly, that's only entertaining for a few hours at best. Do you think you could get more interesting? The windmills help, but you've still got a ways to go.

Bored by you,
Slush

In Which I Am a (crazed) Boat Owner

2009-06-17T15:24:00.004-06:00

Last Saturday, L had the gall, the gall!, to leave me alone all.day.long. with our squirrely children whilst he and a friend traipsed off to look at a boat. Can you imagine? I was whiny and irritated. My whininess and irritation were not helped when he informed me later that his friend's wife mowed the lawn while they were gone. I informed him haughtily that she probably didn't make homemade yogurt, a loaf of bread, a pizza crust and hot dog buns while he was gone, so there. Plus, it's in my marriage contract that I don't do lawns. No sirree.

L called about 4 to say he was almost home and to get ready to go for a sail. Actually, he didn't say sail. He knows about boats. I do not, so I feel free to use words like 'sail' when in fact, there is no sail or sailing to be had on our boat. And also actually, only half of the boat is ours. The other half belongs to the friend of L's. Thankfully, the friend will allow us to use his half, and we will allow him to use our half, so there is one whole and hopefully floating vessel at all times. So there. Where was I? Oh yes, so we quickly ate (a healthy and homecooked meal, no less) and got all our gear together. The boat came with some life jackets, so we didn't have to run out and buy those on the way (though I have since procured special type II pfd's for my children, because after all, I am my mother's daughter).

Another friend of L's came with us for our maiden voyage (friend 1 going home and getting the boat the next day), because apparently it is something of a problem that I can neither drive a boat NOR park a car with a boat trailer attached. In fact, I can barely park L's car at all, sans trailer. Hence the necessity of our friend. In future, this could be dicey. L is going to instruct me in boat driving this weekend, I believe. But really, I'd rather him just do it all. See, I think he can back the trailer in the water, jump into the boat, drive it back around the dock, tie it up, and go park his car while I wait like a princess. Isn't he lucky to be married to me? OK, maybe he's not so lucky. But I love him a lot, and he's stuck with me, so there. And I'm willing to try driving the boat, so maybe I'll be a natural.

Our boat looks like this (though I think this is a newer version):

It seats 8 people or so and has that nice little top (a bimini, see I know about boats!). It is very, very loud, and I wonder if I should make the kids wear ear plugs so they don't get hearing damage? My poor children, they will be geeky even on the lake. Really, they don't stand a chance. Also, I fear the children will be bounced right out the back when we hit bumps, so I've also contemplated some sort of tethering system. I know! I'm insane. Really, I can't help it!

Have I ever told you guys how I feel about lakes in general, and Beaver Lake in particular? See, I think it's full of bodies. Bodies just waiting to pop up next to you or be stepped upon by your unsuspecting feet. And let me tell you, the day I step on a body is probably the day that I have to be committed for good. Did you know that Cornelius Vanderbilt committed his wife for 3 months because she didn't want to move out of the house she loved into a boring house in town so that he could keep the country house, presumably, for his serial philandering? He wasn't a very nice man, the Commodore. This is your history lesson for today.

Why do I think lakes are full of bodies, you are probably wondering? Well, just think about how many people disappear at the lake, and you rarely hear about any of them being found. And also, imagine all the disease and filth being put off by these scores of rotting bodies. Funnily enough, oceans don't bother me, because I figure the tides move everything around so my chance of stepping on dead bodies is greatly lessened. And sharks. I figure the sharks take care of a few bodies too. I'm not so excited about the swimming possibilities, is what I'm saying.

So we have a boat, life jackets, dead bodies, and me, the princess. It should make for a fun summer, no?

What do you know...

2009-06-09T11:39:00.002-06:00

I feel that it is worth noting that the Huffington Post has an article I can actually support. It's a magical day here in Slushville...

I Heart Israel

2009-06-01T20:06:00.002-06:00

U.S. State Department, "Stop building in Jerusalem."

Israel, “I have to admire the residents of Iroquois territory for assuming that they have a right to determine where Jews should live in Jerusalem.”

Bah ha ha.

A Big Bag O' Crazy... In Two Parts

2009-05-28T17:50:00.006-06:00

Part One:

Do you know that I have an obsession with luggage? It's true. I like to look at it, shop for it, buy it, cajole L into letting me buy more, and browse for it on the internet. I may even get emails whenever a certain company releases new models of luggage. And don't even get me started on T.J. Max and their intoxicating selection. I have a problem, okay? With unlimited funds, I would doubtless be the Imelda Marcos of luggage. Maybe it has to do with my packing dysfunctionality.

For several years now, I've been jonesing for some Briggs and Riley luggage. Oh, sweet mother of all packing receptacles. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I used to drag L to the mall just so we could go the travel store and I could handle the goods. Gracious, that is some nice luggage.

The boys and I went to the WalMart associates store today, which is where they sell stuff that is cosmetically lacking or a little broken or a sample from a vendor, etc, and you have to be an associate or associate's spouse to get in. L can never, ever quit working the occasional Saturday for the man. I couldn't face the loss of my discount card or the special WalMart store, as Hatchling calls it. As soon as I walked in, I was smack-dab in front of a huge display of used laptop bags for $10 each. Exciting, no? But I'm tactile in the worst way, so of course I ran my hand over the (dirty, broken and sad) bags, and then plucked one from the pile. Then I saw the words I dream about blazened on the front: Briggs and Riley. I nearly keeled over from the happiness right then and there. I handed the boys the entire jumbo package of orange Tic Tacs which I had been slowly doling out, and let them go to town.

Oh sweet heaven, was it new? I thought it was. The only problem I could find was that it was missing a carrying strap, and look, there were thirty million other bags from which I could parse one of those. Can I use parse in that sense? I going to anyway, so get over it. I dilligently looked through the ginormous pile for another Briggs and Riley, but alas, there was only a sea of decrepit Dell and Samsung and Sucksonite bags. I finally settled on a strap from one (with a gelly comfort thingy for my shoulder), and then I clipped it to my new laptop bag and was on my merry way. I did ask a worker if this was OK, and she looked at me like I was insane and told me to do whatever I wanted. Apparently, I was the first person to get giddy over used laptop bags today.

I brought it home, and to my delight, it actually fits my laptop (no, it actually never occured to me to wonder this at the store, not for one little second). Wonder of wonders! I did discover a wee bit of wear on the inside, so I know it was used, but it is nothing I wouldn't have done in one trip anyway. L immediatly suggested I try and sell it on ebay, to which I haughtily responded that it was the only piece of Briggs and Riley which I own, and I will not be parting with it lightly or anytime soon. So there.

And no, I don't particularly need a laptop bag. I mean, I'm a stay at home mom. When we travel, the laptop goes in the computer backpack with all of our other crap. I have no need to tote Penelope around town with me. She likes it just fine sitting on the ottoman of my monkey chair. Regardless, I have a rocking laptop bag, and I'm feeling pretty happy about it. Here it is on ebags, in case you are unfamiliar with the lovelieness that is Briggs and Riley. Look at your own risk. Someday, L is going to buy me a complete set in red. He just doesn't know it yet.

Part Two:

I am taking the boys to a skating party this Saturday. This will be their first foray into the wonders of skating limbo, the free skate, and the skating hokey pokey. Enter the crazy. We have some little Fisher Price skates that snap on over their shoes which we use on the sidewalk outside. When we go out, I have no problem making them suit up in pads and helmets. Since Hatchling is blessed with the grace and athletic ability of his mother, he needs them. Oh, how the poor little guy needs them. Pillows strapped to his bottom would also not be out of line.

So- do I make them wear helmets at the skating rink? Do people do this? I don't want my kids to be social outcasts (and I mean, come on, we're homeschooling, so we're probably walking the line already), but I don't want to come home with traumatic brain injuries, either. I haven't been to the skating rink in years- is there any chance other crazy people make thier kids wear helmets when they skate? Anyone? Yeah, I didn't think so. L says to do it, but he's not going to be there to take the heat for the weird kids, either. I have asked H2's opinion, but all I got was 'choo choo.. num num.. milk... choo choo.'

Well said, my little friend. Well said.

A Hatchling Story, to round things out:

I took the boys to the park last week, to meet up with our homeschool group. You know, so they can get socialized and my Mom won't worry so much. Anyway, no one from our group was there that day, but there were three little boys and their mother. They were 10, 8 and 7. Hatchling immediately started bossing them around, and they actually went along with it pretty well. Then I heard him announce, "Ok, everyone up in the clubhouse. We're going to play school and I'm your teacher. You may call me Mr. Hatchling. And you must raise your hands if you have a question while I am teaching you." He waited while they took their seats at his feet. The younger ones looked uncomfortably to their big brother, who finally piped up and said, "We don't want to play school! We got out today because we had to go to the dentist! No school for us!!!"

Hatchling was taken aback. Who were these strange creatures who did not want to play school? He looked pensive, then asked, "You don't like school? Really?"
Kids: NO!
Hatchling: Is your mommy your teacher?
Kids: Ummm... no...
Hatchling, looking like he has solved the world's problems: That's probably why. If your mommy was your teacher, you would know how fun school is.
Kids look at me doubtfully. End scene.

Glurg

2009-05-26T20:51:00.004-06:00

I am thinking about/planning/procrastinating a search for H2's birth mother. In her interview with our agency, she said she would like to receive some photos. And yes, since H2 is now 2.5 years old, I have put it off long enough, and I know that I'm a terrible person. So you don't need to tell me that. And I would have done it before- but it's honestly really expensive. Like maybe more than a thousand buckaroos. Which I don't happen to have hidden in a cookie jar. And it's hard- mentally and physically.

So, I have to find a person to conduct said search.

Then I have to write a letter. Dear birth mother, thank you for our son. Sorry it sucks to be you. Love, Slush. Just kidding. Hold those flaming arrows.

Then I have to find pictures to include which: include shoes (this is a Guatemalan thing, and we live in Arkansas...); don't look dangerous, snotty or ratty; make H2 look happy and healthy (which he is, so this one at least is easy).

Then I have to have the letter translated into Spanish, send it to Guatemala with my big fat check, and wait to see what happens. Maybe they can't find her. Maybe they find her and she doesn't want to hear from us again. Maybe they find her and she starts asking for money because we are 'rich Americans.' Ha ha ha. But seriously, it's a valid concern. Or maybe she wants to have a great relationship with her son and a lifelong bond is formed. See- I can be optimistic. It's just not easy for me.

So, with these thoughts in my little head (and really, I wear and extra, extra small bike helmet), I wish for some sand in which to stick my head. I wouldn't need much.

No shoes! Impending danger! This one won't do.

PSA #147

2009-05-13T12:24:00.002-06:00

When one is going to vacuum, one should not put Rosie in the room the vacuum is kept in to mop directly beforehand. Or perhaps, one did not really intend to vacuum today, but wanted to feel one was going to vacuum, and one's subconscious went ahead and took the fall for one's lack of productivity? One may need therapy. One.

Slush... Drug Free and Proud

2009-04-28T11:59:00.002-06:00

A couple of weeks ago, my hands and feet started tingling and going numb. Then one night as I tried to sleep, the shooting pains from my foot up my leg kept me up all night. Now for some background, I've had several reactions/ side effects from medicines in the past few years that have caused this. Once I've stopped taking the medicine, it's always gone away in a day or two. After whining to my in-house pharmacist, he advised me to stop my asthma medicine, which I did. Several days later, I was no better. So I stopped taking my allergy meds too.

Warning: Big tangent: Stopping allergy medication was a big step for me. I've been on at least one daily allergy med, usually more than one, for the last 15 years or so. Ever since I maybe got mono in college and came home for Christmas break and spent the entire time piled up in my Mom's bed feeling miserable and watching TV. The test never came back positive for mono, but the doctor thought that was what it had to be. Ironically, at the time, I had never been kissed. Unless you count that ill-fated double date when I was a junior in high school (I think it was junior year), which consisted of my best friend, her boyfriend, and one of his guy friends. I think the guy's name was Lester. No wait, it was Leonard. We went to see Flatliners, which I thought was a pretty good movie at the time, probably because I've always had a thing for Kiefer Southerland. It's his voice. He should do audio books, don't you think? Anyway, about halfway through the movie, my friend and her boy toy started making out. Really, I didn't care. I was focused on Kiefer. And then in my peripheral vision, this thing started moving through the air towards my face. It was Leonard. Or Lester. Whatever. It was like a big slimy jellyfish had attached itself to my face, and good grief- we hadn't even been holding hands! I pushed him away, and after a few minutes he came back for more, which was just plain stupid on his part. So naturally, I punched him in the stomach and my friend had to get up and leave because she was laughing so hard. On the way to take me home, poor Lester/Leonard got a ticket. Probably not one of his best nights.

So what I'm saying is, I have bad allergies which are worse because I maybe had mono, and I've never been the same since, and stopping my allergy medication is a really big deal to me. Have I lost you yet?

After quitting all this medication, my tingling still wasn't gone. I started doing some research, one of my favorite pastimes, and discovered that many women who have the same IUD as me (Mirena) have had a lot of nasty side effects (including, you guessed it, tingling hands and feet) which their doctors insist could not possibly be caused by their IUD, but which magically went away when they insisted it be removed. And I said well crap, because I just paid to have mine replaced as my 5 years was up from the first one I got after I had Hatchling. Since I was scheduled for my yearly in a couple of days anyway, I talked to L and we decided to get the thing removed, and five days later, my tingling is probably 90% better. I just have it off and on now, and it is not as bad when it is on. And by the way, my doctor was nice about it, but told me there was no way the Mirena was causing my problems.

So I'm less tingly, but now we'll probably be like the Duggar's. Just kidding. I hope. We're going to be using NFP (and yes, that is what we were using when we got pregnant with Hatchling, bahhaha). This time, I'm getting a LadyComp to take the human error out of the whole situation, cause let me tell you, I'm riddled with error. It should be here Thursday. As should my new dishwasher. German engineering and a German appliance guy. I'm all about the German's these days. As for controlling my allergies, I've just been using my neti pot and local honey, and except for a few more sneezes, I'm about the same as I was before. So basically, I've been paying for prescriptions for 15 years that I didn't really need? You know, I'm so good at economics that I should really go into politics, don't you think?

Late

2009-04-23T22:28:00.002-06:00

I have once again waited until it was much to late to do my bible reading. Did I talk about my great bible conversion of recent days? I shall have to see. It's rather sad when one has to read their own blog to remember what one has actually written about, no? Can you become a follower of your own blog? I do not understand this follower thing. However, I am glad to have 3 whole followers. It makes me slightly higher on the chart of beings than "complete and total loser." Maybe "sad but really trying?" So what I'm saying is, I have lots to tell you (none of it is remotely important or exciting, so don't get your hopes up), but I can't, because I have to go read my bible. I skipped last night, because I am a sinner. That's probably why I had all those freaky dreams. Or maybe not. Right. Going now, talk to you soon.

P.S.
Dear followers, aren't you glad I wasted your valuable time to tell you that I have lots to say and I've no intention of saying it now? If I have no followers tomorrow, I'll understand. Love, Slush

In Which I Do A Little Dance

2009-03-30T08:05:00.004-06:00

I just found out that we were upgraded to free dining on our Disney World trip in September. Sweet mother of all dining experiences! We went during free dining two years ago and I spent the entire time coveting it (we booked our trip too late to qualify). At least there's one sin I won't be committing this time!

In other news, as we were driving home from the birthday party late Friday night, Hatchling decided to serenade us with his very own made up bible songs. They were awesome (keep in mind, we're his parents, so our view is obviously skewed...). We had him perform them for us yesterday afternoon in front of the video camera. In the last one, he has some questionable theology about Noah and his ark and the whole reason for the flood. We'll be revisiting that story soon. As for the dancing, well, I have no explanation for that...

Enjoy! Or don't!

In Which I am Totally Random

2009-03-27T10:56:00.003-06:00

It's awfully dark and stormy today. I'm high on paint fumes, to boot. What does to boot mean, anyway? I have no idea.

The painters were here to fix a cosmetic wall problem this morning, and I had them paint the front door too. It's one of those fake wood numbers, and I had no idea how to stain metal, so I was more than happy to pay them to do so. Money may not make you happy, but it sure can fix a lot of nagging little problems in life, eh? Of course, after they stained said door, they told me to leave it open for a couple of hours. Have you ever tried to keep two little boys in the house and out of the street when the front door was beckoning with a wide, gaping portal of escape? It's not easy, my friends. We had to spend the morning upstairs, praying that my noisy little trap (constructed of a dining room chair and some plastic toys) would alert us if anyone tried to come in and steal Penelope (my MacBook Pro). Penelope's still here, the door was closed just as the first drops of fat rain fell from those noisy clouds outside our door, and the monkeys are eating their healthy lunch.

Now, if only Werner, my German appliance guy, would get the part to fix my oven so that it will self-clean again, I'll be in business. And really I have no idea if Werner is German. But when I have imaginary conversations with him in my head, I call him Verner and ask him if he misses his homeland. What? Like you didn't already know I was a complete wackjob?

In other news, my hair could not be frizzier. We're driving to Harrison this afternoon for a birthday party, then back tonight. Oh, and it's supposed to snow 4 inches tomorrow and be in the 50's on Sunday. Welcome to Arkansas.

Grrrr....

2009-03-25T15:27:00.002-06:00

I'm feeling grumpy and out of sorts today. This is assuming that you classify 'today' as the last 4 or so 24-hour periods. I'm extra tired and sleepy, I have no motivation to do much of anything, I'm tired of cooking exciting,delicious and nutritious meals for my family, and I want to run and hide from my children. Oh, and L hurt my feelings yesterday and I'm totally not over it. Don't you wish you could spend some time with me today?

In other news, I can no longer make fun of people with addictions. Hello, my name is Slush and I'm addicted to coke. Coca Cola, that is. Seriously. We don't keep it in the house because I can't be left alone with it. Because of this, as I drive around town, I think of all the places I could 'swing by' on the way home and order a Coke. Fast food places, gas stations, drug stores, supermarkets. There is literally Coke on every corner, just waiting to delight my taste buds. Today as I was driving I decided that a fitting end would be for me to crash into a Coke truck (without my children present, obviously), have my moonroof broken and then have Coke from the truck pour into my car before I could escape, drowning me in that caramel colored liquid (probably preserving me, too).

There's a scary look at my brain today. And now I'm off to take Hatchling's new to him jammies out of the washer and put them into the dryer so they are ready for bedtime, collect the little one from his late nap, and make a delicious and nutritious meal for my family. Exciting, not so much.

Verily, Verily, I Say Unto You

2009-03-18T21:10:00.003-06:00

I have used 6 entire sticks of butter in the last week at Casa Slush. Six. I'm not feeling particularly svelte at the moment. Please don't think less of me.

Guest Post

2009-03-18T08:52:00.002-06:00

Dear Mommy's Friends,

This is Hatchling. I'm writing you to ask you to please stop eating chickens. Chickens make eggs, and I love egg in a hole. I love it a lot. And if you eat all of the chickens, there will be no more eggs. Also, chickens work really hard to make eggs for us, and that is nice. And I bet it hurts their feelings when we kill them and eat them after they do all that work. So please don't eat chickens. I am also praying to God that people will stop eating chickens, because I really love egg in a hole.

Thank you,
Hatchling

(egg in a hole is where you cut a hole in a piece of bread and throw it in a pan of butter, then you break an egg in the hole and cook it up good. My kids think it is the best thing I make... not sure what that says about me...)

An Ode to Chick-Fil-A

2009-03-16T08:17:00.003-06:00

This exactly sums up my feelings about Chick-Fil-A. I beg L to take us there for lunch every Saturday. If he has said yes, and we can't go for some reason, I've been known to cry. So yeah, I have some problems, but it's not like that is news. Enjoy!

From the same guy, A Homeschool Family. Bah ha ha!

Wacky Dreams

2009-03-14T21:47:00.002-06:00

I had the strangest dream the other night.

In my dream, my mother came in and stood at the foot of my bed and said "I just got an email from Nanny! She said Jesus' spirit is really under attack and she is so worried about him. She wants us to get everyone we know praying for him. She's really worried." I started to jump out of bed, because what kind of Godless heathen doesn't pray for Jesus when he needs help? But then, I realized that Nanny has been dead for almost three years. So I asked the obvious. "Ummm, Mom? Nanny emailed you? How exactly did she do that?" My Mom laughed. "Oh, if the conditions are just right, with a few clouds but not too many, and she can find one low enough to the ground with a laptop on it, she always emails me." Well okay then... not strange at all. I'm so glad we got that out of the way.

I was going to photoshop a picture of Nanny sitting on a cloud with a laptop, but apparently all of my photos of her are hard copies, and let's face it, if we waited for me to learn how to use the scanner, this story would never be told.

Because I Care About Your Enrichment

2009-03-11T10:08:00.002-06:00

OK, this first part has nothing whatsoever to do with your enrichment.

1. This morning, I accidentally dumped about a cup of honey on my steel-cut oats and fresh raspberries. It was awesome, though I have a feeling it upped the calorie content significantly. H2 agreed, and I couldn't feed him his bites fast enough. Mmmmm... honey. That got me to thinking about the spies that went out in the Old Testament and said that the promised land was flowing with milk and honey. Do you think they saw a lot of bovines? Or goats? And bees? Or is that more metaphorical?

2. This whole spring forward thing is kicking me in the tail. I'm in a constant fog, and I can't adjust. It's a good thing I don't have a real job. I might have gotten fired this week.

Now, for your promised enrichment! Aren't you excited? It's because I want you all to be well-rounded, and it might come in handy should you ever make it to final Jeopardy. I've been reading Vienna 1814 by David King this week, and I've marked some interesting facts to share with you all, as I'm guessing you're probably not going to run right out and check it out of the library (it's pretty good, if a little dry in a couple of spots. My big gripe is the way the notes are done, all at the end without footnotes, so you can't look up something you find interesting right when you read it. I'm guess that as a successful author, David King doesn't care what I think, but I hate them all the same). Did you know that during my stint as a history major in college, my favorite of all my majors, I think, I actually took two entire courses covering European history from 1789-1814. It's true. I'm a colossal geek, with a hundred or so hours of electives to prove it. So, without further ado, my notes on Vienna 1814 and the Congress of Vienna:

"Politics is the art of making war without killing anyone." Prince De Ligne I love this quote

Catharine the Great had a "tester," that is a woman who would try out the guardsmen selected for the empress's bedroom. Her name was Anna Protassoff, and she was in town during the congress. Seriously, a tester? How important are you if you can't take the time to figure that out yourself?

Talleyrand, while being dressed and coiffed by 3 valets, would suck in water through his nose and blow it out his mouth into a silver basin, "much the way an elephant uses his trunk." And he often did this with visitors looking on. Ummmm... gross....

The supplies for giving a grand ball at the congress would include no less than: 300 hams, 200 partridges, 200 pigeons, 150 pheasants, 60 hares, 48 boeuf a la mode, 40 rabbits, 20 large white young turkeys, 12 medium-sized wild boar, an assortment of roasted baked and cold meats and other delicacies, including 600 pickled and salted tongues (yuck). Also, a supply of pies and pastries, almond, pistachio, chocolate, Seville orange and French puff-pastry gateaux. Between 2500-3000 liters of olla soup, 2500 biscuits, 1000 almond filled pastries, 60 sponge cakes, and other cakes and sweets. Almond milk, lemonade, chocolate, tea and many kinds of wine. Can you imagine? I can't even cook for 7 other people without having a complete breakdown.

The night before the battle of Waterloo, Napolean stayed in a farmhouse named "Le Caillou." If he had only known about that bald Canadian kid, he would have seen that fortune no longer favored him.

Cooking with Slush

2009-03-09T12:14:00.002-06:00

I've spent the better part of the last three days in the kitchen, and it has the sticky scars and crumb coated floors to prove it.

We hosted our bible study group at our house last night. As hostess, it is your job to fix dinner for however many show up. Other ladies make this look effortless. Somehow, when it is my turn, I manage to make it into a much bigger production. I'm not sure why. Probably because I'm a spastic freak. Oh yeah, I forgot about that... Last time it was at our house, I made a full Indian dinner for the group. I like to think of myself as an ambassador for Indian food and introduce new people to it all the time. You know, kind of like the time we took L's sister and parents to an Indian restaurant in Tulsa and they tried one bite and then sat and watched us while we stuffed our faces. That was awesome. What I'm trying to say is, I usually pick things that require at least a fair amount of preparation.

We have, besides L and myself, 6 other couples in our group. That's a lot of dinnerin! We knew several would be gone this time, and ended up only having 7 people, which is kind of nice because you get to really talk to everyone instead of just exchanging superficial pleasentries. It's also nice becuase everyone fit around our table, which makes it more fun. Otherwise we usually split into a men's table and a women's table.

The evening's menu consisted of my special hamburgers with homemade whole wheat buns, these jalapeno things (don't worry, I wore my gloves), two kinds of dip with chips, and these brownies which I found on Bakerella's site, complete with ganache (a word I only learned a week ago on Celebrity Apprentice- who says reality TV has no value?). I did most of the work on Saturday, making the burgers so they could marinate in all their goodness in fridge, making the buns and brownies, and scooping all the insides out of those jalapenos. I wore my smashing apron and threw in a batch of homemade seasoned bread crumbs just for the heck of it. It was all yum, yum. yummy. I am pretty sure I gained 3.7 pounds yesterday, but we're not going to talk about that or the fact that I was noticeably absent from the gym this morning...

The OTHER thing that has been keeping me in the kitchen is my new VitaMix. Oh sweet mother of all blending machines, have you ever seen one of these babies? I had no idea they existed until about a week ago. L loves juice. Especially that Naked Mango juice. He would have a bottle every day if I let him. I've never been a fan of juice. It's all the goodness of fruit without the stuff that you actually need, like fiber and most of the vitamins and minerals. I don't let the kids have juice at home, and I've always refused to own a juicer for the same reason. You had no idea I was so mean, did you?

The other night, L asked me (after finishing off the two pack of mango juice we had picked up at Sam's) to look for a juicer that kept the good stuff. He had a good point in that he doesn't get nearly enough fruits or vegetables in his diet. After consulting the ladies on the Sonlight board (homeschoolers who seriously know everything, it's amazing), I found VitaMix. It's quite possibly the most expensive blender in the world. Possibly in other worlds, too. However, it's strong enough to chop up an avocado pit (why you would want to, I don't know, but by golly you could), and its blades spin at a whopping 249 miles an hour. That's got to come with some manly bragging rights, as I assured L as I sent him packing off to work so we could pay for it. It can also grind flour out of wheat berries (something I've been hankering to do for a while now, and grain mills are expensive) and it can even make butter out of cream. I need to figure out how to skim the cream off of my raw milk and make some butter. I'm such a pioneer. I'm wildly excited about the butter (in case you couldn't tell). Needless to say, after I started sounding like an infomercial, L knew we would be purchasing one. Being the sweetheart that he is, he manned up and had me order it right then. He believes in keeping the cook happy, and it's a pretty good stance to take as a man who wants his wife to make wholesome food and not ask to go out to eat all the time. He's a keeper, is what I'm saying.

The FedEx lady, wearing her sassy shorts, dropped it off on Friday afternoon and Hatchling and I opened it in awe. It is freakin' ginormous. It won't even sit under the cabinets with the short container on it. It has to sit there with the container next to it. It's a thing of beauty. Hatchling and I had spent the week contemplating all the things we could chop up (you can throw an apple in whole, no problem!), and we were excited for our first test run.

So far we've made tomato juice, orange juice, a multi- fruited concoction, and today I made this green smoothie, which was awesome (except I drank all three servings, thinking 'man! this is only 149 calories? I'm going to be so skinny!' Ummm... not so much...). I also used it to chop up my bread crumbs the other day and to mix all the seasoning in for me. It's a wonder, that little machine. And yes, it's the most expensive thing in the kitchen that you wouldn't expect to leave with the house, but... hmmm... I feel sure that I had a reasonable sounding excuse for that sentence, but it's escaped me. We'll just move on, shall we?

Did you notice that with this post I've already outdone my postings for February? This because February is cold, and it makes me want to lay face down somewhere and just give up on life and love and liberty. OK, not so much liberty, but it felt right at the time. But March, March I can get on board with. There is sunshine, and warmth, and trees starting to bud and birds singing. Frankly, March brings out the Anne of Green Gables in me. I want to sing and dance through the forest and I feel like life might actually be worth living again. Thank you for coming March- you weren't a moment too soon. Now if I could just get over this time change, it might be a perfect world.

Sinner

2009-03-06T13:05:00.002-07:00

I committed the sin of pride today at the gym. Though I am repenting most earnestly already, I will no doubt be suffering for the next couple of days.

I have two weight routines that I like to trade off between, so today after I hopped off of the elliptical machine, I headed over to weight area of the gym in search of a barbell. Just in case you don't already know, I've never been athletic. Never, ever never. I can't play volleyball without hurting myself. Frankly, most days I can't walk without hurting myself. It's hard to be me. And me in a weight room, well that's just not a sight that should be beheld by anyone. Alas, I'm approaching the ripe old age of 35, and I need some muscle mass to keep up with these pesky boys that are always climbing, jumping and swinging on me. I also wouldn't mind looking hot in my tankini, but I'll settle for not sending people screaming for the hills. I don't ask for much.

For today's routine, I needed a barbell, which is why I like my other routine that only requires girly little dumbbells. The dumbbells are in the girly-er part of the gym, with all the machines that I don't quite understand. The barbells are in the manly part of the gym, which you know you are entering because the indoor/outdoor carpet ends and the manly tile begins. I find this area even more bewildering. It doesn't so much have machines as places to lean or lay or stand upon while using free weights. Usually, I can find a barbell left over from BodyPump that a personal trainer has (I assume) brought upstairs for wimpy clients like myself. I love it when that happens. Since I couldn't find one today, I decided to walk, without tripping, over to the man side and get the smallest barbell I could find, then quickly bring it back over to my side of the gym, again hopefully without tripping. Naturally, there were about five body builder guys standing right next to the barbell stand, and I didn't want to take my jiggles by them. But I did, and with nary a trip!

As I started back to the girl side with my booty (literal and figurative), I was thinking "dang, this thing is hea-vy." That's because it was a 40 lber. No, I'm not that buff. I usually use two 8 lbers, so this was well over what I normally would be lifting with. But those guys were looking at me (L says they were no doubt thinking I was a dumba**, and I have to agree) and I wasn't going back. And I wasn't NOT going to use it. I'd gone to too much trouble now. So I looked at my little sheet, which called for deadlifts, and instead of doing 2 sets of 12, I decided to scale back to just a couple. I was really feeling it by 5, so I set the bar down and did some other excersizes. But then I felt pertty good, so I did 5 more. And then I did some rowing with the barbell, and it wasn't so bad either. I was stoked to discover that I was so non- wimpy. Who knew?

I put my barbell back with pride, but decided to skip my walking lunges because I have a propensity to over-do it at the gym, and I didn't want to spend the weekend in misery. That was a good call. After a quick trip to WalMart, I came home and discovered, to my horror, that it was painful to hold the bowl which I was eating my lunch out of. And just so you know, it's hard to type too. My arms and legs feel week and oh so very tired. And if I feel this bad now, I can't imagine what tomorrow is going to be like. So, in conclusion, I'm an idiot. Have a nice day.

Slacker, Thy Name Is Slush...

2009-03-03T17:30:00.011-07:00

My sister called me last night from the stupid state of Colorado (I persist), to say something along the lines of, "I keep hearing about Hatchling's party and his amazing cake, and I click and click on your blog to see it. But alas, nothing is there." She used her sad little sister voice too, which I am able to resist, being the oldest and knowing that it is just for show. Even so, I'm just barely immune to it. She's really good with the sad voice. One of these days, I'm going to scan in the picture of her turning it on in the back seat one day when she was about 4, and which I have kept for the sake of posterity. Siblings are generous like that.

So, just for you, oh sister of mine. Hatchling's 5th Birthday Party Extravaganza, in pictures!

Hatchling opens presents with the help of his lovely cousin Averie (who turns 5 herself next week).

It's a magnetic, put together Wall-E! Neither Hatching nor H2 realized they needed this, but now that it is in the house they fight over it all the time. H2 has a passion for Wall-E that is matched only by Hatchling's passion for keeping toys away from H2.

H2 wonders where his presents are. Actually, he has a balloon, which means he's happy. Are my kids the only ones who think balloons are better than any possible toy? Seriously, next Christmas Santa may bring a big bag of balloons and a helium tank.

Behold, in all it's glory, the cake that Hatchling and I made. And when I say Hatchling helped I make it, I mean that in the loosest possible terms. He did stand around and lick icing, eat pretzels, and gorge himself on Fig Newtons (they're whole wheat, so I felt OK about that). Really, he's up there with the Cookie Monster in terms of kitchen help.

The waterfall, which I totally messed up. And just so you know, I copied this cake from someone else I found on that there internets. I'm nowhere near creative enough to come up with this on my own. Hatchling was on board as soon as I explained this cake would involve the purchase of a toy Thomas train. He's a smart one, that boy of mine.

Look at this face. I would just like to say that I am NOT responsible for this whole zipped up to the top jacket ensemble. Had I had my way, it would have been much more artfully done. However, five has its own way of doing things. I think I miss four.

I take it back, five. As long as you continue to look like this, I'm totally on board with you.

That's our neighbor J and her Mommy there. They moved into the house where the kids Hatchling beat up with his plastic golf clubs used to live. We love J. In fact, Hatchling is considering marrying her when he grows up, since he can't marry me and he's related to all the other girls he knows.

Warning: if you use 83 vats of highly colored green and blue icing on a cake, make sure you watch the kid's table very, very closley. Thank goodness L was on top of things whilst I ran the coffee beverage center for the grownups. Otherwise, H2 would be a little green monster, and my stairs would be covered in green icing. I'm not OK with either of those outcomes.

Hatchling informed me about 18 hours before his party that we had to play a game at the party, otherwise no one would have fun. Being the enterprising thing I am, I whipped up this pin the nose on Thomas game. I drew him on our magnetic erase board (which is why his eye is all jacked up, this wasn't the first try), and then I colored a red paper nose and stuck it on one of our Word Whammer pieces. A fun time was had by all participants, though I think little Averie was the only one to NOT cheat. And let's just take a moment to wonder why L always takes such ungainly pictures of me? Seriously honey. Oh wait, it's not you. It's just that I look like that. How sad for both of us. But I digress. In another digression, this easel was mine when I was Hatchling's age. I had a chalkboard on side (as he does on the other) and I guess I used paper on this side? I don't really remember that part. Anywho, my boys adore it and it was built by my Mom's favorite uncle. That could be a SlushTurtle trivia answer one of these days.

Here is L's dad with my grandparents, Chief and Grandma. Check out Grandma's kicky red shoes. She can totally pull it off.

What party is complete until someone lets go of the balloons, and then turns on the fan in hopes of blowing them to the staircase where one can reach them? L was not happy. This may have something to do with the fact that we have 18 foot ceilings in our living room. And also that I spent $12 on balloons at Party City, which he thought was outrageous. We're on different planes when it comes to party planning, he and I. But we make a good team. Thankfully, I turned off the fan after a minimal rotation, and they were relatively easy to get down. And by relatively easy, I mean getting the ladder out, standing on top of it with a pole duster thing, fully extended, and using it to unwrap the strings. All in a day's work for a Daddy.

Happy 5th my sweet little Hatchling! You've come a long way from this little guy:

Hmmm...

2009-02-19T12:19:00.003-07:00

I've been rather quiet in February, haven't I? Don't worry- there's a birthday bash for my baby, who's FIVE!!! now, this weekend. I will no doubt have lots to say and maybe even have some pictures of the Thomas the Tank Engine cake I'm making.

One Year Later

2009-02-06T07:20:00.000-07:00

From the JCICS website:

February 4, 2009

Joint Council Position Paper
Guatemala: One Year Later

On January 1, 2008, under significant scrutiny and amidst allegations of corruption, child
trafficking and unethical practices, Guatemala implemented the Hague Convention on
Intercountry Adoption. Guatemala’s participation in the Convention was applauded by the many
governments and NGOs who had insisted on changes to the practices in Guatemala and
vigorously supported Guatemala’s participation in the Hague Convention. The implementation
was seen by many as the answer to corruption and unethical practices.

Now, 12 months since its implementation, has the Convention truly been the answer? It appears
that one year later there are more questions than answers, more needs than funds, and for the
children in need of a family, more despair than hope.

Since the implementation of the Convention, Guatemala has in fact seen an end to allegations of
ongoing corruption in inter-country adoption. Children now have strong protections against
child trafficking. Birth families are free from the unethical practices of unscrupulous
practitioners. And a Central Authority governing all adoptions has been established in
Guatemala.

Over this past year, in addition to these protections, has the Convention’s implementation in
Guatemala also served children? Has it enabled children living in institutions to find a family?
Unfortunately the manner in which Guatemala implemented the Convention has not resulted in
an ethical intercountry adoption system; it has resulted in no intercountry adoption system. The
implementation of the Convention has indeed succeeded in adding protections. But it has also
failed in its role to serve children. Despite an estimated 6,000 institutionalized children and few
domestic adoptions, not one child has found a permanent family through the Convention.

When the Convention was implemented the law stated that the estimated 3,000 adoptions that
had been initiated would be completed. One year and countless investigations by the PGN, MP,
CNA and Guatemalan courts later, over 1,000 children have yet to have their adoptions
completed. Joint Council supports efforts to ensure that each and every adoption is done in the
best interest of the children, and recognizes that investigations are a part of that protection. But
the cost should not be born by innocent children. Joint Council calls on the Guatemalan
government to swiftly bring each pending adoption case to a final resolution and thereby end the
deprivations of institutionalization.

Protecting children and families from harm is one of the primary roles of the Guatemalan
government and their efforts must be recognized and supported. However, much like the
scrutiny and attention by the international community exposed the corruption of the prior system,
this same community must now refocus their attention to bring to light Guatemala’s ineffective
implementation of the Convention and its subsequent impact on institutionalized children and
Guatemalan families.

As recently published by Nuestro Diario, a leading Guatemalan newspaper, children are being
abandoned to the streets at an alarming rate. With few government institutions to provide care
and the closure of many private institutions, some birthmothers are simply leaving their newly
born children in trash dumps. Nuestro Diario reports that in Guatemala City alone, 91 children
were found abandoned with 70 being new born infants. Twenty abandoned children in
Guatemala City were found after they had already perished. What is being done to build a social
service system which not only protects children from corruption but also from a tragic death?

The lack of services to children as a result of the poor implementation of the Convention has yet
to be addressed by those who supported its premature implementation. With prior knowledge
that Guatemala lacked the capacity to properly implement the Convention, why were alternative
reforms not considered? Who will assist the Guatemalans in replacing what was the only
effective means of finding families for children? Who will help preserve families? Who is
building an effective and safe domestic adoption program? Again, one year later there are more
questions than answers.

The reform of the previous adoption system and the implementation of the Convention required
the collective efforts of many governments and NGOs, including the U.S. and European
governments. Building an effective child protection system in Guatemala will necessitate
another, similar effort. Given the many challenges the Guatemalan government and its children
are facing, no one entity can accomplish this task alone. Joint Council calls on the U.S. and
European governments along with UNICEF, the NGO community, and The Hague Permanent
Bureau to provide the necessary technical and financial assistance needed to appropriately serve
the children of Guatemala. After 12 months and little progress it is apparent that only a
collaborative effort can create the full range of desired services.

The formation of a spectrum of services including Family Preservation, Kinship Care, Domestic
Adoption and Intercountry Adoption is desperately needed to ensure that children retain their
right to a family and are protected from the detrimental effects of institutionalization, or even an
unnecessary death. Joint Council calls on all stakeholders who previously asked for reforms to
move with speed in order to provide these much needed services.

Some efforts have already begun. UNICEF and the governments of Chile and Brazil have
provided limited technical assistance, and USAID is planning two pilot programs focused on
family services. These efforts represent a start to services but are clearly not enough. In the past
12 months less than 60 domestic adoptions have been completed. Zero intercountry adoptions
have been initiated. And significant family preservation is only in the development stage. When
a child protection system results in more children being abandoned and less children finding
families, is it not obvious that more needs to be done?

It has been one year since the implementation of the Convention; the children of Guatemala await our answer.

Ice

2009-01-28T12:58:00.005-07:00

Depending on who you listen to, this is either the worst ice storm in NW Arkansas in a decade or a lifetime. Personally, I can't remember a worse one, but then what do I know? I'm but a spry 34.

We knew it was coming, so the boys and I had all of our errands run and were safely snuggled up by the fireplace by noon on Monday when it started. We haven't left the house since, and have no plans to until at least tomorrow. Maybe not until Friday. Here are some very boring pics for you to look at. What can I say? I don't have much to offer today.

This is my poor rose tree. I'm not sure it will come back from this...

My grill cover blew off and is on the ground over there by the chairs. Lovely.

I'm worried about this little fella. Please don't break little tree!

We do still have power, which is amazing. All the surrounding areas have lost power, most of them yesterday. Ours flashed a few times yesterday, and then it went off for about an hour just as I was cooking dinner, of course. I ended up scrambling the boys some eggs over the gas logs and then using a cast iron skillet over the same logs to melt some cheese for L to have some nachos. I'm such a pioneer. Thank goodness I spent all those hours watching Little House on the Prairie as a child. You know, without power, it can get 3rd world real quick. I'm thankful our outage was over soon and that we haven't had any more problems. Here's hoping it stays that way. Now if limbs would just stop breaking and sounding like gunfire outside, I'd be doing just swell!

My Gift To Someone

2009-01-22T20:14:00.002-07:00

My new addiction is podcasts (are podcasts? but then wouldn't it need to be addictions? I'm so confused, so early on in this post, that it doesn't bode well for any of us). Specifically, I'm addicted to Dan Carlin's Hardcore History. I know, I'm a dweeb of epic proportions. Let's just assume this is a given and move on, shall we?

The other day as I scrubbed baseboards, I was listening to this podcast about the plague, which happens to be one of my favorite subjects. Have I ever told you this? Apparently, I'm wildly morbid. I should have been goth, but I can't apply the eye makeup necessary pull the look off. I'm also allergic to even organic mascara these days, freak of nature that I am. Anywho, I love the plague. Don't get me wrong, I'm not hoping for a resurgence or trying to cook up a strain in my basement (I don't even have a basement), I just think it is a really interesting period of history because it had such a huge impact on Europe, and hence us. Or me, because really it's all about me.

Where am I going with this? No really, it's not a rhetorical question. I seem to have... oh wait, yes, here it is. So I'm scrubbing and listening, and Dan tells about some woman's theory put forth in a book he sites (he is not quite so generic in his referencing as I am today). Chick's theory, in SlushSpeak is as follows:

When the plague hit a village, the first people called were the priests, so they could pray and give last rites and what have you. Because of this, the priesthood (at least the lower tier/branch of them) was decimated. Poor fellas. So the church had a problem- no priests. Lots of suffering. And all these young men who had lost their entire families and were kind of lost souls wandering around. In their brilliance, the church turned these surviving young men into replacement priests. I'm guessing there weren't enough young women to go around either, so these guys didn't have all that many options. The new priests had no real calling to the church, and they didn't always do things with the mindset of a spiritual leader. And these guys, the lost boys of the plague, created a lot of the problems that led Martin Luther to nail his 95 thesis to that church door.

So- no plague, no reformation? It's an interesting theory. I think it would be great novel. Imagine a world where the plague never happened. The church never split, America was never home to religious rebels. Would we still be a colony, looking to Rome and Great Britain for government? Interesting. But I'm too lazy and untalented and unorganized to write it, so I gift it to you. You know, even though it wasn't technically, entirely my idea. But whatever- I give you leave to steal it and make it brilliant.

It's been awhile since we had a letter...

2009-01-20T22:15:00.003-07:00

Dear Rev. Lowery,

It was a big day for you, huh? I mean, you lived through the civil rights movement, and here you are, in front of gazillions of people, giving the benediction at the inauguration of our country's first black president. That must be a pretty exciting feeling! Rock on.

transcript of the Rev. Lowery's prayer:

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get back, when brown can stick around -- (laughter) -- when yellow will be mellow -- (laughter) -- when the red man can get ahead, man -- (laughter) -- and when white will embrace what is right.

Let all those who do justice and love mercy say amen.

AUDIENCE: Amen!

REV. LOWERY: Say amen --

AUDIENCE: Amen!

REV. LOWERY: -- and amen.

AUDIENCE: Amen! (Cheers, applause.)

END.

Here's the thing, Reverend- you screwed up. I know, I know, you were just making a play on some old Jim Crow era poem/song, but unless they bothered to follow up on your comments, my generation wouldn't know that. Instead, they would see you as a racist old man, marring what was a momentous day not just for you, but for the whole country. They would see you as a man who is a racist in his own right. Frankly, they probably see you as jerk.

While I personally can't imagine the ideological shift I would have to undergo in order to vote the most liberal man in the senate into the office of the President, now that he is elected, I can sit back and appreciate that this is a big day for the African American community. I can see how this changes things for young minorities who now have hope that they too can really go places. I'm sincerely happy for them, and for men like you who have been waiting so long for a strong black leader to be accepted into the mainstream. I mean, if I my side of the aisle had to lose the election, at least the country seems to be getting something good out of it, right? But really, this was going too far.

I'm offended as a white person. I know it's stupid, because I don't know you and all, but really, my feelings are a little hurt. That just seemed like a cheap shot.

For the browns and the reds and the yellows, I'm horrified.

And, probably because I am a recovering baptist, I'm absolutely appalled that you placed your little joke in the middle of a prayer. Ummm, hello? Sacrilege. I don't think prayers are the place for jokes. Traditionally speaking, those go at the beginning of a speech.

Bad form all around, Reverend.

Sincerely, Slush

Socks

2009-01-16T12:39:00.002-07:00

Dear Hatchling,

How can one small child dirty up 37 pairs of socks in one measly week? Particularly when said child is cavorting in his skivvies for 98.7% of that week? I simply don't understand. Perhaps you just enjoy removing the socks from your drawer, pulling them apart, and then putting them in the hamper? You know, 5 isn't too young to start doing your own laundry and you are only one month away from that auspicious age, so I would start watching myself if I were you.

And while we're chatting, could you please tell me why your baby brother likes to take out all of his socks, pull them apart and then do various things such as: throw them like confetti around his room, stuff them in the cracks of his toddler bed and baby gate, stuff them in all the shoes, move them to other drawers, etc.? Did you teach him this? Why, why are you trying to break my spirit?

Love,
Mommy

The shoes really do make the outfit, no?

2009-01-14T15:36:00.001-07:00

Gracious...

2009-01-04T15:30:00.004-07:00

The other night, I went to check on my children as I always do before retiring for the night. Aren't I a fabulous mother? I expect the Mother of the Year team to show up on my doorstep at any moment. At which point I'll have to try and explain the ginormous scratch marring H2's left eye, and frankly, I have no idea how it happened. All I know is, H1 was watching television, I was partaking in a much needed bubble bath, and H2 was safely gated in his room by himself. There was no crying (I would have heard it, I promise), so either it didn't hurt much or it completely knocked him unconscious, and he recovered by the time I was done communing with Calgon. And OK, so perhaps the Mother of the Year team isn't on the way, after all. As usual, I've digressed.

Now back to our story. So, I was checking on the little beasts, and as I entered H2's room, I could hear him breathing, but I couldn't find him anywhere. He wasn't on the bed, as is usual at least 50% of the time. He wasn't on the floor by the bed. He wasn't on the floor anywhere that I could see. I started to freak out a little. But I could hear him, so I wasn't dialing 911 just yet. And then I looked in the closet...

And there the little bugger was, fast asleep in his makeshift toy box.

Now how cute is that? It didn't look very comfortable, so after I laughed a lot and took pictures and called Daddy up to join in the fun, I did move him back to his bed. I'm compassionate, see?

This one is just because they are so cute. L says he has a fat chin, but it's just because he is in a funny position. I promise. Look at that saucy face on H1. Never a dull moment around here.

Merry Christmas From Slushville!

2008-12-22T13:12:00.004-07:00

Since you can't all be on my actual Christmas Card List (yes, in all caps), here is a little taste of what you are missing. I know, I know. You're jealous at the 80 familial units who have made it the actual List, and I'm sorry. I really am! But I just can't do more. Maybe you could get on a waiting list if you are really bummed. It's a possibility. And just so you know, if I had it to do over again, I would have the boys sitting down for this picture. That way, H2 wouldn't look like a midget (little person?) next to his lanky brother, and perhaps H1's wrists and forearms wouldn't be so glaringly uncontained by his sleeves. On his 5T shirt! Note to self: quit feeding H1. He's getting much too big and I like him little.

Dear Friends and Family,

H1 and H2 here (mainly H1). We’re accomplished typists, and we think Mommy and Daddy are taking too long to get these Christmas cards out, so we thought we’d lend a hand.

2008 has been a pretty good year for us! H2 got his molars in and can now eat food that isn’t mush. He’s pretty excited about that. So excited, in fact, that if we don’t keep an eye on him, he climbs up on the kitchen table and helps himself to Mommy’s fruits and vegetables. That makes her really mad. H2’s also learning how to talk pretty well, and his favorite thing to say is “Cheese!”

I (H1) am almost 5 now and I figure I know just about everything there is to know. I’ve been learning about gravity this week, and we found a good book at the library that I’ve read about 100 times. I have my own library card now. It’s a big hit with the ladies. I’m hoping I’ve been good enough for Santa to bring me some Lincoln Logs this year, but Daddy says I might be getting a rock. I would just like to remind Santa, in case he is on my family’s card list, that it wasn’t me who broke that TV a couple of weeks ago. No sir, that was definitely and for sure, one hundred percent H2. So if Santa’s packing rocks for anyone, well, I think we all know who’s getting one.

Well, that’s about all. Merry Christmas to you all and a happy New Year!

Love in Christ,
The Residents of Slushville

God's Little Warrior

2008-12-16T12:24:00.002-07:00

Hatchling has been having some trouble at the gym of late. Or rather, he has been getting in trouble. We've been practicing at home how to handle situations, such as being pushed, having toys taken away, or even being called "Bad Hatchling" by a bunch of kids. We're so proud. And while he knows what to do in these situations, he continues to forget to stop and think before reacting (read: knocking the crap out of the offending child).

This morning we were talking about the different kinds of things that might happen while we were driving to the gym. I reminded Hatchling that something someone does or says is not a reason to hit them, shove them, or do anything else that will land you in time out. In response, Hatchling told me the whole story that I've been hearing little pieces of for the last week or so.

"But Mommy! Some boy told me that God isn't real. He doesn't believe in Him! And I told him he better, or he can't go to Heaven. And he told me that I was stupid, and I'm going to die and just stay dead. And I told him maybe he would die and stay dead, but I'm going to Heaven to see my family, and to live with God and Jesus. And he said nuh-uh, so I pushed him. And then he pushed me. And then I knocked him down, and I had to go to time out. But why would he not believe (be-weave) in God? That just doesn't make sense."

And while pushing someone down isn't the best way to go about evangelizing, I'm proud of my boy for standing up for what he believes in. And I'm so sad for the little boy who doesn't believe in God. What a dark, dark world this would be without the knowledge of the one true Light.

Oh, and in case you are wondering, Hatchling spent a little time in time out today because he couldn't sweet talk some kid out of a toy he wanted to play with. We definitely have some room for improvement.

True Confession Thursdays...

2008-12-11T08:28:00.003-07:00

Every time I see George Foreman's face on something, I spend a few minutes wondering how they made him look so good. I mean, he was looking pretty bad back when he lit the torch at the Olympics. And then I remember- different boxer. OK, and actually I'm not even sure they are both boxers. And I think we should change the name to pugilists. I like it better.

Hmmm... Hatchling just informed me that he'd be willing to forgo underpants so I don't have to do so much laundry. Interesting.

Send Help

2008-12-07T14:32:00.003-07:00

Apparently, turning two really flipped a switch in my good child. Oh, I know, both of my children are basically good. But one is, well, quite a handful. Don't worry, I wouldn't change him for all the boring good kids in the world. But it was nice to have an easy one. H2 has always been that easy one. Until now, when all bets are off. For example:

This was the sight that greeted me after I got up from my Sunday afternoon nap. We're used to H2 making a lot of noise, so it really didn't phase us when we heard lots of banging and slamming. Kind of like last night, about 3, when he opened his door, turned his light on, and started yelling, "Helloooooo!! Dadadada!!!" The little bugger never, ever says mama. Why is that? Where's the love H2?

Here's a closer look. This is the changing table, minus the topper. The drawer was opened so all the socks could be spread about, which is one of H2's favorite pastimes. You'll notice the big basket? There are usually two of those full of diapers, which are also spread out all over the room each time I leave him unsupervised. They're blessedly empty right now, but in about a day I'm going to have to break down and open the big box I got at Sam's the other night. I'm so looking forward to picking those up again and again and again and again... I would just leave them on the floor, but our house is on the market so I have to clean his room every time I go get him. And every morning and after every nap, his room looks pretty much like this. Minus the spilled furniture.

H2 was clearly exhausted by the havoc he had wreaked. I find pulling over furniture and spreading socks around (notice the new pair by his little head?) really tires me out too. Oh, and the drumming. Now what could I have possibly been thinking when I purchased him a drum last Christmas? Not that I'm opposed to drumming in general, it's just when it's happening at 6 in the morning, like it did today, that I have issues with it.

Too bad I didn't take a picture of his dresser while I was up there. He has actually managed to remove and dismantle the second one from the bottom. For days, every time I would go into his room he would pick up a screw and hand to me and say "no, no" while shaking his head sorrowfully. I had no idea where they were coming form, till one morning I found the drawer removed from the dresser with the little rolly/slider things off. I have no idea how he managed that. He was actually sitting in the drawer when I caught him, and I can only assume he was acting out the three men in the tub, as Curious George and Bear were also present in the drawer. I'm not sure which one was the candlestick maker.

In Which I've Gone All Kinds of Crazy

2008-12-02T13:47:00.005-07:00

Do you guys remember back before I went to Hawaii, when I said I might have to give up Coke for a year if I didn't lose a lot of weight before Christmas? I bet you thought I forgot about that, eh? But no! I did not. And my rear is still much, much larger than I would like it to be. OK, actually it's my belly- I think I would have to weigh 84 tons before my flat little rear gained any weight. It's a sad, sad story. But I digress...

While thinking about how fat I am, I of course had to consider how I wanted to lose some weight. Work out? Of course. Count calories, WW points, carbs, fats, widgets and thingamabobs? No thanks...I have time, but not particularly inclination. Gasp.

At the same time, I've been reading a zany little book called Nourishing Traditions. And I warn you, don't pick this up unless you really want to despise your french fries, soda and milk. Yes! Milk. The premise of this little gem is that until approximately 60 years or so ago, there weren't many degenerative diseases, people weren't fat, and the world was a happy and good place. I may have made up that last point, but it's my blog, so get over it. Anyway, this dentist (Weston A. Price) did a bunch of studies looking at people groups all over the world and what made them healthy- and they all ate butter, lard, raw milk and grains. But our American diet of unsaturated oils and margarine, pasteurized milk and cheese, and refined carbs was making us more unhealthy, rather than making us more healthy like people thought it should. So, you guessed it, the book is full of ways and recipes to return to a more healthy, wholesome diet. Are you still with me?

I've actually been working on our diet for years now. I switched us over to whole grains, organic butter and eggs, and lots of fruits and veggies, organic if I can find and/or afford them. And have you noticed that organic berries stay good and firm for days, while commercial berries are smooshy and half gross the day you get them? Why is that? Also, have you noticed how hard it is to crack an organic egg, while regular eggs often break in the carton? I find this interesting. By the way, I'm sorry I'm so rambly these days. If it makes you feel any better, this is what it is like inside my head all of the time. I can't imagine why that would make you feel better. So, I've been working on our diet, and now I'm taking it to the next step. Some would call it the "off the deep end" step, which is what L told me the other day when I asked him if I could keep a milk cow if we moved to the country. Then I remembered that I'm scared of cows, and L was off the hook. It all stems back to the time my grandpa let me ride with him into town to deliver a cow named Hamburger to a special place. Hamburger got wind of what was about to go down and jumped out of the back of the truck, and the whole town was involved in the containment and catching of said cow. It was a small town, and this may have been the decade's highlight. I was scared and emotionally scarred and full of cow issues. So, not much different from today.

I already make all of our bread. In fact, I have some hamburger and hot dog buns rising right now. Mmmm.... I'm going to the hippy store for organic hot dogs later this week. I love me some organic hot dogs. Now I'm also trying to soak our grains before using them (and thinking about starting to grind my own once I work my way through the 50 lb bag of flour in my pantry), making my own stocks (wow, was I ever surprised that you could make your own stock and get a free chicken out of the deal! I had no idea chicken stock had such a mark-up on it!) and other zany things like that. I currently have some yogurt tied up in a towel in the fridge so I can collect the whey from it, and supposedly the yogurt will magically turn into cream cheese. Who knew? And tomorrow, I'm going to pickle some garlic, because apparently lacto-fermented vegetables are important, but most of them looked kind of gross so I'm starting with garlic, which is always good in my book. I've been making our own salad dressings too, which are cheap and healthy and super duper easy to make (though I will warn you, they are no Hidden Valley Ranch. But they are pretty good!). I even have a guy's number where I can buy some raw milk, and I just might do it if it isn't too cost prohibitive.

Lately, my diet has looked something like this: Steel cut oats with ground flax seed, some fruit, and honey on it for breakfast. I can't believe how much of this Hatchling can eat. The boy's a maniac. H2 just has some of mine while he runs around screaming "Choo! Choo!" It's his new thing. Then we have black bean burritos (from my own soaked and simmered beans) for lunch, and a healthy dinner usually consisting of a salad, some vegetable, and a then something else. Last night we had baked halibut and roasted asparagus. Tonight we are having the last of the hamburgers I froze over the summer.

As for Coke, well, I've almost completely weaned myself off of carbonated beverages. I've been having a cup of tea in the morning when I get up, and some days that is all I have that isn't water. Don't get me wrong- when it's Friday Date Night at Sam's, I will absolutely be getting my two cups of Mr. Pibb, and boy will I be relishing it. But at home, I've got nadda. I've decided to focus on healthy choices, rather than being 130 pounds by Christmas (you know, except for the whole Mr. Pibb thing...). And I'm feeling pretty good about it. Except only my fat jeans fit right now, but life is never perfect, right?

In addition, I started a new weight lifting program at the gym today and my legs are already so sore that I want to cry every time I have to stand or sit. That's never a good sign. But I'm sure I'll be strong and buff in no time. Or something like that...

A Very Important Quest

2008-11-25T13:35:00.003-07:00

Hatchling recently learned about marriage. I mean, he knew that Mommy and Daddy were married, but beyond his needs being met, it didn't have much importance to him. Then I mentioned that when he grew up, he would probably marry a girl and then they would be a mommy and daddy. He nodded and continued to knock down Lego towers. He had moved on.

A few days later, Hatchling informed me that he had decided who he was going to marry! It was me- because I cook a lot and take care of him. All was well until he let Daddy in on his big plan while we were on the way to Sam's, home of Friday night dates and cheap milk. L dashed those hopes pretty cruelly (I thought), and Hatchling was left sobbing puddles in the backseat. Being the loving parents we are, we assured him that it was OK, that we would help him find a nice girl, and that we were already praying for her, even though we don't know who she is. Then he spotted Sam's in the distance and wondered if he and Daddy were sharing tea or lemonaide?

On another day still, Hatchling said, "Hmmm... I wonder what kind of girl I'm going to marry?" I told him I hoped that she was very sweet, loved God, and would take good care of him. He thought those were all good things to look for, and also she needs to like taking care of babies, because he thinks he wants a couple of those when he grows up. Then he wanted to know if he really, for sure, had to eat all the vegetables on his plate. Because some little boys don't have to eat all of their vegetables. Their mommies don't make them. I informed him that those little boys don't live in my house.

Saturday, we were going to a birthday at Fun City. Do they have those everywhere? It's like a Chuck E Cheese knock off, which is ultra close to our house and which, until Saturday, we had managed to hide from the children. I know, we're stellar parents. Anyway, early in the day I told Hatchling where we would be going, and that it was for a birthday party of a little girl he didn't know, but that L and I knew her parents. He was thoughtful for a few minutes, and then wanted to know her name. I told him I thought it was Paige, but there were three girls and I wasn't positive which birthday we were actually celebrating. Hatchling smiled and said, "Don't worry Mommy. I'll tell her my name is Hatchling and ask what her name is. Then I'll ask her if she believes in Jesus and if she likes to take care of babies. If so, she can marry me when we grow up."

So now we have a creepy four year old going around asking all the little girls if they believe in Jesus and like to take care of babies. Rock on.

I am a twitchy-eyed freak of nature

2008-11-20T15:39:00.003-07:00

My right eye won't stop twitching. It's making me even crazier than normal.

Hey, remember about a year ago when Hatchling colored all over L's new 52" TV? That poor TV. It just wasn't meant to live at our house. This morning, it was cruelly murdered by the pirate Donkey Kong and his plastic pirate telescope. I walked out the room and everything was fine. Two cracks later I returned to Hatcling saying "Ummmm... Mommy? I think H2 done a bad thing..." And yes, we're working on the grammar, but he is only 4 people, so cut us some slack. H2 was nervously looking at the television, where only moments before Sid the Science Kid had been dancing and singing about... well, something. I obviously wasn't paying attention.

By the time I returned to the room, there were pretty colors and a spidery glass line all over the TV. The outside glass is intact, but something inside is broken and jacked up. Of the two repairmen Sharp advised me to call, one informed me there was nothing to be done. The other sounded like he was in a deer stand and has yet to get back to me. Ahhh, the joys of living in the South in hunting season.

So. I've cried, I've whined, and I've cried some more. Like we really wanted to purchase a new TV a month before Christmas. H2 may be getting a rock from Santa.

Three Things

2008-11-17T22:11:00.002-07:00

1. I joined Facebook today. I've been getting nice little prompting emails from people for a long time, but L finally gave in and joined and I felt required to sign up and make sure he didn't have a Facebook girlfriend. OK, not really on that last part. I'm just a joiner. I think it's because I've always wanted to be cool, but have fallen so short. Undoubtedly, Facebook will be no different. Anyway, it's opened up a whole new way for me to waste hours of time that I don't in fact have to waste. Awesome. Plus, it makes me feel popular without even having to leave the comfort of my house (or jammies, for that matter), which is high up on my scale of things I love.

2. Hatchling had an epiphany today on the way to the gym. "Mommy! I know what I'm going to be when I grow up! A clown!!! Because I like to make people happy (I didn't tell him that my crowd thinks clowns are creepy). But I need a clown nose. And some pants, and a shirt, and some big shoes. I think we need to go to a clown store. Do you know where a clown store is? Can we drive around all day tomorrow and find a clown store? I know! I bet they have clown stores at carnivals. And I know where a carnival is! My park! (the Grape Festival). Do you think it will rain next year at my park carnival (we were rained out of rides this year)? Cause I really need some clown stuff. It doesn't usually rain? Great. My plan is set!" This is at least a step up from garbage man. And just so you know, the talking.never.ends. Never, ever. And if you just nod and go along, there is no telling what you will have agreed to.

3. I managed to talk L into letting me homeschool Hatchling, at least for a couple of years. I pulled out all kinds of statistics and whatnot, because we all know what a research geek I am. The government should hire me for something. I'm very efficient. I wish I had some great reason about benefits and whatnot to tell you, but I don't. I just feel like it's what I should do. Because I find that making important decisions based on emotions is where it's at. OK, maybe not. I'm super-duper excited about it. And a little overwhelmed. And scared that the responsibility for his education now rests in my slackardly hands. How will he learn anything now that I've found Facebook? So, I'm psyching myself up for kindergarten. And Hatchling is delighted, because he wanted me to go to school with him anyway. He will be in a thing probably one whole day a week with other kids, so it's not as if he'll be by his lonesome. Plus, he'll have the companionship of his winsome, though currently whiny, little brother. So please, no whining about socialization. What's this? You have to manually click for spell check now? I thought I was being a remarkably proficient speller tonight. But no, no I wasn't.

Colorado or Bust

2008-11-05T10:05:00.003-07:00

The car is packed, the children are already asking how long it will take to get there (OK, actually only Hatchling is asking, but I'm sure H2 would if he could say it. His eyes are asking...), and I think we're ready to go. We're heading out in just a few minutes with my mom, and leaving poor little L here by himself. He leaves Saturday for Mexico, and we get back Sunday. We're like two ships passing in the night. He'll be gone for a week, and our combined trips will be the longest we have ever been apart. :(

But I get to see my sister and munch on my niece, so all is not lost!

Don't Forget to Vote!

2008-11-02T13:23:00.002-07:00

This is a blatant re-post of Becky Bleu's work, and without permission no less. That's the good thing about family- she has to love my anyway! It is thoughtful and thought provoking, and so much more well-written than anything I could have ever come up with. When I try to say this stuff, it comes out like "you should just listen to me, I'm an expert." Which isn't really much of an argument, now is it? Enjoy, and don't forget to be a good citizen this Tuesday, no matter which way you lean.

Disclaimer:
Warning: This is what some folks would deem a “political” post. If you are one of those nervous types who feels that we should hide our political light under a bushel, then go away for now. I don’t often do political blogs, so you will probably be safe next time, and I respect your right not to read things that bother or frighten or anger you. If you are the type who thinks political=argue, then please—go away for now. I don’t want to argue, and I will NOT refute anything I said in this post. This is not a debate forum. Please understand that the purpose of this post is unburdening, if you will—I need to think through some things in the best way I know how—through the written word. I’m not trying to sell anyone on my own particular point of view, but neither am I going to sugarcoat it to make sure everyone is comfortable. It is what it is.

When I walk into that voting booth in one week, I will be thinking of that great mandate set down by our forefathers before I mark my ballot. You know the one I mean—it begins with: “When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bonds which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. . . .”

The Declaration of Independence. I do love that document.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. [Get that? The CONSENT of the GOVERNED. That’s you and me.] That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security.

Looking over those three unalienable rights, endowed by our Creator, is all I need to figure out who I am casting my vote for. And it ain’t Obama.

Life—does that include the rights of the unborn? I looked up Obama’s views on abortion and noted his rejection of the Born Alive Infants Protection Law and the Induced Infant Liability Law, which would fight the requirement that doctors and nurses should be allowed to let a child born alive to linger, unattended, until death takes it. I was chilled to the bone. I don’t buy the argument that Obama only opposed it because it was already a law—he COULD have opposed it and showed support for a child’s basic right—unalienable right, if you will—to live. And his coldness in response to the testimony of the nurse who brought the issue to the floor makes me shiver. Look at the rest of his record regarding abortion—he is, without a doubt, pro-choice. Which I cannot get behind—ever.

Now, I can hear the critics saying, “Well, that is just ONE issue. It’s not the only issue. As Al Gore said, ‘It’s the economy, stupid.’” If that is true, then I am very, very sad about the direction our country has taken. I am especially saddened when these arguments come from fellow brothers and sisters in Christ—I have to wonder if they will be using that same argument when they are one day sitting at the Master’s feet, perhaps surrounded by a sea of those precious ones who were never allowed to live the lives their Creator had planned for them—“Look, Lord, it was just one issue.” Really?

How broken do you suppose his heart is when he looks at us, sometimes?

Liberty—to live free, unfettered by the unfair rules of government. How does Obama’s plan to “spread the wealth” fit into that? We fled the tyranny of England so that we would could enjoy religious freedoms and not be taxed without being represented. We set up government to serve people, not enslave them. A government that takes our money and shows us how to spend it—welfare, social security, education—is what I call a very cruel master. And Obama and friends want to include yet another government chain to our necks—health care. Show me one good government program that works (the DMV and IRS spring to mind) and I’ll show you horses that fly and rainbows that never fade.

We are really not as stupid as they think we are . . . Are we? Do we really believe that they have our good in mind—these same people who spent money they didn’t have and plunged us into darkest financial hole we have seen since the Great Depression? (And I’m including ALL politicians in Washington in this—Republicans and Democrats alike. While I have been one of President Bush’s staunchest supporters throughout his presidency, because I really do believe he makes decisions based on what he thinks is right, not based on what is popular, I think the bailout was a bad, bad move.) What does Machiavelli say in The Prince about gaining absolute power? Maybe we should all read that before casting our ballots on Tuesday next. There is nothing more absolute in terms of power than a government that serves its own agenda. A one-party Senate, Congress, and President seems a little TOO absolute to me. And we only have to look at history to remember the truth of the statement that “absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Corruption in Washington—we haven’t seen enough of that, right?

The pursuit of happiness. Not happiness—just the pursuit thereof. Leave me alone and let me pursue my own happiness. Don’t tell me what happy is and then try to provide it. Don’t perpetuate class warfare by telling the lower classes that they will be happy if they have what the upper classes have. If we are all equal in income, then we are all without jobs, because successful businesses usually have a trickle-down effect that benefits everyone—Mr. Big is successful and has a good year, so he creates jobs, and hires more people. Those people are then in a position to pursue their own happiness. Ask those in China about “spreading the wealth” and the pursuit of happiness. Ask those who survived Stalin: socialism is never pretty. Why do you think people flee their countries in droves, their eyes set on the freedom of America? We DO have the greatest country in the world, and I am not going to pretend that I am ashamed I feel that way. I'll shout it from the rooftops until my dying day.

What about the last part of that wonderful Declaration of Independence, the part about ridding ourselves of despotism (“a system of government in which the ruler has unlimited power”) and providing new guards for future security—would you say that it behooves us to choose our leaders wisely?

Wisdom begins by petitioning the wisest of the wise. I’ll start on my knees, begging God to forgive us our sins, sins that I myself am all-to-often guilty of. Oh God, forgive us for our attitudes of complacency. Forgive us for forgetting the poor and the old, and asking the government to take care of those WE should take care of. Does it occur to anyone else that we would not need welfare or social security if we would do what God has commanded us to do and cared for the poor and the old ourselves? Aren’t we capable of kindness to each other without a government forcing it upon us?

Forgive us for forgetting those who have no voice—the unborn, the homeless, the broken. Give us a chance to amend this, to live the lives we were meant to live, to be the light in a dark world, champions of the down-trodden and oppressed, the place where anyone who is willing to work hard can succeed, without the fear that government will take all that he or she has worked for. Enable us to become again the country our forefathers dreamed of, where we, the people, will pledge our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor to defend this glory of a gift you have given us. Power to the people, then the states, and THEN the federal government—not the other way around. Please, God, never the other way around.

“We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name, and by the authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare, that these united colonies are, and of right ought to be free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as free and independent states, they have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which independent states may of right do. And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.”

New Hampshire: Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple, Matthew Thornton

Massachusetts: John Hancock, Samual Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry

Rhode Island: Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery

Connecticut: Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott

New York: William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris

New Jersey: Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark

Pennsylvania: Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross

Delaware: Caesar Rodney, George Read, Thomas McKean

Maryland: Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of Carrollton

Virginia: George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton

North Carolina: William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn

South Carolina: Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton

Georgia: Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton

Source: The Pennsylvania Packet, July 8, 1776

I am not trying to change anyone’s mind with this post. Again, I am just working through my own thoughts in the best way I know how—through writing. I praise God that I live in a country where I can do this freely, without fear that I will be censored or cast out because of my opinions. Isn’t she great, this land that we love?

Oh mighty God, bless her.

Slush Goes to Hawaii, Volume V, the final act

2008-10-31T17:02:00.004-06:00

More of Waikiki...

Duke
Hubba hubba...

I love Hatchling's intense and serious sand activities. As long as I'm not in the near vicinity, that is...

Hatchling called these people "the statues that moved" and wanted to go see them every evening. When we finally decided to donate to them, this is what went down. Believe it or not, it was a highlight of his trip...

Naturally, we had to visit the Ferrari store... we made no purchase...

Slush Goes to Hawaii, Volume IV

2008-10-31T16:37:00.003-06:00

Are you tired of pics yet? Yes? Well, tough. This is my blog. And I'm making up for my appalling lack of posting as of late.

Here are some pics from driving around Oahu.

The children think this rocks.

I dig the foamy water. There was lots of foamy water this trip.

Notice how I take care to take not only multiple pictures of my husband, but also to make sure he looks nice? All I'm asking is for the same consideration.

McDonald's is always sure to perk the little devils up. This Ronald seems to be suffering psoriasis of the nose. He and Hatchling bonded over the issue.

Recognize this place?

No??? How about now?

Slush Goes to Hawaii, Volume III

2008-10-31T14:54:00.005-06:00

A day on Waikiki Beach.

This is one of my favorite shots. This is what we call "the position". H2 assumes it anytime he sees his big brother coming. He would be a good linebacker. Except that he's so stinkin' little. Anyway, I think it's hilarious. He's knows H1 is behind him somewhere, and he's worried. No doubt, he should be.

I like for L to park us next to this rock wall. It's a natural barrier to our frisky children. Assuming they don't get beaten into it by a wave. But I figure that would just slow them down a little.

And this is why he doesn't trust that pesky big brother of his...

L took H1 surfing while I held H2, who was of course crying and screaming after 10 minutes of fun. He didn't feel well the whole trip, poor fella.

Slush Goes to Hawaii, Volume II

2008-10-31T14:20:00.006-06:00

This was the view from our condo's balcony. Though we were supposed to have an ocean view, there was a plumbing problem at our original condo and we were moved across the street to another unit at the last minute. This was sad for us, as we had picked our Hawaii home based on the 6th floor playground our condo offered, but c'est la vie. We still went over and used the playground a couple of times, and we got free parking and internet for our troubles. And I'm all about the savings, kids. As if you didn't know that already. Anywho, it was a nice change to have a lovely view of the mountains. Every afternoon a big shower would work itself up high up there above us, and it made for some pretty scenery and lots of rainbows. It was fun to see at night with all the lights from the houses, too.

Here's our pool as seen from our balcony. Those shadowy things are sea turtle mosaics in the tile of the pool. They even gave them shadows so they looked pretty cool. A tiny mosaic pool is the most deadly, slippery thing ever. I know this because as I tried to ease myself in the shallow end, the foot I put in the pool slipped sideways, sending me tumbling into the pool headfirst. It was not only graceful, but bordering on gifted. Oh, and the pool was pretty crowded at the time. I wrenched my poor broken pinky toe and it hurt even worse than when I originally broke it back in July. L was sorry to have missed all this. I'm not sure what he was looking at, probably some chick in a bikini.

Hatchling playing appropriately, as ever.

Here's what the little one did for pretty much our whole time in Hawaii. After five or ten minutes of play, he was ready to sit on my lap and be rocked. Oh yes, and I know I look terrible. Two pictures L took of me on our entire trip. Neither are good.

My sleeping beauties. Hatchling on his "special couch bed"

And the tiny pumpkin. He put this hat on himself. We like to call him Gangsta'

Slush Goes to Hawaii, Volume I

2008-10-31T14:09:00.004-06:00

Right, so I know it was ages ago. Ages. But I just finished the pics last night. Yes, I am a slacker. In my defense, I've been sick for like 3 weeks now. The little one and I have had a terrible head cold all week, which means that my strangely undersized head has been compensating by making about a liter of snot an hour. And that may be an underestimate. I'm feeling better now... I'm probably down to a liter a day or so. But nothing will get in the way of our Jack-O-Lantern Pie later, and trick or treating around the block. Fear not!

For our first installment, I would like to journal why I so rarely have good photos of the big 'un. This is just so you know what I am working with here.

If they would sleep more... (edited)

2008-10-20T11:49:00.003-06:00

I could spend more time making things like this:

And now I'm off to the Dr to see why my hands and feet have suddenly gone numb and tingly-like! Praying it is some new asthma medication I tried, and not diabetes or MS or Churg-Strauss Syndrome. 'Cause those would suck. (I don't really think there is a chance I have CSS, but darn this google age so that now I have one more thing to worry about. Technology is not all it's cracked up to be, my children!)

Edited to add: It's probably just the drugs. Hooray! Oh, and my October Sinus Infection. With all capitals. Because it's a proper name. Or something like that. I should not be allowed to homeschool, even for pre-k.

Ho Hum... I wish for a bottle of rum

2008-10-16T14:04:00.002-06:00

Don't you hate it when you haven't posted in so long that you feel the need to wait and post about something entertaining or witty or funny? And you keep waiting, but none of these things happens, and the pressure keeps mounting the longer and longer you wait? And finally you just give in and post about something crappy (or in this case, nothing), just to feel the pressure relieved? And gee, why are you guys so mean? You must be mean if I feel this pressured. Or perhaps that is my delusions of grandeur getting in the way again. Or maybe just plain old boring delusions. Whatever.

So, we got over being jet lagged. Thank goodness, since that was like a month ago or something. Still no pictures. I rock, I know. We've been sick, gotten flu shots, been sick again, and moved the little guy to his toddler bed after we discovered that his incessant rocking on his hands and knees (squeak, squeak, squeak) was leaving a little pile of graphite/metal shavings/black stuff around the base of each crib leg. The trauma of it has all been too much, and there has been much swooning in my vicinity.

In other news, I think I'm into aprons now. They appeal to my old-school attitudes and cover my problem areas. I ordered a pattern and have one upstairs that I'm ready to start working on. My aprons are going to pretty and serviceable. Or so I'd like to think, on both counts. Today I decided to do a homeschooling pre-k curriculum with Hatchling. Homeschooling also appeals to my old timeyness, but it's not a long-term solution for us. L says I have to get my rear back to work one of these days. Anyway, I ordered the P4/5 from Sonlight. That should prove interesting. But I love all the books that come with, and we're looking forward to some more structured reading time. And by we, I mean me. And myself. And her. And yes, I'm a little late in the year, but I work better under pressure. And Hatchling has no idea when the school year is, so he won't know if it goes a little longer than it should. Bwah ha ha...

Yawn...

2008-10-01T20:58:00.005-06:00

I'd like to say I'm writing this from Oahu, where we have decided to stay and never, ever leave. Alas, that is untrue. I did decide to stay and never, ever leave, but then I bought a gallon of milk for $7.59 (using the Food Lion discount, which the cashier was kind enough to grant me when I explained we were mainlanders. He had pity on my sticker shock. I mean, I buy my milk at Sam's to save 30 cents a gallon, and even without that it's only 3 something or other). After I bought some milk, I picked up some real estate books. You know, with the depressed real estate market I hear about on the news every night, I thought maybe we would have a chance of being able to afford something in Hawaii now. Reality has a way of slipping away from me when I am in Hawaii. It's a sickness. I should immediately be sent there until I can get over it. Shouldn't medicaid or somebody pay for that? Island Reality Loss Disorder Syndrome. IRLDS? It's real folks, and it's scary. Anyway, I came to the conclusion that if I wanted to live in Hawaii, I should never have had children. It's a little late for that realization, cause the cow's already out of the barn. Or something. And speaking of cows, someone needs to import some dairy cows and help those islanders out. Sheesh.

So I'm home, and I would show you some pictures to prove that I actually went, but alas, I haven't finished downloading them yet. I know, I'm a slacker. I came home (reluctantly) (but not crouched at the starting line) and betwixt my disgust at being at someone else's less clean than my house condo for a week (it wasn't dirty, just not like I would clean it, you know?) and the spider army which had moved in my house and needed to be destroyed (seriously, is this worst year for spiders ever, or is it just me?), I decided it was a good time for Fall Spring Cleaning Week. Or Spring Fall Cleaning Week. I can never decide which one I like better. And yes, FSCW/SFCW is just a week of spring cleaning that you do in the fall, in case you didn't know. And I know, I could just call it Fall Cleaning Week, but that doesn't make my spine tingle, and when you clean so hard that you have seriously sore thigh and arm muscles for 4 or 5 days straight, you need all the spine tingling you can get. Oh yes, it's true. And it's not that the cleaning is that hard, it's that I'm that wimpy. But we're not going to talk about that today. The good news is that I am almost done. Hooray! The bad news is that I am cleaning the upstairs (read: the boy's rooms) tomorrow. And they're dirty little buggers, those boys of mine. Oh, so very dirty. In fact, they are literally dirty. It's just occured to me that I'm not sure I've given them a bath since, well, Hawaii. Let us hope that I just can't remember it in the jet lagged fog of my last few days (we're all over it now, I think). And I promise to dip them both in some water tomorrow for good measure, OK? So get off my back.

Am I rambling? We're also hosting community group (which is like a Sunday School/ bible study thing with food, in case anyone doesn't know) at our house Sunday night, and I've decided to make Indian food for dinner. Why not make the hardest thing you know how to cook when you have 8 other couples coming over for dinner? So I have to go shopping, again, tomorrow. And I have to start marinating on Friday, and I have lots of cooking to do on Saturday and then a fair amount to do on Sunday. Because I am insane people, that's why. I should also probably decide when H2's birthday party is, cause he will be 2 on Tuesday. I love it when they are little and don't know that you suck as a mom.

And speaking of sucking as a mother.... I was cleaning away whilst listening to my ipod yesterday while the kids were sleeping. And I was really enjoying the soundtrack to the Scarlet Pimpernel (Aside from my passionate love of all things Pimpernel, Terrance Mann's Where's the Girl? is enough to make me swoon every single time I hear it. Oh my...). And I as sang quite boisterously, "Here, here, the man's a horses ass!", wouldn't you know that Hatchling came into the room. He just looked at me and asked for some milk, but I'm waiting for him to bring that up in dinner conversation. Probably when our community group is here . Rock on.

Packing With Slush

2008-09-14T18:52:00.007-06:00

In today's episode, we will see how Slush packs for vacation. It is sure to be fun and exciting, and may even prove enlightening to those of you who are less deranged than our dear hostess. Now, on with the show!

The first thing I like to do is start getting things ready by placing them on a nice, big workspace, like my bed. You could use the floor or a table or whatever you like, but the bed works for me. Plus it is tall, and the little one can't pull everything off of it. The big one can, but he knows better than to mess with Mommy when she's packing.

Next, I like to get out all my packing delights. They are packed in a box appropriately labeled "Packing Delights." I kid you not. Then I sort them into three piles, like thus:

Right, so that looks like 4 piles. The thingamigigger on the far left is actually one of those shirt folder things that is supposed to keep your clothes looking all fresh and neat. I can't work it to save my life. So it doesn't really count. It's dead to me.

If you look closely at my packing delights, you will see that they are really not the kind of packing things you would buy at a packing store, should such a delightful thing exist. No, no, my friends. None of that stuff for me. But only because I haven't met that store yet. Oh my, would I ever love to. Unless it had stuff like that shirt thing I mentioned earlier. But I must stop mentioning it, because it is dead to me.

If you look very closely, you will see that my packing cubes are actually little zippered holders from things I have purchased over the years, like sheets and pillowcases and such. This one is from Hatchling's curtains, which were purchased on clearance at TJ Max. I love TJ Max, but it stresses me out. Too much stuff. I can only peruse the luggage and purses section, which makes me swoon, and then breeze through the home things, which I like but which stresses me out. Too much stimulation. I need a quiet, simple kind of place to keep me from freaking out. TJ Max is not conducive to that. Neither is Shoe Carnival, which is next to it. I would have trouble going in there even if they were giving shoes to my whole family for free. I'm just not sure it would be worth it. We've strayed from packing, haven't we?

So once I have my little baggies all ready to go, I start collecting items to place in them. I think I'm starting to sound like a simpleton. Starting? Bah ha ha. Personally, I like to start with my panties, bras, pajamas, swimming things and L's boxer shorts (you didn't know he was a boxer man, did you?) and his swimming things. And then I place them in the baggies. My panties and bras go in a pillowcase holder. It's the perfect size. The first time TSA went through my luggage and strew my neatly folded underwear all over a table, I vowed it would be the last time they would do that to me. And hence a system was born...

Here you see the following: In the upper left, my jammies, a pair of jeans, and my swimming suit, board shorts and a couple of tank tops. In the upper right, I have L's boxers and his board shorts and rash gaurd. In the lower right, mine and L's beach shoes. They actually live here full time, cause they are sandy and I don't like sand in my Arkansas home. I also don't like hurricanes in my Arkansas home, but I haven't found a bag that can stop that. In the lower left you see my panties. As if the humilitation TSA made me suffer through wasn't enough, here I am putting a picture of them on the internet. Baffling, I know.

Next, I like to get all my shirts and pants out. Generally, I like to do this at the same time so I don't end up with orange pants and nothing to wear them with but a fuschia shirt. Just kidding- I don't have orange pants or a fushia shirt, but you get the point. So, I spread all my shirts out one by one, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles in each one before placing the next on top and repeating the process. After I have all my shirts collected, I begin the magic folding. Unless it is a summer trip, which this is, in which case I place my shorts on top of the pile, like so:

Now I fold the shirts in half, up over the shorts, like so:

And then I fold the shirts (with shorts inside) in quarter (?), like so:

And then I slip them into a medium sized bag. I have to use a large bag if it is a winter trip. I love summer trips.

After I have the essentials bagged (under things, swimming things, shirts and shorts), I'm ready to start putting things in the suitcase.

I always like to put a laundry bag in both mine and L's bag, and I also need lots of reading material on vacation. Someday I'm going to get a Kindle, and boy will packing be easier from a reading material stance. I once took 7 hardback books along for a week in Ireland. And I read them all, thank you very much. Much as I love Ireland, there's not much to do in the evenings if you don't drink a lot. And nothing is open but the pub, because you can't run your business if you are busy drinking down at the pub. That's one of the things I love about Ireland. But dang, was my bag heavy...

I still need to throw in a few essentials, like my make up bag, our travel first aid kit (between Hatchling and myself, we will no doubt need it), loads of sunscreen, and toiletries. I place all liquids in Hefty freezer bags, and if it is something I feel is especially dangerous, I double bag it. In the outside pockets I will place my extra shoes. Since I'm just taking sandals for this trip, they'll fit anywhere. So maybe I'll put them in the bag after all. I suppose it just depends on how crazy I'm feeling Monday night.

And that's my system. Now in case you are worried that I have been left without make up and underthings until we leave, fear not! This is just a test run. I took my shirts out and they await re-bagging on my dresser. I will just have to throw all this stuff in my bag Monday night and Tuesday morning, and I'll be ready to go. But the hard work (deciding what to take) is already done. I like to do this little test a few days before crunch time. One, it makes life less stressful. It also tells me if I am taking too much, too little (ba ha ha- as if that has ever happened!) and gives me a few days to mull over the details and make sure I'm not missing anything. I need this since I pack for myself, two small children, and L. And just so you know, I do make L pick out his clothes that he is taking, but then I take care of just about everything else for him. He takes care of me on vacation. It's a pretty nice system we have going.

The great thing about the little cube system is that it is easy to pull things out and rearrange them or switch out bags between multiple suitcases if you are having problems getting the weight under the limit. Which would never happen to someone traveling with 7 hardback books. No way. Also, it's easier to unpack when you get where you're going. And really, my clothes are always relatively unwrinkled upon arrival. And relatively unwrinkeld is about the most I strive for in life. Seriously.

Something else I do is this: I leave one complete change of clothes, skivvies and all, out of my suitcase. This goes in a bag and is either crosspacked into L's bag (figuring if they lose a bag, hopefully they will only lose one of our bags), or it goes into my carry on. I do the same for L. And the kids, though theirs go in their carry ons and double as a spare change of clothes in case of whatever bodily fluid or food stuff neccesitates the changing of the clothes.

And that's all I've got folks. Hopefully, you don't feel like this:

This is what H2 did while I was packing. Apparently he doesn't share Mommy's love of organized suitcases. Or maybe he just had a rough morning. I'm not sure. He's cute though, isn't he?

Oh, and say a prayer we make it. We're still flying through Houston. They won't reroute us since we are using air miles. Nice way to pay back your customers, guys! So I'm kind of freaking out. A little....

Can You Help A 9 Year Old Boy?

2008-09-12T20:25:00.003-06:00

Brett Jackson is a 9 year old boy. He could read and add triple digit numbers together before he entered kindergarten. He has a loving family. In May of this year, he woke up in the night with a bad headache and started vomiting. Since then, he has deteriorated to the point where he can no longer walk or talk. He has lost 30 lbs in the last 3 months. He has a rare and terminal condition called Neurocutaneous Melanosis with malignancy.

HOWEVER, there is a new drug/treatment being tested, which costs $100,000, which shows promise in putting this into remission. And then not only would this 9 year old boy live a little longer, but perhaps there would be a cure for this disease when it came back. Joe, Brett's dad, is asking everyone who reads about Brett's story to donate $1. It was listed on Fark and while I write this, the donations are up to just over $30,000. But Brett's not doing well, and the hospital won't start the treatment until all the money is in hand. If you have a dollar, please donate. If you know of another way to get this story out to the media, please do so. What parent wouldn't do anything to have just one more day, one more hour, with a beloved child? Let's help Brett's parents. If you can't donate, please pray for them, and for their little boy.

Donate Here
(via paypal or snail mail)

Read More Here
(requires free registration, but I used Username: leavemealone Password: bugmenot successfully.)

Oh dearie, dear...

2008-09-12T11:10:00.003-06:00

You guys make me feel so loved. Thanks for that.

Things that don't make me feel loved so much include trying on all the shorts in my drawer (I wear the same two grungy pair (pairs?) all the time). I believe I heard the faint sound of laughter as I replaced all the shorts I bought last time we were in Hawaii and closed the drawer. It's bad when one's own clothes mock one. It's also bad when one sloshes tea on their shirt AND shorts in one fell swoop, as I just did. It's a banner day here in Slushville.

I gained 10 pounds last Christmas. Did I tell you that? I thought, no big deal, I'll have it off by shorts season. Um, yeah, not so much fatty pants. I still haven't gotten it off. In fact, I'm equally as fat today as I was on January 1st. How distressing and depressing. Oh, and all my jeans except for one pair are painfully tight too. Rock on.

So, when I get back from vacation, the trimming of Slush's rear begins in earnest. All those bikini clad bodies should fill me with enough self- loathing to get serious. I could start now, but come on, I'm going on vacation next week, which is the one time of the year I allow myself to indulge in the decadence of chocolate pop tarts for breakfast. Oh my, THAT is the breakfast of champions, I feel sure. Of course, last time we were in Hawaii, there was an island wide shortage of chocolate pop tarts. I kid you not, my friends. I went to about a hundred stores around the island, and every store had a big empty space on their shelves where the chocolate pop tarts should be. Apparently, Polynesians like their chocolaty breakfasts as much as they like canned ham products. If that happens this year, we shall assume that God has decided I need divine intervention to lose some weight. And wow, wouldn't that be depressing?

130 lbs by Christmas is the goal. If I don't make it, I'm going to have to do something drastic- like not have any Coke for a year. That ought to be enough to get me to lose some weight. I shudder at the thought. Ok, I'm not ready to commit to that yet. Bah ha ha. Anyway, I'll be thinking about it. Maybe I'll even get one of those little counters so you guys can come laugh at my lack of progress every day. I'm all about entertaining the masses, you know.

If I am organized enough later (read: it probably won't happen), I'll take some pictures of my packing process, which is sure to amaze and astound you all. Maybe not. I like to think of packing as an art form, and it is one of my favorite parts of going some place. Have you guys seen that Windsor Castle series on PBS? I nearly swooned when I saw the Queen's ladies packing her items by wrapping them in tissue so they wouldn't get wrinkled. I'm nearly swooning now just thinking about it. And you know, this is all assuming that Houston hasn't been blown to kingdom come by then (I called the airline, they tell me they are going to be open again on Sunday in Houston. We'll see.). As if I didn't have enough problems, I came across this yesterday. IF YOU ARE MY MOTHER, DO NOT CLICK THIS LINK UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. I mean it.

I'm starting to wonder if we are meant to go on vacation this year...

Ummm.. Ermmm. Uhhh...

2008-09-11T19:20:00.001-06:00

Have I mentioned we are flying through Houston first thing on Tuesday morning? Jeepers...

Me Car's Bum...

2008-09-09T12:41:00.003-06:00

Ok, first of all, check out the comment on the last post (Comrade Obama). If liberals knew how delighted I was whenever they left snarky comments and were too squemish to do so without the veil of anonymity, they just wouldn't bother. Seriously, it makes my day laughing at them. Not because of their ideology, but because of their timidity. So there.

Now, on to our regularly scheduled run down of my trip to WalMart this week. And fear not, Shannon, I know not only where a WalMart is in Waikiki, but it also has a Sam's Club upstairs which sells wine and all sorts of almost live seafood that I would never consider putting in my body. So you'll no doubt hear at least something from there.

Yesterday, as we were leaving the WalMarts, I stopped to let some pedestrians pass in front of me. I do that sort of thing. I haven't squashed anyone in years. Anywho, I looked into my rearview mirror just in time to see a ginormous truck (a Ford, in case you were wondering) smash into me car's bum. It was backing up, and there was a big box in the back so they couldn't see out their window to my dink little Honda. A big scrape and a small dent in the trunk thanks to their hitch ensued. Information was exchanged and I was on my way.

Later in the afternoon, after the boys had their naps, we headed down to the car repair place for an estimate. While we were waiting, H2 was kind enough to pull a bunch of magazines off of a table and onto the floor, throw himself down on the floor kicking and screaming and then continued to scream while we went outside to look at the damage, while we sat in the office and waited for the estimate, and the whole time I was putting him into the car to leave. As soon as we left, he was all smiles (please start praying about our flights to and from Hawaii. Oh my...). Of course, by then I felt like screaming ($1200 was the estimate). I called L, all weepy and frazzled and in need a fainting couch, stat. As usual, L talked me down, decided to come home rather than go to the gym so that he could deal with his high strung wife, and fixed everything.

And that's that.

Greetings Comrade

2008-09-03T06:51:00.002-06:00

Comrade Obama

That's all I'm saying...

I May Never Be Productive Again...

2008-08-29T21:56:00.004-06:00

Not that I've ever been terribly productive to begin with. Anywho, I just got Photoshop CS3 in the mail today, and boy am I having fun! Here's a sampling of what I've done so far:

This right here, kids, is the reason I'm going to have smokers wrinkles around my lips, even though I don't smoke. Puckering up for this little cutie about a hundred times a day is a sure fire way to need more regenerist, or whatever that stuff I smear on at night is...

And this. Who could deny this baby anything? Certainly not me. So don't be surprised when he turns out to be a brat. That's all I'm saying.

PSA

2008-08-28T12:24:00.002-06:00

It doesn't really do any good to drag your poor, very sore from pilates, body to the gym for swimming laps if you are just going to take it right back home and feed it most of a box of mac and cheese and a big coke. I'm just saying. My stupidity, and perhaps my bottom, know no bounds.

Dear Nancy,

2008-08-26T20:39:00.002-06:00

"I believe in natural gas as a clean, cheap alternative to fossil fuels."

Yeah, I'm pretty sure natural gas is actually a fossil fuel.

It's OK, it's not like the Speaker of the House needs to understand energy issues. We understand. Really, we do.

Love,
Slush

I remembered!

2008-08-26T06:53:00.003-06:00

I remember what I was going to tell you! I'm so happy that I'm not brain dead.

We were checking out at Wal-Mart yesterday and Hatchling was being especially spastic, to the point that he was interfering with the lady checking us out and bagging our groceries. On one of his orbits around me, I caught him and squatted down and said "Hatchling! You are not acting very nice, and not only is it making mommy very sad, but you are keeping this nice lady from getting her job done! She wants to check us out so that she can help other customers!" Hatchling stuck his head around the register and a said "Sorry lady!". She was abnormally cool. Usually, my kids charm the socks of cashiers, even when they are being pretty bad. They're just too cute to resist in short doses.

We finished paying and as I took the receipt from the cashier's hand, I happened to look at her name badge: Chris. And I tell you folks, there is at least a 50% chance that she was a he. Which would totally explain the coolness of the attitude....

It's just Pat.

In other news, we went out to eat L's family over the weekend, and the Angry Guatemalan reared his ugly head. He was getting fussy in his high chair after dinner, so I took him out and was holding him, and he took off his shoe and threw at my face. Not only did it hit me in the face, it then careened about 20 feet away across the restaurant. We are just so proud. I can't wait to take him on a flight to Hawaii in 3 weeks. We might be on the news in one of those "Mother and Screaming Baby Kicked Off Flight" stories. I see some benadryl in that sweet baby's future.

Brain Drain

2008-08-25T13:46:00.001-06:00

I feel sure that I had something at least a little bit interesting to say when I sat down here, and now I can't remember a dang thing, other than it involved Wal-Mart, because it always does. How sad for me.

I have no words...

2008-08-19T08:41:00.003-06:00

As my niece's birthday approaches, I was delighted to get permission from my sister to do some Barbie shopping. I love Barbies. I loved them as a kid, I love them now. Hatchling kind of likes them too, but that's a whole 'nother post.

Anyway, as we cruised the aisles of Wal-Mart yesterday (have you noticed that I say Wal-Mart in like, every post I write. It's a sad, sad life I lead. And no, they don't pay me squat.), we took a preliminary gander down that pink, pink Barbie aisle. And here is what I saw:

I particularly like the bird attached to her head. Do you think that comes off? I'm sure this is meant for collectors, though why you would want to collect this is beyond me. I do wonder how my niece's psyche would hold up if this were to be her first Barbie doll? Hmmm... better not.

Children: The Ultimate Weapon

2008-08-18T13:39:00.002-06:00

There are times when I am not above using my children as weapons in whatever warfare I find myself involved in. Ok, let's get real- I'm never above using my children as weapons- metaphorically, of course. I don't want them to get hurt- then I would have to waste my valuable time nursing them.

Anyway, after swimming at the gym today (I can still only swim thanks to my broken toe. I'm so delicate.), the boys and I headed to the Wal-Marts for some food and to get L's oil changed. We were next in line when we pulled around to the car place (is that the official department name?) and there was much rejoicing because I was tired, the boys were tired and hungry, and we were moments away from a breakdown. The only question was which one of the three of us would go first. Personally, I had odds on myself as they have completely screwed with my Wal-Mart of choice and everytime I go there is a new wall and everything is moved around backwards. I don't like change. Did you know that about me? Unless I'm the instigator, and then I think change is the best thing ever. I'm consistent like that

After walking in circles and finally finding everything we came for (except for the thing I forgot to put on my list, but I can hardly hold Wal-Mart responsible for my own stupidity), we checked out and headed back over to the car place. We were second in line to check out, and I could tell our car had already moved through the little up and down thing back out to the parking lot. You don't come here for the automotive lingo, do you? If so, you may need to seek some proffessional help.

As we waited, I realized that the yahoo in front of me was a complete moron and that this might take a while. See, he had purchased a power washer at another Wal-Mart in town a few days ago. Then he came to the jacked up Wal-Mart today and found the same power washer clearanced for a hundred dollars less. So he up and bought it. And then he strolled with it back to the automotive center (that's what it is called!) and demanded that they refund him the hundred dollars he spent on other one. Even though he had neigther the original receipt nor the original power washer on him. The poor kid working the desk tried to explain it as nicely as he could, and told him best option was to take the new power washer and the old receipt to the other Wal-Mart, where they would no doubt happily refund his money. He didn't budge. He wanted his money and why did they think they could cheat him like this? I didn't get a good look at him, but I suspect he was missing a few teeth. That's mean, but it's what I was thinking.

We were barely into this drama when H2 decided he had had ENOUGH. And when he has had enough, he means it. He started screaming. It's peircing, that darling's bellow. He stood up in the cart (and was promptly sat back down by his ever watchful mother). He took off both of his shoes and threw them across the room. He hit his mommy in the chest, then repented and pulled her close for a hug, then repented and hit her again. And he screamed some more. He finally laid down in the little seat sideways with his feet hanging over the edge and screamed and screamed and screamed. Have I mentioned the screaming? Oy, there was lots of screaming. I could have tried to console him or shush him up (as if that would work on my little hot blooded latin), but I didn't. I just let him wail, and I shot some pointed, but wasted, looks at the dolt in front of me.

Finally, they begged me to go check out in sporting goods. And H2 screamed on. Until he got in the car, where he immediately fell asleep, except for the little cry in his sleep until we got home. He was plumb worn out from his display. I would like to think that the man in front of me learned a valuable lesson about gentlemanly behavior towards mothers traveling with small children, but I suspect he thought I was a terrible parent and that my kids were brats. Which is unfair, because Hatchling was being good. Sort of. Anyway, that's what my morning was like.

In other news, on Friday, I was holding H2, who rarely says anything other than 'no' and 'Hatchling', and I said 'I love you H2' and he said, clear as a bell, 'I love you too'. I nearly fell out of my chair. What a sweet, sweet little pumpkin. I think I'll keep him.

Our First Ride

2008-08-13T17:42:00.003-06:00

Have I ever told you about the night L and I bought our mountain bikes?

Back before we had kids, and when I say before we had kids, what I mean is back when we had money, we were getting ready to move, and by getting ready to move, I mean moving the next day. So while we had plenty of things to do at home, we instead ventured out to a local outdoor sporting goods store to look at bikes. And we decided to buy a couple. 'Cause that's the kind of people we were back then, in our carefree days with lots of disposable income. We spent some time in the store, being instructed in how to take the front wheel off and put it on, how to change gears and what-nots. We looked at some accessories, and opted to skip helmets and instead get a little baggie thing to carry stuff and a speedometer or something like that.

Since we were moving the next day, and our new house closer to the store than our house we were spending the night in, we decided to take them to the new place and stick them in the garage. It was about ten o'clock when we got there, and there a was a fine light mist falling outside. It was October, and the night air was cool and crisp. We took our bikes out of the back of the SUV and each put our front wheels on. In the dark, cold rain. I couldn't stand to not ride our brand new, shiny bikes, so I cajoled L into riding up the street and back before going home to pack.

We hopped on our bikes and took off up the hill. After a few yards, I started peddling harder and made some smarty pants remark about him not being able to keep up as I zoomed past him. When I was just a few feet in front of him, I suddenly felt a big jolt and heard this horrible scraping sound. The next thing I knew, I was lying in the middle of the street and L was yelling at me to answer him and was I OK or not?

As you might have already guessed, I was not quite as proficient as I thought at putting on the front wheel of my bicycle. As soon as I really got going, it flew out and the forks planted in the asphalt, and I flew over the handlebars and went skidding down the road. To this day, my North Face Fleece (which was new at the time), wears a burn mark on one sleeve where I skidded across the pavement.

I was very, very lucky. Though I don't believe in luck. I had no breaks, minimal road rash, and a big scratch on my pretty new bike. I cried real tears over that.

We took my bike back in the next week for repair (I messed up the spokes on the wheel that flew off), and you'll all be relieved to know that both L and I purchased helmets on that trip.

Remind me to tell you about our second trip out sometime.

(P.S. - this post was written on Penelope, the new love of my life. How did I live without a Mac?)

Well, It's Not Leprosy...

2008-08-12T14:21:00.003-06:00

After our Dr.'s appointment yesterday (where Hatchling couldn't be bothered to stop playing with the pink plastic "wheel house"- Hatchlingese for R.V.), we were told he did not have impetigo, and they wanted him to see a dermatologist. Today.

Ye old dermatologist, while holding H2 on his lap because H2 demanded it, diagnosed Hatchling with psoriasis (Hatchling couldn't be bothered to stop playing his leapster, and sighed like I asked him to swim the Atlantic when I asked him to put it down so we could take off his shirt). It was the diagnosis I was most dreading (you know, barring leukemia or something really awful). I just hate to know that my son with the smooth, smooth skin will have to deal with this for the rest of the his life. And he does have the smoothest skin I've ever beheld. Or felt. At least when it's not covered in spots and scales.

The derm does think this was brought on by a strep infection (even though he had no other symptoms) and that it hopefully won't be this bad in general. So we're going to medicate the tar out of him and go back in a month.

My poor little baby.

In a happier vein, I broke my laptop last week. That's not the happy part, in case you were wondering. Anyway, after L failed to fix it, he ordered me a Mac Book- and it will be here today. I anxiously await the UPS man, and I'm so glad he didn't come while we were at the doctor! I do feel a little bad that Brad had just promised me that when my laptop died he would buy me a Mac, and then lo and behold I go and break it good. It wasn't on purpose. I promise! I do have to admit, however, that it looks pretty bad...

Make me feel better

2008-08-11T11:38:00.002-06:00

Am I the only one who can't get a bloody thing done when the Olympics are on?

I mean, seriously. Even though I'm in front of the computer now, I can still see and hear Olympic water polo going on. Like I care about water polo? Or even understand anything about it? I think they play it in a pool... that's about all I know.

Even Hatchling wants to watch it 24/7- and he knows who Michael Phelps is (but he thinks I could beat him, for some reason, the strange little fellow). H2 just likes to jump up and down with the crowd and clap for everything. Lucky for him that his dimple does such work on me, or I'd yell at him for clapping for the wrong team. Really, I would. H2 also likes to throw his SpongeBob ball up, up, and away and pretend we are playing volleyball. Olympic SpongeBob Living Room Volley Ball. You should try it sometime. I recommend the removal of all beverages first though, and believe me this advice is born of experience. Is that the right was to spell born when using it in this way? I'm too lazy to look it up- I mean, I am watching the Olympics people. Yeah.

Hatchling has impetigo. We went last Monday and got antibiotics, we are going back today to see if we need more. My poor baby looks much less cute than normal, though I still find him rather fetching.

I Am An Afficianodo Of Few Things

2008-08-08T10:22:00.005-06:00

But one thing I do know, is Coke. Sweet, delicious and refreshing Coca Cola. Ahhh... frankly there are few pleasures in life which I would put above a nice cold Coke, fresh from the fridge. And the sound of a can being opened or a bottle top being pried off- it must be one of the sweetest sounds on this planet. We should broadcast it to outer space. The aliens would come, and they would come in peace.

It's a sickness, all right? I blame my mother, who let me drink as much as I wanted as a child. And also, I like to blame her for all sorts of things. That is what mothers are for, yes? (just kidding Mom!)

On a recent trip to Sam's (and solidifying it as one of the happiest places on Earth, in my opinion), I happened upon a large stack of Coke, in glass bottles. Upon closer inspection, I and saw this:

I don't know if you can read it, but it says "hecho en Mexico". Oh come on! Even with my abysmal Spanish, I know what that means! And what it means on a Coca Cola is much nearer and dearer to my little heart.

Coke, a history, SlushStyle: You see, sometime around when that bastard child of the Coca Cola Company, New Coke, came out, U.S. bottlers started using cheaper (and much more evil) high fructose corn syrup to sweeten their Coke. Mexican bottlers still rely on cane sugar to make their beverages oh so good. And oh, how I love Mexican Coke. When we go on our mission trips to Mexico, the local pastor's wife always makes sure to bring me a big bottle of Coke, which I happily devour. Can you devour a drink? I think I can.

But back to Sam's. After I nearly swooned in the aisle, el heffe (that's L. Oh, and I have no idea if I am spelling it correctly. Again, the Spanish is abysmal...) broke down and bought me a case. It's not cheap, my friends. I'm sure the cost of transporting glass bottles all the way from down south of the border is not cheap. It was $17.88 for 24 of those babies. What's that come out to? 75 cents a bottle or so? (ok, who is this who suddenly does all these mathematical equations on my blog, albeit simple ones aided by a calculator?) Anyway, 75 cents for a little taste of heaven. I'd pay twice as much. L wouldn't though, so it's a good thing they aren't any more expensive than they are. Sadly, I have slurped my way through the entire case. In my defense, I shared about half of them. So really I was cheated, and L should buy me more. Tonight. That's all I'm sayin'.

I have a feeling that my mansion in the sky will have a Coke fountain in it, which flows with good ol' Mexican Coke. Or so I hope. I've never been so happy for the high latino population in my area.

Do you guys remember my haiku to Coke?

Aluminum can
Packed, 39 sugar grams
Nectar, Love, Cruelty

I guess I need to write a haiku to Mexican Coke now. Alas, I will certainly need a bottle in my hand before the creative juices will be flowing.

Victorious

2008-08-04T20:30:00.002-06:00

Sometimes, little guys do come out on top.

Congress needs to get a grip

2008-07-29T10:08:00.003-06:00

According to it's not news, it's CNN, our finely feathered elected statesmen and women are poised to get down to pressing governmental problems today, such as (shaking my magic eight ball) apologizing for slavery and Jim Crow.

Now, according to my research, and keeping in mind that my math skills are abysmal, let's take a look at what Congress is costing the American taxpayers.

The Legislative Branch Appropriations Bill for Financial Year 2008 was 3.1 billion dollars by the time it passed. Now, extrapolated (I feel super smart when I work "extrapolate" into my conversation, though I'm never sure I actually used it correctly...) over 366 days for a leap year, that works out to almost 8.5 million dollars for a day of work. Of course, we all know Congress works much less than 366 days in a year, making our bill for this sweet, but fiscally irresponsible, resolution, much, much higher. Is it any wonder that we have a deficit of, I don't know, a gazillion dollars? That's right folks, a gazillion. Closing in fast on a gazillion million.

Sure, I'm sorry about slavery. However, if I was an African-American, I'd be more sorry about losing over 8 million dollars in one day for a pansy apology that at best gives somebody warm fuzzies, and at worst keeps dollars out of the hands of people who needed it in the form of food or health care. And if I was "Rep. Steve Cohen, a white lawmaker who represents a majority black district in Memphis, Tennessee," that's exactly what I would tell my constituents. And that's why I will never ever be elected to anything. Well, that and the fact that I would rather throw myself off of a bridge than give a public speech.

Right, putting away the soapbox now.

Wedding Pictures

2008-07-28T07:24:00.004-06:00

The groom arrived in a gator. This was to ensure no one messed with his car. Since both of my children were in full-on meltdown mode and we left before the happy couple, I don't know how this worked out for him. But I thought it was pretty funny...

Pre- wedding, the Angry Guatemalan enjoyed some fun with a balloon. This is long before he turned into the black olive monster. He managed to swipe the olives off of a whole long table's worth of plates before being satiated (read: screaming until his favorite great-uncle got up to get him more).

Seriously Hatchling, what's with the goofy smile?

Here's Hatchling with our family.

Here he is sneaking into the groom's family picture. He's diabolical and crafty, that one.

The giant pile of Jalepenos del Diablo. My hands are all better now.

This is my favorite pic of the happy couple!

A Cautionary Tale of Culinary Woe

2008-07-26T17:08:00.002-06:00

Please friends, don't let this happen to you.

L's sister got married today (yea!). My job was to provide copious amounts of pinwheels, artichoke spinach dip, and jalapeno thingys.

I suppose I should have known things were going to be difficult when the Food and Drug Administration announced, the day before I went to buy 50 of them, that jalapenos were the source of the salmonella outbreak. Salmonella doesn't scare me, and I was cooking them anyway, so I found a local farmer that had some and stocked up. Last night (after returning from L's Granny's funeral), I washed all my peppers and started slicing and scooping out the insides. On about pepper number thirty, I started coughing up a storm. But I was almost done with the worst part, so I pressed on. I have stellar work ethic. By the time the last pepper was freed from its heinous insides, I was coughing so much I was gagging. I mean doubled over on the floor and seriously about to puke coughing and gagging. I guess I'm sensitive to that stuff in pepper spray.

I took a break before stuffing and wrapping my little pepper friends in bacon, and sat down to watch the news with L. I commented on how little microscopic cuts I had on my hands that I wasn't even aware of burned like the dickens. I suppose it is merciful that I didn't know what I was in for.

By the time I was about halfway through stuffing, my hands were bright, bright red, and hurt like, well, hell. Holy crap, did they ever hurt. I yelled at L to google burning pepper hands, and we discovered I was suffering from something called jalapeno hands. Such a cute little name for the most painful of disorders.

L suggested washing my hands in the hottest water I could stand, with dish washing liquid to cut the pepper oil. I did. Multiple times. Before long, the hottest water I could stand was from the cold tap, and it was nearly excruitiating. Then he suggested rubbing alcohol. This was quite soothing. Until the alcohol dried, and the searing pain returned. Next came a milk bath. Yeah, it didn't do much. Next came hydrocortisone cream. Nothing. A soak in white vinegar. It seemed to help. For about 15 minutes. I then spent the rest of the evening putting germx on my hands every 2 minutes. I think it is the coolness of the alcohol that makes it feel better. Or it could be the two chocolate martinis L made me. Either way, the pain was lessened enough that I was able to go to bed. With an icepack.

This morning, the pain seemed mostly diminished- until I got up and set to baking all my little peppers. I don't know if it was the blood returning to my hands after being asleep, touching the peppers again, or my hands just seeing the peppers and throwing a big old flaming fit of pain at such an injustice to their very being, but once I was up and around, the pain was pretty intense again. I spent the drive to the wedding with an icepack. Have I mentioned how much I love ice?

Please, don't touch peppers without gloves. I didn't know, but I promise you want to learn from my stupidity. Boy howdy, you really really want to learn from me.

We'll Miss You Granny...

2008-07-24T09:01:00.002-06:00

L's Granny died yesterday. She was, hmmm... how old was she? Ninety something. Maybe 96? Definitely mid-nineties, I know. She had been on the downhill slide for the 8 years or so that I have known her, finally being moved into a nursing home and then another facility when they couldn't care for her anymore. She was in the last stages of dementia, and scared because she didn't know anyone or what was happening to her, so it is an answer to prayer that she has finally gone home to be with the Lord.

Please pray for L's Mom and her sister, as they were extremely close to her. While they know she is in a better place, and they are happy to see her suffering end, they are of course very sad to not have her with them. We'll be heading over to L's hometown this afternoon for the funeral tomorrow.

There have been some interesting discussions with Hatchling over this news, as this is the first death to touch him that he has noticed (when my Nanny died, he was only two). We explained to him that most people die when they are old, but sometimes you can die when you are young, and that is why we are always trying to get him to be careful. He was nonplussed. Then he wanted to know how, exactly, people died. I told him it could be lots of different ways. "Do they go into the forest?" he queried. "Ummm... they could go to the forest," I replied. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Old people go to the forest and then they die." He seems to have it all figured out, the little spas.

This Came In The Mail Today

2008-07-16T19:19:00.003-06:00

Dear Leonardo,

We felt we should contact you in regards to your recent behaviour, i.e., purchasing your wife a book entitled It's All Too Much: An Easy Plan for Living a Richer Life with Less Stuff, and then flying off to Florida and leaving her alone for eight days.

Apparently, she thinks her life would be richer without your stuff. Yeah, big mistake, buddy. We can't believe you didn't see that one coming. The good news is she hasn't thrown your clothes out yet. Of course, we understand tomorrow is trash day in your neighborhood. Good luck with that.

Sincerely, and with great regret at your obvious lack of sense,

United We Stand Men's Club of America
(also known as The Association of No! I Might Need That Some Day!
and But I Paid Good Money For That And I'm Not Throwing It Out , Inc.)

Moses Supposes His Toeses Are Roses...

2008-07-10T10:32:00.003-06:00

I don't suppose there is any chance that one of my readers is a foot doctor? What is that? A podiatrist? Yeah, I was thinking probably not.

Last week, I met my cousin at my grandparent's house for a lovely lunch. We came home and I put the kids down for a nap and then started running around the house trying to get stuff done before L got home from work. I have a schedule of daily cleaning to do, you know (today is laundry, vacuuming the downstairs, and helping Rosie mop the living room. None of which is currently done. I'm too busy whining...). As I was making a pass through the living room, L's clawed foot chair leg let go of its ball and reached out and grabbed me. Uh huh, that's exactly what happened. Why don't you believe me? I went down hard. Oh my. I think I cried and I know I said some naughty words (the kids weren't there!).

After waiting about an hour for the pain to diminish (the approximate time it took me to decide I was going to be OK when I dropped a can of refried beans on the same foot last year), the pain was still intense. So I called my Dr's office and talked the nurse, who informed me I could go get an xray if I wanted, but said there wasn't usually much they could do for a broken toe. I decided not to waste my time (read: taking Heckle and Jeckle to get an xray just isn't worth it).

Over a week later, my poor little pinkie toe is still swollen, bruised, and extremely unhappy with his lot in life. He was feeling better until I tried to put a running shoe on him yesterday, and it made him so mad that he's still throbbing today. I think he's saying he wants a Mexican Coke (upcoming post). And I think I owe it to him to give him whatever he wants.

Here's a picture of him, so you can share in his sadness. Let's not talk about my bad need of a new pedicure, my overly long toes (or feet, for that matter), or all those veins you can see. No wonder mosquitoes like me. They can tell from twenty feet that I have skin the thickness of onion paper. Is onion paper a real item or did I just make that up? I'm starting to wonder if I bumped my head in that fall.

You Must Make These And Eat Them RIGHT NOW!

2008-07-09T13:32:00.002-06:00

Last Friday night we had our alleyway 4th of July party (for those who don't know, our neighborhood doesn't allow front entry garages, so we have little alleys between houses and we get into the garage that way).

Our builder, who is our backdoor neighbor, used to be in a fireworks business with his brothers (one of whom is also a pretty close neighbor). When they sold the business, they made a deal where they could always buy fireworks wholesale in the future. They're big kids. But we like them... Every year they do a big bar-b-que where all the neighbors are invited, along with about half of the town (I think this year there were only about 200 people, down considerably from last year). After everyone is full and the kids are sufficiently grimey and sweaty, we settle down in our lawn chairs and watch a killer fireworks show that rivals any professional venue. I can't imagine how much they spend on fireworks- even at wholesale. Definitely more than the thirty dollars we alloted Hatchling and his little sidekick.

For the get together, we were assigned to bring buns and a side dish, based on our last name. Isn't that organized? I am so glad I was not in charge of this shindig. Thank goodness I bought a huge bag of Cheetos to go with our buns, cause when L got home and saw these, he ate almost all of them (with a teensy bit of help from me, maybe).

Now, if you don't like jalapenos, don't be afraid! I hate peppers of all shapes and sizes, but they were still delectible. The peppers are just a vessal for the cream cheese and bacon. Like little heavenly boats, sailing to your taste buds. Trust me. You won't be sorry.

He's Special...

2008-07-08T12:00:00.004-06:00

Hatchling has never been big on the water. Baths he likes... as long as you don't try to wash his hair... Here's his first bath. He looks excited, no? And can you believe this is a newborn? Look at that poochy belly (in honor of that belly, I've been sporting some belly fat of my own for the last 4 years. I'm such a giver.)! Gosh I miss that miss mad little face. It was far more charming on a 2 week old than it is on a melodramatic 4 year old.

In addition to his water aversion, Hatchling happens to think that he knows everything. He gets this from his father. All of his bad qualities are not from my genetic makeup. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. This particular quality makes him rather un-teachable. He's smart as a whip (if leather braids are indeed intelligent), but convincing him that you know better than him and he should listen to you is a daunting task. I could never in a trillion years homeschool this one. Oh no. He would break me in about a day. Oh wait, he already has.

Quick story- in the car yesterday, Hatchling informed me that the sun is a big ball of fire in outer space. You don't want to touch it. The earth is a big ball in outer space and it's full of people. There are other planets in outerspace, and they are full of aliens. I broke in to inform him that we really don't know if there are aliens in outer space, though Mommy and Daddy are inclined to think that they don't exist. Hatchling replied, "Uh, no mommy. Aliens are real. And they live on planets in outerspace. There are good aliens and bad aliens. And we have to kill the bad aliens." There's just no arguing with logic like that.

Anywho... back to the water. We decided to put Hatchling in some swimming classes at our gym this summer, hoping we can get him to actually like water and want to do more than take all the water out of the pool to dry on the sidewalk. We signed up for two two-week classes. That makes a month of lessons for those of you who do math like me. Yesterday was our first class, and H was rearing to go. It is a beginner class, in which they accomplished blowing bubbles in the water and kicking while being pulled in a noodle for their first triumphs. I watched anxiously from the sidelines. Not because I feared they would let him drown, but because I knew they might need help handling him. Here he is getting in the water with his teacher. I believe this is when he was telling her there was no way he was going under water. Not going to do it.

Let's take a moment and talk about his teacher. Yes, she has actually given birth before. You too could look like this. I have no idea how, but I have to believe it's possible. We all deserve the dream, ladies.

Throughout the class, while one teacher led the kids through the exercises, the other had to pretty much be on Hatchling patrol. I felt for them, I really did. He looks like trouble, doesn't he?

And it is not that he was being bad, really. He just has more personality than a little 4 year old body can contain. He was splashing (ok, that was being bad, and disobeying... but it did look fun), he was climbing out of the water to inspect the stack of toys the teachers had dumped at the side of the pool for use later in the lesson, he was getting toys they had already used and practising blowing bubbles, all while staunchly refusing to put his head under water. He also declared he didn't need to be pulled in the noodle, cause he could just walk around this pool. Who can fault such logic?

But he had fun, and he did learn a little. If it will brighten up outside, we are going to the pool tonight to show Daddy his mad noodling skills.

First though, we have to take me to the Dr to talk about asthma medication. Perhaps I will feel like a new person if I am (more) medicated. Here's hoping, anyway.

I'll huff and I'll puff

2008-06-30T18:54:00.002-06:00

In honor of my quickly approaching 34th birthday (don't tell anyone... I'm thinking about staying 33 for at least another year or so), I took myself to ye olde diagnostic clinic today for a complete pulmonary workup.

Why would I do such a thing? Well, I have this friend. Shocking, I know. Anyway, she's a drug rep for something or other, and she works with some asthma drugs either directly or indirectly, I can't remember which (it's no wonder it comes as a surprise that I have a friend, now is it?). She has been on my case for a couple of years about getting tested, because she is pretty sure that I at least have exercise-induced asthma, if not the whole shebang. Incidentally, she's also the person who diagnosed my accidental pregnancy with Hatchling. What a know-it-all (I love her anyway... or maybe I love her because she knows everything. I like to be informed...). I actually was going to get tested a couple of years ago, and then L realized he didn't have any life insurance on me, so I waited. And today was the day.

I don't remember all the names of the things they did to me. Basically, I got to sit in a little Plexiglas booth and blow in a big tube. I kind of felt like I was on a Japanese game show. Or at least one of those commercials for a Japanese game show. I would never stoop watching something that inane and trivial (I totally would, but I haven't. I do find the commercials entertaining.).

Wow, I have made this post long and painful. Is it as painful for you as it is for me? I'm so sorry. The long and short of it is.... I probably have asthma (I told you she knows everything). Some number where a difference of 12% between me au natural and me on albuterol meant probable asthma had a difference of 19%. I've always been an over achiever. So now I wait for the report to go to my doctor and see where we go from there.

No Dough Pizza

2008-06-24T07:22:00.004-06:00

I'm always looking for new recipes. In fact, in a given week, we probably have something new 2-3 nights. If it weren't for the lovely internet, we'd be over run with cook books!

I made this last night and it is definitely a keeper! I got the base from recipezaar but here is how I made it!

No Dough Pizza

1 lbs ground turkey (normally, I'm not a fan of the texture of ground turkey, but it was actually good in this)
2 c shredded mozzarella, separated
1/2 cup spaghetti or pizza sauce
Canadian Bacon, diced
Turkey Pepperoni (who knew they even made this? It's good though!)
Onion, diced
Green Pepper, diced
Mushrooms, sliced
pizza seasoning, to taste (I think I used about 2 teaspoons)

1- Preheat oven to 350 degrees

2- In a skillet, brown turkey with onion. Add pizza seasoning (I also threw in a teaspoon or so of minced garlic, cause I pretty much do that to everything I cook...)

3- Remove skillet from heat and mix in one cup of cheese with meat mixture.

4- Spread mixture onto baking stone or pizza pan (this is the "crust") and top with pizza sauce.

5- Top with your toppings of choice- I used Canadian bacon, diced green peppers, sliced mushrooms, a can of sliced olives, and pepperoni, but the world is your oyster here kids! Please don't forget to wash your mushrooms like I did, cause then you'll worry about dying from some dreadful mushroom disease all night.

6- Top with remaining cup of cheese and bake for 25 minutes until cheese is melted.

Enjoy! I served this with a big salad, and it made 4 large helpings! Obviously you can't pick this up and eat it like you would a regular piece of pizza, so it's more like a pizza pie.

Excuse me?

2008-06-17T09:16:00.003-06:00

We were on the way to the gym the other day (OK, disclaimer- we're always on the way to the gym. This isn't because I work out so much, but rather, because I don't go anywhere. The gym, WalMart, my allergy shot. That's it.), and Hatchling started telling me the following:

"When I was a little kid, just three, I rode a scooter and a rock hit me and skinned my knee. And I had a girlfriend, and we were living together, but now we're not."

Ummmm... what was that?

Breast Cancer Petition

2008-06-13T07:21:00.004-06:00

This came to my attention via someone who's 26 year old friend had to have an outpatient mastectomy because that is all her insurance would pay for. That seems a little ridiculous to me.

From a nurse:

I'll never forget the look in my patients eyes when I had to tell them they had to go home with the drains, new exercises and no breast. I remember begging the Doctors to keep these women in the hospital longer, only to hear that they would, but their hands were tied by the insurance companies.
So there I sat with my patients, giving them the instructions they needed to take care of themselves, knowing full well they didn't grasp half of what I was saying, because the glazed, hopeless, frightened look spoke louder than the quiet 'Thank You they muttered.

A mastectomy is when a woman's breast is removed in order to
remove cancerous breast cells/tissue. If you know anyone who has had a Mastectomy, you may know that there is a lot of discomfort and pain afterwards. Insurance companies are trying to make mastectomies an
outpatient procedure. Let's give women the chance to recover properly in the hospital for 2 days after surgery.

It takes 2 seconds to do this and is very important .. Please take the time and do it really quick!

Please send this to everyone in your address book. If there was ever a time when our voices and choices should be heard, this is one of those times.
If you're receiving this, it's because I think you will take the 30 seconds to go to vote on this issue and send it on to others. You know who will do the same.

There's a bill called the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act which will require Insurance Companies to cover a minimum 48-hour hospital stay for patients undergoing a mastectomy. It's about eliminating the 'drive-through mastectomy' where women are forced to go home just a few hours after surgery, against the wishes of their doctor, still groggy from anesthesia and sometimes with drainage tubes still attached.

Lifetime Television has put this bill on their Web page with a petition drive to show your support. Last year over half the House signed on.

PLEASE!! Sign the petition by clicking on the Web site below.
http://www.lifetimetv.com/breastcancer/petition/signpetition.php

This takes about 2 seconds. PLEASE PASS THIS ON to your friends and family, and on behalf of all women, THANKS.

Tagged

2008-06-12T08:35:00.002-06:00

Blessed tagged me ages ago... but I'm a slacker... so I slacked. It's so nice to fulfill one's destiny, no? Anywho, here goes:

What was I doing 10 years ago:
Hmmmm... that would be 1998. I was moving home to get a job and pay off lots of debt that I had incurred rather irresponsibly. My mother was not happy with me. I was not happy with myself. But, I got a pretty good job, paid it all off, and was poised to meet a recent pharmacy graduate at White Water by the following summer. Vive le White Water!

5 things I had (have, it's early) to do today:
1. Wake up and feed a very persistent four year old breakfast
2. 4 loads of laundry
3. clean the bathrooms (this should have been done yesterday, but alas, the slacking....)
4. watch Rosie mop the living room (she has some trouble with the edges of the hardwood where it goes down to tile, so I really need to sit and enjoy a book whilst she works, just in case she gets in trouble...)
5. paint my toenails. This probably won't get done.

Snacks I enjoy:
Almonds (see previous post). Chai latte, cheese sticks, Coke. Drinks are snacks too, right?

If I were a Millionaire:
Well, I'd probably make L handle it, cause I don't like to be bothered with that sort of thing. I'm guessing we would be debt free, maybe take a nice trip, and invest the rest. And I'd make L promise I never had to work again, cause I like me some slacking. That's kind of the unintentional theme of today's revelations, eh?

Places I've lived:
NW and Central Arkansas. But in my mind, I've lived in loads of interesting places, so there!

Almonds

2008-06-11T13:50:00.002-06:00

We've been South Beachin' it here in Slushville for a few weeks now (thanks Katrina!). Before this, I can't really remember ingesting an almond, at least unless it was on top of some sort of ice cream concoction. Now, I'm wondering how I lived my thirty some years without the joys and delights of plain, roasted almonds. They're a highlight of my day.

Yes, I do need to get out more. But then I'd have to leave my house...

I wonder what she was doing in there....

2008-06-09T07:05:00.002-06:00

We go to a big church. I mean big. As in we have barcodes to scan to get tags in which to check our children in and out. It's actually an awesome system. I've been begging the gym to get one for years, but that's another story. Yesterday, we stopped to drop of H2, whose building we come to first from the parking lot. As usual, his teachers weren't there yet (they attend the earlier service, so we usually have to wait for them to make their way over to us). (Funny story- the Curious George band aid that I put over my knee where I cut it shaving last night just fell off on one side, brushing my leg and feeling like a ginormous spider crawling up my leg, and I jumped about 20 feet in the air. No kidding.) Because I'm kind of a lacksadaisical parent, I just send my kids into the room and let them start pulling all the toys out. If it keeps them entertained, I figure everyone is happy. After waiting 10 minutes or so (we were inexplicably early yesterday), a woman comes to the door and kind of smiles at us. I grin and explain that we just sent the kids in to play and she nods and enters, without a word. She then pulls out a set of keys, unlocks a storage closet in the room, and enters, without turning on the lights, and closes the door behind her.

And that was the last we saw of her.

L eventually had to leave to take Hatclhing to his room, 2 buildings away. I continued to wait with H2 until they finally came and closed this class, putting him in the room next door (in the summer especially, we have huge teacher shortfalls and there is lots of shuffling to make sure all the kids have a place to go).

The lady in the closet never re-emerged. At least, not for the 15 minutes or so that I stood there. L and I had fun making up stories about her and what she was doing for the rest of the day. What do you guys think she was up to?

We All Live In A Diego Submarine....

2008-06-05T07:37:00.003-06:00

A while back, we made a quick family trip to WalMart that for some reason involved a shortcut through the toy section (this never, ever happens on my trips alone with the children. I'm smarter than that.). As we dashed by all the colorful, fun things our kids will never own, Hatchling spied a Diego Submarine and his soul burned for it.

His Daddy (who is the biggest softy ever, which comes in pretty handy for me), promised him that if he could be good for a few weeks, we would go get it. Lo and behold, he was good at the gym. And good at church. And pretty good at home (he's actually almost always good at home. Badness is for other places). So, being the good parents that we are, we took him to McDonald's for lunch after a succesful church outing, and then went to not one but TWO WalMarts to find the Rescue Sub. We bought the last one.

There was much rejoicing in the house of Slush. Hatchling particularly liked the "grabnabber" arm which could pick things up (more Hatchling vocabulary- did you know that the whale used his grabnabbers to get Jonah in the Bible? True story, at least Hatchling-style).

We went to the gym yesterday. On the way in, Hatchling ran through his litany, "Mommy, I promise not to hit, or bite, or scratch, or throw toys, or push people, or have an accident! I'll be a good boy!" If only such fine intentions could be parlayed into action!

When I was done working out, I found yet another incident report. I'm sorry to admit that when they told me I had something to sign, I hoped for an instant that it was on H2, just for a little variety. But alas, Hatchling bit a little girl on the leg, and apparently broke the skin. I guess all that shark practice on the living room carpet is really paying off.

After a talk with Daddy about appropriate punishments, we decided to strike where it hurts. Diego, his sub, and the lovely blue octopus were gathered up. The boys and I took them to the Samaritan House today, where they can go to a little boy or girl who knows how to be nice.

I know, we're the meanest parents ever. In our defense, with Hatchling you have to make an emotional impact to get through his thick little skull. He is just like his mommy. And I can tell you from experience that it sucks to have learn this way. But better now than in juvie, right?

On Tuesday, I'm taking the boys with me to an all girls tea party for my grandmother's birthday. That should prove interesting. L says they are like a rabid dog and a cobra right now, and that's a pretty good summation. The tea house has no idea what it is in for. Unfortunately for me, I know exactly what I'm in for. Bah ha ha...

Hatchlingisms

2008-05-28T14:34:00.003-06:00

Yesterday the boys and I went to the chiropractor to fix my shoulder that got hurt when the trunk slammed on my head... I begin to believe I may be seriously gifted. Alas, not in a good way. But I digress... As I was face down on the table, Hatchling began pulling things out of my purse (meanwhile H2 ran around the office like a crazy baby, pulling leaves off of plants, throwing the toy he stole from the waiting room, and laughing manically- needless to say, they're always happy to see us coming). After a few moments, Hatchling asks "What's this green thing Mommy? Is it a cheese stick? Can I have a cheese stick? Please Mommy? I'm really hungry! Why won't you share with meeeeee (this last part was wailed) ?"

It was a tampon.

The chiropractor laughed until he nearly cried.

When Hatchling's turn came up, he informed the chiropractor that he had a toilet flush and a crack-o-tick in his back, and he needed to get them out. The good doctor was more than willing, and even found an extra crack-o-tick in his ear. Today, Hatchling shared with me that the has some more crack-o-ticks and two toilet flushes in his back. And his shoulder is hurt too. Can we go back to the chiropractor? I have no idea why he would have toilet flushes in his back, nor do I know what a crack-o-tick is. My vocabulary is obviously lacking.

*********

After we went to the gym this morning (where Hatchling informed me that the did hit someone, but he didn't have an accident, slap, kick, bite, or scratch anyone) we headed to WalMart. As we passed a woman with several kids hanging off of her cart, a little boy about Hatchling's age pointed and said loudly "That's Hatchling, Momma! He's MEAN!"

I responded appropriately by bursting into laughter and pushing on to the next aisle. Hatchling was clearly upset by this, and assured me that he had never hurt that kid. I told him that said kid had probably seen him hurt someone else, and that I felt such castigation was more than fitting in his case. He cried.

When checkout time came, guess who we were behind? My poor baby. We're going to have to move out of state and give him a fresh start if he doesn't stop beating people. Or maybe we could send him to military school. Nah... I'd miss this little face...

Snarky

2008-05-22T09:43:00.001-06:00

Am I the only one who loves seeing pics of Angelina Jolie hugely, ginormously pregnant with twins? I mean, yeah, she still looks about 400 times better that I ever have or will look, but it is nice to see her looking more like a normal person.

Peters/PA Photos/Landov; Peters/PA Photos/Retna; KCSPresse/Splash News

PSA

2008-05-15T13:52:00.002-06:00

Should you need to get out of something you don't want to do, merely google "MRSA Pictures." You will promptly throw up, I guarantee it, and then you can honestly say, 'sorry, I'm sick!'

I know this, because Hatchling likes to sit around and pick at his belly button. This recently resulted in a nasty looking belly button, and also spots spreading out from his little inny. I was convinced he picked up MRSA at the gym or school and would be dead in a week. I'm definitely not the calm one in the little kingdom of Slushville, not that this will surprise any of you.

Anyway, upon looking at said pictures, I think I have decided that he got a little yeast infection on his tummy in addition to his infected belly button. The joys of motherhood are sometimes less joyful than others. (by the way, the infected button is no longer infected, but I think we need to change drugs on the other stuff. I'll be consulting my druggist this evening when he makes a house call, wink wink...)

The Iron Hath Entered His Soul

2008-05-14T12:32:00.003-06:00

When I said this to L the other day, about Hatchling, he didn't know what it meant. Anyone have any idea where this comes from? I know it from Anne of Green Gables, you know, where you can learn everything you ever really needed to know...

And what has caused this iron, you may be wondering. Here is a recap of the story I have heard eighty-three times a day for the past week:

"Mommy, those smaller girls at the gym think that that color (pointing to something white in his line of sight) is my favorite color. They said so. But my favorite color is RED. NOT white. RED is my favorite color. But those smaller girls said WHITE is my favorite color!"

Despite my reassurances that I know his favorite color is indeed red, and that anyone with half a brain knows that white is the stupidest favorite color in the entire, whole planet, Hatchling's wounded color pride is not lessened. I'm not sure how to soothe his ruffled little feathers. On the bright side, at least pink isn't his favorite color (any more).

***

Yesterday, I was leaving Wal-Mart ($126 lighter, as always), and when I popped my trunk open, a big blast of wind knocked it back down where it crashed into my poor little forehead, which is now bruised and sore and whiny. Or at least the spirit residing in it is whiny, because foreheads can't whine, silly. Oh, and also, I did something to my right shoulder (feels like it is out of its little socket, but L says he thinks it is some tendon damage. L is usually right- with a head that big you've got to figure he has a brain the twice the size of a normal fella...). Anyways, it's intensely painful. Little things like wiping the counter clean or scrubbing the bathtub or picking up the baby just about make me cry. Hmmm... maybe I've just developed a sudden allergy to housework. Do you think they have shots for that?

***

You've all been delightfully patient waiting for my news. The snarky part of me wants to make you keep waiting, but nice Slush apparently wins today. Lucky you!

We're putting our house on the market. Bah ha ha! No really, we are. The sign has to be out before we go to bed tomorrow, cause it is in the paper on Friday. And get this- we want to move to the country. I know, I know. It's insane.

Actually, we're quite rational. We're just going to put it on the market and pray for the right buyer or if we are supposed to stay here, for no buyer at all. We like where we are, so we'll just enjoy it until someone wants it. No biggie. We're just praying for God's will to be done, whatever that may be. We usually leap first and pray later, so it's kind of a new experience for us. Who knew I'd get so laid back in my old age? My extremely decrepit old age....

When I told my mother, she said "Oh, Good Grief Slush!" I love my momma...

Place Holder

2008-05-07T07:56:00.005-06:00

I have some stuff to write about, but I'm not quite ready to spill the beans (no, I'm not pregnant). So to tide you over until then, here are some pics of my lovely brats. Let's face it, they're the stars of this little blog anyway.

Here's some pics from Hatchling's PlaySchool "graduation" last week. Notice my child taking the time to read his diploma rather than posing nicely for a picture. I should also mention that his teacher's bribed him with a handful of M&M's to wear his hat. You'll notice, of course, that he isn't wearing said hat. After the chocolate candies went down, all bets were off. I feel good about giving those high school students a taste of what life will be like should they pursue a teaching career.

After reading his diploma and discovering that his playschool is not an accredited institution, Hatchling is annoyed at the waste of his valuable time. At least he got his own water bottle...we're all about staying hydrated here in Slushville.

And here's L pushing the boys on the swing thingy (I've no idea what that particular part of the swing set is called). H2 is looking a little concerned. If you had been knocked rudely to the ground by your brother as many times as he has, you'd be worried too.

Still looking worried...

But wait! This is kind of fun after all!

We clap alot at our house...

Weee!

H2 has no idea that Hatchling is about to let go and send them both crashing to the ground. It's good to lack foreknowledge, isn't it?

In which I am uninspired...

2008-04-23T15:21:00.001-06:00

37%

49%

I love my gym

2008-04-18T11:51:00.002-06:00

They allow me to pay hundreds of dollars a year to use their facilities 100 times a year (that's a very optimistic view of my gym attendance).

They have plush little orange chairs in the women's locker room, just in case you need a place to sit and relax while you finish your Wal Mart list and try not to stare at the 70 year old Asian woman who proudly walks around without a stitch on as she gets ready.

They have not yet kicked my eldest out of their childcare center, despite his abundance of 'incident reports'.

But mostly, I love my gym because when I email them about something, it always go the owner. And usually, I have a response within hours, if not minutes. It may just be, "forwarded to such and such, sent my from blackberry", but it's a response. And I'm prone to emailing people at midnight on Saturday, figuring they'll answer on Monday. So kudos to you, Mr. Gym Owner. You rock.

My Thoughts About Thoughts.com

2008-04-16T14:58:00.003-06:00

** Sponsored Post**

There's a new Blogging site in town, folks.

Thoughts.com boasts that it is a place to create a free blog or personal online journal (which is what I thought a blog was, but anyway...). It allows you to decide with each post whether you want it to be public, private, or only viewable by friends and family. You can also upload photos, videos, and podcasts. There's a community forum to hang out in, too, should you wanna do so. You can even access the latest news (which appears to all be by Reuters, not that there's anything wrong with that. I just think it would be nicer to see a variety of news outlets used). It also promises free, unlimited bandwidth.

Logging into the site and setting up an account takes about a minute. Creating a blog post of your own is as easy typing it in the little box, entering the security code, and clicking on 'post'. It's pretty idiot proof, so even I was able to figure it out in seconds.

I'm not sure about the need of another site such as this, however, I will say that they have a good set up, and I would especially recommend it for someone with limited computer experience who just wanted to get their thoughts out there, but didn't want to worry about templates or html or anything like that. I would recommend it to my mom, should she announce her intention to become a blogger (she would make a fabulous blogger, no doubt). It would also be good for someone stretched for time, as it is unbelievably fast to set up. There is some potential fun to be had by perusing the popular posts, recent posts, and random posts tabs.

Go check it out at http://www.thoughts.com/

My Addictive Personality

2008-04-16T14:01:00.002-06:00

Lately I've been spending a lot of time doing two things (thank goodness we have a robotic mop, else the children would be walking in foot deep grime by now!). The first is playing free rice. It's a little vocabulary game you play and for every correct answer, you help donate free rice to starving persons around the globe. Win-win. The highest score I've managed to get is 44, so feel free to go and beat me now. It's OK, I have toddlers and few brain cells left. And I'm OK with it. So there.

The other thing I've been doing is devouring Confessions of a Pioneer Woman. She makes me want to sell my house and move to a ranch. And I'd like for L to wear some chaps now and again, but I don't see that happening either. At least we can all live vicariously through her and her trusty Nikon (be sure and check out her photography section, complete with stunning pics of wild mustangs, and her cooking section, which features loads of real butter). Seriously, I want to be her friend. I spent days reading the tale of her romance with Marlboro Man. L thinks I might be stalking her (I'm not)(yet). So go, enjoy.

Funny story (completely unrelated). I went to wake Hatchling up from his nap the other day, as it was time to take him to my sister's house (which will soon be in that state I hate, CO). He was all sweaty and rosy and delicious as he looked and around and asked "where's my mommy?"

"Ummm... I'm your mommy, Hatchling."

"I want my mommy to hold-you-me*. I'm gonna go ask her." (he hops out of bed and heads down the stairs)

"Hatchling! Turn around. Who do you think I am?"

"Hmmm... maybe I'll ask Daddy if he can find my mommy. I need her to to hold-you-me."

"Seriously Hatchling. Still.your.mommy. Right here."

"Hey, Daddy? Where's my mommy? I need her to hold-you-me."

At this point I just gave up and went to get DK. He was at least happy to see me. Silly kids. Hey, I sat down to print out a naan recipe like an hour ago, and I still haven't done it. Since the whole fam will be here later for indian food, methinks I should get to work.

*He used to say this when he wanted to be held. We only hear the gem these days when he's tired or sick. So sweet. Why must they grow?

Evolution of Religious Bigotry

2008-04-14T20:39:00.002-06:00

From the Los Angeles Times

Evolution of religious bigotry
The cowardice and intolerance of slapping a Darwin fish on your car bumper.
Jonah Goldberg

I just watched "Fitna," a 17-minute film by Geert Wilders, head of the Dutch Freedom Party, which takes a hard-line stance against Muslim immigration.

Released on the Internet on Thursday, "Fitna" juxtaposes verses from the Koran with images and speeches from the world of jihad. Heads cut off, bodies blown apart, gays executed, toddlers taught to denounce Jews as "apes and pigs," imams calling for global domination, protesters holding up signs reading "God Bless Hitler" and "Freedom go to Hell" -- these are just some of the powerful images from "Fitna," an Arabic word that means "ordeal."

Predictably, various Muslim governments have condemned the film. Half the Jordanian parliament voted to sever ties with the Netherlands. Egypt's grand imam threatened "severe" consequences if the Dutch government didn't ban the film.

Meanwhile, European and U.N. leaders are going through the usual motions of theatrical hand-wringing, heaping all of their anger on Wilders for sowing "hatred."

Me? I keep thinking about Jesus fish.

During a 1991 visit to Istanbul, a buddy and I found ourselves in a small restaurant drinking, dancing and singing with a bunch of middle-class Turkish businessmen, mostly shop owners. It was a hilariously joyful evening, even though they spoke nearly no English and we spoke considerably less Turkish.

At the end of the night, after imbibing unquantifiable quantities of raki, an ouzo-like Turkish liquor, one of the men came up to me and gave me a worn-out business card. On the back, he'd scribbled an image. It was little more than a curlicue, but he seemed intent on showing it to me (and nobody else). It was, I realized, a Jesus fish.

It was an eye-opening moment for me, though obviously trivial compared with the experiences of others. Here in this cosmopolitan and self-styled European city, this fellow felt the need to surreptitiously clue me in that he was a Christian just like me (or so he thought).

Traditionally, the fish pictogram conjures the miracle of the loaves and fishes as well as the Greek word IXOYE, which not only means fish but serves as an acronym, in Greek, for "Jesus Christ the Son of God [Is] Savior." Christians persecuted by the Romans used to draw the Jesus fish in the dirt with a stick or a finger as a way to tip off fellow Christians that they weren't alone.

In America, the easiest place to find this ancient symbol is on the back of cars. Recently, however, it seems as if Jesus fish have become outnumbered by Darwin fish. No doubt you've seen these too. The fish symbol is "updated" with little feet coming off the bottom, and "IXOYE" or "Jesus" is replaced with either "Darwin" or "Evolve."

I find Darwin fish offensive. First, there's the smugness. The undeniable message: Those Jesus fish people are less evolved, less sophisticated than we Darwin fishers.

The hypocrisy is even more glaring. Darwin fish are often stuck next to bumper stickers promoting tolerance or admonishing random motorists that "hate is not a family value." But the whole point of the Darwin fish is intolerance; similar mockery of a cherished symbol would rightly be condemned as bigoted if aimed at blacks or women or, yes, Muslims.

As Christopher Caldwell once observed in the Weekly Standard, Darwin fish flout the agreed-on etiquette of identity politics. "Namely: It's acceptable to assert identity and abhorrent to attack it. A plaque with 'Shalom' written inside a Star of David would hardly attract notice; a plaque with 'Usury' written inside the same symbol would be an outrage."

But the most annoying aspect of the Darwin fish is the false bravado it represents. It's a courageous pose without consequence. Like so much other Christian-baiting in American popular culture, sporting your Darwin fish is a way to speak truth to power on the cheap.

Whatever the faults of "Fitna," it ain't no Darwin fish.

Geert Wilders' film could very, very easily get him killed. (He's already guarded around the clock.) It essentially picks up the work of Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh, who was murdered in 2004 by a jihadi for criticizing Islam.

"Fitna" is certainly provocative, yet it has good reason to provoke. A cancer of violence, bigotry and cruelty is metastasizing within the Islamic world.

It's fine for Muslim moderates to say they aren't part of the cancer; and that some have, in response to the film, is a positive sign. But more often, diagnosing or even observing this cancer -- in film, book or cartoon -- is dubbed "intolerant" while calls for violence, censorship and even murder are treated as understandable, if regrettable, expressions of well-deserved anger.

It's not that secular progressives support Muslim religious fanatics, but they reserve their passion and scorn for religious Christians who are neither fanatical nor inclined to use violence.

The Darwin fish ostensibly symbolizes the superiority of progressive-minded science over backward-looking faith. I think this is a false juxtaposition, but I would have a lot more respect for the folks who believe it if they aimed their brave contempt for religion at those who might behead them for it.

Random Thoughts

2008-04-08T11:46:00.005-06:00

Hatchling tried to kill himself yesterday. He was in the garage helping Daddy, throwing tumbleweeds out into the yard (I don't know what they are really called, but they look like miniature tumbleweeds and they always blow in our garage). On about the tenth trip, he was gone for 4 seconds. Daddy noticed. At five seconds, Daddy went looking. He had gotten out of sight and seen the neighbor's garage door going up, so he ran over to ask where they were going. THANKFULLY, the neighbor saw him and stopped. She was so shaken up she got out to make sure everything was OK. Poor Hatchling was oblivious to his close call, but I think we got it through to him that he can't run off without asking Mommy or Daddy first. Impulse control is hard to teach, no? Ugh, I'm sick to my stomach every time I think of what I could be doing today. I'm very thankful to God for protecting my baby. Now if He could just give him some sense, we would be doing OK.

***

My sister is moving to Colorado in a month, and I think it is a stupid state with stupid mountains and stupid snow. As you may have guessed, I'm taking the news well. I actually watched an episode of House Hunters last night that was about Denver. I thought, well maybe this is going to be wonderful and it's God's way of making me like Denver and be excited for my sis. But no, all of the houses sucked, they were expensive, and the people were stupid. And the realtor's name was Pie. No kidding. Not confidence inspiring in the least, is it? Stupid, stupid, stupid. There, I feel better now that that's out.

***

We took the boys hiking for the first time last Saturday. We just went to a local trail, but of course the kids didn't care and we had a great time. We had been worried about taking Hatchling to the Buffalo River because of the bluffs (H2 is in a carrier still), so L stopped and got him a climbing harness that goes around his chest, which we then attached to one of those retractable dog leashes. I know, terrible parents, putting our kid on a dog leash. BUT, it holds up to a hundred lbs, and just using it in the woods, Daddy was able to protect Hatchling from a few falls that would have at least ended in broken skin and bruised knees. So rant and rave against me all you want, I don't care! Oh, and Hatchling loves the thing so much that he calls it his "safe", I guess because I told him it was to keep him safe, and he wears it around the house all the time!

H2 in the car on the way

At the playground at the trailhead

***

Both of the boys had their well checks yesterday, 18 months and 4 years. H2 is finally on the chart for height and weight, although he is only in the 5th percentile or so. Still, he's meeting all his milestones, so that is all we care about. He is healthy and happy (as long as you don't make him mad...). Hatchling is in the 75th percentile for height, and the 90something for weight. We all remember when he was off the chart for weight, so we're not worried (and he's pretty thin- I think he's just solid like his Daddy). Hatchling had to get shots, which he have decided to break up into twos based on all the autism stuff. I believe Dr Sears has a book detailing the hows and whys, if anyone is interested. We just figured, why not?

***

While Hatchling was at PlaySchool today, I gated H2 in his room so I could get some work done. When I went to fetch him, this is what I found:

Couldn't you just eat him?

In Which I Am Sad...

2008-04-02T12:53:00.003-06:00

Saturday night, L went to WalMart(or, the WalMarts, as people are disposed to say in our neck of the woods) at midnight and got a Wii. He's had me calling all the stores in the area once a week for a few weeks, and Friday night I had two people tell me, "Ummm... we don't have any, but try Sunday morning. Early. Like midnight Saturday, really..." And since we were up anyway...

Sunday morning, I awoke groggy, grumpy, and sore. S-O-R-E. Like the first time you ever go to BodyPump sore. I've been getting more sore daily, as I continue to play. How sad am I? It's OK, I share my humiliation with you so that you can laugh. Go ahead! I'm all about contributing to the greater good. I expect the Nobel people will be here anytime with my prize.

Mainly we've been playing tennis. L beats me every time. And I mean every.single.time. It's so pathetic. Last night we were boxing and he knocked me out in something like four seconds. Twice. But, I rock at bowling! Which is kind of funny, cause in real life... not so much. Which makes me wonder if I have perfect form, but such wimpy little muscles that the weight of the ball is ruining my game? Hmmm... again, so, so sad. I'm happy to say that I even beat L bowling with my left hand (my right arm is so sore at the moment that I can barely accomplish anything).

Maybe we'll even loose a little weight playing this thing, like this guy.

In other news, two random stories.

We were in the car this morning and Hatchling (talking to his imaginary menagerie of friends) stated loudly, "Chunk! You are the star of my film. I need you to get out of there. If you can't use the doors, you'll have to go out the window. Now, come on Chunk! And don't listen to Phil. He doesn't know what he's talking about and he's just trying to sabotage my movie!" I've not heard about Chunk since we went to a party in early December and H buddied up with a 6-ish kid whom he dubbed Chunk (this was not his real name, nor was he chunky, so we were a bit confused by the moniker...)... so I was surprised to hear about his starring role... I was also surprised to hear Hatchling tell me he is directing a film, but too shy to star in it himself. Most alarming was the instruction to go out the window, as Hatchling's room is on the second floor and he has huge, picture windows, with nary a fall-breaking bush in sight. I do have things to keep you from opening the windows, but my smart boy knows how to take them off. So when he falls out to his untimely death, I guess none of us will be surprised, eh? And the who the heck is Phil? When questioned, Hatchling informed me that Phil is nothing more than a crackpot. Uh-oh.. I wonder where he learned that word? Whoopsie...

L taped a show called Robotica for Hatchling the other night, and we watched it yesterday. Hatchling adored it, and was devastated to discover this morning that we accidentally deleted it. He told me he particularly likes how the robots koont each other. After all, who doesn't? I wonder if I get it on DVD?

My Best Post Ever

2008-04-01T15:20:00.002-06:00

April Fools!!! Ha ha! I had you there, didn't I? Right...

Ok, so I do have some interesting (mildly, maybe) things to say, but I'm simply to exhausted to do so today. H2's fine, he's not keeping me up (and he has a mouth full of new chompers!). I don't know what my problem is. Seriously, too sleepy to function today. So maybe tomorrow. That's what I'll shoot for. In the meantime, some pictures! Here's Hatchling passed out watching the news with Daddy:

Teething

2008-03-26T11:44:00.002-06:00

H2 is teething like a hmmm... maybe like a shark. They have lots of teeth, right? He's getting 6 that I can see (he isn't keen on me looking in his wee little mouth at the moment), two of which are molars. His little gums are so swollen that they look deformed. Poor little tyke. He's a bear too, so not much time for mommy to do anything else this week. He just wants to be held by me, presumably so I can't escape his screams. He obviously holds to the "if I suffer, everyone suffers" creed (so do I, so I totally get him).

I'd post some Easter pics for you to peruse whilst I walk a whiny baby, but alas, L forgot to charge the battery and we got nary a one. OK, actually it's my job to charge the battery, but I'd rather blame our lack of photographic documentation of H2's first Easter home on L. Mean, yes, but loads of fun.