Just In Case You're Wondering...

- Destine does not rub on like lotion when applied to the arms, face, and hands.

- It is possible to remove crayon, marker, and highlighter drawings from the carpet. It's hard, but definitely possible.

- Pee stains can also be removed from the carpet with only a faint stench lingering behind.

- Downing almost 20 Prevacid in a 30 second time span does not cause any side effects- unless you consider tantrums and not listening a side effect.

- Smearing a gallon (slight exaggeration) of your Mom's new anti-wrinkle cream on a two year old face does not prevent wrinkles. In fact, I think it added more to my Mom's face. (Sorry Mom, I'll buy you more)

- Reading Twilight effects the psyche. Now my dreams are filled with vampires, werewolves, and halfbreed vampire babies.

- While we're on the subject. I'm protesting the moving because they got Edward all wrong. Isn't Edward supposed to be drop dead vampire beautiful? The Edward in the movie... Can we say UGLY? Not a fan folks.

- I promised myself that I would never admit to reading the Twilight series in public. I failed.

- The more your child walks around naked, the less laundry you'll have to do.

- Leaving sacrament meeting after just being peed on with grace and style is extremely difficult to pull off, but can be done. You just have to make sure you sit through a good 10 minutes of church to let the pee soak into the front and back of your skirt, wipe off your legs from the waterfall of pee remnants, and wipe out your new, now full of pee puddle shoes to ensure you don't slip on the way out as you make your graceful escape. Oh, and just make sure that you cover you child's mouth before she announces, "Momma, you got pee-pee in your pants".

Homeless

I need to preface this with the fact that I'm aware that I should be building up my child's self esteem instead of cutting them down. With that said,

Abrie walks into the room with her crazy messy hair and she was wearing last years way too small clothes. I took one look at her and thought, "EEEEK!". Then the conversation went as follows,

Me: "Oh, Abrie honey. You look like you don't have a home" another way to say she looks a little homeless.

Abrie: "But Mom, we don't have a home"

Me, amused with Abrie's comment: "Ummmm, I guess you're right. Keep dressing homeless then, but be aware that when we have a home this will have to stop"

Abrie, confused: "OK, Mom"

Our home status:

No home, not yet. Hopefully a home will become a reality in the next 10 years or so. Until then I get to enjoy telling people that we live in my parents basement, which is totally awesome because who wouldn't want to live in their parents house. I give it two enthusiastic thumbs up!!Owning a home is so overrated.... right?

Now this is the part where you reassure me, "Ya, ginnie. Owning your own home is terrible. It's so hard to have all that extra space and privacy. Really, you're better off without one".

Wow, I'm feeling better already!

Birthday Girl

It's hard to imagine that 6 years ago my world was rocked in a major way... the best way that is imaginably possible. I became a Mom.

There became a point in my little married life that the realization hit me; there's so much more to life then just living. I was going through the motions of life content and happy, but there was always a constant little tugging that something was missing. A little piece of the puzzle that was not yet complete... Well, that little something happened to be the best little something that could have ever happened to me. The birth of our beautiful baby girl.

I laid in bed tonight with Abrie telling her all about her birth- sparing her from the gory details and leaving out the I-thought-my-body-was-going-to-rip-in-two part. Her eyes were wide with anticipation, "Mom, did it hurt when you had me?!"... "No, not at all hun" I lied, "The doctor gave me this itty-bitty shot...." another lie, "and I couldn't feel a thing" that part was kind of the truth. Then she asks, "Mom, was I cute when I was a baby?" I couldn't have given a more honest response, "Sweetie, you were the most beautiful baby I had ever seen" and then my heart skipped a beat as I silently remembered those precious raw feelings I had the moment the doctor laid her on my chest, and the scent of newness filling the air. She had a certain calmness about her. It was almost as if, for that one moment, time was frozen still and nothing else seemed to matter. All fears and anxieties had left me and were soon replaced with a flood of gratitude and love for this new little infant. I looked up at Nate and then back down to this brand new piece of perfection that laid in my arms and thought, "Now this is life!".

Abrie, if by chance you're reading this 15 years from now (and assuming that you haven't disowned me). I just want you to know that I love you, love you, love you! You are one of the best and sweetest little things that has ever happened to me.

Love you loads! Mom

Trouble x 2

Life as a Mom is anything, but glamorous. Most days I'm lucky if I put a bra on let alone take a shower. Not that I have anything against taking showers. I am definitely pro shower. I just have a hard time finding the time to take them for a couple of reasons.

REASON #1:

REASON #2:

It seems that reason #1 & reason #2 find it the most opportune time when I'm in the shower, to cause havoc and chaos. Why? Why, must these two always be associated with the word trouble?

Example #1:

That is my make up strewn across they're faces... and hands... and clothes... and counter... and floor... and rug... and toilet... and sink. But how could I get mad? They look so happy.

Example #2:

Macie some how managed to find my Mom's markers and colored all over her deck. I guess she's just leaving them a little something to remember us by.

Example #3:

I have raised some self sufficient kids... sometimes too self sufficient. They were hungry, they needed to eat, they needed Cheerios, they needed to spill it all over the carpet. And to top it all off, Macie needed to go to the bathroom and she did it right there where she was sitting.

Example #4:

This is probably one of Macie's favorite spot in any house we visit. How else was she going to get that box of lemon heads with out climbing up into the pantry? And that, my friends, is a mouth full of lemon heads. The kicker was when I went to get her down off the counter and I noticed she was sitting in a pool of something... again, she peed her pants. So nasty.

After all these peeing incidents I decided to have a little talk with the kids about where we go to the bathroom. Do we pee in our pants? No. Do we pee on the floor? No. Do we pee on the counter? No. ? Then Kaleb interjects, "But Mom, sometimes when we pee we can go pee in cups!". I respond, "Umm, no honey we don't". Kaleb again replies, "uh, huh Mom ya we do. I pee in cups." I stood there confused and slightly worried for a second and then I asked, "Kaleb, what cups exactly do you pee in?", " The one in the bathroom, by the sink" Kaleb says sounding proud. I ask half way hoping that there was some other cup that I was unaware of hiding somewhere in the bathroom, "Kaleb, would that be the cup that everyone drinks out of after they've brushed their teeth?!". His answer was short and sweet, "Yep!". That then added to my list of where we do not pee. Despite how fun it may be, we most certainly DO NOT pee in cups.

I know that duct tape has multiple uses and would it be bad, say... I don't know, for like a half an hour if I just, so gently, taped the kids hands and feet together? I would do it in the most loving way possible. I would make sure that they were fully entertained infront of the TV and everything. Or would that be a little too much?

Can I Just Vent for a Minute?

haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, snnnnnnnahhhhh, grrrrrrrrrr, @@&! bbleeeee, $%@@#! seriously, @$@$^&!!!!!!.... hauuuuuueriddfjkghhet, erheitoejjkfeiub, haaaaah, haah, haaah, rrrrr, blabity, bligity, bla... grrrrrrr.... grrrr!

(deep cleansing breath)
Thanks for the vent, I knew you'd understand. Oh, and apparently I speak in tongues while I'm venting... who knew?!

Now that that's over with and out of the way I can continue...

So Macie came out of her room the other day looking like this,

My eyes were first drawn to the red hot, freshly smeared lipstick. Followed by the massive bright pink bow that no parent should subject their child to wear (but I do anyway) and the lovely must have accessories draped around her neck and arms.

So if you had to ask yourself who my poor sweet child looks like, who would you say? It only took me a second to decide.

*

*

*

*

*

Hands down, no competition. A young 80's like-a-virgin Madonna and a sadly drunk Courtney love. Talk about a proud Mommy moment. My child is sure to succeed.

Oh, and the whole vent on the blog thing. Totally therapeutic. I feel better already!

I'm Not Old...

Well, at least I don't think I am... I am very much use to being the youngest wherever I go. I'm the youngest in my family so by default that makes me the baby. Whenever I tell people I'm the youngest of 8 I usually get the response, in a high pitched squeal, "Oh you're the baby!" -except for the occasion that I told some Hispanics that I was the youngest of 8 and they laughed and said, "Sus padres están como conejitos" which translates into your parents are like bunnies. I laughed until I understood what they meant.

I also have a lot of friends that are older than me more well seasoned than I am. I guess what I lack in age I make up for in maturity. I know what you're thinking, pffft, ya right! But seriously, I just ooze maturity... ahem.

So, where was I... oh, I'm not old. Well, the other evening I was talking with this girl. She was telling me that after I left her house she was going to go out to eat with her husband, then she quickly said, "I know we are going out a little late, but 9:00 is still early to me. I'm still young". The whole time she said this I was thinking to myself, is she referring to me as old. Me?! Does she know how not old I am? I did a quick glance around me just to make sure there weren't any elderly ladies standing behind me. Nope, no one was there. It was just me. I kind of felt like saying, "Oh, 9:00 really? Sometimes when I'm feeling wild I like to go out at 10:00 pm , but that's only when I'm feeling rebellious and crazy" but I didn't say anything. I just sat there, smiled, and nodded my head agreeing saying, "9:00, whew that's late". Then I went home, climbed into my moo-moo, turned on reruns of I Love Lucy and knitted a sweater.