whatever

Want to see some fabulous pictures? They make me want to move to the country.

In Kansas, of course.

And every time I read her blog, or rather, just look at it, it makes me wish I had her madly good photography skills (and camera--she's not using a Sony Cyber-shot with a dirty lens).

Don't get too hooked on the rest of Meg's blog. You might find yourself reading through all her archives. (Like I did.) She's so cool. But nice.

And I wish I'd thought of that blog name first. But, whatever.

Scoutmaster Widow...AGAIN

It's that time of year again. Scout Camp. This time, the husband was too smart and chose a camp out of cell phone range. Do I call and complain that much? Actually, I think it was just coincidence. It's just that for year number four, the husband gone a LOT throughout the year for the stinkin' scouts is getting old. (Is my bishop reading this? Kidding. Sort of.) But that's the being hot, tired, pregnant, and miserable talking. And the advantage of being pregnant and miserable? Someone has to save their vacation days for the impending arrival and won't be gone the entire week. Blessings to be found in everything.

His first day gone was not without adventure. No surprises.

Of course, we had to start out the day covering parts of ourselves in mud. I understand why, but what I hate is that mud doesn't completely come out of clothes paid for with very hard-earned money. Gah.

After one week of swim lessons, Mr Destructo got brave today and thought he'd try the drowning technique. Good thing his teacher is alert. And fast. And man, is she patient. She's a cute lady that teaches kids in her backyard and she does such a good job. Let's just say she doesn't get mad at Mr Destructo and he actually listens to her. Miracles happen every day.

(Pictures from last week.)

We also had some bone loss.

Gosh, I better remember to have the tooth fairycome--so far, she's forgotten to show at least twice (or was it more?) from the four teeth already lost. Good thing Santa's never forgotten to show. (By the way, she wanted to take the picture of the tooth, not me--so I let her do it. Not a bad job, eh?)

This time Lolly left a dollar bill for her. I can't remember exactly why--I think she said the Tooth Fairy needed money or something. I told her the TF usually brings her a dollar (in quarters) and she said, "No, she brings money--I want quarters." As in, it isn't money unless it's coins. When did dollar bills become worthless? (Personally, I blame Obama.)

Earlier, in her aggressive attempts to extract the tooth herself, she asked, "If I hop up and down on one foot will it make it come out?"

Wiggling...

Almost ready to go...

A very excited self-portrait.

Now if only weight-loss were that easy. Just do a little wiggling and hopping on one foot. And exchange your dollar bills for quarters.

And not to be outdone, the S-man dumped a 32-oz bottle of blue Powerade on his siblings' bedroom carpet. I wondered where the blue streaks on his legs and arms were from. Stupid me, for not responding immediately when Lolly called out to me that he was playing with the Powerade. I never dreamed he'd actually get one open. I found it several hours later when it, um, had mostly dried. Who's brilliant idea was it to suggest we put food storage in creative places? I'm sure as heck not putting any under the bane of my existence I call the couch. It makes me wish that all of a sudden we were filthy rich so I could buy those over-priced (I guess) yet very nice-looking, indoor/outdoor rugs from Dash & Albert that you can take outside and hose off. At least one for every room--that would only be approximately $2,000 at the very least. Totally affordable. Good thing our house is small, or I couldn't even consider it. Kidding.

And remind me not to drink a Vanilla Coke at the kids' bedtime to get me through the rituals single mom style because now I do not feel at all ready to be rendered unconscious. Tomorrow should be fun.

Ready for this?

Except I don't remember when it comes out.
And I'm antsy to see Harry Potter first. I have a feeling I'll be bugged they didn't do something with Ginny's hair to make her cuter, but whatever.

You know it's time to fold the laundry when...

Mr Destructo puts on his swimsuit for shorts,

and the 2- and 4-year-old are wearing each other's shorts because they're wearing what's closest to the top. Yes, they fit.

Spilling and Sliding and Sewing, oh my!

So today somebody dropped the container of sugar and spilled a whole bunch on the floor. Any guesses who? The perpetrator may or may not be typing this right now. See? I didn't need kids to help me make big messes.

Once, before we had any kids, thank goodness, I caught our oven on fire. I got the idea from the game Apples to Apples to hide our plastic lunch containers--complete with forks in them--inside the oven when people were coming over. Yes, it would have taken barely more time to just put them in the dishwasher. Such is how my brain works. Like last week when Mr D fell asleep on his bedroom floor without any underwear on (don't ask) and I put a towel under him instead of a Pull-Up on him. It always makes sense before, but not after. Sometimes my brilliance amazes even me.

Anyway, I forgot about said containers and turned on the oven a few days later to make muffins. When the husband went to put them in, he asked what the doughy stuff with forks in it was on the wire rack. Yeah, our containers. So, a few days later, instead of taking out the racks and cleaning them off by hand, I decided that we should turn the oven on to warm up the plastic to loosen it so we could just scrape it off. Plastic is flammable, did you know? And it stinks. And we lucked out and got a new oven at the landlord's expense because the old one's temperature gauge was ruined. That's called being friends with the managers. Great story, eh? Oh, and I ruined our muffin pan in all that process. Because that was so important to tell. You can ruin lots of muffin pans. They're cheap.

Now that you're totally bored and vastly fascinated with me, myself, and my own antics, here's a little proof we've had some fun away from home this summer. Lolly's friend Abbie has a blow-up water slide that we all got to go over and use. Well, I watched because in my black swimsuit, I look like a beached Shamu.

The S-man checking it out in his beloved, too-small hat.

Love his belly.

Mr Destructo miraculously holding still for the camera.

And silly Lolly.

Lucky Abbie got to have this and her neighbor's twin slide up at the same time for her birthday party. I didn't believe Lolly when she told me what they were doing and kept trying to tell her it would be a slip and slide to assuage her inevitable disappointment. Imagine my surprise to find my 6-year-old sometimes knows what she's talking about.

Here was Abbie's birthday present, with the shirt I made for Lolly. Abbie's favorite color is purple, and Lolly's is green. Convenient for me their names start with the same letter.

And here's proof it's better to be patient and wait for daylight to take a picture of something.

Lamplight:

Sunlight:

And to wrap the present quick, before Mr D autographs the shirt with pencil.

I stole the idea from Meg @ whatever. She's such a cool gal. Go read her whole entire blog. I already have. You will not be disappointed. Especially if you read it on a gloomy day. You'll see why. One day, we are going to Kansas on a vacation just so she can take pictures of my kids.

Oh! Look--I made a burlap slipcover for our poor, worn-out piano bench

with my sewing machine and everything.

Wouldn't Mrs. Munns (and my mom) be so proud? I used the method I learned from some designer on Trading Spaces 7 years ago and it is pretty easy.

Except now it's smaller because it shrunk when I washed it--still fits though.

My lovely assistant.

Yes, I gave him that haircut. Yes, I think it's cool.

But his sister did his hair--which accounts for the big globs of got2bglued on the side.

Just Hangin'

We're having such a lazy summer. I think my kids are still okay with it.

I have to show you what I think is the smartest thing I've done or will do in my kitchen, besides expanding it, which isn't likely to happen because we'd rather save our money for a bigger house.

I literally work on 18 inches of counter space. The other two segments aren't as convenient, even though they're bigger at a whopping 2-ish feet. I don't have a metal hood over my stove. I have nowhere to put recipes while concocting them. After only four years and a few ruined recipe cards and pages, I finally came up with this: Don't laugh too hard, it was free.

And I don't lose the recipes, nor my head, nor my clean language while cooking anymore.And we're painting the cabinets eventually. At least in my head. Actually, I have to finish what I started on the side of this one, that you can see in the picture above. And I may or may not have ever tried those lemonade recipes in the last year.

Oh, and I think I have a sickness. It's called, let's buy a stack of ribbon for no good reason except that it's on sale and I feel like buying it. This isn't the first time the sickness has hit. And I'm not even that crafty or ribbony--I'm too stingy to use it for wrapping gifts, and the tomboy doesn't like bows in her hair all of a sudden. (Still lamenting that one). Look at the recipe holder--I used gardening twine. And let's not talk about all the pictures I bypassed to show you a stack of ribbon. They're going to wonder what they did when they were little when all they see are orange cupboards and unused crafting supplies that might still be in the same place in ten years if we never move. ***GASP***

I think I'm a hoarder.

Maybe I could make one of those hairbow hanging thingies for the bathroom. You know, the hairbows Lex doesn't want to use anymore--it will be permanent bathroom art.

Mr Destructo better do something soon, or these posts might start to get boring.

Oh wait, today he had what I'll call "aiming issues" and now I think I'll wait to buy the new white shower curtain I had a hankering for.

Like wait forever.

Except I guess that stuff washes out pretty well. Maybe I'll buy a white sheet that won't shrink a litle every time I wash it like shower curtains tend to do on me.

I keep trying to remind myself I'm going to have three boys. Maybe one will me metro sexual and help me keep my feminine sanity.

How do all-boy mothers do it?

Freedom

It has been brought to my attention I've been remiss in blogging. Did anyone else notice? (Teasing, Heather.) I've had so many blog posts go through my head--complete with pictures taken for them (I'm so thorough)--and I was too lazy to write them. Not that I was in a huge hurry to rush to bed to sleep on my side when I am really longing to sleep on my back and I toss and heave all night to stay comfortable. No sirree. No, I've been busy reading the Anne of Green Gables series. Yes, I'm a nerd. Yes, I wish I were Anne Shirley and if I ever have the chance to name a girl again and think part of it should be Anne, it will certainly be spelled with an "e". Oh, and now I remember, the spouse was hogging the computer. Why would he want to use the thing he paid for anyway? The nerve.

Anyway, there is a huge event looming tomorrow that I cannot bring up because of a certain reader, but after that, I promise I'll blog about something interesting, that will hopefully not involve bowel movements smeared on any surfaces. Or anything smeared on any surfaces. Which reminds me, I forgot to take pictures of the huge amount of red Crystal Light that got spilled on my couch. I was too busy getting the slipcovers off as fast as possible to wash them. Sheesh, like people like seeing pictures of other people's messes. ;)

Oh mercy, I hope I can think up something interesting that doesn't involve smears or spills. Hint, my suggestion box is open.

Oh, but here's something to tantalize you: Mr Destructo is fully potty trained (except at night which I don't think counts) and has stayed perfectly dry over two weeks. I don't know which I like better, saving money on diapers, or the freedom from changing an extra person and all the time it saves. Plus, he dresses himself when he puts on his underwear in the morning. Double plus. I feel like Lightning McQueen bursting from Bessy yelling, "FREEDOM!!!" while screaming down the highway. And I run out of gas, too. Or lose it when I'm passed out. I'll let you sort that one out.

Oh, here's some eye candy--at least for me. I want to make one of these to see if I can do it, fully aware it just may never happen.

I can still dream. Because I want to be Anne. She hated sewing too. But did it anyway.

Ooh, and I think it would be kind of fun to hang one of these by my door, if it wasn't regularly slammed by hooligans.