Blow the Snow Away

Anyone else sick of snow yet?

And winter's just barely begun.

At least the days are getting longer.

I want to put away my Christmas stuff before any more of it gets broken, but am not eager to strap on my snowshoes and shovel my way to the shed to get out my frozen Rubbermaids. And I feel bad that I always make the husband do it. He's such a good sport.

Have I mentioned the sheds are approximately 2 feet from our carport? Boy, am I a baby. But it's cold!

I have a friend moving up from St. George this week. Yes, she's crazy.

So, amidst all this frigidness, I was wondering: do onions cause gas? Because for a little while I was afflicted with an unnaturally malodorous variety and really hadn't changed my diet much--other than a lot of Clementines and a trip to Cafe Rio.

Because you were absolutely dying to know all that.

My husband calls it good birth control.

Well, YEAH.

I think I'm eating onions, or whatever I ate (I'm so scientific), for at least the next year. Or more. Maybe 20.

Even though it's near to impossible to resist these:

Thanks for your condolences for our family everyone. I appreciated it a lot.

And Happy New Year!

May you all enjoy a little crazy fun.

Or fun craziness.

Whichever you prefer.

Grandpa

Yesterday my grandpa died. He had a good run--living to 94--and we knew it was coming, but it's still sad. The last few years he's suffered from dementia that progressively got worse, but he still retained a little of his own personality. A couple of months ago when my parents and sister were visiting, her little girl asked him what his favorite food was and he said, "Whatever's put in front of me, I suppose."

He was always shy, sweet, kind, and patient. He never complained, not when we were watching TV on his television when he wanted to watch football, and not even when my dad made him a peanut butter sandwich for lunch once (which he didn't like because it what he ate every day growing up during the Depression). He patiently manned the boat while we all learned to water ski--even though the less athletically-inclined of us (me) took three full days of trying to finally stay up.

Grandma has always said he grew the best tomatoes and they certainly were good. He kept a meticulous lawn--and passed that skill on to my dad. He flew a plane over Japan during WWII. He travelled with my Grandma after he retired and had an adventurous spirit--snorkeling for the first time at 80, liking it, and saying he thought he'd do better the next time.

He was so quiet and reserved all the time, that I almost feel like I didn't know him really well, but his passing will leave a void in our family and we'll miss him a lot.

Grandpa with all the great-grandbabies. (S-man is on his lap--look how little he was!)

A Little Cleanliness Please

Everyone please remember to wash your hands.

Perched on the counter.

In your skivvies.

(P.S. Does anyone know if something is wrong with Blogger? It won't let me drag my pictures where I want them without doing it a little section at a time. Which really cramps my style. Is it happening to everyone, or just me?)

One Resolution

I've already thought up some resolutions to break faster than the time it took me to think them up. And I figure now is as good as time as any to start them. It's so easy to say I'll start January 1, and then forget all about it by then. It's just like saying you'll eat better tomorrow. Might as well start today if you're going to be doing it anyway.

I'll get down to it.



Other than trying to be on time to everything (I missed a lot of important events this year), losing baby weight (I never finished after having the S-man), decluttering the house (there has to be at least one impossible resolution), exercise more (that's easy when I don't exercise at all--just have to do one leg lift while watching TV--that'll go far, eh?), and eat more vegetables (maybe I shouldn't waste my garden this year), (and now I know you're about to fall from waiting on the edge of your seats for the whole monologue) I'm going to blog more. I might try every day. I want to get in the habit because it's the only journaling I do for my kids and of myself--as fascinating as I am.


Don't get too excited. I'm going to have to mention the good things they do and we all know how good kids aren't as interesting as naughty ones, but I think I better show your Mr Destructo's sweet side. Again, don't get your hopes up.


Oh, and because I'm tired at night after the Olympian effort of putting kids to bed and nursing the Rocker non-stop for the last half-hour before he finally succumbs and my brain cells start skidding sideways, the posts might be short and wholly consist of something like: I'm pretty sure my brain's about to implode and shrivel up until I can suck it out through my ear with the vacuum hose, and equally deep and meaningful things. Now aren't you beyond excited?


And even though isn't a decorating blog, I'm going to show you the things I did to my house that I think are an improvement. So you can feel better about your own. Ha. And pretty much anything I do to this place is an improvement--especially if it involves things that are scented and that kill odors.


And I might not have too many pictures. They terrorize me. It takes me so long to upload them (how come only five at a time?!) and find them and there are so many on my hard drive it moves slower than I do at 6:00 on a cold morning getting ready for church (which is why I usually don't get up until 7:30 when we have to be there at 9 [only one more day of it!] and then I am still slow and persistently wonder why we're late every week [the hair must look good, right?]).



So.



Get your reading game on. Or your reading glasses polished. Either is fine with me.

And now that I've set this nice lofty standard for myself, I may develop an ulcer.


Aren't they cute when they hold still?


Oh, and here's the picture (taken by Sherri who is so good at posing and shooting us quickly before I wiggle) we used for our Christmas card. I hope everyone had a good Christmas. We did--despite me staying up until 4:00 making a blasted tutu from start to finish. It was worth it though--she loves it.

Bowl full of jelly: check.

Mom needs a camera with image stabilization: double check.

Think he looks nervous that Mr Destructo is hovering over him so closely with the camera?
I've lost count of how many times that poor baby has probably had his life flash before his eyes.

Anyone else instantly want a picket fence and stone pathway?

Laugh It Out

So I trimmed my bangs this week to try and go just a little longer between haircuts.

Did anyone else, during their early adolescent years, soak their bangs, trim them to the desired length, and then watch in horror when they shrunk as they dried?

Okay, well this time my bangs were dried--and flat-ironed even--which is the only way to trim them--and I still cut them too short.

And then, to add to the fun, I kept clipping at them!

I just. couldn't. stop.

I just had to keep nipping away at the strays.

I think they'll be okay.

Maybe.

At least now I can see--I was beginning to feel like one of those dogs whose faces are covered in hair.

But of course I did it days before doing family pictures.

Yes, my bangs are that mind-numbingly fascinating to the general public.

Anyway.

I'm determined this will be my attitude:

Wasn't Marjorie the best?

I wished she could be my third Grandma after I read her books. But the two I have are pretty awesome.

I like to laugh at the stuff my kids do. I was worried the last post about them came out whiny, when I was really trying to be funny. (Who knew dried boogars could take off a whole layer of paint when you chipped them off?)

As much as they exasperate me beyond endurance, they're pretty entertaining.

I'll be so sad when they grow up.

And so happy when my bangs grow out.

Shooting the Circus

To distract myself from paying the ever mounting having-the-baby hospital bills right before Christmas time, let's look at pictures.

My friend Sherri has a nice camera and some nice skills, and incidentally a nice photography blog and took our pictures 6 weeks before the Rocker came along. It started with pictures of the kids and we snuck some family shots in.

I plan well.

We're doing family pictures again this week.

I hope a heat wave burns through.

I know I dream big.

Anyway, if you like her work and want her to shoot for you--not shoot you--she's affordable. And available. But married, so don't get big ideas.

Anyway.

The pictures:

Not sure if this is what he wants to do.

Look who actually sat still for 2 seconds.

And isn't a blur.

Are we surprised?

Partners in crime.

So sweet. She saves Mom's sanity.

Keep pushing that tooth out with your tongue there, Lolly.

Typical family shot: me with a weird face, an aloof S-man, Mr. D being himself, their father wondering when it will all end, and Lolly looking sweet--if she gets to hold something.

I think I'll keep them.

The father of all circusly mischief.

Believe me, the boys inherited all their wild craziness from him.

And he still gives them all kinds of new ideas too.

But, he changes diapers and cleans toilets, mops floors and still mows the lawn (so you don't think he turned in his man card), so I'll keep him, too.

Yeesh.

Here's me hoping it doesn't look like I'm retaining water--even though I didn't--and wondering if I should practise a closed-mouth smile to hide my beaver teeth. And can anyone say, comb? I guess I'm too self-conscious--or as my husband says--vain--because it is a pretty good shot.

Thanks Sherri.

Oh, and that pumpkin down there in the next post?

Gone Sunday morning. I'm sad. And don't dare put Christmas decorations out there.

Some Words of Advice

When you put pumpkins on your porch to decorate, don't make them look too nice, or some evil spawn will commit the sacrilege of stealing them. They won't take them all at once. No. First, they'll take two one night and then come back for two more the next. Here is the sole survivor--other than our moldy Jack-o-Lantern that's almost completely black inside. Okay, I'm going to throw it away right now. I'm glad the hoodlums left me the cutest one at least. Yes, pumpkins are cute.

Clearly when the majority of your toys are restored to you after a long sojourn in the shed because of one of your dad's more elaborate disciplining tactics, it makes perfect sense to dump and spread them all over the driveway to have a more thorough reunion.

When you're putting make-up on with your friend, go ahead and pull out all the stops. And put it on your little brothers too (who have an unfathomable obsession with nail polish--especially in their hair.)

Wait, this looks familiar...

oh yes--last year's edition:

Never sit on the obvious resting place. Perch on the window sill like a cat.

I'm thinking circus camp.

Always sign your artwork.

When your boys decide to go into your bathroom, fill the sink with water, then use one of those round, plastic, chain-thing baby toys to fill a water bottle, don't drink the water (or kool-aid). By the end of the day it will still be...well...opaque. I don't know what my boys did to that water--at first I thought it was hot--but it was cloudy, people. Yeah that one got emptied and thrown away. They wouldn't even drink it.

When (note: not if) you come across a moist, succulent booger on your wall, wipe it off immediately. Don't wait until later when you actually discover it, dried and crusty and petrified and left for you by your little darlings, because when you wipe it off it will take the paint with it.

Beware the concoction Mr D makes and calls "breakfast" but is compiled of four freshly-emptied containers of sprinkles, and on further inspection, a fair amount of salt (that looks frighteningly similar to the clear sprinkles), and parsley. He's a future chef, that one.

Don't let your two- year-old stand and lean against the back of his chair because he'll fall straight back. The child will recover on his own, the chair won't without the aid of super glue and packing tape.

Rambling Randomness and a Little Halloween

I'm in mourning. My baby has outgrown his newborn clothes. At one month, it started to get a little small, now it's a lot small. Grieve with me. Oh, and by our very scientific method of weighing--which is to hold the baby and stand on the scale and then put him down and again stand on the scale--he's 14 pounds. Nearly double his birth weight. And not quite 6 weeks old. He was 12 pounds by Halloween. Clearly none of my children are listening to me because I have told this one over and over and over to stop growing and stay little and he will not. listen. Plus, his hair is falling out on top with plenty left on the sides and back, making him look like a very cute little old man. I guess this one does not want to be a Toys 'R' Us kid. I'll keep him anyway--he's just starting to coo and smile at us.

See how cute all the remaining fuzz is?

Actually, I'm a little relieved that he's living up to his name. Let's call him Rocker. It's what I call him. We rock him a lot at least. S-man calls him Wock. Usually he says, "i unna hold Wock." Then he hugs and kisses him. That poor baby will get kissed to death by all his siblings.

To celebrate their brother growing at an astronomical rate, the big boys cleaned their Little People Garage, at least that's what Mr Destructo claimed he was doing and S-man tags along. Does that pile look a little larger than your typical t.p. unravelling pile? I found 6 empty tubes. Scattered about the house. Almost like they tried the spread-the-food-you-don't-want-to-eat-around-your-plate technique. Where was I while this was going on? Completing the imperative task of reading The Hunger Games sequel in a day.

Their father's not immune to fiascos either.

Here's what happens when you try to cut a big pumpkin in a hurry with a mere butcher's knife. It's now a clean-out-the-jack-o-lantern knife.

We did our share of pumpkin painting.
Even S-man. He's so proud of his handiwork.

Lolly's handiwork.
I'm thinking art classes.

Here they were--ready for the big Halloweenerific event.

S-man looks not so sure, but believe me, he took Trick-or-Treating to a professional level by the time we got through doing it at Grandpa's and Dad's offices. He got twice as much (or more) than Mr D who could barely stop running to get candy.

And for my friend who wanted to see my homemade, not-as-nice-as-the-real-thing-but-still-work hurricane lanterns lit up.

I Should Be Sleeping--

Today was a Mr Destructo day. Let your imaginations run. Imagine the worst. That's what the house looked like. Here's my biggest problem: the S-man does as much as, or more, than Mr D and Mr D isn't slowing down. What will happen when the third Stooge starts moving around? I am positively (or negatively?) shaking in my britches at the thought. I think that will be when Lolly and I move out. We'll build ourselves a cute little guest cottage in the backyard. Only we'll be the permanent guests. And there will be a massive NO BOYS ALLOWED sign on the door. And it will not smell like refried beans or dirty undies.

Don't let that innocent look deceive you.

The lowlights of today include the living room getting scotch-taped (Mr D) (oh yeah, and getting the tape down from the armoire with the help of double-stacked chairs--Mr D), including several wraps around the tape dispenser itself (Mr D), and taping a movie to the couch (Mr D), a dead worm on my kitchen floor--which makes no sense, as there were plenty of spills and lots of dirt on it--that was saved to show Lolly after school (Mr D), a whole bottle of water emptied into a watering can and...wait for it...poured onto a couch cushion that (I think) might have finally dried from getting doused yesterday (S-man), then the same cushion got covered in red powdered candy (S-man) (who makes that crap?). Oh, and I caught them consuming my lip gloss. It was like a lip gloss smorgasbord.

And they have colds. I'm thinking new lip gloss is in order.

Sweet.

Anyway, I took pictures of every room in the house and the messes in them--except the laundry room because I thought you should be spared that special horror, given that you might have one of those messes for your very own--to give you a tour or terror, but I think that instead you might like to see the baby.

Clearly I have so mastered the red-eye flash.

I think his life is flashing before his eyes.

She loves him so much. Have I mentioned there's stiff competition to hold him?

Lolly arranged the burp cloth and I came in and laughed out loud.

I might be the only one that found it funny.

Getting ready for the first Thanksgiving in his bonnet.

Luuuke, come to the dahk side.

Thanks everyone for your congratulations. Now who wants to come to a special weekly folding laundry party at my house? Didn't think so.

Oh, there's something that's been bugging me on our never-ending list of things to do to this fixer-upper that has more fixers than uppers. Our floors. We ripped up the gross carpet to reveal our wood floors. That have paint over-spray on them. We have zero budget right now for refinishing, especially because it would require us to completely move out of the house--which is not a reasonable option--since once you start staining, you can't stop, we've heard.

The Husband did start sanding some of it off.

My favorite part is the shoe prints.

Sometimes I lean toward painting it. What would you do? And what the heck are we supposed to do about this 1/2 inch lip? Or that 1/2 inch gap under the baseboard? We're such clueless diy-ers.

Oh, and re-carpeting isn't an option. Do you how nice it is to wipe up spills instead of dabbing at them? Very nice. Now tell me what you'd do.