What A Morning

I knew it was too good to be true. The kids actually let me sleep until 9:00 this morning, something that rarely happens, and I was ready to start a rather low-key day with them here at the house.

WRONG. To give you an indication of how the morning started, let me rewind to last night, around 10:30. Isis and Jester had gotten into a fight on Sunday night, over a treat that Jester just didn't eat fast enough. Picture a 65-lb Pit Bull, fighting with a 25-lb Boston Terrier. Not good. Luckily, Isis wasn't trying to hurt Jester, only put him in his place, because he didn't have a scratch on him Sunday night. So, after keeping them separated yesterday, I decided to reunite them at bedtime, around 10:30. Jester was acting very eager to be back with Isis, so I figured he was over the initial trauma he suffered on Sunday. No, instead of Isis pinning Jester down on the ground, Jester (in his infinite wisdom), decided to try to attack Isis, which is basically the equivalent of a goldfish trying to go after a great white shark. I got them apart, and took Jester upstairs to sleep, chastising him for being so completely stupid. Once again, he appeared to be just fine. Fast-forward to this morning, when I find him in my bathroom, with a sizable gash on his front leg. Given his dark coloring, I didn't see any injuries last night. Obviously, Isis hadn't been as gentle this time around, and Jester was obviously in pain. So, I had to drop everything, and clean it out the best I could. After he went downstairs to pee, I had to carry him back upstairs, because he seemed to be in too much pain to use the stairs. Keep in mind that this dog can be a bit of a drama queen. Then, with the kids screaming at me from downstairs, I tried to carry on a conversation with the vet about how much pain reliever to give him, and then had to cram it down his cranky throat. Lucky for Jester, he wasn't stupid enough to bite me.

Once that was all said and done, I hurried downstairs to tend to the kids and their whining. Were they whining for breakfast? No. They wanted the TV on, and for me to fetch their babies out of their room, and Quincy was wailing for "icy water". So, I raced back upstairs, located the boys' babies amongst the tangles of blankets in their bed, and also managed to find Quincy's cup without the help of a GPS tracking device. By this time, it was close to 9:30, and I couldn't believe they didn't want something to eat. Quincy, however, still wasn't feeling good (she was complaining about her ear hurting the night before), and she kept claiming she was going to get sick. Great. I tried to call her bluff, asking if she wanted breakfast (her absolute favorite meal of the day), and she said no, even when I tempted her with Frosted Flakes. Great, she's serious. So, I was bracing myself for her puking all over my new furniture, while I tried to get the dogs fed. The boys finally decided they wanted to eat, so I scrambled to get their breakfast on the table, only to have them tell me that they "needed to go potty downstairs, because Daddy said they couldn't pee in their toilet, because it was full." Huh? Mental note: Check the boys' toilet when a free moment presents itself. Then, it was time to rush off to tend to Quincy, who was whining for some medicine (Tylenol).

I went upstairs to get her medicine, only to be greeted by the most disgusting odor when I entered their bathroom. Sure enough, the toilet was "full", as the boys put it, obviously clogged by someone's giant poop. Great. Because I have time to deal with this right now. I held my nose, grabbed the Tylenol, and a clean diaper for Quincy, and ran back downstairs. By that time, the boys were trying to get my attention over the fact that they had finished their breakfast, and wanted a morning snack (already?), and I'm trying to wrestle, diaper, clothe, and medicate a cranky two year-old. I hastily acknowledged the boys' achievement, and wrangled a snack for them, as I passed by the sink and counter full of dirty dishes from the night before (since the dishwasher wasn't done running before I went to bed).

Oh yeah, the plunger. I was going to grab the plunger from downstairs so I could fix the boys' toilet. So, I dug the plunger out from under the bathroom sink downstairs, and went upstairs to conquer the beast (gag), after checking in on Jester once again (who was more pitiful than ever). I entered the Land Of Poo and flushed the toilet, only to have churning poo-water rising, and rising in the toilet. Oh please don't overflow! Please don't overflow! I so don't need this right now. Luckily, my prayers were answered, but the poo-stew remained at high levels. I plunged away, but to no avail. It was then I noticed the empty tub of flushable wipes in the corner of the bathroom floor. I immediately confronted the boys, trying to get the full story of what had happened, but I only got brief snippets of information. So, fearing a massive plumbing disaster, I was forced to call Eric at work, to see if he knew more about it than I did (and to find out why he hadn't told me about the clogged toilet to begin with). I was given no more information by going this route, and was left to fend for myself against the poo monster.

While the poo battle was going on, I could hear Quincy downstairs, yelling that she now wanted breakfast. That made me nervous, so I tried to be conservative by offering her some Rice Chex in her snack cup, knowing it would be more easily-digested than the Frosted Flakes I had tried to bribe her with earlier. It was then that my two year-old daughter turned into a howler monkey upon seeing the bland cereal. Okay, okay, okay. I'm not going to fight with you right now. If you puke, you puke. Instead, she wanted Corn Chex (whew!), and was at least momentarily content to sit and watch Dora while I ran upstairs to change out of my pj's. In the briefest moment of peace (well, I say "peace"-- I had a stupid Dora song stuck in my head at that point), I managed to get into some clean clothes and once again check on Jester, who was still acting as if he was dying. I took a moment to tease him about how much "better" he was acting before he received pain medicine, and how I wasn't buying into his lame attempt to guilt me into letting him sleep in my bed all day. Of course, that brief lull in my morning only crept back into frustration when I discovered several new grays while combing my hair. Screw the hair, today. This is just too depressing.

Aaaaaah, now I can finally grab some breakfast, and it's only 10:45! Fat chance, because now Quincy sees me retrieving a box of cereal from the cabinet, and decides she wants a "real" breakfast. Ugh, fine. So, I drop the idea of actually getting to eat before 11:00, and give her some Frosted Flakes and yogurt, fearing the worst. While she was scarfing down her cereal, I managed to shovel a few spoonfuls of my own into my mouth, before the boys started hassling me to build them a train track upstairs. By this time, I had actually used the phrase, "Just a minute," at least 479 times in response to this request, so I told them to go ahead and go upstairs to get it started, and that I would be there in "just a minute" (480!) Of course, the general curse that we all suffer as moms held true, as I wasn't even able to finish my meal before I could hear them screaming upstairs. Sigh. Sorry, my bowl of Oat Cluster Cheerios. It was nice knowing you.

Oh, the drama! Gabe was rolling around on the floor, pretending he was dying (must've learned it from Jester), all because Josh dismantled the train track bridge he had built over their Batcave. Cry... me... a... river. So, I got onto Josh for purposely upsetting his brother, but Gabe continued to scream and wail like the end of the world was drawing near. While listening to their sob story, I couldn't help but be distracted by the stench that was wafting in from their bathroom door. Okay, you can't avoid this forever. You have to fix the toilet. Thank goodness you bought those giant rubber gloves awhile back. I continued my valiant plunging efforts, without success, although I noticed that the stew had receded back into the toilet a bit, which left me slightly hopeful. I wrestled with the idea of flushing again, fearing that it would, in fact, pour out of the toilet this time around. I figured I really had no choice, as I held my breath, pushed the flush lever, and plunged like there was no tomorrow. Success! A very brown, but successful flush!

It wasn't long before the joy of my victory faded into utter annoyance over the fact that Gabe was still lamenting over his train track issues. At that point, I wasn't going to listen to them arguing about it, and boycotted the entire train track idea. Oh, then the real screaming began, as I told all three kids to march their happy butts downstairs until they could get their drama under control. Screaming, screaming, nothing but screaming. It is at times like these that I feel like I should sound-proof my house, because I'm convinced the neighbors can hear it, and think that I'm beating my children.

So here I am, at 11:30, typing this blog in order to vent my frustrations, rather than handling the pile of dishes that is still occupying my kitchen counter. Quincy is standing here, pestering me to go back upstairs, and all I can think is, "How long until nap time?"

Catching Up

Yay, it's the Fourth of July!

Yep, this is one of those "catch-up" blogs. Where to start? Oh, well, Josh got his cast off last Monday, so that's fantastic news. He has some "restricted activity" rules for the next 2-3 weeks, but then he's free to act like a maniac again (which is good, because I'm dying to get the Slip n' Slide out). That isn't to say that the kids haven't been acting ridiculous. This week, Cameron came over for a play date, and it quickly turned into Who-Can-Cover-Themselves-In-The-Most-Mud-First. I hooked up the garden hose to the top of their slide, and it created one big mud puddle at the bottom. Before long, the kids stopped even trying to land on their feet, because it was way more fun to land on their rears, and make a big, muddy splash. When it was all said and done, we had to basically line them up and hose them off. It was hilarious. When they weren't getting muddy, they were trying to torment this poor, gigantic toad.

Cameron, with mud clear up on his face!
Goliath Man-Eating Toad
Miss Piggy in her mud puddle

I expected the next day to be crazier, since I was going to have six kids between the ages of 2-7 at the house for most of the day, but it actually remained pretty peaceful. The kids spent the day playing with Joey, Kaleb, and Emma, and miraculously, all of the kids (and the house) were still standing by the end of the day. The girls kept making me a little suspicious though, since everytime they went upstairs, they would close the door. When I would stick my head into Quincy's room, the girls would just get all bossy and say, "No! Don't come in!" Geez! Made me wonder what they were getting into.

Firewoman Emma, hard at work!

On a side note, either Jester or Isis just farted, and it smells really, really awful right now. I'm assuming it's Jester, since he is currently sitting here, looking up at me with his soulful, buggy, brown eyes, begging for my tuna sandwich. No, I do not have thermal-image technology which would enable me to post an actual picture of Jester farting (I know, you're so disappointed).

The boys have been busy enjoying the perks of summer vacation. We began a sunflower-planting project when school let out, and the boys have been very big on "working in their garden". On the 18th, we measured their sunflowers, and the tallest one was 16 inches tall (dont' the boys look SO thrilled in their picture?)

They also relished in the opportunity to sleep in a giant box for about a week, until they had all but torn it up. No joke, for a good week or more, they insisted on sleeping inside this box. Although it looked incredibly uncomfortable to me (even with all the padding I put in the bottom), they loved it. It goes without saying that they were really hacked when I finally put the box out with the trash.

Only my kids WANT to sleep in a box...

I have figured out that there should be two "p"'s in the word "summer". Pools and popsicles. If not for these two things, I think my kids (and I) would've gone crazy by now. Although we can't afford some big, fancy pool (oh, how I wish we could!), they are perfectly content with their kiddie pool, especially when they are paired with those super-cheap push-up popsicles. I mean, you can buy a pack of like, 100 of those silly things for $3.00 or something. Talk about cheap entertainment!

Mmmm, popsicles! She kinda looks like a vampire baby, though...

(No Renesmee jokes, Amanda!)

Nothing says "summer" like peeing outside, right Gabe?

Blowing pool water at me out of his bubble pipe. Ew.

Running for the pool!

On a picture note, we had the freakiest-looking clouds roll in yesterday morning, so of course I had to get my camera out. The boys kept asking me if we were going to have a tornado, since that's their big fascination these days. Tornados, of all things. They love watching tornado videos on You Tube, and looking at pictures online. They even checked out a couple of books from the library.

It looks like we are about to be invaded by space-aliens, or that a tornado is going to drop out of the sky. Either scenario is generally considered NOT good.

I am also starting to turn into one of those crazy coupon ladies. Well, I'm not quite that bad, but I've found myself becoming strangely addicted to the Thrifty Mama and Money-Saving Mom websites to find good deals. Just last week, I got some free quarts of paint from the Glidden website, along with a free children's DVD from Fisher Price. It also makes me aware of all the great deals at Walgreens, where you can make an absolute killing on products, if you use manufacturer's coupons. Of course, I use regular ol' coupons at the grocery store, too. Just today, between special offers, and coupons, I saved $13.65 with coupons, got $3.00 back in Walgreens Register Rewards (basically like a $3.00 Walgreens gift certificate), and picked up a free antibacterial hand-sanitizer at Bath & Body Works. The best part is, I didn't have to buy anything that I didn't actually need to pick up anyway. Go, me!

I got to go to an actual party last night-- one that didn't involve children! Yes, this does make headlines with me, because it is so rare anymore that I get to be out amongst adults! Seriously, ask my friends, and they are like, "We never get to hang out with you anymore! You're always stuck at home!" Yeah, yeah, I know. So, you can imagine my excitement about being able to go out, and see some friends. Wahoo! It was so great to see Jason and Maria, and getting to hang out with the ol' South Beech Court gang. Man, we are all getting old (ha-ha-ha). I've got some pictures on Amanda's camera, which I'll get posted soon.

I'm sure I'll be taking a lot of pictures tonight at Jarrod's annual Fireworks Extravaganza. I think that at some point, we need to feature a celebrity guest at this thing, since it keeps getting so big. I wonder what David Hasselhoff is doing next year? Nothing brings a tear to your eye like The Hoff singing "God Bless America", as Jarrod sets off the big finale (ha-ha-ha-ha).

Why?

This is a little segment I like to call "Why?" I'll probably be doing blogs like these from time to time, because I never fail to come across things that make me scratch my head (which, of course, I feel the need to share with all of you).

Why? #1: All Camo, All The Time
There I was, a couple of weeks ago, minding my own business, running my errands, when I encounter an entirely mossy-oak camo Chevy Suburban in the parking lot. What is truly sad about that last sentence is that I actually know what type of camo these people used to cover their truck (sigh). They left no surface of this vehicle un-camo. The side mirrors? Camo. Chevy emblem? Camo. Door handles? Camo. "Why?", I ask you-- "Why?"

Why? #2: The Creepy Pirate Chimp
Okay, no offense to my brother, but I really believe he is the only person alive who would actually want this ugly thing as a lawn ornament. What I find sort of ironic about this tacky statue, is the fact that human pirates are often seen with crazy little monkeys on their shoulders, as an alternative to parrots. Interesting. Anyway, that doesn't change the fact that having this thing in my garden give me nightmares.

Why? #3: The X-Rated Bubble Wands
Now, you sit there and tell me, with a straight face, that these do not look like something you'd find in an adult gift shop. Nope, these are actually bubble wands, for children. I ran across these while I was in St. Louis for the kids' Spring Break. You, too, can have one of your very own if you visit your local Dollar Tree. I got a real good laugh when I read the "red hot summer toys" label. So wrong.



















Why? #4: The "Chips" Boys Hanging Anywhere In An Actual Home
Awhile back, I actually saw another one with just Ponch, which said something about "Ponch's Love Meter" (I am not joking). No wonder these things were on clearance! Why would anyone hang this metal sign in their place of residence? "Always wear protection...", good grief.

So, that's what I have for this edition of "Why?". I'm sure there will be much more to come-- I'm always taking pictures of random, puzzling crap.

After 30 Comes 31

Let me just say that 31 was so much less painful that 30. Yes, I'm referring to birthdays. Normally, I'm not a big fan of my own birthday, but I think I've finally reached the age where I just don't care. Good, bad, ugly, young, or, old, it just really isn't that big of a deal.

That isn't to say that this year's birthday wasn't good-- it was great! Fancy Nancy threw a birthday party for me (and my girlfriends) at the Purple Glaze a few days before my actual birthday. It was so nice of her! She even made some of the most delicious cookies, for which I am sharing the recipe, because I think everyone should experience these!

http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Peanut-Butter-Cup-Cookies/Detail.aspx?src=etaf

Anyway, Nancy figured a glazing party would be right up my artistic alley, and she was right-- I loved it! It's so cool, because you have all these fun pieces of pottery to choose from (seriously, everything from cookie jars, to plates, to figurines), and then you get to glaze them however you want. When you pick them up a few days later, they're all glossy and gorgeous.

I glazed a couple of plates. I totally love my pear plate, and my tree plate turned out okay, too. I wish I would've had more time to work on that one, but oh well-- it turned out pretty cute anyway. Amanda, Ami, Jen, Nancy, and I all had a fun time. Luckily, the glazing studio is one less than a mile from my house, and the price was really reasonable, too, so I am totally going back!

http://purpleglazestudio.com/

Then, on my actual birthday, Eric and the kids took me out to lunch at Big Daddy's for BBQ. Yum! You can't beat a smoked bologna sandwich and baked beans on your birthday. The kids were absolutely bonkers at the restaurant, but other than that, it was good. When we got back, Eric had to give me a "disclaimer" regarding my birthday present from the kids. That's always scary. He said that, when he asked the kids what they wanted to get me, Gabe said, "A spaceship." For the record, this is his answer whenever we ask this question. Just because he wants a spaceship, he assumes everyone else does, too. After Eric talked him out of it, there was apparently talk of a "pink ballerina" because "all girls like pink ballerinas, and Mommy is a girl". Thankfully, Eric talked them out of that, too. Then, the kids unanimously voted on buying me the new car I had my eye on about a month ago. Can I just say that I take back every bad thing I've ever said about my kids? SO sweet of them! Unfortunately, there's just no way we could afford to get Mommy a new car for her birthday, but it's the thought that counts. So, it was off to Bass Pro Shop. I know-- you're thinking, "Bass Pro Shop? For a birthday present for you?" Yes. However, I am happy to report that my kids know me all to well, because they immediately went to the shoe department to pick out my gift, and I wound up with a pair of zebra-print Sanuks (which I really had been wanting). So comfy.

After that, Jarrod and I went downtown to a little bike-themed art show called "Cranked". It was really cool to see some local talent, especially since it was all bike-related. We took down some info about one particular artist, because now we're both interested in getting some prints.

http://cullenkoger.com/

As we were leaving downtown, Jarrod got called in to work (server farm issues), so luckily we weren't far from the office. That's how we spent a good part of the afternoon, unfortunately, but what can you do? Then, we grabbed a quick bite, before getting called back downtown early that evening, which was really frustrating for Jarrod, since we had arena football tickets for the Talons. Nevertheless, Biv and Matt picked me up from Jarrod's work, and we went on to the game. On the ride over, Biv gave me an awesome, farting birthday card (yep, even at 31, I still enjoy good fart humor), and the new Dave Matthews album. Sweet!

I had never been to an arena football game, so I was pretty pumped. They should post a big warning sign outside, though, telling you of all the serious fashion victims you will witness during your time inside. One woman in particular (and I'm so bummed I couldn't get a picture of her), we named "Pretty In Pink". Picture this if you will: An overly-tanned, middle-aged fake blonde, wearing what appeared to be a matching set of gym shorts and a tank top, with flourescent pink and gray horizontal stripes running all over them. Normally, this wouldn't have been too terribly shocking, but this woman (in Biv's words) "made those shorts look like a thong". A lotta jiggling. I thought Biv was going to be sick. Anyway, given that her outfit was SO loud, we tried to locate her during the game, to snap a picture, but we failed (so you're just going to have to use your imagination). Overall, the game was good (we won). Part-way through the first half, the mascot, "Swoop" (a giant, blue eagle or hawk, or something), came and sat with us, and began tickling my ear. Nothing like being molested by a giant bird on your birthday-- every girl's dream. Ha-ha. Okay, so not true.

So, that was my birthday, in a nutshell. Pottery-painting, new shoes, an art show, a server farm, and getting molested by a giant, hairy, blue bird. Can't ask for more than that, right?

C'mon, Moms-- Be Honest

Okay, this is just a random, TMI question that I have for all you moms:

Do you spontaneously get "felt-up" by your kids? Is this normal?

I ask because I can't tell you how often the boys grab my boobs, for no real apparent reason. I have given them the whole that's-not-good-manners lecture, but it doesn't seem to work. At this point, I am just waiting for them to violate some innocent woman in Walmart.

Yeah, no pictures for this one.

The Boys' First Trip To The Dentist

Yes, I'm sure you're thinking, "They're five. They're just now going to the dentist?" The answer is yes.

I personally hate the dentist, which only happened after I popped out my grublets, and wound up with my teeth destroyed from all the fun stomach acid I yacked-up over the months of my pregnancies. Still, I probably should've taken the boys in before now. Oops.

So, Tuesday morning, they had their very first dentist appointment! I wasn't entirely sure how to prepare them for it, so I just made mention of "tooth-brushing machines" and "water vacuums". They actually grew excited just hearing about that, so I was relieved. The technicians preferred that Eric and I didn't go back there with the boys during their cleaning, which surprised me, but they did just fine. We finally got to go back when the dentist did their exam, and they looked so cute in their little sunglasses!

They were so excited to tell us about everything, running their mouths ninety-miles-a-minute. That's always fun when both of them are trying to talk. Geez. There was a lot of excited rambling about "Sponge-Bob toothpaste" and "special bubble-gum" and "picking a prize out of the basket". That's all I remember-- lots of enthusiastic noise.

So, the dentist told us that Gabe has skewed jaw alignment when he bites down. I could've told you that, just by the way the kid smiles (it's always cocked to one side). How long have I been telling people, "You can tell the boys apart by the way they smile"? Forever? This means he has to go to the orthodontist to get fitted for a retainer that will widen his jaw as he grows, so that they both fit into each other better. Anyway, Josh didn't have any real problems, but both of the boys got a little talking-to about thumb-sucking (thank you, Dr. Merrill!) Yep, five years old, and still sucking their thumbs sometimes. Ugh! We are thinking of putting dish soap on their thumbs as a deterent (which is better than what Eric originally suggested-- he wants to use that Apple Bitter stuff you get at the pet store to keep dogs from chewing on things). Yeah... I know.

Cartoon Confusion

Okay, so admittedly, a mom is the only person who would even post something like this, but here goes.

Nickelodeon has me troubled. There, I said it. Maybe I'm just a devoted Disney Channel and PBS mom, but I find myself growing increasingly disturbed by Nickelodeon programming. So many of the shows geared towards kids like mine leave me with huge question-marks floating over my head. Here are some of my questions/concerns:

1) Max and Ruby: Don't get me wrong, I actually don't mind the show all that much-- there are far worse things, and my kids love it (especially Quincy). However, there are a couple of things about that show that puzzle me, which I have discussed with other parents, who share my confusion. First of all, where are Max and Ruby's parents? They never tell you! Their grandparents are in the picture quite often, but yet it seems as though Ruby is the mother-figure here. Are they orphan bunnies? Did their parents fall victim to redneck rabbit hunters? Roadkill, maybe? I for one would like to know where their parents are, mostly because I find Ruby to be a little on the annoying side (stupid know-it-all, bossing Max around all the time). And speaking of Max, he's no saint, either-- blurting out those stupid one-word statements all the time. Now my kids are doing it to make demands, and it annoys the crap out of me.

2) Sponge-Bob Square-Pants: All I have to say about this show is that I hate it. It's weird. Now my kids even call it weird, because they've heard me mutter that very phrase out-loud so many times.

3) Oswald: While Oswald is a cute show, totally mellow with cute animation, there is still one thing that I just don't get-- Weenie. Yes, Weenie. Oswald (an octopus) has a pet dachsund named (you guessed it) "Weenie". What's worse is that the dog actually walks around inside a hot dog bun. The first time I heard Oswald call the poor dog's name, I thought, "Really? This is all they could come up with? Why didn't they just name the dog "Schlong" or "Rod"?" Perhaps the most disturbing part about this pooch is the fact that it's a girl dog. I didn't even realize that until much later in my Oswald experience, when he called, "Weenie! Here, girl!" My jaw dropped, and I've been confused ever since. (Thanks a lot, Biv.)

4) Wubzy: Like "Max and Ruby", I don't exactly mind this show-- not the way I mind Sponge-Bob, for instance, but Wubzy's character is yet another one that leaves me a bit confused. For one thing, what is Wubzy? I can't figure it out. It's like a yellow square with a long tail and an overly-cheerful expression. What do they call that? It doesn't have big enough ears to be a rabbit, no kitty whiskers, and no characteristics that lead me to believe that it's a dog. The best I can tell, Wubzy is a mammal of some kind, but that's as far as I've gotten. I can't even decipher Wubzy's gender at this point, which leaves me equally troubled. It's voice (yes, it's voice), is so completely gender-neutral, that it could really swing either way. I demand to know Wubzy's true gender. What is this-- the cartoon version of SNL's old skit, "It's Pat"? Don't plague me with such questions!

I cannot believe I just ranted on for several paragraphs about Nickelodeon programming. I should have my head examined.

Had I Been A Betting Woman...

Okay, so seeing as I am going to have a little more time on my hands for the next couple of months, I am going to make it a goal to do the daily blogging (Heather, what can I say-- you are inspirational in that department-- along with your commitment to diligent scrapbooking).

So, last Sunday, Eric took the kiddos to the lake house (yep, I'm blogging about last weekend). Being the maniacs that they are, the kids wanted to swim, even though the water was still really cold (dorks). Unfortunately, what normally would've been a pleasant afternoon quickly turned bad when Josh slipped and fell on the steps going back up to the cabin. The house is built into the side of a hill, and the steps and ramps leading from the shore back up to the house can be pretty treacherous, even for an able adult.

Like any normal person, Josh stuck his arm out to catch himself. This simple act caused him to break that arm in two places. Lovely. Had I been a betting woman, I would've thought for sure that Quincy would've been the first of my kids to obtain a broken bone (being my little Daredevil Princess, and all). Gabe would've been second on my list-- what with all of his crazy fantasy behavior. Josh would've been my absolute last pick. Eric didn't know it was broken immediately, but Josh was clearly in pain, so Eric drove the kids back to town so that Josh could go to Urgent Care for some x-rays.

Well, x-rays revealed a break just above and below his elbow-- poor guy! With it being a Sunday, he couldn't get a cast for it, but they made a fiberglass splint for it, wrapped it in an ace bandage, and called it good until Monday morning. Then, we took Josh into Eric's orthopaedist (it's just plain sad that Eric even has an orthopaedist at 31 years of age). They confirmed the breaks, and put a cast on Josh (red, of course-- although Eric tried to talk him into camo). He screamed bloody-murder, but once the cast was done, he was so excited that his arm was suddenly pain-free.

Here he is, milking the "sad face" for all it's worth.

So, here we are in present-day, and Josh had a follow-up x-ray this morning, to make sure everything is setting right, which it is. That means he has two more weeks in his lovely red cast. I still can't believe that he did this a whopping two days into summer vacation, but it could be worse. We saw a kid at the doctor this morning with a camo cast over his entire leg-- even up over his thigh. Yeah, he looked pleased, let me tell you. At least Josh can get his cast wet, so it doesn't slow down summer activities too much (just no Slip n' Slide).

Me Likey The Red Box

Okay, that is a complete understatement-- me LOVE the Red Box!

For those of you who don't know, Red Box is the best, fastest, most awesome way to rent movies ever in the history of the universe (shout out to Mr. Biv, who turned me onto this!) Here's why I love this service:

1) It's cheap! It's just $1.00 (+tax) per night to rent a movie. Most of their inventory is new releases, which is awesome. It doesn't matter if you rent your movie at 7:00 in the morning, or 7:00 at night, it's always due by 9:00 p.m. the next day. Let's compare that to good ol' Blockbuster, where it costs 4-5 times that much to rent a single movie (boo!)

2) It's fast. Let's face it-- I have three little kids, and it's an absolute nightmare to drag them into Blockbuster, while I peruse the new releases, and actually try to read plot summaries in order to make my selection (the scenario I just described is an actual impossibility in my world). They turn into maniacs when they see all the kids' movies, and the butt-loads of candy while I am desperately trying to wait in line with them without having to just ditch my movie and leave. So, imagine my outright glee when I realized that I could simply pull my car up to the curb next to the Red Box, while the kids waited inside! Best of all, the whole process takes less time than filling up a tank of gas.

3) It's super-convenient. There is a website, where I can simply type in my zip code to view the Red Boxes near my house, and where I can view the titles that are available at each location! No more standing there, trying to decide which movie I want-- I can do it at my desk. Plus, if I see something I want, I can reserve it for a few hours, to make sure it's there when I get there!

4) No strings attached. There are no memberships, or weird rules. It's super easy. The first time I rented from a Red Box, it asked for my name and e-mail address. Then, I picked my movie from the touch screen, swiped my credit card, and out popped my movie! Now, since I've rented there before, all I have to do is choose my movie, swipe my card, and it automatically knows who I am. I also don't have to stand around, waiting for it to print a receipt, because it sends one directly to my e-mail box.

5) Tons of locations. While there are several Red Boxes within 5 miles of my house, I usually hit one that is literally a whopping mile from my house outside of a Walgreens, so the entire roundtrip journey takes all of ten minutes, maybe. You can't beat that. At this rate, Blockbuster may never see my bright, shining face again!

For more info, go to http://www.redbox.com/! I highly recommend it! (Oh, and for the record, it's not 8,000 locations anymore-- it's 15,000!)

Mullet?

So, I just noticed something funny. There is this dark "band" of something behind my head in my profile picture that almost makes me look like I have a mullet! Ha-ha-ha-ha! For the record, NO, I do not have a mullet-- my hair would have to be a lot longer for that (and that's implying that I would actually be going for the mullet-look). If any of you actually came to that conclusion, SHAME on you (you know me better than that!) :)

Mommy's Little Summer "Vacation"

While the boys' last day of school is this Friday, I am officially starting my summer vacation today. After what has been a very busy Spring, with work, I finally have all of my photography jobs wrapped-up. I still have orders to process, but I have all of my on-site and editing work completed-- that is, until the next job hits my calendar. For now, however, I'm free and clear to focus on things other than work.

Not that I'm not grateful for the jobs-- I am, but I'd just rather they didn't come in huge waves all the time. This past week alone, I had two huge jobs to finish up in a much shorter period of time than I usually allow myself. So, to not have that hanging over my head is quite a relief, and although I appreciate the extra income, I am looking forward to a little break.

I know you're thinking, "What break? Aren't your kids going to be home full time after this week?" Yes, they are, but I am actually looking foward to it. The time I spend each week, driving them to and from school, getting them ready for school, helping with homework, and ironing their clothes, will get to be spent on much more enjoyable things, and I am SO looking foward to it! Not only will I get to spend more time with the kids, but I'll finally get to start getting caught-up on all those "projects" I've been meaning to do around the house! Yippee!

So, between a lull at work, and the kids' summer vacation, I'm getting my own "vacation". Maybe this means I'll have more time to blog. Hmmm.... that's an idea!

I Get It.

So, tonight I made a point to sit down and watch the season premiere of "Jon & Kate Plus Eight". I've never been a hardcore follower of the show-- it's always been the sort of thing where, if I was sitting in bed at night flipping channels, and it was on, I would stop on that channel to watch it. Call me a dork, but it's fascinating to watch, and I actually, in some ways, identify with some of their chaos.

So there I was, watching tonight's show, knowing good and well (according to all the hooplah and commericals) that they were going to discuss all of the issues that are being splashed all over the tabloids. However, those of you who know me pretty well, know that I wasn't tuned-in to gawk (or to roll my eyes at Kate's hair). I was watching because I "get it", and sometimes it helps to know you're not the only one.

Before Kate every discussed her personal life during her interview, and they were just showing her preparing for the kids' birthday party, I recognized the look on her face, her body language, all of it, and I found it to be completely heart-breaking. Those viewers who just tuned-in to gawk probably wouldn't even notice, but I saw it all as plain as day-- the "I'm trying" look, and it sucks.

Jon and Kate's joint interview was hauntingly familiar, as was Kate's solo confessional. Is this sort of thing really that common? It seems to be happening everywhere I look, and I guess I feel foolish for being so blind to it before. It isn't that you want more people to walk in your incredibly overwhelmed shoes, because you don't, but when you realize that there are swarms of people out there, going through the exact same thing, I guess it at least helps you feel more "normal", if that makes any sense at all. Plus, it's just good to know that there are other people out there who "get it".

Why I Nearly Choked On My Breakfast

Okay, so we've all heard and/or read about all of the personal drama with Jon and Kate Gosselin, of "Jon & Kate Plus 8". I totally love that show, although sometimes I think Kate can turn into the dragon lady. Not that I blame her-- she has eight kids and a busy life, and the stress must be overwhelming. Not placing judgement on Kate's personality-- to each their own. I'm sure she does the best she can.

She is not, however, doing the best she can when it comes to her hair. I'm sorry people, but it's so bad that it actually makes me comment out-loud to myself about how bad it is every time I see it. I actually mumble, "Oh God, her hair. What the hell is wrong with her?" It's like someone chopped out the back of what would've been a cute bob with a chainsaw. I'm not proclaiming myself to be a hair expert, but c'mon. I even usually like asymmetrical hairstyles, but her exaggerated long bangs on one side of her head just leave me scratching mine.

I know, you're thinking, "Seriously, Hill? You have nothing better to blog about?"

Well, normally I would've kept my feelings to myself, but the Yahoo! entertainment website OMG! posted an article today, entitled, "Kate Gosselin: Everybody Wants My Hairstyle". I nearly choked on my breakfast. Is she out of her mommy mind? If you don't believe me, check it out yourself: http://omg.yahoo.com/news/kate-gosselin-everybody-wants-my-hairstyle/22520

It was comforting to find out that there are others out there in the world who share my opinion of her 'do. It's a shame, because she's an attractive woman. Unfortunately, I'm only going to be tortured by more pictures of this atrocious coif the more she and her husband are in the media. Selfish, I know. Honestly, though (hair aside), I really do hope that they take their focus away from celebrity and wealth, and place it on repairing their family life. This has got to be a nightmare for their kids.

Bloggity-Blog-Blog-Blog

So, I kinda fell off the ol' bloggin' wagon, huh? I go in spurts, I guess. Maybe one of these days I can get into habitual blogging, but as of right now, I find it hard to believe that I can actually, consistently, make it part of my routine. Hats off to all of you who can!

What's new? Well, my photography "career" is blossoming, which is exciting and nerve-wracking all at the same time. Lotsa pressure-- lotsa, lotsa pressure. Deadlines. Expectations. The tough thing is that there are no "do-overs". You get what you get, so you gotta get it right the first time. Pressure. Still, I can't complain, especially in this crappy economy-- I have an income, however small, and I like what I do. As soon as I bulk up my gallery website, I'll put out a blog about it, but that's next on my online agenda.

The kids are great-- evil, but great. We've had this bout of non-stop rain lately, so the kiddos have been cooped-up indoors, and we have all had about enough of that. Lots of tantrums and back-talk, which makes me want to go jump off the roof, but I guess that's all part of it. The boys are wrapping up their first year of school, which I can hardly wrap my head around, and Quincy will be venturing off to The Land Of The Potty once the boys are on summer vacation. Yay!-- More laundry! Just what I always wanted!

In more exciting news, Amanda and I scored tickets to U2 in October-- WOO! On the field, all that energy-- so stinkin' cool! I can hardly wait, can't you tell? Even if I fall off the bloggin' wagon again, I'll be sure to at least blog about that.

What else? Oh yes, the movie festival. I totally dropped the ball on that, huh? Anyway, that's a whole separate blog in and of itself (on my to-do list), but long-story-short, I wound up puking my guts out Saturday night, and was unable to view the final two films. Sooooo, I get to break the tie between Chuck Norris and Steven Seagal, as to who is worse. I've watched the Chuck Norris selection, but haven't had time to put myself the Steven Seagal cheese factor, just yet. To be continued...

Man, there are so many things that I want to blog about, but they really require their own, separate blog, so I'll have to get better about this. Anyway, just wanted to at least touch base and rejoin the land of blogging before jumping in head-first. 'Til next time.

Bad Movie Fest News

Oh yes! Chuck Norris and Steven Seagal will face off in a battle so great... so bloody... so incredibly cheesy... that it warranted yet another movie festival from our crew at Bad Movie Fest (and by our crew, I mean Jarrod, Brett, Amanda, Kris, and myself). Sadly, Kris will be unable to attend this doozie, due to the impending birth of her nephew, but she will be missed!

Some of you may remember some of my postings on my old MySpace page regarding previous festivals. There was the one that started it all-- Squatchapalooza/Hoffapalooza 2007 (Sasquatch VS. David Hasselhoff). Clearly, David Hasselhoff was WAY worse than the ol' Squatch, which in our twisted world, makes him the winner. Next, there was Salon VS. Brawn 2008 (Lorenzo Lamas VS. Jean-Claude Van Damme). This one was classic, I mean CLASSIC. I think we were snorting with laughter the entire time, until Lorenzo was crowned the winner. Our goal, many years down the road, is to have every winner face off in a bracket, until there is one supreme bad movie champion.

Yes, we're a little kooky... but we have t-shirts.

Behold the t-shirt art for Looks That Kill 2009 (in all its glory).

Jon Bon Jovi For Valentine's Day

Here we are on Valentine's Day, and I'm left wondering why there isn't a "bah-humbug" phrase for a day that makes all of us lonely folks want to stay in bed with the covers pulled up over us. Yeah, yeah, I know you're thinking, "Of course you're bitter, blah-blah-blah," but I'm starting to think that Valentine's Day is just a way to make single people feel stupid and inadequate-- like, if you don't receive flowers or chocolates, or a hot date, that it means you officially suck. I'm not griping-- it isn't as if I see all the big, heart-shaped mylar balloons at Walmart and burst into a fit of rage or anything, but it's still kind of a bummer to know that women (and even some men) all over the world are getting pampered today, and I'm stuck at home with three grumpy kids. Wahoo!

Instead of moping over the holiday for the last couple of weeks, I decided to redirect my Valentine's enthusiasm towards the kiddos this year. They each received a Valentine's gift from Mommy (and Daddy brought his own gifts, too), and they seemed pretty tickled by all of it. Of course, Daddy got actual hugs in exchange for his gifts, and I got nothing, but I'm pretty used to that by now.

At least I did get something for Valentine's Day-- a Bon Jovi concert DVD from my parents (you can always count on Mom and Dad, right?). Nancy and Rosie also brought me a beautiful pot of red tulips earlier in the week, which I am counting as Valentine's flowers (so there). So I guess in the grand scheme of things, I scored big-- Jon Bon Jovi and flowers. Hot dog!

As for the chocolates, I did at least bake chocolate chip cookies for the kids today. For the kids... yeah, right. Ha! I've been sitting here while they were napping, munching on fresh cookies and sipping my pear tea, enjoying the silence, and catching up on online episodes of Desperate Housewives-- that's a Valentine's gift in and of itself if you ask me.

And as for the "hot dates" that everyone will be on tonight-- well, I've got two hot dates tonight, with the cutest guys in town (wink). We'll be curled up in bed, with popcorn and snacks, watching Toy Story in our pj's. No primping. No perfume. No shaving of the legs. Who can ask for more than that?

Gotta love Gabe's Valentine's gift...

Certifiably Insane

I must be certifiably insane.

So, way back before Halloween, Chuck and Lori (Eric's dad and stepmom) had two litters of puppies. Bubba, their male Brussels Griffon, impregnated Roxy, their female Brussels Griffon, in a totally planned pregnancy. However, Bubba apparently wasn't fully satisfied, and proceeded to also get their female Pug, Ruby, pregnant. Ooops.

Well, their "ooops" is now our joy (I say "joy"-- it could be a complete nightmare), because we decided to adopt not one, but two of the puppies. There were three Brussels Griffon pups, and five Brussels-Pug pups to choose from, originally. I had been thinking about taking one of the pups since they were born, but hadn't fully decided. I knew it was going to be a big decision, which would mostly center around Kooka's current health.

Kooka has been showing symptoms of congestive heart failure for a year or so now, and to be honest, we're all pretty surprised that my ol' guy is still alive and kicking. Back in August, I thought the end was very near, when he got a horrible kidney infection, but after a strong dose of antibiotics and a fresh new diet, he was good as new (except for the muscle-wasting that typically occurs in CHF dogs). Well, about a week before Christmas, Kooka took what appeared to be a turn for the worse, and we honestly didn't think he would make it to the new year. Once again, he had a kidney infection, and after a week of antibiotics, he is back to his old self.

Originally, I hadn't wanted to bring any puppy (or puppies) home until after Kooka had passed away. We already have three dogs, two of which are large, and with the three kids, you can imagine what a full house that would be. I know that Kooka doesn't have much longer, since dogs with CHF rarely live beyond a year after showing symptoms, but he isn't in any pain, so I refuse to put him to sleep. His vet believes that he'll probably just go in his sleep anyway, and I am perfectly content with that. He deserves at least that for as good as he's been over the years.

A couple of days before Christmas, I took the kids to Stillwater to visit with Nana and Papa, and to get a look at the pups in person. Josh immediately latched on to Molly, who is the runt of the Brussels-Pug litter. I hadn't intended on adopting a female, just because Isis has been so high-maintenance in terms of her attitude, but Josh absolutely adores her. My personal preference was for one of the purebred Brussels, since I've always wanted one, but this was more about what the kids wanted. Gabe has become interested in Gus, one of the male Brussels, while Quincy, too, likes Molly.

Molly (around 7-weeks old)

Gus (around 7-weeks old)

So, after much, much, much consideration, I finally decided this week that we would take both Molly and Gus, and that I would go ahead and bring them home before Kooka dies. They are already ten weeks old, and I didn't want to miss out on the socialization that needs to take place with the dogs we already have. It would be a total nightmare to introduce a couple of six month-old dogs into the house after Kooka dies (of course, he could surprise us all and live another year-- there's no telling). Luckily, Kooka is good with puppies.


So next weekend, Nana and Papa are going to bring Gus and Molly to the boys, and we will have five dogs in the house. Yikes. Lucky for me, three of them will not be over 25 lbs. Whew! Molly probably won't make it beyond 15 lbs, to be honest, and Gus will probably be closer to 20. In the meantime, the boys have been working on names for their new pets. Gabe is pretty adamant about naming Gus, "Fireman Sam" after a cartoon character on one of his favorite DVDs, and I have a feeling I won't be able to talk him out of it. Josh has waivered between several names, like "Batman", "Robin", "Ant", "Villain", "Wonka", and "Yzma" (pronounced "Eezma" if you've ever seen "The Emperor's New Groove"). Who knows what that poor dog will be called.

It has been seven years since we have had a puppy in the house, and so it will definitely take some getting used to. At least their pee can be successfully mopped-up with a single paper towel, instead of an actual bath towel, like I have to use if the big dogs have an accident. Now I just have to find plenty of stuff for them to chew on so they leave non-doggie items alone!

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? (Much Delayed...)

Yeah, so what did I do on New Year's Eve? What were my rockin' plans? Was I out partying, getting absolutely hammered with the rest of the American public? Uh... no. No, I was out on Riverside, ringing in 2009 at the Run Into The New Year 5K race. That's right, I was running at midnight. Not only was I running at midnight, but I was running in the dark and cold, along with about 500 other crazy fools.

Now, I can't say that I had ever pictured myself celebrating New Year's in such an unorthodox fashion, but I have to say it was a nice change of pace from sitting at yet another party, bored out of my mind because I was the only person there not drinking or vomiting. Instead, I was surrounded by a bunch of other zen folks, who just wanted to do something new and/or healthy for the new year. Call me a loser-- I don't care.

I can say with complete honesty that this was not my idea. After completing my first 5K last month, my Mom starting scouring the internet, looking for more races for us. She ran across this New Year's race, and so I figured, "What the hell?" My only regret is that we didn't sign up sooner, because we could've gotten cool, red dri-fit jerseys instead of the general cotton t-shirt, but we'll know better next time.

The evening started with my Mom's friend Kris arriving over at my house around 10:00, so that someone could stay with the kiddos while I went and did something crazy for a change. Shortly thereafter, Mom arrived, only to announce that she lost one of her contact lenses on the drive over, and that her dash lights suddenly weren't working! Fantastic! While attempting to remove her existing contact, she found that she couldn't locate that one either, but managed to find it jammed way up above her eyeball. Mmmmmm. So, we decided to drive back to her house so she could snag some fresh lenses. When we pulled up to her house, I realized that I was nearly out of gas, and hadn't brought my bank card with me, since I didn't want to leave stuff like that in the car while we were racing. Luckily, Mom had her bank card, and we put some gas in the car to head out. I was beginning to think, "Geez, if this is any indication of how this evening is going to go, we're in serious trouble!"

The race started at 11:45, but we arrived down at the river around 11:00. Yeah, let me just say that this is not the best area of town to be in at that hour, but at least we weren't alone. I made Mom hang out in the car until about fifteen minutes before the race started, so we could take advantage of the seat warmers (thank you, Toyota), and the box of Sweet-Tarts that I needed to consume in order to stay awake. Honestly, it wasn't that cold-- we've run in far worse extremes, but I guess the whole thought of the late hour just made us anticipate that it would be so much colder for some reason. Thankfully, there wasn't an ounce of wind. You all know how much I hate the wind (my mortal enemy).

The gun went off, and off we went, along with what seemed like a million other insane people. It was pretty slow to start at first, because the trail was so narrow, and there were people weaving all over the place, which made things a bit tedious. I'm so used to cycling, where people know and respect the rules of the road. They use manners-- no cutting people off, stopping right in front of you without warning, or zig-zagging around like lunatics. Nope, in cycling, people use etiquette and I like it. It also didn't help that it was dark in some stretches, and you had to watch your step for fear of random debris or dips in the pavement. After awhile, the runners thinned out and we headed across the river.

So, there we were, jogging in the dark, when at midnight, the power plant sirens began going off across the river, the lights on the trail went out, and they started shooting off fireworks. Pretty cool. At the turn-around point, they had a tent set up where they were handing out champagne. I have to say there aren't too many races where you see that. Not as cool as Zach pulling the baby bike trailer full of booze for the MS150, but still pretty darn cool.

Shortly before the half-way point, I got a bit of a cramp up under my ribs, which normally ends up killing my run altogether. Luckily, a swig of beer gave me enough juice to belch most of it out. So lady-like, right? By the time we were heading back over the river, the remainder of the bubble passed down into my abdomen, and was pretty uncomfortable, but I was determined to finish anyway. By golly, if I was going to be out running at midnight, there was no way I wasn't going to finish!

We crossed the finish line at 36:28, which was less than a minute slower than my Jingle Bell Run time. I was pretty pleased with that, considering how s-l-o-w things got started this time around, and with the cramp and all. My goal is to finish a race at 30:00 or under sometime soon. Providing it isn't too hilly or crowded, I'm sure I could probably do it. Anyway, we hunted down some more champagne (or should I say, Mom did-- you guys know I rarely drink), and it was back to the lovely seat warmers in the car!

I finally crashed a little before 2:00, but my merciless kids had me up entirely too early this morning. My knotted-up calves barely allowed me to walk down the hall to take them downstairs to breakfast, but that quickly wore off. Now I am off to spend my New Year's doing laundry and stripping the Christmas tree. Good times!