Reasons why

Reasons why I haven't posted...

Spent all my computer time on making "free" photo books from Picaboo.  "Free" only means 40 dollars off, but I'll take what I can get.

If I had any free computer time after the books were done, I spent it scouring online clearance sales for little boys jeans.  I'm stocking up for the winter and the weekly torn knees.  (too bad I don't quilt...I have plenty of cute jean pockets that need a good home)

Conquering mountains of dirty laundry on a daily basis...or at least trying to conquer.  I think I'm drowning in dirty Star Wars briefs.  Obi-one, why can't you stay clean?

Spending the weekend with four fabulous friends eating and riding bikes in Sun Valley.  Ok, who am I kidding...it was mostly eating, but it was wonderful just the same.  Saylor girl came along to the estrogen fest and did better than I could ever imagine.

Dreaming of my finished basement.  The official yellow city permit is in our window.  Steve and his dad want to take on this monumental project...in all their free time.  I'm trying really hard not to get too excited and trying to be patient and realistic of the time frame.  These two wonderful men are crazy busy.  We have moved most everything out of the unfinished portion and I'm feeling a bit cramped with all our storage junk in my regular living space.  I will be patient and happy for what I have and try not to nag my spouse to 'hurry it up'.

Planting  five new trees in our yard.  Alright...Steve did it all, but I'm using the excuse for my laziness anyway.

Taking care of three darling active boys and one super cute baby girl who gets into everything, messes her pants regularly, wiggles like no baby I have ever seen when getting dressed, and charms her way into my heart on a minute by minute basis.

Ready to Go

When told to get ready to leave today, Colby came out wearing this.

I wish I could blame this fashion disaster on Steve's side of the family, but alas, I can't.

I distinctly remember my dad wearing - how embarrassing- socks with flip-flops...but at least he wore matching socks

(Luckily, the tendency to put these two no-no's together skipped a generation.)

I made the Colbsters take the socks off. 

He was not happy with me.

Blurry Saylor

Can I just say that it's hard to take a picture in low light of a moving target.

And she is moving, let me tell you.

She acts like she owns the place.

I find her adorable. 

 Even though in this picture she looks like an orphan- snotty nose, scratched face, crazy hair.

But she's too well fed to an orphan.  She never has to beg, "please sir...I'd like some more."

In fact, today she ventured into the world of table food...and actually liked it.  Miracle.

She ate a few bites of a  sourdough pancake - no syrup.

And then a small bowl of baby oatmeal.

I could have cried with joy.

Maybe I'll be able to leave her for more than 2 1/2 hours.

Or not.

puberty....can't you just smell it?

Andrew Andrew Andrew.

Sometimes you really catch me off guard.

Like two days ago while in the shower you yelled,  "Hey Mom!  I got my first armpit hair!"

You disappeared downstairs for a few minutes after your shower and then came back up to proudly show me your new arrivals...

The white paper smattered with black pen and fringed to perfection was hilarious and very original.

The tape however looked a little chafing.

Keep dreaming buddy...keep dreaming.

You'll be hairy and disgusting before you know it.

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

Yesterday:

-Summer homework is really no fun.

(We're about two weeks behind)

-I'm avoiding the holiday rush and decided I wanted my Christmas in August.

sneak peak #1

sneak peak #2

I love Christmas.

I think I need to make gingerbread cookies or toffee to finish off the holiday feeling.

-taking pictures of a moving target is not easy.

 especially if that moving target bites.

-I decided to be a 'fun' parent and let my kids do something crafty.

(ok...fine...Steve set up the paint stuff while I took a nap.  But I bought the stuff - it counts)

The leftover Christmas boxes came in handy.

(it's a shame that 'o' looks a little like an 'a')

And because of my friend's sweet knife skills ( I think she belonged to a gang in Boise...its the inner city you know),  the boys have these awesome forts.

(They slept in them last night.  It was kind of creepy)

Maybe Christmas should come again next week in the form of boxes big enough to hold new couches.  Then my kids could have their own cardboard shanty town in the back yard!

Today:

-cleaned bathrooms.

-changed sheets.

-had fantasy about having to buy a new washer and dryer while mopping up gigantic puddle from my current washer. 

Good thing the dirty sheets from five different beds were on the laundry room floor and soaked up most of the water.   

Double good thing the leak was only from the drain hose that had been knocked out of place by an unnamed spouse of mine.   But wait a minute...doesn't a new washer and dryer come in a large cardboard box?  We have leftover paint...we could always use another fort!  

I think Santa is out of cash and can't come back until next year.  Bummer.

-Steve had to buy a new ladder to hang one of my Christmas presents.

There is a huge story behind the ladder-table-clock thing.  It turned into a 'high level discussion' last night.  Good thing our 'high level discussions' usually result in laughter.

-it's five pm and I'm still in my pjs.

Saylor is not.  She's pooped through two outfits today. (and her bedding)

I need to find a better diaper.  

Huggies- out.  Loves- out.  Pampers you are next.

-wishing Cafe Rio delivered.

Tomorrow:

-getting the kids ready for church by myself again.  Steve's 6 am meetings are not only hard on him.

-teaching my usual Sunday school class.  Let's pray the 16 year olds are kind to me. (unlike last week...last time I ever make them rolls)

-hoping to get an afternoon nap and make cookies...in no particular order.

In order of importance

Carter started riding his bike without training wheels this week.

Those of you who might scoff at a this, thinking to yourself..."well my child rode his/her bike at a much younger age than 6 1/2", please kindly remember that Carter has half of my genetics.  I didn't ride a bike until I was eight.   According to my frame of reference, he is gifted.

Each day this week has started with early morning pj rides and finished off with rides into the sunset.

He is all smiles.

Colby has blossomed into this articulate (I use this term loosely) grown up tiny little person.

The things that come out of his mouth make me laugh daily.

It's hilarious to have such a "grown up" attitude spew out of such a little boy.

(He is four...even though he looks like he is 2 1/2.  The 5th percentile for height isn't very tall)

This gem of a video cracks me up.

Enjoy.

Lastly...and of least importance today...can I just say that my kids must have decided to be the most embarrassing in Sacrament meeting.  I feel it is a conspiracy to make my life miserable...and slightly more funny. 

Two examples:

1.  I wouldn't let Colby touch a piece of bread and then put it back in the Sacrament tray.  You touch it...you eat it.   Unfortunately I didn't understand his dilemma and had to listen to him for the next ten minutes cry (loudly) about how he didn't like crust.  Yes...I took him out of the chapel.  I'd rather be embarrassed in the hall where people can't see me.

2.  Carter had a boogie problem yesterday.  And he wasn't quiet about it either.  Apparently this problem was too slimy, and couldn't be remedied with the normal socially acceptable means of removal.

No...it had be be taken care of manually.  And then of course,Colby saw and wanted to join in the fun.
Their fingers were so far up their noses...the 'sharp tooth snail' was probably being gagged.
I'm really glad we sat on the back row.

Baby Girl

Saylor is changing so much day to day I can hardly stand it.

...she's bigger.

...she's moving.

...she has WAY more attitude.  (wish I could blame that on Steve...but...oh well.)

If proof is needed to show how big she is getting, check out those legs!

Her 'Daisy Dukes' can barely contain them!

(we've pretty much given up on anything denim, it's just not stretchy enough)

-Oh yeah...and we're a little worried about her arm consuming her hand.  

It has already eaten her wrist.

We love this girl and relish her everyday wonderment of life as a 8 1/2 month old.

Everything is new and exciting at 8 1/2 months. (even empty toilet paper rolls!)

The weekend I became 15 again (without the added bonus of getting my 15 year old body back) and reason #572 I'm going to hell.

Every summer growing up my dad would leave lists on the fridge before he went to work of things my siblings and I had to accomplish before he came home.  This would come sometimes without further instruction and sometime would involve being taken outside in your pajamas barefoot to be shown what was expected of you that day.  

These chores ranged from the minimal watering the orchard (um...there were at least 50 trees in our orchard), mowing the three acres between our yard and the lot up the street, picking the million rows of peas...all the way up to linseed oiling the fence that surrounded our entire property.  (I hate linseed oil- the smell is awful.)  If we finished our chores in the morning, we had the afternoon off to do as we pleased.  But lets be honest, the mornings were spent farting around trying not to do chores so we spent our afternoons roasting in the sun trying desperately to finish our jobs before 5 pm when Dad got home.  This afternoon mad dash is one of the reasons I have horrible skin.  I was stupid enough not to wear sunscreen while weeding the garden in my swimsuit and shorts.  (but I was really tan my junior year- really tan)

A few days ago I got a call from my parents asking if I would be willing to water their garden while they were away this weekend at a family reunion.  No big deal right?

wrong

My dad wanted me to come over to show me what he needed me to do.  

Um...how hard is it to water a garden?  I did it growing up right?

wrong

It was like a flashback from 1994.

...my dad outside.

...me following him around.

...the way he walked

...the way he called my Jilly

...the tone in his voice.

He might as well come to my own home and stuck a "to do list" on my fridge.

I was 15 all over again...but not in pajamas...and without the tan.

My dad's garden is spectacular- and it's hand watered.  And...he has these fancy-dancy tomato planters that require watering TWICE A DAY.  I have four kids people...and a garden of my own.  But here I am spending my weekend watering my dad's Garden of Eden.

The Garden

The kid who was suppose to be helping me...but I'm not as good a parent as my parents were and he hasn't learned to work yet.

...but at least he shows size reference for the dang thirsty tomato plants.

The crazy planters.

Me thinking "If it wasn't for all the free roma's I'm going to get out of this garden...there would be NO WAY I would be doing this."

"Wait a minute...I'm going to be wrangled into making salsa for mom and dad with all those free tomatoes.  Whatever."

And to make me feel even more like a teenager, my mom called yesterday and asked if I wouldn't mind vacuuming and dusting her house before she brings my aunts home from the family reunion. (Actually, this felt more like my junior year of college on the weekend I got "Dear Jane'd" by my missionary...but I was already dating Steve...and my mother got mad at me because I was going out with him and not helping her clean.  The real reason she was mad was because my dad had Dear Jane'd her once too...It's a long story.  Maybe another time.)

Anyhoo...I told her no.

(I can't even keep my house vacuumed...why would I want to vacuum hers?)

I figure it is better to say no outright than to blow smoke...but I think I'm still going to hell.

I'm not the "good" daughter I guess.

But at least I'm not alone. 

I won't name names, but one of my sisters when I told her of Mom's request, sided with me...and admitted she didn't like cleaning mom's house either.  

The other sister, however, sighed a cute sappy sticky sigh and said..."Oh, you're not going to help her?  If I lived in town, I would bring my kids over and clean for Mom."  

GAG ME!

There are three sisters in my family: one Cinderella type and two hideous stepsister types.  I obviously don't need to say outright which type I am.  

(just look at my ugly feet)

Real nice Cinderella...way to suck up when you live hours away and CAN'T come over and vacuum mom's "south forty."

You can have the clock...you've earned it.

To my fellow Stepsister...next time you are in town, I'll take you to lunch.

By the way...my Andrew turned 10 today.  Happy Birthday!

Tonight I took him over to my parent's house to have him help me water the garden. (and take pictures of me being snotty)

He wasn't much help.

While my back was turned, he hooked himself to my dad's flagpole and gave himself, and I quote,

 "An Atomic Wedgie"

Just because he is a year older...doesn't mean he's any smarter.

(but he does have a nice tan)