Memorial Day Weekend 2006

HELLO!!!! Yup, I am back from a LONG weekend. I had planned to write a fabulous entry sometime this weekend but ended up taking a nap each day instead. Nice, but I always wish I didn't due to the pounding headache I have when I wake up. We refer to it as the "Sunday Headache" in our house since we usually get the headache during our Sunday afternoon nap. (If we actually have time to take one)

Do kids get Sunday Headaches? Maybe that's why they're so ornery when they wake up. Hmm.

We had a good weekend, not counting the Sunday Headache thing. Friday Greg and I had a hot date stained our fence. It was a lot of work, but fun. I have decided that most household projects are much more fun when we do them together. Not only do we get things done in half the time, but we get to actually have conversations. We tease each other, we slap each other on the butt. It's great! I feel closer to him when we work side by side. It's not exactly fawning over each other at a romantic restaurant, but hey, I'll take it.

Saturday it was freezing cold and rained a lot, most likely ruining all the work we did Friday night, but whatever. We got tired of watching our money being drenched in water, so we set up our three-man tent in the family room and hung out in there for a while. That night we took the kids out for Italian. We sat next to two different teenaged couples that were out on dates and resisted the urge to go to their tables when we were finished to say, "You see, THIS is what happens when you have sex." pointing at our unruly children. We also entertained the option of letting our kids sit with them while they ate so that it would have a nice, lasting affect on them. In the end, we did neither. But we did think about it.

After dinner we met Greg's sisters at our house for dessert and some lively game-playing. Before we had toddler-sized children we did this quite a lot but have since stopped because we are all old, tired people that can't stomach staying out past 8:30pm. We lived dangerously this weekend and they stayed until at least 10pm. We played Cranium Whoonu and I highly recommend it. We were all four giggling like schoolgirls. Yes, including Greg. Good times!

Sunday we went to church, took a Sunday nap that gave us Sunday Headaches, then the boys played in our still-constructed three-man tent while I made a potato salad and a macaroni salad, de-vined the grapes, cut up a pineapple and cut celery sticks for snacking. By the time I finished making everything and cleaning up I was DONE being in the kitchen. We had a very lame dinner of...I don't even know. The kids had rice or something equally as boring that I pulled out of the fridge.

Monday morning I went running. And--get this--you are going to be so proud of me. I ran for 21 minutes without stopping!!! Yep. Me. Twenty-one minutes. The girl who couldn't even run TWO minutes without puking my guts out. I still have no idea how I did it. When asked later I said very "athletic" types of things like, "I just hit the wall and went right through it." and "I pushed through the pain and then it was easy". Check me out. I am COOL.

Around noon we went to a BBQ with some friends. It was cold, but bearable unless the wind was blowing. A-Boy helped himself to the watermelon, then kept putting the rinds back in the bowl when he was finished. I'm sure everyone appreciated that. Mini-Man spent the whole time delirious, having skipped his morning nap. We ate greasy hot dogs and reminded ourselves of why we love the fat free kind. We chatted with friends, met new ones. It was a lot of fun!

After naps we went to Greg's sister's house to shoot the breeze in her beautifully landscaped backyard. A nice, relaxing afternoon.

We had a great weekend, but I couldn't help but feel guilty for not being where I thought I should be. For as long as I remember my mom's side of the family has gotten together at the cemetary on Memorial Day. We clean the bird poop off the headstones and put flowers on the graves of loved ones. Grandma tells stories about those who have passed before us. Elouise, who got hit by a car when she was in her teens. Uncle Newt, who I am told I was the spitting image of when I was three. (We were both bald.) and finally my Grandpa. He died when I was 12. I don't remember a whole lot about him, but the memories I do have make me smile. When I pulled the ligaments in my leg he promised he would whittle me a new one. He rubbed me with his whiskers when I gave him a kiss. He always said I could have a cookie when i was too scared to ask Grandma.

My memories of Grandpa are towards the very end of his life on earth, after many strokes. His talking was slurred, his movement was slow and deliberate. The body he had didn't seem to fit the spirit he had inside, he was all spunk. I can't wait to sit down with him after I die and find out who he REALLY is.

This is one of the reasons I why I don't like living so far away from my family. It always seems silly to me to drive 9 hours just to put flowers on graves, yet every year, not matter how much fun I am having I always miss it.

May we all set aside some time to think about those who have gone before us. Happy Belated Memorial Day!

You've Got a Friend In Me!

This is A-Boy. He is 2 1/2 years old.

This is A-Boy with his best friends Buzz and Woody.

He traps them in this dishwasher basket.

(along with anything else that can "fit")

Where A-Boy goes, Buzz and Woody go.

Here they are chillin' in Mom's makeup drawer.

Sometimes Buzz and Woody get to travel in style via Backpack.

And sometimes they get hang with Horse and Cow in a blue bucket with a rabbit on it.

On bad days, they are attacked by flesh-consuming rubber bands.

The HORROR!

They accompany A-Boy as he dines.

Buzz and Woody occasionally disguise themselves as eating utensils.

(which is why Mom is grateful for the dishwasher basket)

Mostly though, they plot their escape.

Apparently it is easier to do that while standing on remote controls.

Attempts to sneak out via the central vacuum system were thwarted by a red Jello Jiggler that has been encrusted inside one of the plugs for at least 3 1/2 months.

And every so often they risk their very lives to escape over the back fence and into the jungles of the pocket park behind our house. Luckily A-Boy has a very attentive Mommy who checks the fence every night for escapees.

Did I mention they are polite? They are. They say please and thank you. They ask if the other one is "okay" if they fall, then they rescue them.

Yes, we love Buzz and Woody at our house.

And my kid is stinkin' cute.

Blog Train Sounding Louder...

.....Glide On The Blog Train! Seriously, who doesn't get that song stuck in their head for days at a time? Oh. You don't listen to the Best Hits of the Sixties and Seventies eight hours a day like I do. Hmm.

What's WRONG with you?

So I have been thinking lately about blogging and the whole internet thang. This is probably spurred by some well-meaning friends who were worried that I was sharing private details of my life online and would therefore be tracked down and harrassed by some pervert. I wondered if maybe they were right. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this! I started thinking about why I blog and what I have learned over these past 5 months. Here is what I have come up with:

---It is my journal. I have tried to keep a regular journal for YEARS but haven't been able to do so. The last entry is May 6, 2004. It is about 2 paragraphs long and not only is it extremely boring, it is not finished. Having an "audience" waiting for me to make my next entry makes me accountable. Plus I save my blog on the computer and I am planning to print it out and put it in a book for my kids. I would have NEVER written so consistently or so detailed if I didn't blog. I'm excited for my kids to get older and read it. I want them to know who "Mom" really was while they were growing up.

---It is my creative outlet. Sometimes I feel that being a stay-at-home mom has turned my mind into mush. When I finished writing my first "real" blog I was AMAZED at how I felt. It was like I actually used the creative part of my brain. I had to THINK about things instead of just DO things. I had to use real English, remember all the parts of speech and how to write. (I still have issues with that, haha) I had not written anything for so long and it was nice to get back into it. I was giddy with excitement and couldn't wait to write the next one. It was love at first blog, haha.

---It is MINE. It's MY blog, not my husband's, my kids' or anyone else's. A place where I can go to be me, write about what I want and the way I feel about things. I have discovered so much about myself through blogging. What I like, what I don't like. I never realized that I could be witty. That was a nice realization. It makes me feel good to know that people occasionally smile when they read my stuff. I like making people happy, even if it just for a few moments. (Jeez, I'm such a friggin' people pleaser)

---It is a way to share our lives with my friends and family. Lotsa people have told me how much they enjoy reading it because they feel like they actually know what is going on in our lives. Most of our family and a lot of our friends live far away and I am sure it is a lot more enjoyable for them to read than it would be for them to listen to my jabbering on the phone. In real life I am constantly forgetting punchlines and trailing off midsentence. No one likes that!


There would be so much I would miss if I stopped blogging. I would miss the writing, I would miss reading your comments, I would miss visiting other blogs, I would miss thinking, "Oooh, that is SO bloggable!" whenever a good idea came along. Pretty much I would find a corner, curl up in a little ball and start a rockin'. Blogging is truly something that I look forward to every day. Something that makes me so happy cannot be a bad thing.

The internet has definitely changed the face of the world. I'm convinced though that it is a good thing, and that the good parts of it outweigh the bad. Yes, there are psychos, creeps and all things weird but there are also nice, good, decent people just like me. Because of that, I'm not going to stop the Blog Train anytime soon.

Blog on, people. BLOG ON.

Emily Emily Bo Bemily Banana Fana Fo Femily....

Fee Fi Mo Memily....EMILY.

This week's My Life Monday is about my name and why my parents chose it. Here's the skinny on the name situation:

My name was going to be Katie. My mom's very good friend was pregnant at the same time she was and wanted to name her daughter Kathrine. They had a little competition and the one who had their baby first got the name. Kathrine was born nine days before I was. And we were best friends from the time we were born until I turned into a wretched 'tween looking for friends in all the wrong places.

My mom was okay with losing the name for two reasons: 1) She always knew there was going to be an Emily in the family. In fact, my sister Lori was supposed to be Emily, but when they saw her for the first time the name didn't seem to fit. And 2) Katie was the name of my grandmother's ill-tempered stepmother. My grandma would have never forgiven my mother if she named her child after "That Woman". And really, who wants to cheese off Grandma? Not me. She's one tough cookie.

So all in all it was a good thing that I was named Emily. I like my name, I like the way it flows and I like the non-funky spelling. I like how in Utah people pronounce it like Emly, with no i.

These days I share my name with lots of pint-sized Emilys. I don't really enjoy that part because I think I am getting yelled at all the time. In church I hear, "Emily BE QUIET!" and I think it is for me.

Not even my own family is safe. I married into a family with an Emily already in it. She was 6 or 7 when I joined their crazy brood. Her brothers and sisters called me Big Emily and their sister Little Emily. I was not a fan of this either so when we got married I said, "Guess what kids! I'm your aunt now so you don't have to call me Big Emily anymore! Guess what you get to call me?" The kids thought about it hard, then said, "Big Aunt?" Yes, children. Call me Big Aunt. Just what any woman wants to be called.

So there is the story of my name. Semi short, semi sweet. (are you proud of the shortness? I am giddy with glee!) If you are curious about my middle name or lack thereof, please see this post.

Oh, What A Night!

Yup. Last night was THE night. I got to meet a bunch of fellow mommy bloggers! Hooray! I had a fabulous time and haven't shut up about it since. It's true! Ask Greg! Could I use any more exclamation points!!!

You can read this on about 13 other sites that are guaranteed to be more fascinating than this story, but here is how the evening went for me:

I was so nervous! I stressed about what to wear. I even went shopping and bought a new shirt for the occasion. (which, when I put it on right before I left made me feel extremely MOMish and mature. Eek! I dealt with my issues by taking deep breaths and telling myself that I AM a mom, so it was okay that I looked mature. Plus, really, it goes with my Mom Haircut.)

Alicia and Taffi went with me. We rode together so that we wouldn't have to go in alone, and most of the other bloggers came together in another group. I realized that we are not far removed from the whole junior-high-going-to-the-bathroom-when-your-friend-does thing. Safety in numbers, baby! You never know when someone is going to flip your bra strap or depants you.

The evening started off well. Nervous laughter, polite chatter, etc. We had nametags. We introduced ourselves. Queen Beth spilled stuff, so did I. We ate a lot of yummy italian food. Karen got stuff in her teeth. Alicia and Heather played the "Don't I Know You From Somewhere?" game all night long. I'm not sure if they ever figured it out. We took a lot of pictures at the restaurant that I won't bother posting since there will be 4,000 duplicates. You'll have to check out everyone else's pages for the play-by-play.

In order for everyone to get a chance to chat we switched seats every 10 minutes or so. That made for some crafty manuevering since we had to carry our food and drinks with us. I held onto my plate tightly since I didn't want to be known as, Emlouisa, the girl that dumps food on her unsuspecting victims.

As the evening wore on we got a little more silly. The nervous laughter turned into cackles and fits of giggles. Maybe it was the food. We ate a lot of food. Then waitress tried to overcharge us. Karen challenged her to a duel. Karen won. Go Karen!

We finished eating and exited the restaurant but no one wanted the night to end! We were having so much fun! (Plus it was only 9pm. The night was young!) So Mary dazzled us with her fashion sense while we tried to figure out where to take our adventure. Mary is a babe!

We wanted to preserve the memories of the evening with something tangible so we loaded up into minivans and headed to the local Wally World. Par-TAY!!!

A teenaged boy in the parking lot tried to give us this. We said no thanks. He was insistent until I snapped this picture and told him that he was "SO going to be on the internet". He seemed confused, maybe a little freaked out and left us alone. Poor kid.


We checked out the jewelry section and picked out BFF (Best Friends Forever, silly!) necklaces. Check out how deep in thought we were about these things. Seriously, we spent MINUTES trying to find just the perfect memento of our time together.

We finished up and I remembered that I had to buy an onion. The girls patiently waited while I found the perfect one. Especially Kathryn. It must be one of her Daring Good Traits.

Me and my onion. Sunday dinner is going to be awesome!

So that was our night. We had a blast. My little necklace is now hanging around my webcam, there to remind me of a fabulous evening with some fabulous ladies.

It was great to meet each and every one of them. They are fantastic bloggers, and even more fantastic in person. Not a dud among them. So thanks for letting us crash your party, girls. I'll be adding you all to my blogroll very very soon.

Top Left: Karlie, Mom on a Wire; Heather, One Woman's World; Beth, Her Majesty's Throne; April, Your Stitchery Friend; Taffi, One More Thing To Do; Emily (me) Alicia Growing Spuds

Bottom Left: Kathryn Daring Young Mom; Karen The Big Trade-off; Mary Owl Haven Erin (Kathryn's non blogger friend); Stephanie, Princess Mom; Stephanie's non blogger friend (I don't remember her name! Sorry!); Brooke, ABC Momma.

Aren't we HOT??

Five Things I Have Learned This Week

---You should always check your receipt before leaving the store. This is how I realized that the cashier charged $52.46 for those Tomatoes-On-The-Vine. I knew they were pricey suckers, but I didn’t realize they were THAT pricey! I examined them to make sure they weren’t dipped in gold or diamond encrusted. Sure enough, they were regular tomatoes. Not even fab-looking tomatoes, just normal, most-likely-very-mealy store-bought tomatoes. It turns out that the cashier entered the wrong code so I got my money back AND got free tomatoes. You can’t beat free tomatoes! (Well, you could but it would be rather messy)

---No one will spontaneously combust if we don’t turn on the TV. I decided that my two guys were watching WAY too much television. I am embarrassed to say that most of the time it was on from 7 am until 10 or 11 am, depending on when Mini-Man got up from his nap. And that isn’t counting watching Sesame Street or Signing Time in the afternoon.

So Tuesday we didn’t turn it on. They played with their toys ALL MORNING LONG. A-Boy (who I was worried about the most) didn’t seem to care at all! My ten month old though, he cared. He saw the remote on the floor, gimpy-crawled for it (he has yet to master the crawling thing), and began punching buttons, checking the TV every so often to see if Dora had magically appeared. She didn’t. He cried. It was then that I realized that the limiting the TV thing was good. And I am proud to say that except for one day they have only watched 1 to 1 ½ hours a day. (And trust me, it was needed that day so the children avoided The Royal Freak Out from Mommy.)

---Quaker Oatmeal To Go bars are fantabulous. It’s like eating a big, thick oatmeal cookie for breakfast without the guilt since it is not CALLED an oatmeal cookie. Plus I felt full for a long time after eating it. Thumbs up to the Quaker Man.

---Our neighborhood pool is open! Nooooo!!!!! I have lost NO weight, I still have to squeeze in my swimming suit. Last year was heavenly because I was pregnant and it was okay that I looked flabby and misshapen. This year? I still look pregnant, yet there is no baby inside of this protrusion of a belly. I don’t wanna go! It’s one thing to go to the Y or the beach where you don’t know anyone, but to go to the neighborhood pool with the likes of Prague Mom? Stress!!

I still go running three times a week. I just can’t lose the weight because…honestly? I enjoy starchy, sugary, deep-fried goodness way too much. *sigh* I guess I can't have it both ways.

---I get to meet some fellow bloggers this weekend! I am super excited about the whole situation. A little nervous since I don’t know them at all, but I am bringing Taffi and Alicia for my protection just in case they turn out to be psychos. That makes me feel a little better. It’s always stressful meeting new people, especially those you know from the internet. I will return and report, hopefully with pictures worthy of blackmail.

Have a great weekend!

This Goes Out To All Ya'll.

So my dear friend Alicia posted the cutest little ditty about Yours Truly. I laughed, I cried. So go read it after you have read (and commented, of course) mine! Alicia challenged all of us to write a little Ode to our friends.

Here is mine:

Ode to MOFS

There are people I know
Okay not really but sort of
That I met on the ‘Net
It’s weird, but just kind of.

We talk about babies
And the colors they poop
We talk about anything
In our little group.

From weather to Britney
And her latest car seat concern
There is no topic off-limits
There’s so much that we learn.

I like these great women
They have all become friends
But I still am not sure
If they are dirty old men.

Join in on the fun and create your little poem!

Help!!! My Son Is Constantly Being Attacked By A Weasel!

Or at least that's what we THINK is going on. Why else would he scream and yell like that. What did you say? It could be his teeth? Oh. We gave up on the "It's probably his teeth" thing two months ago when he cried for a full WEEK, hand in mouth, drooling everywhere, refusing to eat. Nary a tooth popped. We were not happy.

But the Attacking of the Weasel has been happening quite frequently lately and since we try not to let any four-legged creatures enter our abode it is probably his teeth. Yup, we are back to that.

I DID pry open his mouth long enough today to see white on his gums so our tooth theory is quite likely to be correct. And that is good since it took me a good 15 minutes, some duct tape and a pair of pliers to get his mouth open. (I am TOTALLY kidding! I couldn't find the duct tape and the pliers were outside...) Unfortunately it is one of his canines and since he has no other teeth on the top he is going to look like a hillbilly. I'm praying that the other teeth are on their way shortly so that we don't have to sell him to a group of carnies. We want him to fit in, you know.

Anyway, so we are dealing with the teething thing here with its accompanying wails of pain and discomfort. I am hating every second of it. Shouldn't there be an easier way for babies to get teeth than sheer torture? What did they do to deserve this? Nothing, I tell you. A big fat nothing. Does this kid look like someone that needs to be in pain? It is not fair at all. Not to him and definitely NOT to his mommy.

So gimme your tips, other moms. What do you do to alleviate sore gums?

How My Husband Fell Madly In Love With Me (and vice versa)

Welcome again to My Life Monday. Mondays are all about ME, baby! Well, GREG and me today.


Our topic: "The Story of My Spouse, How We Met and Got Together".

Folks, this story may take a while so go take a bathroom break, pop some popcorn and change into your comfy clothes. We'll meet back here in five minutes.

Okay. You ready?

August, 1997. I had just started my freshman year of college. It was the first day of school and since I wasn't a total slacker yet and actually went to class, I was coming out of the Fine Arts building. There were hundreds of students crawling the campus that morning, but one person in particular caught my eye. Standing about 50 feet away from me was a guy with longish brown hair and blue eyes with a red bag over one shoulder. He ran his fingers through his hair, then went through the door into the building.

I thought to myself, "Dang, that guy has really nice hair. It looks so soft! He's cute too! I love college!" and continued on my merry way. I didn't think I'd see him again and put him out of my mind.

September, 1997. I lived in the on campus coed dorms and was having the time of my life at school. Everyone in my building knew each other, most of us hung out together and since it was Utah, we all went to the same church. It was SO much fun. One day I was in one of the dorms hanging out with some friends when the guy with longish brown hair and blue eyes walked in the room (with his trademark red bag too). I remembered him right away. I was a little shocked to see him again, especially in my building and decided to investigate:

Me: What are you doing here?

Guy with longish brown hair: I live here.

Me: No you DON'T. I know EVERYONE that lives here and I've never met you.

Guy with longish brown hair: Yeah, I DO live here. *rolls his eyes and sighs*

Me: Then how come you never come out in the hall and talk to us?

Guy with longish brown hair: How old are you?

Me: Eighteen! *peppy little smile on my face*

Guy with longish brown hair: THAT is why I don't come out in the hall and talk to you.

He turned around and went into his room.

I was LIVID. LIVID I tell you. I hated him. I found out his name (Greg) from his roommates (who were totally laughing at me) and told everyone what a big jerk he was. NO one talked to me that way! Especially some 21-year-old, fresh-off-the-mission jerk. I glared at him every chance I got and pretended to ignore him when I saw him coming.

November, 1997. One day I wanted to be alone, so I went to the common area. (go figure, NO one used the common area) I was stressed about money and my family and all sorts of other issues and just needed a good cry. Greg walked by and saw me, paused for a minute and then came back and asked me if I was okay. He seemed sincere, so I talked. And talked and talked and talked. For the first time in my life I met someone that really LISTENED to me. I hadn't (and still haven't) ever met anyone who listened as well as Greg. He is wonderful and always has profound things to say.

So we became friends. I started hanging out with him more and more and realized what a funny guy he was. And smart too. He was so smart! Then one day my friend was talking to me about a date I had been on the previous night and I found myself shushing her since Greg was sitting right there. I didn't want him to hear about me dating someone else. She looked at me strangely for shushing her and all of the sudden I realized that I was shushing because I LIKED him!

What? Where did this come from? We were just buddies! Besides, he would NEVER go for a girl like me. I had seen the type of girls he went out with before me and I was NOT it. I was way too outgoing, way too shallow. He was smart, I was not. Plus he knew I was a big flirt. He hated girls like me! Still we were friends, so maybe there WAS a chance. Hmmm....

So I decided to drop some hints, try to plant a seed here or there. Maybe he'd get the hint. (I know. I was young and didn't realize that men don't really do that well with "hints".)

December, 1997. I told him that he needed to date more. I told him that he should ask out someone in my apartment. So he did, he asked Stephanie. They went on a WONDERFUL date, he brought her flowers, etc. I was mad. So I told him he should ask out someone ELSE in our apartment. So he did, he asked Adrian. They went on a wonderful date too, she had a fantastic time and talked about it for days. I was TOTALLY mad. My stupid plan did not work.

At this point it is finals week right before Christmas break. Everyone is stressed, including me. I'm not stressed for the school reason though (even though I REALLY should have been...) , I'm stressed for the GREG reason. He just wasn't getting the clue. I was pulling out every trick I knew. Flirting with the guy, dropping hints, etc. NOTHING. I am getting extremely frustrated.

So one day we are in his apartment wrapping up a coat that we bought for one of those Giving Tree things. I am acting snippy towards him. Finally he gets tired of it and asks me what is wrong and tears fill my eyes and I say, "NOTHING IS WRONG, I HAVE HAD IT!!" I storm down down the hall, out of his apartment, and up the stairs with him trailing after me. I get to my apartment door and he stops me. "What is WRONG with you?" he says.

"Did you ever think that when I told you to ask someone out in my apartment I meant ME??" Tears are rolling down my face. He looks completely shocked. I slam the door in his face.

Holy PMS Batman! There goes that, I thought. Way to freak out on him, Emily. He'll TOTALLY want you now! I was mortified and did NOT want to face the humiliation of seeing him ever again.

The next day I got home from school and there was a card with my name on it on the Christmas tree. It was from him! I opened it up not expecting what I found. Inside was a Japanese coin tied on a piece of leather (that matched the one he wore around his neck...he served a mission in Japan) and the sweetest Christmas card ever, with an apology for his suckiness at flirtation and hint-getting. Also a request to take me "Greg-Style Dancing". (Something along the lines of "Me, you, the car radio and the night sky" Totally romantic.

We went to see the Christmas lights at Temple Square in Salt Lake City on our first date. He held my hand for the first time at the reflection pool in front of the Church Office Building. We ate at Arby's on the way home. He folded his sandwich wrapper when he was done, I crinkled mine. We still do it like that today. Funny the stuff you remember and smile about.

When we got to our apartment building it was late. He flipped through the stations on the radio until he found a good song (Carolina On My Mind, James Taylor), came to my side of the car, opened the door and asked me to dance with him.

We dated for six months, had a six month engagement and have been married for 7 1/2 years now. We are completely different types of people, but perfect for each other. He makes up where I lack and I make up where he does. I am more in love with him now than I have ever been. He is my best friend. He still makes me laugh, he still listens when I need to talk. He still makes me want to be a better person. I love going through this little journey of life with him.

I got all nostalgic when I started writing this and went through some of our old letters and such. I gave this little poem to him around our first Valentine's Day and it made me smile:

Give three cheers for Cupid
And his craftiness with a bow
his arrow struck your heart and mine
As we stood in the falling snow.

Love you, hon. I'm glad it's you who I get to spend eternity with.

PS--Yes, that picture was taken in 1997. Greg now has a respectable haircut and I no longer wear a scrunchy on my wrist "just in case".

Jealousy and Knowledge Conveniently Wrapped Up In One Little Blog

First off, I have been tagged by Nettie to do the "Four Things About Me" meme. I was all excited until I realized that I had already done it! Poo.

So instead, here are Four Things I like about Nettie:

---She has the same name as my best friend from high school. How many Netties do YOU know?

---She is One Hip Chick. Do you know she has a teenager? She does not look OR act old enough to have a teenager. I hope I am that cool when my kids are teenagers. I'm pretty sure I won't be though since I am 26 and already am getting the smile lines and sunken eyes. By the time I am 30 I will most likely look like my 80-year-old grandmother. (who coincidentally looks pretty good for being 80 years old.)

---Nettie has fantastic ideas like this one. If I would have "known" Nettie two years ago she could have given me advice then and we would have been able to avoid the Great Poly-Vi-Sol Spilling Incident of 2004. Let's just say it involves an entire bottle of the stinky, dark brown goo and a 10 inch section of carpet in my bedroom. Even my beloved steam cleaner couldn't get it out.

---She makes me feel totally insecure about ever calling myself a Gardener. Have you SEEN her garden and what she planted this year? I can only aspire to that kind of greatness.


Okay, so enough about Nettie Bo Bettie. Here is what I have learned this week:

---There is no sense of being uncomfortable while throwing a tantrum. Earlier this week A-boy began his tantrum on the hardwood floor in the kitchen and soon realized that it didn't feel that wonderful to wail and gnash on such a hard surface. He took a 10 second break to troop over to the carpeted family room, got back on the floor and resumed his hissy fit. (Which was ignored, by the way)

---Greg hates when I give him a play-by-play of what is happening on every web page that I go to. I know. I am as shocked as you are.

---It is too early to plant tomatoes, zucchini, pumpkins and cucumbers in my neck of the woods. Everything I planted last Friday seems to have died of hypothermia. I have worked through 2 out of the 5 stages of mourning. I have done the denial and the anger. I'm now working on bargaining (trying to save them even though they are already gone), and depression (I am seriously wallowing about the whole situation). The fifth stage of mourning, acceptance, seems a long way off. How could they just DIE like that? Did I mention this supposed to be MY YEAR? I bet Nettie would never let HER plants die.

---There is hope for Jim and Pam. I was freaking out last night.


Have a great weekend!

I Am Really Really MAD

I just spend about an hour blogging, didn't save it during that time and Blogger went down and ERASED everything that I wrote. Grrrr!!!!!!

So, sorry! No blog today! And it was GOOD too!

*sobbing*

Emily--now going to look into other blog accounts....

My Life Monday

My friend Rachelle had a fantabulous idea. It's called "My Life Monday", a blog entry totally devoted to writing about YOURSELF and what you are all about. Sounded like fun to me and I'm always looking for some good ideas on what to blog about. It's much easier when someone chooses a topic for me. I'm lazy like that. And if you are lazy like me, go get the dish on "My Life Monday" from her site and join the craze.

Today's My Life Monday topic: My Most Memorable Childhood Experience.

Hmm. I had a lot of childhood experiences, some good and some bad. How do you choose just one? I've had an entire week to think about it and I STILL couldn't come up with one single event to talk about. The more I thought though, the more I realized that most of the childhood experiences I remember all had to do with one thing.

Yup. That's a turkey. I grew up on a turkey farm. It's true, I did! We raised them from when they were cute little balls of fluff (that would poop on you), to when they awkward teenagers (that would poop on you), to when they were big and ugly grownup birds that would peck your eyes out (and poop on you) if you got too close. They aren't the most intelligent or attractive animal around. Have you ever tried to herd a turkey? It's like herding a group of 2 year olds hopped up on Fun Dip. (Which is why my 2 year old has never experienced Fun Dip)

So let me tell you about my life as a Turkey Grower. (Warning: If you came to my site today looking for a laugh you may not find it here. Growing turkeys is NOT a laughing matter, my friend. I am serious about that!)

Okay, so growing turkeys. The cute little chicks entered this world at the hatchery and then came to live in our brooder coops. The coops were heated and had a fresh 6-inch layer of sawdust on the ground. (Spreading sawdust was one of the more fun things because it was momentarily poopless) The brooder coops were DEAFENING. Picture thousands of birds chirping together all at one time. When I left my ears would ring. Kinda like after a rock concert, only less of an adrenalin rush.

The baby birds eat, sleep and poop just like every other newborn that I know of. They also liked to cuddle together, sometimes a little too much. They would pile up and smother each other if we didn't check them often. We would go in every couple hours to unpile the turkeys, remove them one by one until there were none left at the bottom of the little turkey huddle they had going on. Sometimes we didn't get there quick enough and one or two would die. It was always very sad when they died, especially when they were so small. You'd pick up the dead one by it's ankles and toss it in the bucket later to be thrown in the Dead Pit. (We'll get to the Dead Pit later. I promise I won't skip that hellacious tidbit.)

When the turkeys are little they are cute. I used to love going when they were so small. It was cozy and warm inside the coop, sometimes TOO warm. (Baby turkeys need it hot since their mommies aren't around to keep them cozy, hence the piling) The brooder coop had a wonderful aroma of sawdust, at least for a couple of days. Slowly the smell of turkey poop took over, the sawdust turned to muck and the cute balls of fluff morphed into crazed teenagers.

We fed and watered the turkeys every day. Well, someone in my family did anyway. I didn't do it every day since I was less than 12 years old and in school. We patrolled the place for dead, sick or maimed turkeys and got them out of there. Turkeys can be brutal to the less fortunate. They would pick on the weakest bird and then peck and peck at it until it died. This taught me an important lesson about making fun of others. I never wanted to be the bird that did the pecking or that was being pecked. Neither side looked enjoyable.

When they started to do the pecking thing it was time to debeak them to avoid further deaths. Debeaking is cutting off the top 1/3 of the bird's beak. You used these scissorlike things to do it and it takes forever because you have to do it to the turkeys one at a time. I hated doing it. HATED it. I always felt like I was hurting them even though I knewthe alternative was letting them peck each other to death. I always tried to find different things to do rather than the actual debeaking, like gather the turkeys up or fetch things. Anything to get out of it.

The only redeeming quality I remember about debeaking is that my whole family would help. My parents would turn on Huey Lewis and The News or something equally as fantasic and we would all sing as we did it. We would give each of the turkeys a name as they came through the line and we would laugh until we were silly. After we were finished we would get to have a pop and a candy bar. I always chose Grape Crush and a Big Hunk. Yummers.

When the turkeys came of age and got their Big Boy and Big Girl Feathers it was time to move them to the bigger coop. It was HUGE. There were 20,000 turkeys in there at one time. (Is that right, Mom? I thought it was, but that seems like a lot...) The turkeys grew a lot bigger there and I think the only thing that did NOT grow bigger was their brains. They were pretty stupid. We did the same thing in this coop. Feed, water, patrol for dead.

When the birds died we took them to the Dead Pit, a hole dug in the ground with a huge metal lid on it to cover up the overwhelming stench. It was so gross! I always tried to throw them in as fast as I could, put the lid on and get away. I made the mistake once of looking inside with a flashlight and had dreams about festering maggots for a week. (are you LOVING this oh-so-happy post? lol)

We did this whole process for about 5-6 months. At the end big trucks would come, we would load the turkeys on and off they would go to become someone's tasty Thanksgiving treat. Then we (my dad, mainly) would shovel up the no-longer-sawdust mucky mess, we would sanitize the place, clean all of the water troughs and feeders, and start the operation all over.

It was a lot of hard work. Gross, dirty work. Not something that I ever have a desire to do again. I never realized until I was much older how good it was for us to work on that farm. I learned how to be a hard worker there. I learned to appreciate where food comes from. I learned that sometimes in life there are things that you don't want to do but you have to Man Up and do them anyway.

Fast forward to this weekend.

Greg and I spread 3 truckloads of mulch on our flowerbeds. It took us all day Saturday and it was tiring. As I shoveled and carried and dumped I started thinking about my parents and how physically demanding it must have been to work on that farm every single day. Not only did they have the farm but they worked full time as well and still barely made ends meet.

I am grateful for the sacrifices they made for me and my brothers and sisters. I am grateful for the experiences I had growing up because it made me who I am today. I hope I can teach my kids the value of hard work too. Maybe I'll ship 'em off to a farm in the summer.

Sidenote: To see pictures of the whole process click here. I wanted to put the pics in this blog but they were copyrighted and I didn't want to deal with the legal issues.

Parking Lot Horrors

I took the boys on a big grocery shopping trip this morning. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but it is. It IS!!!! I have only taken them on a BIG shopping trip with me two times since Mini-Man's birth since the most inexpensive grocery store has extremely crappy 2-kid carts. And besides the cart situation, I really have no desire to listen to whining, crying, wailing, etc. while I am busy examining heads of lettuce in the produce section. I usually go shopping after the kids go to bed but today a shopping trip was desperately needed if we didn't want to eat a can of tuna and limp asparagus for dinner.

The trip went rather well. I filled my purse with Baby Goldfish Crackers, Gerber Wagon Wheels, 2 packages of fruit snacks, a Buzz Lightyear and a Woody. (Wow, I guess we could have had all THAT for dinner, minus the action figures of course)

Mini-Man did pretty good, as long as he had a Wagon Wheel in each fist and a cracker in his mouth. Typical.

I put A-Boy in the basket part of the cart which isn't ideal but neither is having him run laps around the store doing the Beavis and Butthead "Uh heh heh, Uh heh heh". He tolerated it, but tried to stand up a lot because he was sitting between the milk and a bag of frozen waffles and was apparently starting to lose feeling in his fingers and toes. I was impressed that he was so good, especially while in a hypothermic state so I bought him a donut for lunch. Yep. The kid had a donut for lunch. Actually, more of just chocolate frosting for lunch. He didn't really eat the donut part.

We left the store and I packed everything into the car including the kids and attempted to back out of our parking place. I decided that I wanted to go the opposite way of how I should. You know, turn right instead of left out of the space. Why I did this I have no idea. I thought I could make it then realized I couldn't and ended up doing a 5 point turnaround. Fine, right? Who cares, no big deal. That's what I thought until I saw two twentysomething Mexican dudes in their car, waiting for me and laughing their heads off. I ignored them and finished my 253-point turnaround. As they passed me the passenger of the car pretended he was holding a steering wheel, pointed at me and they both busted up laughing. For. Rude.

So, I did what any other responsible, mature mother-of-two would do in this type of situation. I stuck my tongue at them. Which, I might add, made them laugh even harder. Jerks.

I know that doesn't seem that bad, but I still have a red face. It's like my Babies R Us experience all over again. Actually, this one was not as bad as that, but it still ranks on the "Extremely Embarrassing and Stupid Things That Emily Does" list. I hate that list. Why couldn't I have just turned the opposite way? I never know why I do the stupid things I do.

Oh well. I should be more like A-Boy. He just plain doesn't care what people think. Proof in the picture below. I dressed him in shorts and short sleeves today because yesterday he was so hot. He played outside for a few minutes today, then came back in and demanded a jacket and a hat. But I couldn't find HIS hat, this is his little brother's. Waist up he is all winter, waist down, it's summertime, baby. Gotta love kids.

This is what you blog about when you can't think of anything good to blog about.

I WANT to blog. I actually made TIME for blogging today. It's just that nothing is coming to me. I started two different entries today and deleted them both since they were lame-o. So instead of writing another very profound and thought provoking piece I am sitting here eating a very nutritious lunch consisting of Top Ramen, Cadbury Mini Eggs, celery and Diet Dr. Pepper.

So let's dissect this exciting meal.

Top Ramen: I dunno, it just sounded good today. I haven't had it in...oh, 6 months but I still didn't have to read the directions. Making msg I mean ramen is like riding a bike. You'll never forget how, even after an extremely long time. Why is it that we remember stupid stuff like how to make ramen but can't remember to put out the garbage until we hear the truck down the street? The truck comes every single week! I'm so glad my brain stores such useful information.

Cadbury Mini Eggs: These things have been taunting me from the freezer since Easter. I hid them there hoping that I would forget about them. That worked for about 4 days, until I had to rummage around for a large bag of chicken breasts. I figured I wasn't doing myself any favors by keeping the Mini Eggs around. How can I eat healthy when there is such a cornucopia of food in my kitchen that is bad for me? I need to be rid of all chips, cookies and chocolate if I am going to have success at losing these last 15 pounds. And I can't throw stuff like that away. What kind of a wasteful person would that make me? So, you see, eating is really the best way to dispose of them.

Celery: I grabbed a ziploc of these when I grabbed the Mini Eggs. I thought if I included them in my lunch I would munch on them more than I would the Mini Eggs. This plan failed miserably. I first ate most of the bag of Mini Eggs, then ate a few celery sticks before going back to more Mini Eggs.


Diet Dr. Pepper: At least it is diet. The grocery store by the inlaw's house had 12-packs of soda 5 for $10. I went a little crazy and came home with 15 cases. I ignored the stares while standing in line to purchase them. When we got home I loaded them from my trunk as fast as I could so that the neighbors didn't see our soda addiction. Fifteen cases is a lot. I figure it is food storage. If a natural disaster occurs we may not have food, but we will be caffenated. You gotta have priorities.

And speaking of diet soda, the new Diet Berries and Cream Dr. Pepper is, in my opinion, not good. If anyone is in love with it, I've got an 11-pack in my garage with your name on it.

So yeah. Life right now isn't super-exciting and is only semi-blogworthy. But, here is the latest: My kids have decided they don't like each other. A-boy hurled his sippy cup at Mini-Man today and smacked him on the melon. That took a while for Mini-Man to recover from. A-boy takes his toys, just to take them. Mini-Man has started to cry whenever A-boy is around, so that's fun. He is also 9 months old and still not crawling. And instead of TRYING to crawl he lays on the floor like an upside down beetle, wriggling all of his appendages and screeching like a wee schoolgirl.

Speaking of screeching, I am hearing it now. That would be my cue that this blog is finished. Naptime is over.