Christopher turns 3!

When Christopher was new to this world and staying with the good folks at Chandler Regional Medical Center for the first few weeks of his life, a nurse said something I won't soon forget. She said "He's just so sweet." Of course, I thought so, being his mom and all, and thinking he was absolutely perfect. There was also the fact that he was a preemie and they tend to sleep a lot and cry very little for the first few weeks of life. Perfect babies, really. (At least the healthy ones are at any rate. I wouldn't recommend having a preemie just for the fun of it.)

But when the nurse looked at him in that way, a nurse who sees dozens if not hundreds of babies go through her nursery every month, when she called him "sweet", I knew it wasn't just me. There was something sweetly special, or specially sweet about this little one.

At three years old, he is still as sweet as can be. He has hugs and loves and kisses for everyone in his family. He must hear the word "sweet" a lot, because just yesterday he pointed to himself and said "Sweet!".

Don't let all that sweetness fool you, he can still be quite a stinker. Although it's gotten him absolutely no where, he still insists on throwing himself to the ground in a (fake) screaming temper tantrum whenever he hears the word "No". (Lately he's taken to cutting the tantrum short, then looking at you with the saddest face and saying "Sad.")

I knew even as I blogged several times last year about being ready for the "terrible two's" to be over, that when they were, a part of me would be sad too. And I am, a little. But mostly I love watching him grow. He's my buddy at the grocery store, he almost psychically knows when I am trying to leave, and he will be standing by the car before I have keys in hand. He says new words every day, and I love watching him get excited about new things. "Yay, moon!" "Yay, tree!"

While my other boys were obsessed with trains at this age, Christopher is obsessed with motorcycles. Where he got that from, I have no idea.
This birthday was infinitely better than last year's. He opened all his presents by himself, we didn't try to do something crazy like take him swimming, he liked it when we sang to him, and the cake didn't make him cry, (I'm no Martha Stewart, but I don't think I did that bad of a job for someone with no real training. All that matters though is my kids all think I rock.)

So, Happy Birthday my sweet little Christopher. I thank my Heavenly Father every day he sent you to complete our family. (and yes, that's his idea of a smile. He's actually mugging for the camera in both of these pictures.)

I actually debated posting some of these pictures because I am horrified at what is visible in the background of some of them (a broom? Really? I couldn't move it first? I guess it draws your eye away from the pile of dishes in the distance.) And I hate using the flash, but it was a necessity this evening, so I'm not thrilled about the coloring in some of the pictures. And wow, when did my fridge get so out of control?

I met an Apostle.

I shook hands with Elder Richard G. Scott last night.

I sat in an audience of hundreds and listened to him speak to us. He was funny and personable and inspired and inspiring.

When it was over, he stood by the door and let anyone who wanted to, shake his hand. Because he wanted to shake our hands and look into our eyes.

I shook the hand of an Apostle of The Lord Jesus Christ.

How Awesome is that?

We ♥ Scouting

In the last weeks, my two oldest advanced in rank in scouting.

Madison just graduated from a Brownie to a Junior. They had a little bridging ceremony to celebrate this fact with her troop.

We had debated whether or not to continue with Girl Scouts, but she's excited to keep with it. So never fear, those of you who rely on Madison to supply you with Samoas and Thin Mints are still safe for another year.
I'm sending her to "sleep away camp" again this summer. She is so excited.

~~~~~

Nick advanced to the rank of Star.

Unfortunately as I will not be winning "Mother of the Year" anytime soon, and John was out of town, I didn't show up to his Court of Honor, and had to resort to stealing this picture off a friend's blog. (Thanks, Rachel!)

Despite the fact that no one showed up to support Nick on this recognition night, we are fortunate to know those who will look out for and support our kids when we are unable (or forget) to be there. These pictures were just e-mailed to me. As I sit here and look at these pictures and let the guilt wash over me, I am thinking I will try to buy Nick's forgiveness (even though he's already given it freely) and buy him a snazzy sash to display his merit badges. Maybe some super cool green pants too.

He will be attending not one, but two scout camps in the next couple weeks. Next week is camp Geronimo, (week long overnighter) and the week after that is Lake Pleasant (day camp). He couldn't be more thrilled.

In preparation for that though, I need to go and sew some patches on his shirt (it's been a year and half and he still doesn't have the troop numbers or council patch sewn on). In my defense we tried once. I decided I don't like the badge magic (iron on stuff) that I used on his cub scout uniform, because the more you wash it, the more they tend to fall off, but the badge magic goo stays on and just looks gross. (And believe me, those shirts get washed. A lot.) So, I tried to sew on the patches, but I am retarded, and ended up using bad words and throwing the shirt at John to do it. He ended up breaking the thimble, shoving a pin through his finger, and bleeding all over the shirt. (more bad words were probably used).

So, I need to figure out how to sew in the next couple days. (unless I can bribe someone else to do it for me? any takers? Bueller? Bueller?)

Vanity, thy name is Kirsten

When I was 17 I got my very first car- I bought it off my grandma. It was a lemon yellow, 1982 Toyota Tercel. It was an automatic although I favored a stick shift. (I was actually pretty snobbish on this point- manuals are just so much more fun to drive.)

Sidenote- not an actual pic of my car- I found this one on the Internet, which was pretty impressive because as these cars aren't necessarily considered "classics", the pickings were pretty slim. I'm super impressed with myself that I actually found a picture of a yellow one. This one is identical to the one I drove.

Anyway, since I was a little girl I wanted vanity plates for my car. For years and years vanity plates could only have 6 letters and/or numbers and since my name was seven letters long, I solved that problem with a little creativity. By the time I got my first car, they had changed it so vanity plates could have seven letters, but I had been dreaming of what mine would say for years by that point-

KIRS10

Pretty clever, eh?

Believe it or not, many people couldn't figure it out.

"Kirsten is #10?"

"Kirsio?"

One guy once told me at work he spent his entire smoke break sitting in his car staring at my license plate until he figured it out.

But, then one day after months of not changing the oil, the stupid engine seized up on me on the freeway and that was the end of that car.

I kept the license plate, it is buried in a box in my garage somewhere, but never had in transferred to another car. I let Kirs10 die with the car.

What got on this particular stroll down memory lane was the other day I happened to be stopped behind someone at a red light with a vanity plate of their own-

TM 2PLY

Team two ply? Does someone love their toilet paper that much that they are advertising it on their car? If there is a team for 2 ply, is there a team for single ply? I've heard about being picky about your toilet paper, but this is a little bit ridiculous.

And just before the traffic light changed colors, a light bulb went on in my own head-

"Oh! Time to play. Oh. Well. I guess that makes more sense. Huh. I think I liked the crazy toilet paper enthusiast scenario better."

enough with the negativity, already!

Okay, so the kids all have their better moments.

Like this one-

Addendum-

If given the opportunity I'd probably lean towards shipping Nick off to military school for the summer as well. He is the most helpful, and he's the only one to practice his instrument without being threatened, but despite that, I'm still leaning towards chucking him out as well.

He's a little more sly when it comes to tormenting his sibs, but I've heard "Nick! Stop it!" more times this morning than I can count .

His excuses have been- "I was just hugging her" or "I wasn't following her, I just happened to be walking in the same direction as her." So which is it? Is she super-sensitive? (generally speaking -yes) or has he figured out the art of tormenting her without being too obvious?

He's currently downstairs "playing dinosaurs" with the little boys, but is a little too scary for their tastes. I think at one time he had them both in tears. From what I could gather he was a big, loud, scary T-Rex, and they were little herbivores. But, you know, he was "just playing" despite their repeated screams of "Nick! Stop! You're too scary!"

He just asked- "So, mom, did you have any plans for today?" (meaning was I going to take them someplace fun)

honeymoon is over.

I'm ready to ship my middle two off to summer school. Not the fun kind either. The kind where they work their tails off all day and are too exhausted to fight at the end of the night. Like military school. Anyone know of any good ones?

"Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! M-I-N-E, Mine!"

"I was here first!"

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

These are some of the things they were screaming to each other at the tops of their lungs and that I had the pleasure of waking up to this morning. By seven A.M. they were both grounded from the computer for the rest of the day.

Saturday I promised to get the summer started off right and take them to the library. All they had to do was something for me first, namely clean their rooms and one other room. The library closed at five. Nick finished at four. Zach finished around five. Madison still has yet to finish her room. (It was a total disaster since she completely ripped it apart looking for her library card which she never found. It should have taken the boys only a half an hour, and even though Madison had the messiest room, she should have been done by lunch.)

Needless to say we never made it.

Her room is still a mess, but she wanted to know when we were going swimming and/or to the science museum. (The library is closed today.)

Ha, Ha.

Madison handed me a bunch of little notes today (I'm only including about half of them)umm, let me think about it for a minute- No.

Bittersweet

Got some good news last night, well I guess it was more "bittersweet" than anything.

I looked online because I was curious to see what TV shows were being canceled at the end of the season. A couple shows I like are being canceled, nothing I'll get too upset about, but still a little disappointed.

Not that I was worried at all, but still happy to see that Bones and Grey's Anatomy are still safe for another season. They both ended on total cliffhangers- In Bones we've all suspected that Booth has had feelings for Brennan for awhile now, and it looks like she just figured out she loves him too, but when he woke up from his brain surgery cause he had a tumor removed, he didn't even recognize her! Then in Grey's Anatomy you are left wondering if Izzy's cancer finally killed her, and George got hit by a bus, and they were both flat lining as the season ended. Which, if either of them, will survive? I just don't know if I will make it until the fall to find out!

Back to my bittersweet news-

I noticed they had listed Pushing Daisies (remember how I was so upset when they canceled it?) as being canceled next month. Which was weird cause they canceled it months ago. I guess they are finally going to air the last three episodes they had taped before the show got canceled. So, starting May 30th, I will get three last episodes. Only kicker is, I don't know if they wrapped everything up all nice for the viewer or if just ends because the plug got pulled prematurely. So there's something to look forward to.

Also, Chuck is up for another season. Love, love, love, that show. So funny. But I guess not that many people are watching it. The thought is it has a lousy time slot. Supposedly Subway saved it though, which totally explains the really weird product placement. I'll put up with a little gratuitous advertising in my show if it means I still get to watch it. (even if the next season doesn't start until stinkin' March!)On a kind of weird side note, John is gone all the time and going to weird places like Malaysia, and so jokes have been flying around church that John is actually a secret agent. I think someone in the bishopric the other day referred to him as "Brother Bourne". I whispered to John that it's really more like "Brother Chuck." He agreed.

School's out!

And thus ends another year of public education. In about 10 short weeks, I shall be the mother of a 2nd grader, and 4th grader, and (gasp!) a 7th grader.

We are all happy to see the year end, even if two out of three of my kiddos shed some tears today. (hint- one of them wasn't Zach) They are excited for the freedom of summer, and excited to be moving on to bigger and better things, but they are two little sentimental fools (they get it from their mother) and sad to be leaving teachers and friends behind.

Yesterday Nick had his 6th grade promotion. It was very nice, even if I did have a very naughty nearly three year old driving me crazy. They had a video presentation set to music with probably hundreds of snapshots taken over the course of the last school year. I think I personally sent in about a hundred that I had taken when I chaperoned at science camp. I just copied the whole folder and sent it in so they could do with it what they will. I really didn't think they were going to use them all. I tried to take lots of pictures of other kids, but my favorite subject was of course my own kid, so my guess is that at least a good 50% of the pictures that showed during the Beach Boys song had Nick's face somewhere in there. (It was actually a little embarrassing) They made copies of it and gave them out as "video yearbooks" on CD, and even I am immortalized forever with the 6th grade class of 2009.
Forgive me for a self-indulgent moment of bragging-

During the course of the promotion ceremony, some kids gave speeches, some kids sang the school song, some kids recited poems, many kids were recognized as being on the honor roll, or received the "Principal's List" award. Nick was none of these kids. He didn't even get a Perfect Attendance Award. I think he felt a little bad about not being on the honor roll but only because he knew he was smart enough to get the grades, he just didn't do the work. I think he was also trying to apologize for things like not being in the Advanced Choir which sang the school song- they met on Tuesday afternoons, and besides, he takes the viola, and Mrs. B picked the kids to read the poems and we all know how she feels about Nick, etc. etc.

As we stood there talking, and he was explaining things in an apologetic way, (I wasn't asking for explanations) this girl walks up to Nick and says very enthusiastically, "Hi, Nick!". She was a girl from his class who was obviously "Special Needs". I don't know if she had Downs Syndrome or what, and although he said she was in his class, I didn't recognize her because I guess she spent a majority of her time in her "other classroom". (She also got the loudest cheers from the audience when they handed her her graduation certificate) He explained that she was his buddy. Awhile ago during field day he had noticed her standing alone without a partner during one of the games, and without thinking twice, he walked up and asked if she'd like to be his partner. Ever since then, they have been friends. I think it must have meant a lot to her, because every day since then, whenever she sees him, she greets him with the same enthusiasm.

I couldn't have been prouder. No "Principal's List" Award could have topped that. I did happen to see a picture of them partnering up during an activity, but I didn't realize what I was seeing at the time. He has got to be one of the most compassionate, loving kids I know. I had to fight back the tears as I drank my punch and ate my cookie. I don't take any credit for that. Heaven knows I have no idea what I am doing as a mother. I regularly apologize to him for being my "practice kid", and I know I still have a good half dozen or so more years to screw him up royally, but how I got blessed with such a great kid, I'll never know. (and just in case any of my other kids happen to read this- I honestly ask myself that question about all of them almost every other day- I'm not going to say what I am asking myself the days I am not so appreciative)
As usual on the last day (today) the kids gave their teachers bags of caramels. I also talked Madison (it wasn't hard- she's a sweetheart as well) into giving her teacher the potted plant we won in a silent auction at art night. She wanted that thing real bad. They had made it as a class project and it had pictures and signatures of all the kids in her class on it. Madison was really excited when we won it, but I secretly wondered how long until I would kill it, and I knew how much the teacher wanted it, (She showed it to me before hand, it was clear she was sad to see it go and she had actually bid on it too) so we devised a plan to keep it for the week, then return it to the teacher on the last day of school. Mrs Eastwood totally started crying when Madison gave it to her. Madison now has her teacher's home phone number, and they have discussed having a play date with Mrs. Eastwood's granddaughter. Madison still bawled her eyes out the whole way home "because she's going to miss her teacher."

Lousy picture, I know, but it has "the pot" in it.

Zach is always a different story. He will remember Miss Kress forever, and will probably bring her up every time he sees any Ohio State University paraphernalia, (cause the kid has a mind like a steel trap) but I could barely get the kid to stand still long enough to take his picture with her. I had the nerve to show up at recess time. He has priorities.

So what are our big summer plans now that we are free? Scout camps and hopefully lots of swimming (I plan on having Christopher "waterproofed" in the next few weeks- he tried to drown himself several times last year). We'll be traveling to Utah to escape the heat for who knows how long, I am accompanying John on a work trip to San Francisco in a month, and am hoping to make it to my 15 year high school reunion. And looking at those pictures, apparently my boys need haircuts ASAP.

Weekend Guests

One of the things we felt was important when buying this home was to have a guest room that doubled as an office for John. It's worked out really well for us. When John is in town he has a place he can go and shut the door and work, and when family or friends are in town they have a place to stay too.

This weekend our good friends Shelly and Jayson stayed with us while they had some business to take care of. They had other friends competing for their presence, but we won by default as their other friends had other friends staying at their house. Their loss. Our gain.

We didn't get to do much but hang out and talk a bit, but we'll take what we can get. Shelly is one of John's best friends, but unfortunately he had to go out of town the day after they got here. They have one cute little boy, Carson, who is a little 18 month old spitfire. So funny. The kids had so much fun playing with him. It was fun having a little person in the house. Madison was the being the quintessential little mommy that she is and doted on him when she could. Christopher wasn't sure what to do with him- he's used to being the baby of the house and I thought it was good for him to have someone steal his cheetos for a change.

It was good to see them again. They moved away several months ago, but I am sorry to say that we didn't see them often enough when they were in town. Shelly is really good about sending pictures of Carson to keep us updated, but the real thing is always so much better. Good thing she doesn't hold grudges as I am both awful about getting my kids pictures taken and sending them to family and friends- example- see that family picture on the piano in the picture above? Notice how many kids are in the picture? Only three. I think Zach was only 2 in that picture. It's the most current one we have.

We totally plan on returning the favor in a month and crashing at their house for a day or two on our way up to Salt Lake.

Eeeewww

You know that old saying "It's easier to catch a fly with honey than with vinegar"?Apparently peanut butter works well too
I really wish my kids would put stuff away when they are done with it.

D***ed if you do...

Excuse the language.

We've been working on Nick's school work issues for several years now. I finally break down and take him to see a specialist. He's officially diagnosed with "borderline ADD"- She wants to take it slow, I am happy with it. She prescribes omega 3 pills. No change. She prescribes the lowest dosage of Ritalin. No change. We up the dosage, but he has a hard time remembering to take it every day (part of the ADD thing- he seems to have trouble remembering if the pill he remembers taking was this morning or yesterday, or whether he brushed his teeth 20 minutes ago, or last night, etc), so I buy one of those old people pill boxes with the MTWThFSS written on the little compartments so he knows if he took his pill that day or not, and magically he starts doing a lot better. It's that easy. Only noticeable side effect seems to be a loss of appetite, but he seems to make up for it on weekends (he only takes the pills on school days). I am ready to cry I am so happy. (I'm being cautiously optimistic- I've had too many disappointments)

So...

After years of me yelling at him, his dad yelling at him, his teachers yelling at him (actually I think Mrs B was the only teacher doing any real yelling) him being grounded all the time, life generally sucking for him, it seems that we have found a solution, and life is good, and life is grand, freedom and sunshine have returned, and the yelling has stopped,

Except...

Mrs. B made Nick stay after class the other day so she could yell at him "for getting all good grades the last two weeks." She was actually really and truly mad. He explained it was the medication, she said she didn't believe it was the meds it was that actually he was finally choosing at the last minute, the eleventh hour, to try and do well and bring his grades up, and that obviously he was capable of it all along but he had chosen not to, and now was hoping to make up for it.

Grrrr.

She's not getting any caramels at the end of this school year.

in a previous life, I was a doctor. I just know it.

Okay, so I know I've been slacking on the blog thing. But here's my excuse- I've been tired. Like, really, really, tired. Like, if I didn't know it were totally and completely 100% impossible, I'd be freaking out that I was pregnant. So I would get up in the morning (after 7-8 hours of sleep), and be so exhausted, and stay that way all day. Caffeine doesn't help. Exercise just wipes me out. My house is a mess, projects are staring me in the face, my to-do list is a mile long, and I can't even get jazzed about reading. It makes me tired. I have been getting the basics taken care of- there's milk in the fridge and food in the pantry, and the kitchen gets cleaned, but my bed hadn't been made in over a week (what's the point when I am hoping to crawl back in it?), and the kids don't ask "what's for dinner?" anymore, it's more like "So, uh, is dinner just whatever?" (whatever they can find and make themselves)


And so I know, you're thinking- "Too tired to sit at a computer and type?" No, just too tired to do anything interesting, and too emotionally exhausted to come up with anything worth blogging about. And my stupid computer is on the fritz, and it doesn't seem to like blogger, and so I am having a really difficult time uploading pictures, or viewing anyone else's pictures, so my super tired self is just saying "it's not worth even trying".


So being the super awesome uneducated don't have a clue self diagnostician that I am, it occurred to me the other day I might be anemic. It occurred to me the day after John had a business meeting at a steak house. I told him to order the biggest steak and bring me the leftovers. He did. And I didn't even bother re-heating it. Or using a fork. I just sat there on the couch, eating it with my fingers, savoring every last bite of it's medium-rare goodness. And when I couldn't stop thinking about it, and all I could think about was getting myself another big ol' hunk of red meat, I started to think there might be a problem.

When I was a little girl I was anemic. I don't remember much about it except having to go to the doctor so he could prick my finger and test my blood, and there was this huge brown bottle full of disgusting medicine that I had to take every day.

So adding those three things together- fatigue, red meat cravings, history of anemia, and the fact that I hadn't been eating many foods rich in iron lately, I concluded that I am, in fact, anemic. I probably should have a real doctor confirm my diagnosis, but I'm too tired to deal with that.

One evening as I sat pondering whether or not a Double-Double from In-n-Out was a good idea or not, I realized that it might help for the moment, but what about tomorrow? Or the next day? The extra long drive thru line made up my mind for me and I went to Sprouts instead. They were having a sale on vitamins. I bought a bottle of iron and came home and announced my diagnosis and treatment to John.

He thought it sounded reasonable, except he said that anemics are generally low in B-12 as well, and as B-12 aids in digestion, the best way to take it is not a pill, but a shot in the bum. (We already know this as he has a B-12 deficiency and I've been giving him shots for years.) So he talked me into letting him give me a shot, I think he was just thinking payback for all the years of me sticking a needle in his backside. But truthfully what really convinced me to let him, was the fact that I saw an advertisement for some weight loss Dr.'s office advertising "B-12 shots", and I was wondering what they charge to do that. The stuff is fairly inexpensive, but you need a prescription to get it because you inject it, even though it's just a vitamin.


So I'll try to let you know how it goes. I'm on day three, and feeling a little better I think. I actually think that cleaning out my closet doesn't sound so overwhelming any more. I am also going to try and figure out how to fit some iron-rich, weight watchers approved foods into my diet. My problem is that while I love a good spinach salad, what I really love is all the stuff in it that isn't so good for you. Currently I am harassing this poor woman at my church for her salad recipe. It had spinach and tortellini and onions and candied nuts and strawberries (I think) and the dressing was to die for. It's probably like a million calories though.

8 more days!

Am I the only mother counting down the days until school is out? Don't get me wrong, I love the kids teachers this year (with the one exception of course), and I always get a little sad to think of how fast my kids are growing, but I don't know who is more excited for the school year to be over, me or my kids.

I realize that about 2 weeks into summer break I'll be ready to ship them all off to separate parts of the country so that I won't have to listen to them argue and bicker about every stinking little thing, but right now I am ready to be done with school.

I am ready for the endless piles of papers to cease and desist.
I am ready to stop feeling like my son's ALP teacher is out to get him.
I am ready to stop being irritated with my son's grades. (Despite the fact that we finally put him on meds and it seems to be helping, [fingers crossed, knock on wood, etc.] his grades were too far down the crapper to help much at this point)
I am ready to sleep in.
I am ready to stop saying "do your homework...do your homework... do your homework..."

On the other hand, all that doesn't come without a price.

I mentioned the arguing and fighting, but with summer I also get the oppressive heat, the boredom, the added messes, the knowledge that when school starts up I will have a kid in jr high (I'm getting an ulcer just thinking about it), just to name a few things.

To combat the boredom and he heat, I do plan on escaping to Utah for a few weeks ( I think it depends on Christopher, and how long he can stand being away from home). John has the freedom to work from just about anywhere with the only criteria being "he's near an airport". But even if I had nothing at all planned except for swimming lessons, (and I loathe sitting through swimming lessons) I'd still be ready for school to be out.

Lost Story

Discovered this home made "pin the tail on the donkey" game on my dining room wall today-
(Out of order becaese we can't find the tale)

"E" for Effort

John thought he'd surprise me with flowers for Mother's day. They were supposed to come tomorrow. They came yesterday. Not that I get hung up on little details like that, but when you add it to the big picture, the whole thing becomes all the more laughable.

When I ripped open the box, and took a big whiff of what I had hoped would be a heavenly scent, I was disappointed, and couldn't hide the disgust on my face from John's view. I was pretty shocked. They smelled pretty bad. Worse yet, half of them already looked dead. Petals were actually falling off.

I read the directions, carefully cut off an inch of the stems, filled the vase with water, added the flower food, kept them in their plastic sleeve for support while the stems drink the water for the first couple hours, then carefully cut the the green plastic sleeve off and tried to arrange the flowers in a pretty bouquet. Only half of them were already dead and gone, and bent over in half. Their stems all mangled and petals still falling off. Those went directly in the trash. This is what was leftover.-

By this morning (less than 24 hours) they look as if they've been sitting on my table for a week or two.

Poor John. He gets points for trying. At least we can both laugh at those stupid flowers. I told him next year if he insists on getting me something that he can never go wrong with books. Or a gift card to Williams-Sonoma.

I think I should also mention the fact that for an "early mother's day present" he bought me some jewelry in Malaysia, but the necklace broke before I was able to try it on. So in desperation, he pulled out the Godiva gift card he picked up and asked me if I wanted to pick out my own chocolates or did I want to be surprised? Unfortunately my reply was along the lines of "Thanks, that's really sweet, but I'm trying to be good on Weight Watchers right now, I'll just save it for some other time."

So if we're keeping score:

flowers- dead

jewelry- broken

chocolate- rejected

At least I know I'm loved and appreciated.

Enthusiasm

I think I could take a page out of Christopher's book on enthusiasm.

When faced with getting dressed for the day, my attitude is "But WHY? Why do I have to get dressed? I don't wanna. My pajama pants are just so much more comfy. I think everybody should wear them. All the time." My goal is to have at least one pair for every day of the week. And socks and shoes? Fuhgettaboutit. Only when it's really really cold do I like to wear socks, and then they better be cute. Stripes and polkadots and bright colors or at the very least super fuzzy and soft.

Yesterday while I was getting ready for the gym, I had my own personal cheerleader as I got dressed-

"Yay! shirt!...Yay! pants!...Yay! socks!...Yay! shoes!..."

I'd be tempted to say that he's just tired of seeing me walk around in my pajamas all day, or he's excited because he knows this means he gets to go to the gym too, but he has the same attitude in other areas of his life as well. Like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

If I am eating a pb&j it's because nothing else sounded appealing and I just need to eat something quick. My attitude is generally along the lines of "Ugh. Great. Nothing sounds good. I don't have time to make something that actually does sound appetizing. Fine. I'll just eat a pb&j. Whatever."

Christopher has a slightly better attitude- "Yay! Sandy!" (Sandwich) And then when I serve it to him on his favorite plastic Blue's Clues plate, his response is "Yay! Blue!"

And let's not forget nearly everything else-
Brushing his teeth- "Yay! Teeth!"
Finding his blankie on the floor where he left it- "Yay! Blankie!"
Getting a sippy cup with milk- "Yay! Milk"
Going for a drive in the car- "Yay! car!"
and on, and on, and on...

I really have no idea where he gets it from. Obviously not me.

Oh happy day!

Last October Mother's Cookies went out of business. No More pink and white animal cookies for Kirsten. I LOVED those things. But Mother's filed bankruptcy and shut their doors for good. My children and I would never again know the joy that is the pink and white frosted circus animal cookies.

Or so I thought...

Apparently they were finally bought out by someone else (Kelloggs) and so when I found them on the shelf at the grocery store today (They were re-released only yesterday!) I HAD to grab a bag DESPITE the fact that I have to weigh in at Weight Watchers tomorrow.

I ate my share while the kids were at school, so now I am hiding out upstairs while the kids polish them off. I am letting them pay me back for all the times I "saved" them from all those evil calories and sugars and fats over the years. Cause that's the kind of mom I am.

Now if only I could get them to bring back Raspberry Schweppes

or Hershey's Classic Caramels- the kind with the chocolate in them were the best.

late night entertainment

Zach is by far our most entertaining child at night. He doesn't like to be alone so he refuses to go up to bed until Nick does, and most nights ends up crashing on the couch before his bedtime of 8:30. (I realize this means that maybe his bedtime is too late, but by changing his bedtime, I'd be punishing Nick, because they share a room, and Zach has weird issues about being alone in any room)

So around 8:00 every night, Zach crashes on the couch. At 8:30 I take on the monumental task of getting that kid up 17 stairs to the farthest bedroom at the end of the hall. I'm just glad he sleeps on the bottom bunk. He's a big kid. I can't pick him up and carry him like I used to, I have to try and convince his sleepy self to walk as I half drag him first to the potty, then to his bed. It is imperative Zach use the bathroom before he goes to bed. If he doesn't, the risk of him wetting himself, the bed, and the floor increases dramatically. Most of the time he's so out of it, he can't wake up enough to figure out what is going on, and so he just stands there and cries.

Nick is always on hand to help because he finds his little brother hilarious. Zach tends to talk in his sleep, which can be pretty funny. (We think so at any rate. Maybe this is one of those "you had to be there" things, but I'm sharing anyway.) The other night he was yelling at me "No, Christopher! No! No! No!" Over and over again as we lead him up the stairs. Once, he kept crying "No! I want to go to bed!" I'd assure him in my most soothing voice that he was indeed going to his nice warm bed, to which he'd reply, "No! I want to go to bed!" Tonight I stood him in front of the toilet, he stood there for a minute, (pants still pulled up) and said "Kay, I'm done." Luckily, he wasn't, and I was able to yank those pants down in record time and get him to use the toilet. On the way to his bedroom, he asked me what Braden (the neighbor kid) had done. (I have no idea what he's talking about. I can only assume he was dreaming)

Nick now says that in addition to regularly talking in his sleep, he's been singing in his sleep. Zach denies all such accusations.

Beans, beans, the musical fruit

Our church had a Roadshow performance last night. All the youth from the different wards got together to put on 10 to 20 minute skits for the enjoyment of their families. Nick, being in Young Men's now, got to participate. He was so excited and proud to be a part of it. They did a really good job. It was really cute. Everyone worked really hard, and although I had nothing really to do with the whole thing, I was still proud of them all. Apparently we got third place. Which was a total rip-off, as I thought they should have got at least second, if not first. But that's just my biased opinion.

Anyway, after the last performance of the evening, they had an awards ceremony and then a little dance to celebrate the kids and all their hard work.

This morning Nick was telling me all about the dance.

Me- "So, did you dance with any girls?"

Nick-"No, not really, I danced to some of the songs, but it was just kind of everybody dancing."

Me- "Like The Electric Slide or something?"

Nick- "Yeah! Only I wasn't that good at it."

Me- "That's okay, as long as you had fun."

Nick- "They did have one slow dance at the very end though."

Me- "Oh?"

Nick- "I just stood there and talked to Chip though (his friend.) We talked about beans and what's the best kind to put in a burrito."

I forgot to ask what the verdict was.